1824年，在演出季的最后一场歌剧舞会上，几个面具被一个年轻人的美丽所吸引，他在走廊和演员休息室里徘徊，一副男人的样子，寻找一个因意外情况而被困在家里的女人。这种现在又拖又急的行为的秘密只有老妇人和某些经验丰富的懒人知道。在这个巨大的集会中，人群并不费力地观看人群；各人兴趣殷切，闲人亦心事重重。

这位年轻的花花公子全神贯注于他焦急的追求，以至于没有注意到自己的成功。他没有听到，也没有看到一些面具的讽刺性的钦佩感叹、真诚的欣赏、尖刻的嘲讽和温柔的邀请。尽管他英俊得足以跻身那些来到歌剧舞会寻求冒险的杰出人士之列，他们满怀信心地期待着它，就像弗拉斯卡蒂时代人们在轮盘赌上寻找幸运妙招一样，但他似乎对自己的人生充满了哲学上的确信。晚上;他一定是那些由三名演员组成的歌剧舞会的神秘故事中的英雄，只有那些在其中扮演角色的人才知道；因为，对于那些来只是为了说“我看到了”的年轻妻子、对于乡下人、对于没有经验的年轻人以及对于外国人来说，歌剧院在那些夜晚必定是疲劳和沉闷的宫殿。对于这些人来说，那群缓慢而密集的黑群——来、走、蜿蜒、转弯、返回、爬上、下落，只能与一堆木头上的蚂蚁相媲美——就像交易所对于一个从未听说过的布列塔尼农民来说一样难以理解。大里弗。

除了极少数例外，巴黎的男人都不戴口罩。多米诺骨牌上的人被认为是可笑的。在这种情况下，民族精神就出卖了自己。想要隐藏自己好运的男人可以不去那里享受歌剧舞会；而那些绝对被迫进去的面具，立刻又出来了。最有趣的场景之一是舞蹈一开始，门口就挤满了人，人们争先恐后地逃跑，与推门进来的人扭打在一起。所以戴面具的男人要么是嫉妒的丈夫来观看。他们的妻子，或者不希望被他们监视的逍遥法外的丈夫——这两种情况同样荒谬。

现在，我们的年轻人虽然不知道，却被一个戴着面具的人跟踪着，他矮小粗壮，步态滚动，像一只木桶。对于每一个熟悉这部歌剧的人来说，这种伪装背叛了股票经纪人、银行家、律师和怀疑不忠的公民灵魂。因为事实上，在真正的上流社会，没有人会追求这种令人羞辱的证据。几个面具哈哈大笑，互相指着这个荒谬的人物。有人跟他说话，有几个年轻人戏弄他，但他冷漠的态度显示出对这些漫无目的的箭的完全蔑视。他继续朝年轻人领着的方向走去，就像一头被追捕的野猪一样，毫不在意耳边呼啸的子弹，也不理会跟在他后面狂吠的狗。

尽管乍一看快乐和焦虑穿着同样的制服——威尼斯高贵的黑袍——尽管歌剧院舞会上一切都很混乱，但组成巴黎社会的各个圈子在那里相遇，认出并互相注视。对于初学者来说，某些想法是如此清晰，以至于这种潦草的利益混合体对他们来说就像任何有趣的小说一样清晰易读。所以，对于这些老手来说，这个人不可能是按预约来到这里的；他肯定会佩戴某种象征物，红色、白色或绿色，例如通知先前商定的愉快会面。这是一起复仇案吗？

看到多米诺骨牌如此紧密地追随着一个显然在一次任务中感到高兴的男人，一些凝视者再次看着那张英俊的脸，那张脸上被期待赋予了神圣的光环。年轻人很有趣；他走得越久，他的好奇心就越强烈。他的一切都宣示着高雅的生活习惯。按照我们这个时代的宿命法则，最优雅、最有教养的公爵和贵族之子与这个不久前就陷入贫困的迷人青年之间，无论是身体上还是道德上，都没有太大区别。巴黎市中心的铁腕。美貌和青春可能使他陷入深深的鸿沟，就像许多年轻人一样，他们渴望在巴黎发挥作用，却没有资本支持他的自负，日复一日地冒着一切风险，通过牺牲来赢得一切。在这座王城中拥有最多信徒的神，就是契斯。与此同时，他的着装和举止也无可非议。他像往常一样踏着歌剧院经典的地板。谁会没有注意到，就像在巴黎的每个区域一样，有一种存在方式表明你是谁，你在做什么，你从哪里来，以及你想要什么？

“好一个英俊的小伙子； “我们可以转过身来看看他。”一个面具说道，习惯性的目光在他身上认出了一位有地位的女士。

“你不记得他了吗？”她挽着手臂的男人回答道。 “夏特莱夫人把他介绍给你——”

“什么，那个是她自以为爱上的药剂师的儿子，后来成为一名记者，科拉莉小姐的情人？”

“我觉得他已经跌得太低了，再也无法站起来了，我不明白他如何才能在巴黎的世界里再次展现自己，”夏特莱伯爵说。

“他有一种王子的气质，”面具继续说道，“这不是和他住在一起的女演员能给他的。我的表弟虽然理解他，却无法把他舔到成形。我想知道这个萨金的情妇；告诉我一些关于他的事情，这样我就能让他神秘起来。”

这对夫妇看着年轻人窃窃私语，成为方肩多米诺骨牌研究的对象。

“亲爱的夏东先生，”夏朗德省省长拉着花花公子的手说道，“请允许我向您介绍一位愿意与您重新认识的人——”

“亲爱的夏特莱伯爵，”年轻人回答道，“那位女士告诉我，你称呼我的名字是多么可笑。国王的一项专利使我恢复了我母亲家族——鲁本普雷斯家族的所有权。虽然这个事实已经在报纸上公布了，但它涉及的是一个如此不重要的人，我不必脸红地向我的朋友，我的敌人，以及那些两者都不是的人回忆这件事——你可以把自己归为你喜欢的类别，但我是当你的妻子还只是德·巴格东夫人时，你就建议我采取这一步骤，你肯定不会反对。”

这个简洁的反驳让侯爵夫人微笑，却让夏朗德省省长感到紧张的寒意。 “你可以告诉她，”吕西安继续说道，“我现在身上有红色的东西，一头在草地上狂暴的银色公牛。”

“愤怒的银色，”夏特莱附和道。

“如果您不知道的话，侯爵夫人会向您解释为什么那件旧外套比您随身携带的内务大臣的钥匙和皇家金蜂要好一点，这让夏特莱夫人非常绝望，nee Negrepelisse d'Espard ”路西恩连忙说道。

“既然你认识我，我就不能迷惑你； “我永远无法告诉你，你让我多么困惑。”德斯帕德侯爵夫人说道，她对这个她以前鄙视的男人变得如此冷漠和无礼感到惊讶。

“那么，夫人，请允许我留在那神秘的暮色中，以保留我唯一的机会来占据您的思绪，”他说道，脸上挂着一个不想拿已经确定的幸福去冒险的人的微笑。

“我祝贺你命运的改变，”夏特莱伯爵对吕西安说。

“我接受你的提议，”吕西安回答道，同时非常优雅地向侯爵夫人鞠了一躬。

“真是个花花公子啊！”伯爵低声对德斯帕夫人说道。 “他已经成功赢得了血统。”

“对于这些如此浮夸的年轻人来说，当它对我们来说时，几乎总是意味着在高层取得了成功，”这位女士说。 “对于你们这些年长的人来说，这意味着不幸。我非常想知道我的哪位贵妇朋友赞助了这只漂亮的鸟儿；那么今晚我可能会找到自娱自乐的方法。我的罚单是匿名发送的，无疑是竞争对手策划的恶作剧，与这个年轻人有关。他的无礼在于命令；留意他。我将握住纳瓦莱公爵的手臂。你一定可以再次找到我的。”

正当德斯帕夫人正要对她的表弟说话时，神秘的面具挡在了她和公爵之间，在她耳边低声说道：

“吕西安爱你；他写了便条。你的省长是他最大的敌人；他怎么能当着他的面说话呢？”

陌生人离开了，给德斯帕夫人留下了双重惊喜。侯爵夫人不知道世界上有谁能够扮演这个面具所扮演的角色。她怀疑这是一个圈套，于是走到看不见的地方坐下。夏特莱伯爵西克斯特——吕西安削弱了他的野心 du 重点是背叛了长期盘算的复仇——跟着英俊的花花公子，不久就遇到了一个年轻人，他认为他可以毫无保留地与他交谈。

“那么，拉斯蒂涅，你看到吕西安了吗？他以新的面貌出现了。”

“如果我有他一半的英俊，我的财富就会加倍。”这位优雅的绅士回答道，语气轻松但意味深长，充满了尖锐的嘲讽。

“不！”胖面具在他耳边说道，用他借用的单音节口音回应了一千种讽刺。

拉斯蒂涅不是一个忍气吞声的人，他像被闪电击中一样站着，任由他无法摆脱的铁抓将自己带入凹处。

“你这只小公鸡，在沃盖妈妈的鸡舍里孵出来的——当生意最困难的部分完成时，你的心脏让你无法抓住老塔勒弗的数百万美元——让我告诉你，为了你的个人安全，如果你不像对待吕西安那样对待吕西安，你所爱的兄弟，你在我们的权力之下，而我们不在你的权力之下。沉默与屈服！不然我就加入你的游戏并搅乱九柱游戏。吕西安·德鲁本普雷受到当今最强大势力——教会的保护。生与死的选择——回答。”

拉斯蒂涅感到头晕，就像一个人睡在森林里，醒来时发现身边有一头饥饿的母狮。他很害怕，没有人看见他；在这种情况下，最勇敢的人也会屈服于恐惧。

“除了他，没有人知道——或者敢——”他自言自语道。

面具将他的手抓得更紧，不让他把话说完。

“表现得好像我是 he“他说。

拉斯蒂涅随后在高速公路上表现得像个百万富翁，头上顶着强盗的手枪。他投降了。

“我亲爱的伯爵，”他不久后又回到了杜夏特莱身边，他对他说，“如果你关心自己的生活地位，就把吕西安·德·鲁本普雷视为这样一个人，有一天你会看到他的地位远远高于你。 ”

面具做出了难以察觉的赞许动作，然后就去找路西恩了。

“我亲爱的朋友，你对他的看法突然改变了。”省长惊讶地回答道。

“就像人们突然改变谁属于中间派并投票支持右翼一样，”拉斯蒂涅对副省长说，几天来副省长的投票未能支持该部。

“现在还有意见这种东西吗？只有利益。”听到这些话的德·卢波克斯评论道。 “这到底是什么情况？”

杜夏特莱对秘书长说：“拉斯蒂涅将鲁宾普雷先生视为重要人物。”

“我亲爱的伯爵，”德·吕波非常严肃地回答，“德·鲁邦普雷先生是一位才华横溢的年轻人，他背后有如此大的兴趣，我很高兴能与他重新认识。”

“他就在那里，冲进了当时耙子的黄蜂巢，”拉斯蒂涅说。

三位说话者看向一个角落，那里聚集了一群公认的智者，或多或少的名人，还有几位时尚人士。这些先生们把他们的笑话、言论和丑闻当作共同话题，试图自娱自乐，直到有什么事情让他们开心为止。在这个奇怪的混合团体中，有一些人与吕西安有过交易，表面上是善意的，但暗中却是虚假的。

“哈喽！路西恩，我的孩子，为什么我们又被修补了——新的填充物和新的封面。我们从哪里来？我们是否再次凭借弗洛琳闺房的小礼物再次登上了高位？好极了，老伙计！”布隆戴松开菲诺，用手臂亲切地搂住吕西安，把他按在胸前。

安多什·菲诺（Andoche Finot）是一篇评论的所有者，吕西安（Lucien）几乎没有为该评论付出任何努力，而布隆德（Blondet）则从他的合作、他的建议的智慧和他的观点的深度中受益匪浅。菲诺和布隆德代表了贝特朗和拉顿，但有一点不同——拉封丹的猫最终表明他知道自己被骗了，而布隆德虽然知道自己被骗了，但仍然为菲诺竭尽全力。事实上，这位才华横溢的雇佣兵队长很早就成为了奴隶。菲诺在沉重的外表下隐藏着残酷的意志力，在智慧的打磨下，就像一个工人用大蒜擦面包一样。他知道如何在从事文学或政治的人所过的放荡生活的领域中收集他所收集的东西，无论是思想还是皇冠。

布隆戴特因为自己的罪孽，将自己的权力用于服务于菲诺的恶习和懒惰。他总是与必需品作斗争，他是一个贫困而优秀的人之一，他们可以为他人的财富做一切事情，而不为自己的财富做任何事情，就像阿拉丁一样让别人借用他们的灯。这些优秀的顾问只要不被个人利益所干扰，就有清晰而敏锐的判断力。在它们身上，起作用的是头部，而不是手臂。因此，他们的道德散漫，因此受到低等思想的谴责。布隆代特会与他前一天冒犯的一位同志分享他的钱包。他会和一个他明天就会摧毁的人一起吃饭、喝酒、睡觉。他那有趣的悖论可以为一切开脱。他把整个世界当作一个玩笑，不想被认真对待；他年轻、受人爱戴、几乎出名、心满意足，但他不像菲诺那样致力于获得老人所需的财富。

也许，最困难的勇气就是吕西安此时摆脱布隆代所需要的勇气，就像他刚刚摆脱德斯帕夫人和夏特莱一样。不幸的是，在他身上，虚荣心的乐趣阻碍了骄傲的运用——毫无疑问，骄傲是许多伟大事物的基础。他的虚荣心在上次的遭遇中占了上风。他向两个在他贫穷而悲惨时蔑视他的人展示了自己是一个富有的人，幸福而蔑视。但是，一位诗人如何能像一位老外交官那样，与两位自称为朋友的人一起接受挑战，他们在痛苦中欢迎了他，而他在他们的屋檐下度过了最糟糕的麻烦呢？菲诺特、布隆戴特和他已经卑躬屈膝地在一起了。他们沉迷于这种放纵，消费的不仅仅是金钱。就像那些找不到勇气的士兵一样，吕西安刚刚做了许多巴黎人所做的事情：他握着菲诺的手，并且没有拒绝布隆代的爱意，这进一步损害了他的性格。

每一个涉足或仍在涉足新闻业的人都必须痛苦地向他所鄙视的人屈服，向他最亲爱的敌人微笑，加剧最卑鄙的行为，弄脏自己的手指，用自己的钱来偿还侵略者。他习惯于看到恶事发生，却置之不理；他以纵容开始，以犯下结束。从长远来看，灵魂因可耻和永久的妥协而不断受到压力，会沉沦，崇高思想的泉水会生锈，熟悉的铰链容易磨损，并会自行转动。阿尔赛斯特变成了菲林特，本性失去了坚定性，才能被扭曲，对伟大事迹的信心消失了。一个渴望为自己的工作感到自豪的人却把自己浪费在垃圾文章上，他的良心迟早会认为这些文章是许多邪恶的行为。像卢斯托或韦尔努一样，他开始成为一名伟大的作家。他发现自己是一个软弱的书记员。因此，不可能对那些性格与才华一样高的人给予太高的敬意——像达塞兹这样的人，他们知道如何踏踏实实地走过文学生活的暗礁。

对于布隆戴的阿谀奉承，吕西安无法做出任何回应。他的智慧对他来说具有不可抗拒的魅力，他使腐败者对他的学生保持着控制。此外，他还通过与蒙科内伯爵夫人的联系在世界上占有一席之地。

“叔叔给你留下了遗产吗？”菲诺特笑着说。

“和你一样，我也标记了一些砍伐的傻瓜。”路西恩用同样的语气回答道。

“那么先生有一篇评论——他自己的报纸吗？”安多什·菲诺以上级对下属的无礼态度反驳道。

“我有更好的东西，”吕西安回答道，他的虚荣心被他的编辑假定的优越感所激怒，这使他恢复了对新职位的感觉。

“那是什么，我亲爱的孩子？”

“我有一个聚会。”

“有路西恩聚会吗？”维尔努微笑着说道

“菲诺特，这孩子让你陷入了困境；我告诉过你他会的。吕西安是个聪明人，而你却从来不尊重他。你把他当作黑客。悔改吧，笨蛋！”金发女郎说。

布隆戴像针一样敏锐，能够从吕西安的神态和举止中察觉到不止一个秘密。他一边抚摸着他，一边设法收紧路缘石。他想知道吕西安回到巴黎的原因、他的计划以及他的生活方式。

“尽管你是菲诺特，但你却永远无法获得优越感！”他接着说。 “立即承认这位先生是未来属于的伟人之一；他是我们中的一员！这么机智又这么帅，他能不能被你的quibuscumque viis成功吗？他站在这里，穿着他那件精美的米兰盔甲，他的强剑半出鞘，他的旗帜飘扬！——上帝保佑我，吕西安，你从哪里偷了那件漂亮的背心？只有爱才能找到这样的东西。你有地址吗？此刻我急切地想知道我的朋友们的住所在哪里；我不知道该睡哪里。菲诺特以‘案子里的一位女士’为粗俗借口，把我赶出了门。”

“我的孩子，”吕西安说，“我实践了一句座右铭，你可以通过它来确保平静的生活：Fuge，迟到，tace。我走了。”

“但我不会离开，除非你还清我一笔神圣的债务——那顿小小的晚餐，你知道吗，嗯？”布隆代特说，他太高兴了，当他没钱的时候就去接受治疗。

“什么晚饭？”路西恩问道，语气中带着些许不耐烦。

“你不记得了？从此我认出了我富有的朋友；他失去了记忆。”

“他知道他欠我们什么；为了他的好心，我会保释。”菲诺特一边说，一边接受了布兰德的笑话。

“拉斯蒂涅，”布朗戴拉着年轻花花公子的手臂，走进房间，走到那些所谓的朋友们所站的柱子前。 “风中有晚餐；你会加入我们的——除非，”他转向吕西安，严肃地补充道，“先生坚持不顾荣誉。他可以。”

“德·鲁本普雷先生没有能力做这样的事；我会替他负责。”拉斯蒂涅说道，他从来没想过会发生恶作剧。

“还有比休，他也会来的，”布隆戴喊道。 “没有他就没有乐趣。没有他，香槟会让我的舌头发麻，我觉得一切都索然无味，甚至是讽刺的胡椒。”

“我的朋友们，”比休说，“我看到你们都聚集在今天的奇迹周围。我们亲爱的吕西安复活了奥维德的《变形记》。正如众神曾经化作奇怪的蔬菜和其他东西来诱惑女士一样，他把查尔顿（蓟）变成了一位绅士来迷惑——谁？查理十世！——我亲爱的孩子，”他继续说道，抓住了吕西安的外套纽扣，“一个模仿优雅绅士的记者应该得到粗暴的音乐。代替他们，”无情的小丑指着菲诺和韦尔努说道，“我应该在我的社会报纸上提到你们；你可以赚一百法郎来享受十列乐趣。”

“比休，”布隆戴说，“安菲特律翁在盛宴前二十四小时和盛宴后十二小时内都是神圣的。我们杰出的朋友正在请我们吃晚饭。”

“然后怎样呢！”比秀喊道； “还有什么比拯救一个伟大的名字免遭遗忘、为贫穷的贵族提供一个有才华的人的责任更重要的呢？吕西安，你受到媒体的尊敬，你是一个杰出的装饰品，我们将给予你支持。-Finot，“最新项目”中的一段！-Blondet，在你论文的第四页上加一点黄油！——我们必须宣传当代最优秀的书籍之一的出现， 查理九世弓箭手。！我们将呼吁 Dauriat 尽快推出 玛格丽特法国彼特拉克的那些神圣十四行诗！我们必须用盖有邮票的纸作为盾牌来支撑我们的朋友，声誉是由它创造和毁坏的。”

“如果你想吃晚饭，”吕西安对布朗德说，希望摆脱这群有增加趋势的暴民，“在我看来，你不需要用夸张和寓言来攻击一位老朋友，就好像他是一个老朋友一样。”诱杀装置。明天晚上在卢安蒂埃——”他喊道，看到一个女人走过来，他赶紧去见她。

“哦！哦！哦！”比休用三个音符说道，带着嘲弄的目光，似乎认出了吕西安对着自己说话的那个面具。 “这需要确认。”

他跟着这对英俊的情侣，越过他们，仔细地审视着他们，然后回来了，这让所有嫉妒的人群非常满意，他们渴望了解吕西安命运改变的根源。

“朋友们，”比修欧说，“你们早就知道鲁本普雷阁下的财富女神了：她是德斯·卢佩乌克斯的前‘老鼠’。”

养“老鼠”是一种消遣形式，现已被遗忘，但在本世纪初仍然是一种习惯。 “老鼠”——一个已经过时的俚语——是指某个剧院、尤其是歌剧院合唱团中十岁或十二岁的女孩，她被年轻的鲁斯训练成恶习和恶名。 “老鼠”是一种恶魔侍从，一个假小子，只要有趣，就可以原谅他的把戏。 “老鼠”可能会拿走她喜欢的东西；她被视为危险的动物，但她给生活带来了活泼的元素，就像老式喜剧中的斯卡宾、斯加纳雷尔和弗朗廷一样。但“老鼠”太贵了；它没有带来荣誉、利润或快乐的回报；老鼠的时尚彻底消失了，以至于如今很少有人了解复辟前时尚生活的细节，直到某些作家将“老鼠”作为一个新主题。

“什么！路西恩亲眼目睹科拉莉在他手下被杀，就想抢走我们的拉托皮耶？” （鱼雷鱼）布隆德说。

当他听到这个名字时，那个强壮的面具吃了一惊，尽管拉斯蒂涅很压抑，但他还是明白了。

“这是不可能的，”菲诺特回答道。 “拉托皮耶没有一分钱可以捐出；内森告诉我她借了一千法郎的弗洛林。”

“来吧，先生们，先生们！”拉斯蒂涅说道，他急于为吕西安辩护，免遭如此可恶的指责。

“那么，”韦尔努喊道，“科拉莉养的男人会这么特别吗？”

“哦！”比休回答道，“那一千法郎向我证明，我们的朋友吕西安和拉·托皮耶住在一起——”

“对文学、科学、艺术和政治来说，这是多么难以挽回的损失！”金发女郎惊呼道。 “拉·托皮耶是我所见过的唯一一个具备高级交际花品质的普通妓女。她没有被教育宠坏了——她既不会读也不会写，她会理解我们的。我们本可以为我们的时代献上一位伟大的阿斯帕西娅，没有她就没有黄金时代。看看杜巴里夫人多么令人钦佩地适合十八世纪，尼农·德·安克洛斯适合十七世纪，马里昂·德洛姆适合十六世纪，因佩里亚适合十五世纪，弗洛拉适合共和国罗马，她让罗马成为她的继承人，并为公众带来了回报债务与她的财产！没有莉迪亚的贺拉斯、没有迪莉娅的提布卢斯、没有莱斯比亚的卡图卢斯、没有辛西娅的普罗珀提乌斯、没有拉米亚的德米特里会是什么样子，谁才是他今天的荣耀呢？

“在我看来，金发女郎在歌剧院谈论德米特里厄斯似乎太过强烈了。 辩论”比修欧在邻居耳边说道。

“如果没有这些女王，凯撒帝国会在哪里呢？”布隆代特继续说道。 “莱斯和罗多彼是希腊和埃及。它们确实都是他们所生活的时代的诗歌。拿破仑所缺乏的这首诗——因为他的伟大军队的遗孀是一个军营笑话，它并不想要革命；但拿破仑并不想要这首诗。里面有塔林夫人！如今，法国肯定有一个王位可以让给她，谁可以填补这个王位。我们中间可以成为女王。我本应该给拉·托皮耶一个姨妈，因为她的母亲显然已经死在了耻辱的战场上。杜蒂莱会给她一座豪宅，卢斯托一辆马车，拉斯蒂涅给她的仆人，德斯卢佩奥给她一个厨师，菲诺给她帽子”——菲诺在面对这句警句的直截了当的火力时忍不住耸耸肩——“韦尔努会给她写信。广告，比秀她的妙语连珠！贵族们会和我们的尼农一起享受生活，在那里我们会把艺术家聚集在一起，承受报纸文章的死亡痛苦。尼农二世会极其无礼，极其奢侈。她会提出意见。一些被禁止的戏剧杰作应该在她的客厅里阅读；如果有必要的话，它应该是故意写的。她不会是自由派；她不会是自由派。妓女本质上是君主制的。噢，真是损失惨重啊！她本该拥抱自己的整个世纪，却和一个小青年做爱！吕西安会把她变成一种猎犬。”

菲诺特说：“你所说的女性力量中没有一个曾在街上跋涉过，而那只漂亮的小‘老鼠’却在泥潭里打滚。”

“就像土壤里的百合种子一样，”韦尔努回答说，“她在土壤中得到了改善并开花了。因此她的优越性。难道我们不应该知道一切才能够创造一切事物的欢笑和欢乐吗？”

“他是对的，”卢斯托说，他迄今为止一直在听，没有说话。 “La Torpille 可以笑，也可以让别人笑。所有伟大作家和伟大演员的天赋都适合那些探索过社会各个角落的人。十八岁那年，那个女孩就已经体验过最大的财富，最肮脏的苦难——各种程度的男人。她身上带着一根魔杖，可以释放那些在忙于政治、科学、文学或艺术的同时仍然有一颗心的男人们所强烈压抑的残酷欲望。在巴黎，没有哪个女人能像她那样对野兽说：“出来吧！”野兽离开了他的巢穴，沉迷于过度的行为之中。她把你喂到下巴，她帮助你喝酒和抽烟。简而言之，这个女人是拉伯雷写作的盐，它被撒在物质上，赋予物质生命，并将其提升到奇妙的艺术领域；她的长袍展现出难以想象的辉煌，她的手指掉落宝石，她的嘴唇流露出微笑；她为每一件小事赋予了场合的精神；她的喋喋不休闪烁着亮丽的名言，她有最奇特的象声词的秘密，色彩丰富，给人以色彩；她 - ”

“你浪费了价值五法郎的副本，”比休打断了卢斯托的话。 “La Torpille 比这一切要好得多；你们都或多或少地爱过她，但没有一个人能说她曾经是他的情妇。她总是可以命令你；你永远不会命令她。你可以强行闯进来，请她为你服务——”

“哦，她比一个懂行的强盗头子还要慷慨，比最优秀的同学还要忠诚，”布隆戴说。 “你可以把你的钱包或你的秘密托付给她。但让我选择她作为女王的原因是她对失宠的波旁王朝般的冷漠。”

“她和她的母亲一样，太可爱了，”德斯·卢波说。 “这位漂亮的荷兰女人会吞噬托莱多大主教的收入；她吃掉了两个公证员的家外之家——”

“当马克西姆·德·特雷尔斯（Maxime de Trailles）担任法庭侍从时，他就留住了他，”比休说。

“拉·托皮耶太珍贵了，就像拉斐尔、卡雷姆、塔廖尼、劳伦斯、布尔或任何天才艺术家都太珍贵一样，”布隆戴说。

“埃丝特从来没有像现在这样完全是一位女士，”拉斯蒂涅指着吕西安伸出手臂的蒙面人说道。 “我敢打赌，一定是德塞里齐夫人。”

“毫无疑问，”杜·夏特莱喊道，“杜鲁班普雷先生的财产已经算清了。”

“啊，教会知道如何选择利未人；他将成为一位多么可爱的大使秘书啊！”德斯·卢波克斯说道。

“更是如此，”拉斯蒂涅继续说道，“因为吕西安是一个非常聪明的人。这些先生们已经不止一次地证明了这一点。”然后他转向布隆代、菲诺和卢斯托。

“是的，这孩子天生就适合上学，”卢斯托说，他嫉妒得要命。 “尤其是因为他有我们所说的独立想法……”

“是你训练了他，”韦尔努说。

“好吧，”比休看着德·鲁佩尔克斯回答道，“我相信秘书长兼上诉官先生的记忆力——那个面具是拉·托皮耶，我会在上面吃晚饭。”

“我会持有赌注，”杜夏特莱说道，他很想知道真相。

“来吧，卢波克斯，”菲诺说，“试着辨认一下你的老鼠的耳朵。”

“没有必要为面具犯下叛国罪。”比修回答道。 “拉·托皮耶和吕西安再次进入房间时必须经过我们，我保证自己会证明那就是她。”

“所以我们的朋友卢西安又浮出水面了，”内森加入队伍时说道。 “我以为他已经回到安古莫伊斯度过余生了。他是不是发现了一些可以毁掉英国人的秘密？”

“他做了你不会匆忙做的事，”拉斯蒂涅反驳道。 “他已经付清了。”

魁梧面具点头确认。

“一个在自己这个年纪就撒下野心的人会把自己排除在法庭之外。他没有勇气；他把钱存入基金，”内森回答道。

“哦，那个年轻人将永远是一位优秀的绅士，并且永远拥有如此崇高的观念，这将使他远远高于许多自认为比他更好的人，”拉斯蒂涅回答道。

此刻，记者、纨绔子弟和闲人都在审视他们的赌注的迷人主题，就像马贩子审视一匹待售的马一样。这些鉴赏家，年纪大了，对巴黎人的各种腐败行为了如指掌，他们都是才华横溢的人，各行其是，同样腐败，同样腐败，都沉迷于肆无忌惮的野心，习惯于假设和猜测一切，他们的目光集中在一个蒙面女人，一个没有人能认出她身份的女人。他们，以及歌剧院舞会的某些常客，只有在黑色多米诺骨牌的长裹布下，才能辨认出使穿着者无法辨认的兜帽和下垂的领子、圆润的体形、身材和步态的个性、腰部的摇摆。 、头部的姿态——对于普通人来说是最无形的小事，但对他们来说却是最容易辨别的。

尽管有这种无形的包装，他们仍然可以观看最吸引人的戏剧，一个受真正激情启发的女人的戏剧。无论她是拉·托皮耶（La Torpille）、莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人（Duchesse de Maufrigneuse）还是塞里齐夫人（Madame de Serizy），无论她处于社会阶梯的最低还是最高，这个女人都是一个精致的生物，是幸福梦想中的一闪而过。这些年迈的年轻人，就像这些年轻的老人一样，都感受到了如此强烈的情感，以至于他们嫉妒吕西安有如此荣幸，可以将一个女人变成女神。面具还在那儿，就好像她和吕西安单独在一起一样。对于那个女人来说，其他上千个人并不存在，也不存在邪恶和尘土飞扬的气氛。不，她在爱的天穹下移动，就像拉斐尔的圣母在细长的椭圆形荣耀下移动一样。她并不觉得自己受到了肘击；她的目光从面具的孔洞中射出，射进路西恩的眼睛里。她身体的颤抖似乎回应了她同伴的每一个动作。恋爱中的女人身上散发出的这种火焰，使她与众不同，这火焰从何而来？那种似乎否定万有引力定律的精灵般的轻盈从何而来？灵魂变得周围了吗？幸福是身体的产物吗？

女孩的天真，孩子的优雅，在多米诺骨牌下清晰可见。虽然他们走得很远，但当我们看到最聪明的雕塑家将它们组合在一起时，这两个生物暗示了弗洛拉和西风的形象；但它们超越了雕塑这一最伟大的艺术；吕西安和他漂亮的多米诺骨牌更像是忙着花或鸟的天使，吉安·贝利尼将其放置在圣母玛利亚的肖像下方。路西恩和这个女孩属于幻想的领域，它远远高于艺术，正如原因高于结果一样。

当那张忘却一切的多米诺骨牌距离众人一码之内时，比修欧惊呼道：

“ Esther！”

不高兴的女孩听到有人叫自己，迅速转过头，认出了那个调皮的说话者，然后像一个垂死的生物一样低下头。

随之而来的是一声尖锐的笑声，这群人就像一群受惊的田鼠，迅速钻进路边的洞里，融入了人群之中。拉斯蒂涅一个人没有走得更远，只是为了避免表现出回避吕西安闪烁的眼睛。因此，他可以注意到两个阶段的痛苦同样深重，尽管没有承认；首先是倒霉的托皮尔，像被雷击中一样，然后是神秘的面具，这是这群人中唯一剩下的一个。膝盖一软，艾丝薇尔在路西恩耳边低声说了一句话，路西恩搀扶着她，带着她离开了。

拉斯蒂涅看着这对漂亮的情侣，陷入了沉思。

“她的名字“La Torpille”是怎么来的？一个阴沉的声音问到了他的要害，因为它不再掩饰了。

“He 又——他成功逃脱了！”拉斯蒂涅自言自语道。

“安静，否则我杀了你，”面具回答道，改变了声音。 “我对你很满意，你遵守了诺言，不止一只手臂准备为你服务。从此如坟墓般寂静；不过，在此之前，先回答我的问题。”

“嗯，这个女孩真是个女巫，她可以迷住拿破仑皇帝； “她可以吸引一个更难影响的人——你自己。”拉斯蒂涅回答道，然后转身就走。

“等一下，”面具说道。 “我会向你证明，你从来没有在任何地方见过我。”

说话者摘下面具；拉斯蒂涅犹豫了一会儿，完全认不出他以前在沃盖夫人家里认识的那个可怕的东西。

“魔鬼让你在每一个细节上都发生了改变，除了你的眼睛，这是不可能忘记的，”他说。

铁手握住他的手臂，嘱咐他永远保密。

凌晨三点，卢波克斯和菲诺在同一个地方发现了优雅的拉斯蒂涅，他靠在柱子上，那可怕的面具就留在了他身上。拉斯蒂涅已经向自己坦白了；他既是牧师又是忏悔者，既是罪犯又是法官。他让自己被带去吃早餐，回到家时已经喝得醉醺醺的，但沉默寡言。

朗格拉德街和邻近的街道是皇宫和里沃利街的污点。巴黎最美丽的地区之一的这一部分将长期保留着由旧巴黎的丘陵形成的小丘留下的肮脏污点，那里以前矗立着磨坊。这些狭窄的街道，黑暗而泥泞，这些不顾外表的工业在这里进行，在夜间呈现出充满对比的神秘面纱。从圣奥诺雷街、小香榭新街和黎塞留街等光线充足的地区出发，这里人流不断，工业、时尚和艺术的杰作闪闪发光，每一个不了解巴黎之夜的人，当发现自己置身于迷宫般的小街道中时，都会感到一种恐惧和忧郁，而这些小街道的周围甚至还反射着天空反射的光芒。这里是浓浓的黑暗，而不是泛滥的煤气灯；到处都是昏暗的油灯，散发着可疑的烟雾，许多死胡同根本没有灯光。步行的乘客很少，而且走得很快。商店都关门了，少数还开着的商店都是肮脏的。肮脏、没有灯光的酒馆，或者是内衣和古龙水的卖家。一股不健康的寒意将一件湿冷的斗篷披在你的肩上。很少有马车驶过。这里有一些险恶的地方，特别是朗格拉德街、圣纪尧姆通道的入口和一些街道的转弯处。

市议会尚未清理这个巨大的拉扎尔场所，因为卖淫早已将其作为总部。对于巴黎来说，允许这些小巷保留其肮脏的一面也许是一件好事。白天经过它们，无法想象晚上它们会变成什么样子；它们遍布着来自未知世界的奇怪生物；白色的、半裸的形体紧贴在墙上——黑暗是生机勃勃的。在乘客和墙壁之间，有一件衣服悄悄溜过——一件会动、会说话的衣服。半开的门突然大笑起来。诸如拉伯雷所说的“冻结和融化”之类的话落在耳边。人行道上传来歌曲的片段。噪音并不含糊；这意味着什么。当声音嘶哑时，它是声音；当声音嘶哑时，它是声音。但如果它暗示一首歌，它就没有任何人类的东西，它更像是呱呱叫。你常常会听到尖锐的口哨声，然后靴子后跟的敲击声会发出一种特别的攻击性和嘲讽的声音。这种杂乱的事情让你头晕目眩。那里的气候条件正好相反——冬天温暖，夏天凉爽。

然而，无论天气如何，这个陌生的世界总是有着同样的面貌；这是柏林霍夫曼的奇幻世界。穿过通往体面街道的海峡返回后，即使是最懂数学的职员也不会认为它是真实的，那里有乘客、商店和酒馆。现代的行政管理，或者说现代的政策，比过去时代的女王和国王更轻蔑或更羞耻，不再敢勇敢地面对我们首都的这场瘟疫。当然，措施必须与时俱进，例如影响个人及其自由的措施是一件棘手的事情；不过，也许我们应该在物质措施（空气、光线和建筑）方面表现出一定的广度和勇气。道德家、艺术家和贤明的管理者都一定会为皇家宫殿古老的木制画廊感到遗憾，在那里可以看到羔羊，它们总是在有躺椅的地方被发现；躺椅应该去他们能找到的地方不是最好吗？后果是什么？林荫大道上最欢乐的地方，最令人愉快的海滨长廊，在晚上是不可能举办家庭聚会的。警方未能利用一些小街道提供的出口来清理主要街道。

我们在歌剧舞会上看到的那个被一句话压垮的女孩，过去一两个月一直住在朗格拉德街一栋看上去很破旧的房子里。这座建筑粘在一座巨大建筑的墙上，灰泥得很糟糕，没有深度，而且非常高，所有的窗户都在街上，有点像鹦鹉的栖息处。每层楼有两个房间，作为独立的公寓。有一个紧贴墙壁的狭窄楼梯，窗户发出奇怪的灯光，标志着它在外墙上的上升，每个楼梯平台都散发着臭味，这是巴黎最令人厌恶的特征之一。当时，这家商店和中间商店是由一个铁皮商租用的。房东占据一楼；楼上四层是由非常体面的女工租用的，女门童和业主对她们很体贴，也很殷勤，因为很难出租一栋建造和位置如此奇怪的房子。该区的居住者是因为那里存在许多具有相同性质的房屋，这些房屋对贸易没有用处，只能由性质不稳定或可耻的较贫穷的工业类型出租。

下午三点钟，门女看见埃丝特小姐在凌晨两点被一个半死不活的年轻人带回家，她刚刚与楼上的年轻女子商量了一下，后者在乘出租车出发前去参加会议。一些欢乐的聚会，表达了她对埃丝特的不安；她没有听到她的动作。毫无疑问，埃丝特还在睡觉，但这种睡眠似乎很可疑。女门童独自一人待在牢房里，她很遗憾不能去埃丝特小姐住的四楼看看发生了什么。

就在她决定让铁皮人的儿子负责她的房间时，一辆出租车停在了门口。一个男人走了出来，从头到脚裹着一件斗篷，显然是为了掩盖他的着装或他的生活地位，他向埃丝特小姐询问。女门童顿时松了口气；这就是埃丝特沉默寡言的原因。当陌生人登上女门房上方的楼梯时，她注意到他鞋子上的银扣，并想象她看到了牧师腰带的黑色流苏；她下楼向司机询问，司机没有说话，女人再次明白了。

牧师敲了敲门，没有得到回应，听到了轻微的喘息声，他用肩膀推开了门。慈善事业无疑给了他力量，但在任何其他事情上，这都归功于实践。他冲进内室，发现可怜的埃丝特站在一尊涂有石膏的圣母像前，跪在地板上，或者更确切地说，弯腰跪在地板上，双手交叉。女孩快要死了。一个烧焦的木炭火盆讲述了那个可怕的早晨的故事。多米诺骨牌斗篷和兜帽躺在地上。床没有被打扰。这个不幸的女人，被致命的一击击中了心，毫无疑问，她从歌剧回来后就已经做好了一切安排。一根烛芯倒在烛台上的油脂池里，这表明她最后的冥想是如何完全吸引了她。一块沾满泪水的手帕证明了抹大拉绝望的真诚，而她的典型态度则是不虔诚的妓女的态度。这卑微的悔罪让神父笑了。

埃丝特对死亡不熟练，她把门开着，没想到两个房间的空气需要更多的木炭才能让人窒息；她只是被烟雾惊呆了。楼梯上吹来的新鲜空气逐渐让她恢复了对痛苦的认识。

神父依然站着，沉浸在阴郁的冥想中，没有被女孩神圣的美丽所感动，看着她的第一个动作，仿佛她是某种动物。他的目光从蹲伏的人影看向周围的物体，眼神中带着明显的冷漠。他看了看房间里的家具；铺好的红色、抛光的、冰冷的地板上铺着一条破旧的地毯，地毯已经磨损到了绳子上。一张小床架，是彩绘木头制成的，形状老式，上面挂着印有红星的黄色棉布，一把扶手椅和两把小椅子，也是彩绘木头的，上面覆盖着与窗帘相同的棉质印花。制成;一张灰色的墙纸，上面长满了花朵，随着时间的流逝，它们变得又黑又油腻；一个壁炉，里面装满了最肮脏的厨房用具，两捆柴火；一个石架子，上面放着一些假的和真的珠宝，一把剪刀，一个肮脏的针垫，还有一些白色的香味手套；一顶精致的帽子放在水壶上，一条特尔诺围巾堵住了窗户上的一个洞，一件漂亮的礼服挂在钉子上；有点硬的沙发，没有垫子；破损的木屐和精美的拖鞋、女王可能会垂涎的靴子；廉价的瓷盘，有裂纹或缺口，上面有以前吃过的饭菜的碎片，还有镍制叉子——巴黎穷人的盘子；一个装满土豆和脏亚麻布的篮子，上面盖着一个漂亮的纱布帽；一个摇摇晃晃的衣柜，玻璃门开着，空荡荡的，架子上摆着各种各样的当票——这就是各种各样的东西，或令人沮丧或令人愉悦，或卑鄙或英俊，落在他的眼睛里。

这些瓦片中的辉煌遗物，这些家庭财产——如此贴合那个女孩的波西米亚生活，她穿着解开的衣服跪在地上，就像一匹在缰绳缠住的断轴下垂死的马——整个奇怪的场景是否表明了这一点。对牧师有什么想法吗？他是否对自己说，当她的爱人年轻而富有时，这个犯错的生物至少必须无私地生活在如此贫困中？他是否将房间的混乱归咎于她生活的混乱？他感到怜悯还是恐惧？他的慈善事业被感动了吗？

看到他，他双臂交叉，眉毛黝黑，嘴唇紧闭，眼神严厉，任何人都一定会认为他陷入了阴郁的仇恨情绪，相互推挤的考虑，险恶的计划。他当然对那柔软圆润、几乎被低垂的肩膀压垮的胸部，以及黑色衬裙下蹲着的维纳斯的美丽造型毫无感觉，垂死的女孩紧紧地蜷缩着。低垂的头，从后面看去，露出白皙、修长、柔韧的脖颈，以及健硕身材的纤肩，对他来说并不有吸引力。他没有抚养埃丝特，他似乎没有听到她痛苦的喘息声，这表明她正在恢复生命。等女孩发出一声可怕的抽泣和可怕的一瞥后，他才屈尊抱起她，轻松地将她抱到床上，透露出巨大的力量。

“路西恩！”她低声说道。

“爱就在那里，女人也不甘落后。”神父有些苦涩地说。

巴黎堕落的受害者随后观察了她的救星所穿的衣服，并带着孩子般的微笑说道：

“那我岂不是死了不肯上天？”

“你还可以赎罪，”神父一边说，一边用水润湿她的额头，让她闻一闻他在角落里发现的一瓶醋。

“我感觉生命并没有离开，而是正在向我涌来。”她接受了天父的照顾，并用简单的动作表达了她的感激之情后说道。这部引人入胜的哑剧，就像美惠三女神曾经用来表演的那样，完美地证明了这个奇怪女孩的绰号是正确的。

“你好点了吗？”神父边说边给她一杯糖和水喝。

这个人似乎习惯了这种奇怪的场所。他知道这一切。他在那里感到很自在。这种在家里随处可见的特权是国王、妓女和小偷的特权。

“当你感觉很好的时候，”这位奇怪的神父停顿了一下，继续说道，“你必须告诉我，促使你犯下最后一次犯罪、这次自杀未遂的原因。”

“我的故事很简单，神父，”她回答道。 “三个月前，我过着与生俱来的邪恶生活。我是最低贱最卑鄙的生物；现在只有我最不开心。请原谅我告诉你我可怜的母亲被谋杀的历史——”

“在一个声名狼藉的房子里，是一位上尉写的。”神父打断了忏悔者的话。 “我知道你的出身，我也知道，如果你的性别中的一个人过着耻辱的生活可以被原谅，那就是你，因为你一直缺乏好的榜样。”

“唉！我从未受过洗礼，也没有接受过任何宗教教义。”

“那么，一切都可以得到补救，”神父回答道，“只要你的信仰、你的悔改是真诚的、没有别有用心的。”

“吕西安和上帝充满了我的心，”她带着真诚的悲伤说道。

“你可能会说上帝和吕西安，”神父微笑着回答。 “你让我想起了我此行的目的。不要忽略任何与那个年轻人有关的事情。”

“你是从他那里来的？”她问，眼神温柔，任何其他神父都会感动！ “哦，他认为我应该这么做！”

“不，”神父回答道。 “我们感兴趣的不是你的死，而是你的生。来吧，解释一下你们对彼此的立场。”

“一句话，”她说。

可怜的孩子因神父严厉的语气而颤抖，但就像一个早已不再对暴行感到惊讶的女人一样颤抖。

“吕西安就是吕西安，”她说，“最英俊的年轻人，最善良的灵魂；如果你认识他，我的爱在你看来一定是很自然的。三个月前，我在圣马丁门剧院偶然遇见了他，有一天我休假时去了那里，因为我们每周有一天在梅纳迪夫人家，当时我就在那里。第二天，你知道吗，我擅自出去了。爱情进入了我的内心，彻底改变了我，以至于当我从剧院回来时，我都不认识自己了：我对自己感到恐惧。吕西安永远不会知道。我没有告诉他我是谁，而是给了他这些房间的地址，当时我的一个朋友住在那里，他很友善，把这些房间交给了我。我以神圣的誓言发誓——”

“你不许发誓。”

“是发誓许下神圣的诺言吗？——好吧，从那天起，我就在这个房间里像迷失的生物一样以每件二十八苏的价格做衬衫，以便靠诚实的劳动生活。一个月来，除了土豆，我什么也没吃，这样我就可以让自己成为一个好女孩，配得上吕西安，他爱我，尊重我，将我视为美德的典范。我已经向警方作出了恢复权利的声明，并接受了两年的监视。他们已经准备好将你的名字列入耻辱名单，但又千方百计想把它重新划掉。我向天堂祈求的只是让我能够坚守我的决心。

“四月我就十九岁了；在我这个年纪还是有机会的。在我看来，我直到三个月前才出生。——我每天早上都向上帝祈祷，希望吕西安永远不会知道我以前的生活是什么样的。我买了你在那里看到的那个圣母，我用自己的方式向她祈祷，因为我不知道任何祈祷；我不会读也不会写，也从未进过教堂；除了在游行中出于好奇之外，我从未见过上帝的任何东西。”

“那你对圣母说什么？”

“我和她说话就像和吕西安说话一样，倾尽全力，直到我把他弄哭了。”

“哦，所以他哭了？”

“很高兴，”她热切地说，“可怜的孩子！我们彼此如此了解，以至于我们只有一个灵魂！他是那么的善良，那么的可爱，那么的心灵、思想和举止都是那么的甜蜜！他说他是诗人；我说他是神。——原谅我！你们这些牧师，你们不知道什么是爱。但事实上，只有像我这样的女孩才足够了解像吕西安这样的男人。你看，吕西安就像一个没有罪孽的女人一样稀有。当你遇到他时，你就无法再爱任何人；就在那里！但这样的存在必须有他的同伴；所以我想要值得被我的吕西安所爱。这就是我的麻烦开始的地方。昨晚，在歌剧院，我被一些年轻人认出了，他们没有比老虎怜悯更多的感情——就此而言，我可以绕过老虎！我试图戴上的纯真面纱被撕掉了；他们的笑声刺穿了我的大脑和我的心。别以为你救了我；我会因悲伤而死。”

“你的纯真面纱？”神父说。 “那么你对待路西恩的态度是极其严厉的？”

“哦，父亲，你这么认识他，怎么能问我这样的问题！”她微笑着回答。 “谁能抗拒神？”

“不要亵渎神灵，”神父温和地说。 “没有人能像上帝一样。真爱与夸张是不相容的；你对你的偶像没有纯粹而真诚的爱。如果你经历了你所吹嘘的转变，你就会获得女性应有的美德。你会知道贞洁的魅力，谦虚的优雅，这两种美德是少女的荣耀。——你不爱。

神父看到了埃丝特惊恐的表情，但这并没有影响她忏悔神父的冷漠。

“是的;因为你爱他是为了你自己，而不是为了他自己；为了让你高兴的暂时的享受，而不是为了爱本身。如果他就这样占有了你，你就不可能感受到那种神圣的激动，这种激动是由上帝在他身上盖上最可爱的完美印记的存在所激发的。难道你从来没有想过，你会因为你过去的不纯洁而贬低他，你会因为你为你赢得了臭名昭著的绰号的压倒性诱惑而腐蚀一个孩子吗？你对自己不合逻辑，你一天的热情——”

“一天的事？”她抬起眼睛重复道。

“你还能用什么名字来称呼这种不永恒的爱，这种爱不能在基督徒的未来生活中与我们所爱的人结合在一起呢？”

“啊，我会成为一名天主教徒！”她用空洞、激烈的语气喊道，这样她就能赢得上帝的怜悯。

“一个既没有接受过教会的洗礼，也没有接受过知识的洗礼的女孩，可以吗？他们既不会读书，也不会写字，也不会祈祷；她每走一步，街上的石头都会起来指责她；值得注意的只是美丽的短暂礼物，明天可能会被疾病摧毁；这样一个卑鄙、堕落的生物，也完全意识到自己的堕落——如果你对此一无所知，不那么忠诚，你会更情有可原——自杀和地狱的预期受害者能希望成为吕西安·德的妻子吗？鲁本普雷？”

每一个字，都像是一把匕首，刺入她的内心深处。绝望的女孩每说一句话，就发出更大的抽泣声和大量的泪水，这显示出光芒的力量，照亮了一个像野蛮人一样纯洁的智力，照亮了一个终于被唤醒的灵魂，照亮了一个被堕落蒙上了一层阴影的本性。肮脏的冰现在在信仰的阳光下融化了。

“我为什么没有死！”这是在折磨着她大脑的众多想法中唯一能说出的想法。

“我的女儿，”可怕的法官说道，“有一种爱在世人面前是不承认的，但天使们却带着喜悦的微笑接受了它的秘密。”

“那是什么？”

“没有希望的爱，当它激发我们的生活时，当它让我们充满牺牲精神时，当它通过达到某种理想完美的想法而使每一个行为变得高贵时。是的，天使认可这样的爱；它引导我们认识上帝。为了配得上你所爱的人，追求完美，为他做出一千个秘密的牺牲，远远地崇拜他，一滴一滴地献出你的血液，放弃你的自爱，从不感到任何骄傲或愤怒他，甚至向他隐瞒他在你心中激起的可怕嫉妒的一切，如果你自己失去了他想要的一切，就给他一切，爱他所爱的，总是把你的脸转向他，在他不知情的情况下跟随他——这样那种宗教所宽恕的爱；这并不违反人类或神圣的法律，而且会导致你走上另一条道路，而不是你的淫荡之路。”

当她听到这个可怕的判决时，用一个词说出——而且是这样一个词！而且还用这样的语气说话！——埃丝特的心里升起了相当合理的不信任。这句话，犹如一声惊雷，预示着暴风雨即将来临。她看着神父，感觉到自己的要害被紧紧抓住，在面对突然而迫在眉睫的危险时，最勇敢的人都会感到绞痛。没有眼睛能读懂这个人心里在想什么。但最大胆的人会发现，从他的眼睛的表情中，更多的是令人畏缩而不是希望，他的眼睛曾经像老虎一样明亮而黄色，但现在却因简朴和贫困而笼罩在阴霾中，就像悬在地平线上的阴霾一样。三伏天，虽然大地炎热而明亮，但薄雾却使它变得模糊而暗淡——几乎看不见。

西班牙人的严肃，剧毒天花留下的无数疤痕，像破碎的车辙一样可怕，深深地刻在他被太阳晒得蜡黄的脸上。这张脸的冷酷更加显眼，戴着一顶不爱护自己的牧师的干枯假发，黑色的假发在灯光下显得生锈。他健壮的体格、像老士兵一样的双手、宽阔而有力的肩膀，就像中世纪建筑师引入意大利一些宫殿的女像柱一样，圣马丁门剧院前部的女像柱也遥相模仿。即使是目光最不敏锐的观察者也可能看出，一定是火热的激情或某种不寻常的事故将这个人投入了教会的怀抱；当然，如果这种本性确实容易改变的话，除了最巨大的闪电冲击之外，没有任何东西可以改变他。

那些过着埃丝特如此猛烈地拒绝的生活的妇女们，对我们这个时代的批评家感到绝对的冷漠，他们在某些方面可以与她们相比较，并且最终感到完全无视艺术的准则。他们读了那么多书，看到了那么多逝去的人，他们太习惯了书面的书页，他们经历了那么多的情节，他们看过那么多的戏剧，他们写了那么多的文章，却没有说出他们的意思，他们经常为了个人的喜好和厌恶而背叛艺术事业，以至于他们对一切产生厌恶感，但仍然继续做出判断。一个作家要创作出好的作品，需要一个奇迹，正如一个名妓心中孕育出纯洁高尚的爱情，需要另一个奇迹一样。

这位牧师的语气和态度似乎是从祖巴兰的画中逃脱出来的，这让这个可怜的女孩觉得充满敌意，尽管外界对她的影响很小，她觉得自己与其说是他孤独的对象，不如说是他需要的工具。对于某些方案。由于无法区分个人利益的含沙射影和真正慈善的作用，因为我们必须敏锐地清醒地识别出朋友提供的假硬币，她感觉自己仿佛落入了一些凶猛的人的魔爪中。一只巨大的猛禽，在她上方盘旋了很长时间后，向她扑了过来。她惊恐万分，惊慌失措地喊道：

“我以为安慰我们是牧师的职责，而你却杀了我！”

听到这无辜的叫喊，神父吃了一惊，又停了下来。他沉思了一会儿才回答。那一刻，两个人如此奇怪地聚集在一起，小心翼翼地打量着对方。神父理解女孩，而女孩却无法理解神父。

毫无疑问，他搁置了一些威胁到不幸的埃丝特的计划，回到了他最初的想法。

“我们是灵魂医生，”他用温和的声音说道，“我们知道什么疗法适合他们的病症。”

“对于不幸的人来说，很多事情都应该得到宽恕，”埃丝特说。

她觉得自己错了。她从床上滑下来，扑倒在男人的脚边，深深地谦卑地吻了吻他的袍子，抬头看着他，眼里满是泪水。

“我以为我已经做了这么多了！”她说。

“听着，我的孩子。你的恶名让吕西安的家人陷入悲伤。他们担心，并非没有理由，你可能会导致他放荡，陷入无尽的愚蠢——”

“那是真实的;是我让他参加舞会，让他迷惑不已。”

“你英俊得足以让他想在世人的眼中以你为荣，以你为傲，让你成为炫耀的对象。如果他只是浪费金钱的话！——但他会浪费他的时间、他的力量；他将失去对朋友们能为他带来的美好未来的渴望。有一天，他不会成为一名富有、受人钦佩、得意洋洋的大使，而是像许多在巴黎的泥沼中扼杀才华的放荡者一样，成为一个堕落女人的情人。

“至于你，在上升到一段优雅的境界之后，很快就会退回到以前的生活，因为你没有良好的教育所赋予的力量，使你能够抵制恶行，思考问题。”未来的。你无法与同阶级的女性决裂，就像你无法与今天早上在歌剧院羞辱你的男人决裂一样。吕西安真正的朋友们被他对你的热情所惊吓，紧随其后，了解了一切。他们满怀恐惧，派我来见你，听听你的意见，决定你的命运；尽管他们有足够的力量清除年轻人路上的绊脚石，但他们还是仁慈的。请理解这一点，孩子：吕西安所爱的女孩拥有他们的尊重，就像一个真正的基督徒崇拜神圣之光偶然落在其上的腐肉一样。我是为了一个仁慈的目的而成为的工具；——不过，如果我发现你完全堕落，厚颜无耻，精明，腐败到骨髓，对悔改的声音充耳不闻，我就会把你抛弃在他们的愤怒之下。

“公民和政治的释放，这是很难赢得的，警察为了社会的利益而暂时扣留释放是正确的，我听到你们怀着真正悔改的热情渴望释放——就在这里。 ”神父一边说，一边从腰带上掏出一张看起来很官方的文件。 “昨天有人见过你，这封释放信的日期是今天。可见对路西恩感兴趣的人是多么的强大。”

看到这份文件，埃丝特天真地被意想不到的喜悦所产生的痉挛性激动所征服，她的嘴唇上露出了坚定的微笑，就像一个疯狂的生物。牧师停了下来，看着女孩，看看当她失去了腐败本性中的可怕力量，并恢复到她脆弱而精致的原始本性时，她是否还能忍受如此多的兴奋。如果埃丝特是一个狡诈的妓女，她就会扮演一个角色；但现在她又是无辜的，又是她自己了，她也许会死，就像一个痊愈的盲人如果暴露在太亮的光线下可能会再次失明一样。这一刻，这个男人看透了人性的最深处，但他的冷静却僵硬得可怕；一座寒冷的阿尔卑斯山，白雪皑皑，靠近天堂，难以穿透，令人皱眉，侧面是花岗岩，但仍然仁慈。

这些女人本质上是易受影响的人，毫无理由地从最愚蠢的不信任转变为绝对的信任。从这一点来说，他们比动物还低等。他们在一切事物上都极端——在他们的欢乐和绝望中，在他们的宗教和非宗教中——如果他们没有被他们阶级特有的死亡所摧毁，如果幸福的机会不能时不时地把一个人从泥沼中拉出来，他们几乎都会发疯。他们居住的地方。要了解这种可怕存在的悲惨程度，我们必须通过研究拉托皮耶在牧师脚下的狂暴狂喜来了解一个生物在不留在那里的情况下可以疯狂到什么程度。可怜的女孩凝视着释放书，她的表情是但丁所忽略的，而这种表情超越了他的《地狱篇》的创造性。但反应却是泪流满面。艾丝特站起来，用双臂搂住神父的脖子，把头靠在他的胸前，她的泪水浸湿了他的胸膛，亲吻着那颗覆盖着钢铁之心的粗糙的东西，仿佛她很想触摸它。她抓住了他；她亲吻了他的双手。她怀着神圣的感激之情，倾注了她最哄人的爱抚，给他起了许多可爱的名字，在她甜蜜的话语中一遍又一遍地说：“让我拥有它！”用一千种不同的语气；她用温柔包裹着他，用她的目光迅速覆盖他，让他毫无防备。最后她平息了他的愤怒。

牧师认为这个女孩的绰号是当之无愧的。他明白抵抗这个迷人的生物是多么困难。他突然理解了吕西安的爱，也正是让诗人着迷的原因。这种激情，在千百种诱惑之中，隐藏着一根飞镖般的钩子，最能抓住艺术家崇高的灵魂。这些对于普通人来说是难以解释的激情，完全可以用对理想美的渴望来解释，这是创造性思维的特征。因为，在某种程度上，我们难道不就类似于天使，他们的任务就是让有罪的人变得更好吗？当我们净化这样的生物时，我们难道没有创造力吗？道德与肉体美的和谐统一是多么令人愉快啊！如果我们成功了，我们会多么高兴和自豪！除了爱之外没有工具的任务是多么崇高啊！

这种联盟因亚里士多德、苏格拉底、柏拉图、亚西比德、塞泰古斯和庞培的榜样而闻名，但在普通人眼中却如此可怕，其基础是与路易十四相同的感觉。建造凡尔赛宫，或者让人们涌入任何毁灭性的事业——将沼泽的瘴气转化为被活水包围的芳香；在山顶建造一个湖，就像孔蒂亲王在诺因特尔所做的那样；或者像农民将军伯杰雷那样在卡桑创造瑞士风景。简而言之，就是艺术在道德领域的运用。

牧师为自己的软弱感到羞愧，连忙把埃丝特推开，她很尴尬地坐下来，因为他说：

“你还是那个妓女。”然后他平静地把纸放回腰带里。

艾丝特就像一个脑子里只有一个愿望的孩子一样，眼睛一直盯着文件藏着的地方。

“我的孩子，”神父停顿了一下，继续说道，“你的母亲是犹太人，而你还没有受过洗礼；但另一方面，你却从未被带去犹太教堂。你正处于小孩子所在的地狱边缘——”

“小孩子！”她用一种温柔可怜的语气重复道。

“正如你在警方的记录中一样，你是社会人士之外的一个密码，”神父继续说道，不为所动。 “如果爱，从它的过去来看，让你相信你出生三个月后，你一定会觉得从那天起你就真的是一个婴儿了。因此，你必须像个孩子一样被引导；你必须彻底改变，我承诺让你变得面目全非。首先，你必须忘记路西恩。”

这句话让这个可怜的女孩心碎了。她抬起头看着神父，摇摇头。她说不出话来，再次在施救者身上找到了刽子手。

“无论如何，你必须放弃见到他，”他继续说道。 “我会带你去一所宗教学校，那里是最好家庭的年轻女孩接受教育的地方；在那里你将成为一名天主教徒，你将接受基督教练习的训练，你将被教导宗教。你可能会成为一位多才多艺的小姐，贞洁、纯洁、有教养，如果——”男人抬起一根手指，顿了顿。

“如果，”他继续说道，“你有足够的勇气把‘玉米饼’留在这儿。”

“啊！”可怜的家伙喊道，对他来说，每一个字都像是一段旋律的音符，天堂之门正在慢慢打开。 “啊！要是能在这里流尽我的血，让它焕然一新就好了！”

“听我说。”

她保持沉默。

“你未来的命运取决于你的遗忘能力。想想你对自己的承诺程度。背叛拉·托皮耶的一句话、一个动作都会杀死吕西安的妻子。梦中低语的一句话、不由自主的想法、不谦虚的眼神、不耐烦的姿态、放荡的回忆、遗漏、摇头可能会揭示你所知道的事情，或者关于你的不幸的已知信息—— ——”

“是的，是的，神父。”女孩带着圣人般的兴奋说道。 “穿着烧红的铁鞋行走，面带微笑，穿着钉有钉子的鞋，保持舞者的优雅，吃灰烬面包，喝艾草，一切都会甜蜜而轻松！ ”

她再次跪下，亲吻神父的鞋子，泪水打湿了鞋子，她抱住他的膝盖，紧紧抓住他的膝盖，一边低声说着愚蠢的话语，一边高兴地哭泣。她美丽的长发飘落在地上，就像天界使者脚下的地毯，当她抬起身来看着他时，她看到的天界使者一如既往地阴郁而冷酷。

“我做了什么得罪你的事了吗？”她惊恐地喊道。 “我听说有一个像我一样的女人，用香膏给耶稣洗脚。唉!德行让我变得如此贫穷，除了眼泪我什么也没有给你。”

“你还没明白吗？”他用残酷的声音回答道。 “我告诉你，你必须能够走出我将带你进入的房子，在身体和精神上都发生如此彻底的改变，以至于你所认识的男人或女人都无法称你为“以斯帖”并让你东张西望。昨天，你的爱无法给你足够的力量，完全埋葬那个妓女，让她永远不会再出现；今天，她再次在崇拜中苏醒，这一切都归功于上帝。”

“不是他派你来见我的吗？”她说。

“如果在你接受教育的过程中你甚至见到了吕西安，那么一切都将失去，”他继续说道。 “记住这一点。”

“谁来安慰他？”她说。

“你安慰他做什么？”神父问道，他的语气在这一幕中第一次出现了紧张的颤抖。

“我不知道;他来的时候常常很伤心。”

“伤心！”神父说。 “他告诉你原因了吗？”

“从来没有，”她回答道。

“他为爱你这样的女孩而难过！”他惊呼道。

“唉！好吧，他可能是，”她非常谦卑地说。 “我是同性中最卑鄙的生物，只有我的爱伟大，我才能在他眼中得到青睐。”

“这份爱一定会让你有勇气盲目服从我。如果我直接带你从这里到你要受教育的房子，这里的每个人都会告诉吕西安，你今天，周日，和一位牧师一起离开了。他可能会追随你的脚步。一周之内，看门女再也见不到我，可能会认为我不是我。所以，某个晚上——本周的这一天——七点，安静地出去，坐上一辆出租车，出租车就在弗隆德街的尽头等着你。在这一周里，避开吕西安，找借口，把他从门口送出去，如果他进来，就去某个朋友的房间。我会知道你是否见过他，那样的话一切就都结束了。我什至不会回来。这八天你需要穿一些合适的衣服，掩饰你妓女的样子。”他一边说，一边把钱包放在烟囱架上。 “你的举止、你的衣着中有某种东西——巴黎人都熟知的某种难以定义的东西，它宣告了你的本质。你在大街上、林荫大道上，没有见过一个和母亲一起散步的谦虚贤惠的女孩吗？”

“哦，是的，令我悲伤的是！看到母女是对我们最残酷的惩罚之一。它引起了潜伏在我们内心最深处的悔恨，并且正在吞噬着我们。——我太清楚我所缺乏的一切了。

“那么，你知道下周日你应该是什么样子了，”神父站起来说道。

“哦！”她说：“在你走之前教我一个真正的祈祷，这样我就可以向上帝祈祷。”

看到牧师让这个女孩重复Ave，真是令人感动 玛丽亚 和 帕特诺斯特 用法语。

“那就太好了！”当埃丝特毫无错误地重复了天主教信仰的这两个伟大而普遍的话语时，她说道。

“你叫什么名字？”当神父向她告别时，她问他。

“卡洛斯·埃雷拉；我是一个被驱逐出祖国的西班牙人。”

艾丝特握住他的手并吻了吻它。她不再是妓女，而是妓女。她是一个跌倒后又升起的天使。

1824 年 XNUMX 月的一个星期一早晨，在一所以贵族式虔诚教学而闻名的宗教机构里，学生们发现他们漂亮的学生群中多了一位新来者，她的美貌毫无争议地战胜了她的同伴，而且超越了她的同伴。每一件作品都完美地体现了特殊的美感细节。在法国，达到波斯诗句中所描述的、据说在《后宫》中所刻画的三十点完美是极其罕见的，甚至可以说是不可能的，这是使女人变得绝对美丽所必需的。虽然在法国很少看到整体，但我们发现了精美的部分。至于雕塑试图产生的那种令人印象深刻的结合，并且在戴安娜和卡利皮吉等一些罕见的例子中产生了这种效果，它是希腊和小亚细亚的特权财产。

以斯帖来自人类的摇篮；她的母亲是犹太人。犹太人虽然经常因与其他民族的接触而堕落，但在他们的众多种族中，有一些家庭保留了这种崇高的亚洲美。当它们不是令人厌恶的丑陋时，它们就呈现出亚美尼亚美丽的辉煌特征。埃丝特本来可以在后宫夺得奖品。她把这三十分和谐地结合在一起。她奇异的生活非但没有损害她造型的光彩和肉体的新鲜感，反而赋予了她神秘的女性魅力。它不再是绿色水果那种紧密、蜡质的质地，也不再是成熟时温暖的光芒；仍然有花香。再过几天放荡的生活，她就太胖了。这种充沛的健康，这种以肉欲取代了思想的动物的完美状态，在生理学家看来一定是一个了不起的事实。非常罕见的情况，在很小的女孩子里可以说是不可能的，那就是她的手，形状无比优美，像生了第二个孩子的女人一样柔软、透明、白皙。她的头发和脚正是贝里公爵夫人著名的发型和脚，头发浓密得没有理发师能把它拢到手上，头发又长又长，一圈一圈地落在地上。因为以斯帖的中等身材使女人成为一种玩具，可以被拿起来、放下、再拿起来、拎起来毫不疲劳。她的皮肤如宣纸般细腻，温暖的琥珀色，露出紫色的纹理，光滑而不干燥，柔软而不湿冷。

以斯帖虽然表面上很脆弱，但却异常坚强，她的一个特征引起了人们的注意，这一特征在拉斐尔的脸上表现出了他最具艺术感的特征，因为拉斐尔是对犹太美研究最多、表现得最好的画家。这种显着的效果是由眼窝的深度产生的，在眼窝的下方，眼睛可以自由地移动。眉弓如此精确，就像拱顶的腹股沟。当青春给这个美丽的空洞赋予纯净透明的色彩，并用紧密的眉毛边缘时，当光线偷偷地进入下面的圆形空洞，留下玫瑰色的色调时，里面有温柔的珍宝，可以让情人高兴，可以有美人。让画家陷入绝望。那些明亮的曲线，其中的阴影具有金色的色调，那些像筋一样坚固、像最精致的膜一样活动的组织，是大自然的最高成就。静止的眼睛就像丝质翅膀巢中的一个神奇的鸡蛋。但随着时间的推移，当激情在那些精美的形体上涂上黑色的污点，当悲伤使那脆弱的血管网络皱起时，这种奇迹就会变得可怕的忧郁。埃丝特的国籍从她带有土耳其眼睑的东方造型的眼睛中可见一斑。它们的颜色是石板灰色，到了晚上就会呈现出乌鸦翅膀的蓝色光泽。只有她表情极其温柔才能缓和他们的怒火。

只有那些原产于沙漠的种族才具有让所有人着迷的力量，因为任何女人都可以让某个人着迷。毫无疑问，他们的眼睛保留着他们所凝视过的无限的东西。大自然是否在她的预见中，为他们的视网膜配备了一些反射背景，使他们能够忍受沙子的幻影、阳光的洪流和天空中燃烧的钴？或者，人类是否像其他生物一样，从他们成长的环境中汲取某种东西，并长期保留他们从中吸收的品质？种族问题的伟大解决方案或许就在于问题本身。本能是活生生的事实，其原因在于过去的必然性。动物的多样性是这些本能运用的结果。

为了让我们相信这个长期寻求的真理，只要将最近对西班牙和英国羊群的观察延伸到人类群体就足够了，这些羊群在牧场丰富的低矮草地上，紧密地并排进食。 ，但在山上，草稀少，分散。把这两种羊，运到瑞士或者法国；即使在草丛茂密的低地草地上，山地品种也会分开进食，即使在阿尔卑斯山上，低地羊也会聚在一起。一代又一代人很难消除后天和遗传的本能。一个世纪后，高地精神在一只顽固的羔羊身上重新出现，就像在十八个世纪的流放之后，东方精神在埃丝特的眼睛和容貌中闪耀一样。

她的外表并没有什么可怕的魅力；它散发着温和的温暖，虽然令人可怜，但并不令人震惊，最严厉的意志都在它的火焰中融化了。艾丝特战胜了仇恨，她震惊了巴黎堕落的灵魂。简而言之，她的外表和柔软的皮肤为她赢得了可怕的绰号，这个绰号刚刚将她引向坟墓的边缘。她的一切都与火砂佩里的这些特征十分契合。她的额头坚挺而自豪。她的鼻子像阿拉伯人的鼻子一样精致而狭窄，椭圆形的鼻孔位置良好，鼻根处张开。她的嘴唇鲜红，就像一朵没有瑕疵的玫瑰，消散在那里没有留下任何痕迹。她的下巴像牛奶一样白，圆润，仿佛被多情的雕塑家打磨过。只有一件事她无法补救，背叛了这位名妓的堕落：她的指甲断了，需要时间才能恢复形状，因为最粗俗的家务已经把它们弄坏了。

年轻的寄宿生一开始对这些美丽的奇迹感到嫉妒，但最终却感到钦佩。在第一周结束之前，他们都对这位天真烂漫的犹太女人产生了依恋，因为他们对一个既不会读书也不会写字的十八岁女孩的未知不幸感兴趣，对她来说，所有的知识和指导都是新的，并且她要为大主教赢得了使一名犹太女子皈依天主教并为修道院举办洗礼节的胜利。他们原谅了她的美貌，发现自己在教育方面优于她。

艾丝特很快就明白了这些有教养的女孩的举止、口音、举止和态度。简而言之，她的本性再次显现出来。这种变化是如此彻底，以至于埃雷拉第一次来访时就感到惊讶，而院长也对他的病房表示祝贺。这些姐妹在担任教师期间从未遇到过如此迷人的天性、如此基督徒般的温顺、真正的谦逊，也没有如此如此渴望学习。当一个女孩遭受了像这个可怜的孩子那样的痛苦，并期待着西班牙人向埃丝特提供的这样的回报时，如果她没有意识到耶稣会士在巴拉圭复兴的早期教会的奇迹，那是很难的。

“她很有启发性，”院长说，亲吻了她的额头。

这个本质上是天主教的词说明了一切。

在娱乐时间，埃丝特会谨慎地询问她的同伴，询问时尚生活中最简单的问题，这对她来说就像是一个孩子对生活的第一个奇怪的想法。当她听说她在洗礼和第一次圣餐那天要穿白衣，戴白缎带，戴白蝴蝶结，穿白鞋，戴白手套，头发上戴白色玫瑰花结时，她感动得热泪盈眶。 ，让她的同伴们大吃一惊。这与耶弗他在山上的情景正好相反。妓女害怕被人理解；她把这种可怕的沮丧归咎于她对这次活动的期待。她所放弃的习惯和她正在养成的习惯之间确实存在着巨大的鸿沟，就像野蛮国家和文明之间存在着巨大的鸿沟一样，她具有优雅、简单和深度，使美国清教徒的出色女英雄脱颖而出。她也不知不觉地拥有一种正在侵蚀她的心的爱——一种奇怪的爱，一种在她无所不知的人身上比在一个什么都不知道的少女身上更加强烈的欲望，尽管这两种形式的欲望有相同的地方。原因相同，目的相同。

在最初的几个月里，隐居生活的新奇，学习的惊喜，她所学到的手艺，宗教的实践，神圣决心的热忱，她唤起的温柔的感情，以及她能力的运用觉醒的智力，所有这些都有助于抑制她的记忆，甚至包括她为获得新记忆而付出的努力，因为她要忘记的东西和要学习的东西一样多。记忆的形式不止一种：身体和心灵各有自己的记忆；例如，想家是身体记忆的一种疾病。因此，在第三个月里，这个张开翅膀飞向天堂的处女灵魂的热情并没有被平息，而是被一种迟钝的叛逆所束缚，而以斯帖本人也不知道其原因。就像苏格兰的绵羊一样，她想在孤独中放牧，她无法克服放荡的本能。

是不是她已经放弃的巴黎的肮脏生活方式正在召唤她回到那里？她已经放弃的那些可怕习惯的锁链是否通过被遗忘的铆钉牢牢地束缚在她身上？外科医生告诉我们，当老战士们仍然在他们失去的四肢中受苦时，她是否感觉到了它们？难道罪恶和放纵已经深深地渗入她的骨髓，以至于圣水还没有驱除潜伏在那里的魔鬼吗？她为之付出天使般的努力，对这个可怜的灵魂来说，看到他是必要的吗？上帝肯定会宽恕他，因为他将人类的爱与神圣的爱混合在一起？一者导致了另一者。她体内的生命力是否发生了某种转移，导致她不可避免地遭受痛苦？在科学蔑视研究的情况下，一切都是可疑和模糊的，认为这个主题太不道德和太妥协，好像医生和作家、牧师和政治学生并不是最值得怀疑的。然而，一位被死亡阻止的医生却有勇气开始一项他未完成的调查。

也许埃丝特陷入抑郁症，给她幸福的生活蒙上了一层阴影，这就是所有这些原因造成的。也许，尽管她自己无法怀疑它们，但她就像对医学或外科手术一无所知的病态动物一样遭受痛苦。

事实很奇怪。以健康和丰富的食物代替不良和炎症的营养并不能维持以斯帖的生命。纯粹而有规律的生活，娱乐和学习之间的划分被有意地缩减，取而代之的是快乐和痛苦同样可怕的无序的生活，使修道院的寄宿者筋疲力尽。最凉爽的休息，最平静的夜晚，取代了极度的疲劳和最折磨人的烦躁，让她发低烧，其中常见的症状是护士修女的眼睛或手指察觉不到的。事实上，邪恶和不幸之后的美德和幸福，安全感取代了焦虑，对埃斯特来说是致命的，就像她过去的不幸对她年轻的同伴们来说一样。她是在腐败的环境中长大的。尽管有专制意志的命令，那个地狱般的家仍然控制着她。她所厌恶的，对她来说就是生命，她所爱的，却是对她的杀戮。

她的信仰如此热烈，以至于她的虔诚让她周围的人感到高兴。她喜欢祈祷。她向真正的宗教之光敞开了自己的心灵，毫不费力、毫无疑问地接受了它。担任她主任的神父对她很满意。尽管如此，她的身体每次都在抵抗精神。

为了满足曼特农夫人的突发奇想，她用皇家餐桌上的残羹剩饭喂它们，一些鲤鱼从泥泞的池子里捞出来，放在一个装有明亮、干净的水的大理石盆里。鲤鱼死了。动物可以被献祭，但人类永远不能让奉承的麻风病传染给它们。一位朝臣在凡尔赛宫对这种无声的抵抗发表了评论。 “他们就像我一样，”无冕女王说道。 “他们渴望自己不起眼的泥土。”

这篇演讲概括了以斯帖的故事。

有时，这个可怜的女孩被迫在美丽的修道院花园里跑来跑去。她从一棵树赶到另一棵树，她冲进最黑暗的角落——寻找？什么？她不知道，她已经成为了恶魔的猎物；她与树木调情，用无声的言语向它们发出呼吁。有时，在晚上，她像一条蛇一样在墙下偷偷地走，裸露的肩膀上没有披肩。她经常在教堂里做礼拜时，眼睛盯着耶稣受难像，热泪盈眶。其他人都很钦佩她。但她却气得哭了。她希望看到的不是神圣的形象，而是那些耀眼的夜晚，当哈贝内克在音乐学院指挥贝多芬交响曲时，她进行了一些狂欢——欢笑和淫荡的夜晚，伴随着激烈的手势，无法熄灭的笑声，在她面前升起，疯狂，愤怒，和残酷的。她看起来很温和，就像一个仅凭女人的身材而依附于尘世的处女一样。帝国的梅萨利娜内心愤怒不已。

只有她知道这场魔鬼与天使斗争的秘密。当上级责备她把头发做得比众议院规则允许的更时尚时，她迅速而美丽地顺从地改变了它。如果母亲要求她剪掉自己的头发，她就会把头发剪掉。这种道德上的思乡之情对于一个宁可死去也不愿回到污秽深渊的女孩来说实在是可悲。她的脸色变得苍白、变了、瘦了。院长给她上了较短的课程，并把这个有趣的生物叫到她的房间来询问她。但以斯帖很高兴；她喜欢和同伴交往。她的任何重要部位都没有感到疼痛。然而，受到攻击的却是元气本身。她并不后悔；她什么都不想要。院长对寄宿生的回答感到困惑，当她看到她因虚弱而憔悴时，不知道该作何感想。

当女孩的病情看起来很严重时，医生被叫来了。但这位医生对艾丝特的前世一无所知，也猜不出来。他发现每个器官都有声音，疼痛无法定位。病人的回答推翻了所有的假设。还有一种方法可以消除这位博学之人的疑虑，现在它提出了一个可怕的建议：但埃丝特顽固地拒绝接受体检。

遇到这种困难，上级向埃雷拉神父求助。西班牙人来了，见埃丝特病情危急，就把医生暂时叫到一边。在这次秘密采访之后，科学家告诉信仰者，唯一的治疗方法就是去意大利旅行。在以斯帖受洗和第一次领圣餐之前，神父不会听说过这样的旅程。

“到那时还要多久？”医生问道。

“一个月。”上级回答道。

“她会死的，”医生说。

“是的，但是是在恩典和救赎的状态下，”神父说。

在西班牙，宗教问题是至高无上的，高于所有政治、公民或生死攸关的考虑因素。所以医生没有回答西班牙人。他转向院长，但可怕的神父抓住他的手臂阻止了他。

“先生，别再说了！”他说。

医生虽然是一位宗教人士和君主主义者，但他却用一种温柔怜悯的表情看着艾丝特。这个女孩就像一朵垂落在茎上的百合花一样可爱。

“那么，愿上帝帮助她！”他走开时喊道。

就在这次咨询的当天，埃丝特就被她的保护人带到了医院。 康卡勒罗谢尔一家著名的餐厅，为了拯救她，向神父提出了奇怪的权宜之计。他尝试了两种过度行为的效果：一顿丰盛的晚餐，这可能会让这个可怜的孩子想起过去的狂欢；还有歌剧，这会让她的脑海中浮现出一些世俗的景象。需要他的专制权威来引诱这位年轻的圣徒做出这样的亵渎行为。埃雷拉将自己伪装成一名军人，埃斯特几乎认不出他来。他小心翼翼地让他的同伴戴上面纱，然后把她放在一个盒子里，让所有人都看不到她。

这种姑息疗法对于如此真诚地恢复清白来说没有任何风险，但很快就失去了效果。修道院的寄宿生厌恶地看着她的保护者的晚餐，对剧院有宗教厌恶，并再次陷入忧郁。

“她对吕西安的爱快要死了，”埃雷拉自言自语道。他想要探寻这个灵魂的深处，并知道可以从中索取多少。

于是，这个可怜的孩子不再受到道德力量的支撑，身体即将崩溃的时刻到来了。牧师用以前刽子手在酷刑艺术中表现出的可怕的实际智慧来计算时间。他在花园里找到了他的门生，坐在棚架下的长凳上，四月的阳光轻轻地洒在上面。她似乎很冷，正在努力让自己暖和起来。她的同伴们饶有兴趣地看着她，她的脸色苍白得像一株折叠的植物，她的眼睛像一只垂死的羚羊的眼睛，她的态度低垂。埃丝特起身去见西班牙人，神色疲倦，这表明她的生命力是多么微弱，而且，也许还要补充一点，她对生活是多么不关心。这个不幸的被遗弃者，这只野性而受伤的燕子，第二次让卡洛斯·埃雷拉产生了同情心。这位阴郁的牧师，上帝本应雇用他来执行他的复仇，却微笑着接待了生病的女孩，这确实表达了苦涩和甜蜜，既表达了复仇又表达了仁慈。以斯帖练习冥想，自从过着这种近乎修道院的生活以来，她已经习惯了情感上的厌恶，这对她来说，第二次感到对她的保护者的不信任。但和上次一样，他的讲话让她放心了。

“好吧，我亲爱的孩子，”他说，“你为什么从来没有跟我提起过吕西安呢？”

“我答应过你，”她说，从头到脚都在抽搐。 “我向你发誓，我永远不会说出他的名字。”

“但你却没有停止想念他。”

“先生，这是我犯下的唯一错误。我时时想起他；你刚来的时候，我就在自言自语地说着他的名字。”

“缺席会杀死你吗？”

艾丝特唯一的回答是低下头，就像那些已经闻到了坟墓气息的病人一样。

「如果你能见到他的话——？」他说。

“这就是生活！”她哭了。

“那你只在精神上考虑他吗？”

“啊，先生，爱情是无法分割的！”

“被诅咒的种族之子！我已尽一切努力来拯救你；我送你回到你的命运之中。——你会再次见到他的。”

“为什么要侮辱我的幸福？难道我就不能爱路西恩，不能做个有德行的人吗？难道我还没有准备好为美德而死在这里，就像我应该准备好为他而死一样吗？我难道不是为了这两种狂热而死吗——为了美德，为了让我配得上他，为了他把我投入美德的怀抱？是的，准备好见不到他就死，或者见他就活。上帝是我的审判者。”

她的脸色渐渐红了，她的白皙肌肤也恢复了琥珀色的温暖。艾丝特又看起来很漂亮了。

“在你接受洗礼的第二天，你将再次见到吕西安；如果你认为为他而活就能过上美德，那么你们就不会再分开了。”

牧师不得不扶起埃丝特，因为她的膝盖已经无法支撑了。可怜的孩子跌倒了，就像脚下的地面滑落了一样。神甫让她坐在长凳上。当她能再次说话时，她问他：

“为什么不是今天？”

“您想剥夺大人的洗礼和皈依的胜利吗？你离吕西安太近了，不可能不远离上帝。”

“是的，我没有想——”

“你永远不会有任何宗教信仰，”神父带着一丝最深刻的讽刺说道。

“上帝是良善的，”她说。 “他能读懂我的心。”

埃雷拉被精致的天真和手势所征服，第一次吻了她的额头。

“你那些放荡不羁的朋友对你的称呼很好；你会迷惑天父上帝。——还需要几天的时间，然后你们就都自由了。

“两个都！”她欣喜若狂地重复道。

从远处看到的这一幕，让学生和上级都震惊了。当他们将埃丝特与自己进行比较时，他们以为自己看到了奇迹。她完全变了；她还活着。她又恢复了原来的样子，充满爱意，甜美，风骚，俏皮，欢快。简而言之，这是一次复活。

埃雷拉住在卡塞特街，靠近他所属的圣叙尔皮斯教堂。这座建筑的风格坚硬而严肃，很适合这位西班牙人，他的纪律是多米尼加人的。作为斐迪南七世精明政策的失败之子，他致力于宪法事业，因为他知道这种奉献永远不会得到回报，除非恢复宪法。 雷·内托（Rey Netto）。卡洛斯·埃雷拉 (Carlos Herrera) 将自己的身体和灵魂投入到了 奸党 此时此刻，议会似乎有可能站稳脚跟并保持自己的立场。对于世人来说，这种行为似乎宣告了一种优越的灵魂。昂古莱姆公爵的远征已经开始，斐迪南国王即位，卡洛斯·埃雷拉没有去马德里领取他的服务奖励。由于外交上的沉默寡言，他抑制住了好奇心，他把自己对吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷的强烈感情作为他留在巴黎的原因，这位年轻人已经因他的改名而获得了国王的专利。

埃雷拉的生活非常隐秘，就像传统上受雇执行秘密任务的牧师一样。他在圣叙尔皮斯履行了自己的宗教义务，除了出差从不外出，然后在天黑后，就乘坐出租汽车外出。他的一天充满了西班牙式的午睡，即在两顿正餐之间安排睡眠，因此占据了巴黎繁忙混乱的时间。西班牙雪茄也发挥了作用，它消耗时间和烟草。懒惰就像重力一样是一个面具，而这又是懒惰。

埃雷拉住在二楼的一侧，吕西安则住在另一侧。两间公寓由一间古色古香、富丽堂皇的大接待室分隔和连接，同样适合坟墓牧师和年轻诗人。院子里一片阴暗。大而茂密的树木遮蔽了花园。牧师选择的住所总是保持沉默和矜持。埃雷拉的住所可以用一个词来形容——牢房。吕西安的房间华丽而奢华，配备了各种精致的舒适设施，结合了花花公子优雅生活所需的一切——诗人、作家，雄心勃勃而又放荡不羁，既虚荣又虚荣，完全不顾一切，却又渴望秩序，那些不完整的天才之一，有一定的能力去愿望、去构想——这也许是同一件事——但根本没有能力去执行。

吕西安和埃雷拉这两个人组成了一个政治体。毫无疑问，这就是他们结合的秘密。老年人的生活活动被连根拔起，移植到兴趣领域，常常感到需要一个令人愉快的工具，一个年轻而热情的演员来实施他们的计划。黎塞留发现一张英俊苍白的脸，留着年轻的小胡子，可以用来吸引他想取悦的女人，但为时已晚。他被那些轻率的年轻人所误解，在试图让每个人都爱上他之后，他被迫驱逐了主人的母亲，并恐吓了女王，尽管他生来并不适合被女王所爱。

在我们雄心勃勃的生活中，我们总是会在我们最意想不到的时候遇到一个女人挡在路上。无论一个政治男人多么伟大，他总是需要一个女人来对抗女人，就像荷兰人用钻石来切割钻石一样。处于鼎盛时期的罗马屈服于这种必要性。看看意大利红衣主教马扎林的生活比法国红衣主教黎塞留的生活要辉煌得多。黎塞留遭到大贵族的反对，他动用了斧头。他在成功之花中死去，因这场决斗而精疲力尽，而他只有一位嘉布遣僧侣作为他的副手。马扎林遭到公民阶级和贵族的排斥，他们是武装盟友，有时会成功地迫使皇室逃亡。但奥地利的安妮忠实的仆人没有砍下人头，他成功地征服了整个法国，并训练了路易十四，后者完成了黎塞留的工作，在凡尔赛宫的宏伟后宫用镀金绳子勒死了贵族。蓬巴杜夫人死了，舒瓦瑟尔倒下了！

埃雷拉是否已经沉浸在这些崇高的教义中？他对自己的评价是否比黎塞留更早？他是否选择了路西恩作为他的五战神，而且是一个忠实的五战神？没有人能回答这些问题，也没有人能衡量这位西班牙人的野心，因为没有人能预见他的结局。这些问题是由那些能够看到这个长期以来一直保密的联盟的任何东西的人提出的，可能会揭开吕西安本人几天前才知道的一个可怕的谜团。卡洛斯对两个人抱有雄心。他的行为向那些认识他的人表明了这一点，他们都认为吕西安是神父的私生子。

吕西安再次出现在歌剧院舞会上，这让他过早地进入了一个神父不愿见到他的世界，直到他完全武装他反对它，十五个月后，他的马厩里有三匹好马，一辆晚上用的轿跑车白天使用出租车和 tilbury 开车。他每天都出去吃饭。埃雷拉的远见是有道理的。他的学生放荡不羁。他认为有必要转移一下年轻人心中对埃丝特的狂热热情。花了大约四万法郎之后，吕西安的每一次愚蠢举动都让他更加渴望回到拉托皮耶。他执着地寻找她；由于他找不到她，她对他来说就像比赛对运动员一样。

埃雷拉能理解诗人爱情的本质吗？

当这种感觉一旦进入这些伟大小人物的大脑，在点燃他的心并吸收他的感官之后，诗人就通过爱变得远远优于人类，就像他通过想象力的力量一样。智力遗传的怪胎赋予了他通过意象表达自然的能力，他赋予了这种能力情感和思想的印记，他为他的爱情插上了精神的翅膀；他感觉，他绘画，他行动和冥想，他通过思想倍增他的感觉，通过对未来的渴望和对过去的记忆，现在的幸福变得三重；他将灵魂的精致愉悦与它融为一体，这使他成为艺术家王子。然后，诗人的激情就变成了一首优美的诗，其中人的比例常常被忽视。难道诗人把他的情妇放在比女人渴望坐的更高的地方吗？就像崇高的拉曼查骑士一样，他把一个农家女孩变成了公主。他为了自己的利益而使用魔杖来触摸一切，将其变成奇迹，从而通过理想的光辉魅力增强爱的乐趣。

这样的爱就是激情的本质。它在一切事物上都是极端的，在它的希望中，在它的绝望中，在它的愤怒中，在它的忧郁中，在它的欢乐中；它是极端的。它飞，它跳，它爬；它不像普通人所知道的任何情感；它对于日常的爱情就像常年的阿尔卑斯山激流对于低地溪流一样。

这些杰出的天才很少被理解，以至于他们把自己的希望寄托在受骗上。她们因寻找理想情妇而精疲力尽，几乎总是像美丽的昆虫一样死去，它们被大自然最富有诗意的发明为爱情节日精心装饰，却被踩在过路人的脚下。但还有另一个危险！当他们遇到符合他们灵魂的形体时，通常是面包师妻子的形体，他们就像拉斐尔那样，就像美丽的昆虫一样，死在福纳里娜的怀里。

路西恩就在这个关口。他的诗意气质，无论是善还是恶，在一切事物上都表现得过分，在这个女孩身上看到了天使，她不是被腐败所玷污的，而是被腐败所玷污的。他总是看到她洁白、长着翅膀、纯洁而神秘，就像她为他打造的那样，他明白他会拥有她。

1825 年 XNUMX 月末，吕西安已经失去了所有的好心情。他从不外出，与埃雷拉一起吃饭，坐着沉思，工作，阅读大量的外交论文，蹲在沙发上，穿着土耳其时装，每天抽三四支水烟袋。他的马夫更多的工作是清洁和给这根高贵的烟斗的管子加香，而不是清洗和刷掉马匹的皮毛，并给它们戴上帽徽，以便在森林里驾车。西班牙人一看到吕西安脸色苍白，并在压抑的激情中发现了一种毛病，他就决心读懂这个人赖以生存的内心深处。

一个晴朗的夜晚，当吕西安懒洋洋地躺在扶手椅上，机械地凝视着花园里夕阳透过树林的色彩，缓缓地、规则地云彩中飘散着香味的烟雾时，就像沉思的吸烟者所习惯的那样，他被唤醒了。他从沉思中醒来，听到一声深深的叹息。他转过身来，看到神甫抱着双臂站在他身边。

“你在那里！”诗人说。

“有一段时间了，”神父说，“我的思绪一直在追随你的思绪。”路西恩明白了他的意思。

“我从来没有假装拥有像你这样铁石心肠的本性。对我来说，生活时而天堂，时而地狱；当碰巧两者都不是时，我就会感到无聊；而且我很无聊——”

“眼前有如此美好的前景，你怎么会感到无聊呢？”

“如果我对这些前景没有信心，或者它们太过神秘？”

“别胡说。”神父说道。 “如果你向我敞开心扉，那对你和我都更有价值。现在我们之间出现了一个不应该出现在我们之间的秘密——一个秘密。这个秘密已经存在了十六个月。你在恋爱。”

“那呢？”

“一个叫拉·托皮耶的肮脏的女人——”

“好？”

“我的孩子，我告诉过你，你可能有一个情妇，但是一个有地位的女人，漂亮，年轻，有影响力，至少是伯爵夫人。我为你选择了德斯帕夫人，让她毫无顾忌地成为你发家致富的工具；因为她永远不会扭曲你的心，她会让你自由。——当你没有像国王一样有权力给予她崇高的地位时，去爱一个最低阶层的妓女，是一个巨大的错误。

“我是第一个放弃野心而追随无限激情的人吗？”

“好的！”神父说着，弯腰捡起了吕西安掉在地上的水烟嘴。 “我理解你的反驳。爱情和野心就不能兼得吗？孩子，你在老埃雷拉有一位母亲——一位全心全意为你服务的母亲——”

“我知道，老朋友，”吕西安说，握住他的手并握着。

“你想要财富的玩具；你有它们。你想要发光；我正在引导你走上权力之路，我亲吻肮脏的手来确保你的进步，你会继续前进。再过一段时间，你将不再缺乏任何可以吸引男人或女人的东西。尽管你的反复无常有些女性化，但你的智慧却很男子气概。我梦见了你的一切；我原谅你们所有人。你只需开口说话就能满足你短暂的激情。我通过将让大多数人感到愉快的东西——政治影响力和统治的印记——引入到你的生活中，来丰富你的生活。你将来会像现在一样伟大；但你不能破坏我们用来铸币的机器。我同意你所愿意的一切，除了那些会毁掉你未来前景的错误。当我可以向你开放圣日耳曼郊区的客厅时，我禁止你在阴沟里打滚。吕西安，我的意思是成为你利益的铁柱；为了你，我会忍受你的一切。于是，我把你在人生游戏中的不机智，变成了高手的精明一招——”

路西恩抬起头，眼神中充满了愤怒的冲动。

“我带走了拉·托皮耶！”

“你？”吕西安喊道。

在一阵兽性的愤怒中，诗人跳了起来，把镶有宝石的喉舌扔到牧师脸上，用力推他，以至于把他推倒了。

“我，”西班牙人站了起来，保持着可怕的重力。

他的黑色假发脱落了。光秃秃的头骨，如同死人的头颅一样闪闪发光，展现出了这个人的真实面容。这太可怕了。路西恩坐在长沙发上，双手无力地垂下，茫然地看着神甫。

“我把她带走了，”神父重复道。

“你对她做了什么？歌剧舞会后的第二天你就把她带走了。”

“是的，就在我看到一个属于你的女人被那些我不会屈尊把他们踢下楼的可怜虫侮辱的第二天。”

“可怜虫！” ”吕西安打断道，“与其说是怪物，不如说那些被送上断头台的人就是天使。你知道不幸的托皮尔对他们三个人做了什么吗？其中一位是她两个月的情人。她很穷，在贫民窟里谋生。他一文不名；就像我一样，当你救我的时候，他就在河边；这个家伙会在晚上起床，走到女孩存放剩余晚餐的柜子那里吃掉它。最后她发现了其中的窍门。她明白这是一件可耻的事，并小心翼翼地留下了很多东西。然后她很高兴。那天晚上，看完歌剧回家后，除了我，她没有告诉任何人。

“第二个偷了一些钱；但在盗窃案被发现之前，她把这笔钱借给了他，他得以偿还，但他总是忘记偿还给那个可怜的孩子。

“至于第三个，她通过上演一场配得上费加罗天才的闹剧而发了财。她冒充他的妻子，成为一个当权者的情妇，他认为她是最无辜的好公民。她为一个人赋予了生命，为另一项荣誉，为第三次财富——今天这一切还有什么意义呢？这就是他们奖励她的方式！”

“你想看到他们死吗？”埃雷拉眼里含着泪水说道。

“来吧，这就像你一样！我凭这个认识你——”

“不，听好了，胡言乱语的诗人，”神父说。 “拉托皮耶已经不复存在了。”

吕西安飞向埃雷拉，掐住他的喉咙，其暴力程度足以让其他人向后倒下。但西班牙人用手臂挡住了袭击者。

“来，听着。”他冷冷地说。 “我把她变成了另一个女人，贞洁、纯洁、有教养、虔诚、完美的女士。她正在接受教育。如果可以的话，她可以在你的爱的影响下，成为尼农、玛丽恩·德洛姆、杜巴里，正如歌剧舞会上的记者所说。你可以宣称她是你的情妇，或者你也可以隐退到你自己创造的幕布后面，这会更明智。无论采用哪种方法，您都会获得利润、自豪感、快乐和进步；但如果你是一位伟大的政治家，就像你是一位诗人一样，那么埃丝特对你来说并不比镇上任何其他女人更重要。因为，以后也许她会帮助我们走出困境；她值得与她同等的黄金。喝酒，但不要喝醉。

“如果我没有掌控你的激情，你现在会在哪里？和拉·托皮耶一起在我把你从痛苦中拖出来的泥潭里打滚。在这里，读一下这个，”埃雷拉说道，就像《塔尔玛》中的塔尔玛一样简单。 曼柳斯，这是他从未见过的。

一张纸放在诗人的膝盖上，他因听了这段令人震惊的演讲而感到狂喜和惊讶，这让他大吃一惊。他接过它，读了埃丝特小姐写的第一封信：

致拉贝·卡洛斯·埃雷拉先生。

“我亲爱的保护者，你难道不认为感恩是
当你看到我第一次使用时，我内心比爱更强大
表达我的想法的力量是感谢你，而不是
致力于倾注吕西安也许拥有的热情
忘记了。但对你，神圣的人，我可以说不该说的话
敢于告诉他，让我高兴的是，他仍然坚持地球。

“昨天的仪式让我充满了恩典的宝藏，我
将我的命运交到你手中。即使我必须死在远离我的地方
亲爱的，我将像抹大拉的人一样纯洁地死去，我的灵魂将
成为他的守护天使的对手。我可以忘记吗
昨天的节日？我怎能舍弃光荣
我被提升到哪个王位？昨天我洗掉了所有污渍
在洗礼水中，接受了我的圣体
救世主;我成为他的帐幕之一。那一刻我
听到天使的歌声，我不仅仅是一个女人，为生命而生
光在整个地球的欢呼声中，受到人们的钦佩
世界在令人陶醉的焚香和祈祷云彩中，
为天上的配偶装饰得像处女一样。

“因此发现自己配得上吕西安，这是我从未希望过的
是的，我放弃了不纯洁的爱情，并发誓只走正确的道路
美德。如果我的肉体弱于我的精神，那就让它灭亡吧。是
我命运的仲裁者；如果我死了，请告诉吕西安我死了
当我为上帝而生时，他就给了我。”

路西恩抬头看着神甫，眼里满是泪水。

“你知道胖子卡罗琳·贝尔菲耶在泰特布街的房间，”西班牙人说。 “这个可怜的女人被她的地方官抛弃了，陷入了极度的贫困；她快要被卖掉了。我站着买下了这个地方，她带着衣服走了出来。向往天堂的天使以斯帖已经降落在那里，正在等你。”

就在这时，吕西安听见他的马在院子里刨地的声音。他无法表达对只有他自己才能欣赏的奉献精神的钦佩。他投入了被他侮辱的人的怀抱，用一个眼神和无言的情感表达来补偿所有人。然后他飞奔下楼，把埃丝特的地址告诉了他的老虎耳朵，马儿就出发了，仿佛主人的激情已经在马腿上流淌了。

第二天，一名男子经过泰特布特街，对面是一所房子，好像在等人出来，路人可能会误认为他是乔装的宪兵。他走路时神色焦躁。在巴黎，你经常会看到这样激烈的散步，真正的宪兵正在注视着顽抗的国民警卫队成员，法警采取措施实施逮捕，债权人计划对自闭的债务人施以诡计，情人，或嫉妒和多疑的丈夫，或朋友们为朋友放哨；但你很少会遇到一张像那个阴沉而强大的男人那样充满粗俗和激烈思想的面孔，他在埃丝特小姐的窗户下来回踱步，就像笼子里的熊一样沉思。

中午，一扇窗户被打开，一个女仆伸出手来推开软垫百叶窗。几分钟后，艾丝特穿着晨衣，靠在路西恩身上，过来呼吸空气。任何看到它们的人都可能会把它们当作一些漂亮的英国小插曲的原作。艾丝特是第一个认出西班牙牧师的蛇怪眼睛的人。这个可怜的女人就像中弹一样，发出了恐怖的叫声。

“有那个可怕的牧师，”她指着他指给吕西安说。

“他！”吕西安微笑着说道：“他和你一样，都不是牧师。”

“然后怎样呢？”她惊慌地说。

“哎呀，一个只相信魔鬼的老恶棍。”路西恩说道。

这一揭露假牧师秘密的线索，如果泄露给任何一个比埃丝特更不忠诚的人，可能会永远毁了吕西安。

当他们沿着走廊从卧室走到供应早餐的餐厅时，这对恋人遇到了卡洛斯·埃雷拉。

“你来这里做什么？”路西恩粗声粗气地说。

“祝福你们。”这个胆大包天的恶棍回答道，拦住了这两个人，把他们关在公寓的小客厅里。 “听我说，我亲爱的。娱乐自己，快乐起来——很好！不惜一切代价获得幸福是我的座右铭。——但是你，”他继续对艾丝特说，“我把你从泥沼中拖了出来，用肥皂清洗了身体和灵魂，你肯定不会梦想自己能挡住路西恩的路吧？——至于你，我的孩子，”他停顿了一下，看着吕西安，“你不再是一个诗人，不能再给自己一个科拉莉了。这是清醒的散文。埃丝特的情人能做什么呢？没有什么。艾丝特能成为德鲁本普雷夫人吗？不。

“好吧，我的孩子，”他说着，将手放在艾丝特的手上，让她颤抖起来，仿佛有一条蛇缠绕在她身上，“世界绝不能知道你的存在。最重要的是，世界绝不能知道某位埃丝特小姐爱着吕西安，而吕西安也爱上了她。——这些房间是你的监狱，我的鸽子。如果你想出去——而且你的健康需要这么做——你必须在晚上、在别人看不见你的时间里锻炼；因为你的青春和美丽，以及你在修道院所获得的风格，将立即在巴黎被观察到。当世界上的任何一个人，无论是谁，”他用一种可怕的声音补充道，同时露出可怕的表情，“得知吕西安是你的情人，或者你是他的情妇，那一天将是你的最后一天。在地球上。我已经为那个男孩取得了一项专利，允许他继承他母系祖先的名字和纹章。然而，这还不是全部。我们还没有恢复侯爵头衔；为了得到这个头衔，他必须娶一位出身名门的姑娘为妻，国王会授予她这样的殊荣。这样的联盟将使吕西安在世界上和宫廷中得到认可。这个男孩，我把他塑造成一个男人，将成为大使馆的一等秘书；稍后，他将成为某个德国宫廷的大臣，上帝，或者我——更好的是——帮助他，有一天他会在为同侪保留的长凳上就座——”

“或者在为——”预留的长凳上——”吕西安打断了那人的话。

“住嘴！”卡洛斯喊道，用宽大的手捂住吕西安的嘴。 “你会把这样的秘密告诉女人吗？”他在他耳边低声说道。

“艾丝特！一个女人！”诗人喊道 雏菊花.

“还在写十四行诗！”西班牙人说。 “废话！迟早，所有这些天使都会重新变成女人，而每个女人有时都是猴子和孩子的混合体，这两种生物可以为了取乐而杀死我们。——埃丝特，我的宝石，”他对害怕的女孩说，“我已经找了一个女人作为你的侍女，她就像我的女儿一样属于我。你的厨师应该有一位混血儿女人，她能为房子增添风格。有了 Europe 和 Asie，你就可以每月花一千法郎住在这里，像女王一样——舞台女王。欧洲曾是裁缝师、女帽设计师和舞台超级大师。阿西为一位美食家大人做饭。这两个女人会像两个仙女一样为您服务。”

看着路西恩在这个至少犯有亵渎和伪造罪的男人面前彻底陷入绝境，这个被爱情神圣化的女人，内心深处感到了一种可怕的恐惧。她没有回答，只是把路西恩拉进自己的房间，问道：

“他是恶魔吗？”

“他比我差多了！”他激烈地回答道。 “但如果你爱我，就试着效仿那个男人对我的忠诚，服从他，否则就死吧！——”

“死亡！”她惊呼道，比以前更害怕了。

“死亡。”吕西安重复道。 “唉！我亲爱的，如果——”

艾丝特听到他的话脸色苍白，感觉自己晕倒了。

“好吧，好吧，”亵渎神明的伪造者喊道，“你还没有拼出你的雏菊花瓣吗？”

艾丝特和路西恩走了出来，可怜的女孩不敢看那个神秘男人，说道：

“你将被服从，就像上帝被服从一样，先生。”

“好，”他说。 “你可能会很高兴一段时间，而你只需要睡衣和睡衣——那会很经济。”

两个恋人继续朝餐厅走去，但吕西安的赞助人示意这对漂亮的情侣停下来。他们停了下来。

“我刚才正在谈论你的仆人，我的孩子，”他对以斯帖说。 “我必须把他们介绍给你。”

西班牙人按了两次电话。那些被他称为“欧洲”和“阿西”的女人进来了，立刻就明白了这些名字的原因。

看起来像是出生在爪哇岛的阿西，露出一张吓人的脸，扁平如木板，有着马来人特有的铜色肤色，鼻子看起来像是被驱赶过的。受到某种猛烈的压力向内。上颌骨的奇怪构造使这张脸的下半部分与较大的猿类相似。眉毛虽然倾斜，但并不缺乏狡猾习惯所产生的智慧。两只凶猛的小眼睛有着老虎般平静的目光，但它们从不直视你的脸。阿西似乎很害怕，生怕她会吓到别人。她的嘴唇是暗蓝色的，两片突出的牙齿分开，牙齿洁白得令人眼花缭乱，但牙齿却越长越长。这种动物表情的主要表现是卑鄙。她的黑发像皮肤一样直而油腻，束成两条闪亮的带子，形成一条非常漂亮的丝手帕的边缘。她的耳朵非常漂亮，还镶着两颗大黑珍珠。阿西身材矮小、矮胖，很像中国人喜欢在银幕上画的怪诞人物，或者更准确地说，很像印度偶像，这些偶像似乎是从某种不存在的类型中模仿出来的，尽管如此，现在和将来都发现了这些偶像。再次被旅行者。艾丝特看着这个穿着白色围裙、外罩着棉布长袍的怪物，不禁浑身发抖。

“阿西，”西班牙人说道，女人抬起头来，用一种只能与狗抬头的姿势相比较，“这是你的情妇。”

他指着裹着包装纸的埃丝特。

阿西看着年轻的仙女，表情近乎痛苦。但就在同一时刻，一道闪光，一半隐藏在她又粗又短的睫毛之间，像燃烧的火花一样射向吕西安。头顶下，金色的头发披散成浓密的卷发，呈现出神一般的容貌。

意大利天才可以发明奥赛罗的故事；英国天才可以把它搬上舞台；但只有大自然才拥有将嫉妒的目光投向人们的力量，这种嫉妒的表达比英格兰和意大利加在一起所能想象的更宏大和更彻底。艾丝特看到这一表情后，她抓住了西班牙人的手臂，将指甲插入其中，就像猫张开爪子以防止自己掉进看不见底部的深渊一样。

西班牙人用一种陌生的语言对亚洲怪物说了几句话，亚洲怪物爬到埃丝特的脚边并亲吻了它们。

“她不仅是一位好厨师，”埃雷拉对埃丝特说；她还是一位出色的厨师。 “她是一位过去的大师，可能会让卡雷姆嫉妒得发疯。阿西可以通过烹饪来完成所有事情。她会给你做一盘简单的豆子，让你怀疑天使是否从天上下来添加了一些香草。她每天早上都会亲自去市场，拼命争取以最低的价格买到东西。她会因沉默而厌倦好奇心。

“你应该去过印度，阿西会帮助你实现这个虚构，因为她是那些生来就可以拥有任何国籍的巴黎人之一。但我不建议你把自己暴露成外国人。——欧洲，你说呢？

欧洲与阿西形成了完美的对比，因为她是蒙罗斯希望在舞台上与她竞争的最聪明的侍女。欧洲人的容貌娇小，神情漫不经心，黄鼠狼般的脸，尖尖的鼻子，在观察者看来，欧洲人的面容就像是巴黎生活的腐败所造成的，皮肤不健康，就像一个吃生苹果的女孩，淋巴丰富，但肌肉发达。 ，柔软但坚韧。一只小脚向前迈出，双手插在围裙口袋里，一动不动地坐立不安，纯粹是因为过于活跃。格丽塞特和舞台超级，尽管她年轻，但她一定尝试过很多行业。十几个玛德罗内特加在一起就充满了邪恶，她可能抢劫了她的父母，并坐在警察法庭的长凳上。

阿西很可怕，但你从一开始就对她了如指掌。她从洛库斯塔直线下降；而欧洲则让你充满不安，你与她相处得越多，这种不安必然会增加。她的腐败似乎是无限的。你觉得她可以狠狠地揪住魔鬼的耳朵。

“夫人可能会说她来自瓦朗谢纳。”欧洲用一种精确的小声音说道。 “我出生在那里——也许先生，”她用迂腐的语气对吕西安补充道，“可以说一下他打算给夫人起什么名字吗？”

“范博格塞克夫人，”西班牙人把埃丝特的名字颠倒了过来。 “夫人是一位犹太人，荷兰人，商人的遗孀，患有爪哇感染的肝脏疾病。没有什么大的财富——不能激发好奇心。”

“足够生活了——每年六千法郎；我们还要抱怨她小气吗？欧洲说。

“就是这样，”西班牙人鞠了一躬说道。 “你们这些撒旦的肢体！”他继续说道，看到亚西和欧洲交换了一个令他不高兴的眼神，“记住我告诉过你的话。你正在侍奉女王；你对她的尊重就像对女王一样；你要像珍惜报仇一样珍惜她，像对待我一样忠诚于她。无论是看门人、邻居还是房子里的其他居民——总之，地球上没有一个人知道这里发生了什么。如果有任何好奇心被激起的话，你的职责就是克制住好奇心。——还有夫人，”他继续把那只宽大的毛茸茸的手放在埃丝特的手臂上，“夫人决不能有哪怕一丁点的轻率行为；您必须在需要时阻止它，但始终要保持绝对的尊重。

“你，欧洲，要为夫人出去做任何与她的衣服有关的事情，而且你必须出于经济的动机为她做缝纫。最后，没有人，即使是最微不足道的生物，也不能踏进这间公寓。你们两个，必须做所有该做的事。

“还有你，我的美人，”他对埃丝特继续说道，“当你想在晚上乘马车出去时，你可以告诉欧洲；她会知道在哪里可以找到你的人，因为你会有一个穿着制服的仆人，是我选择的，就像那两个奴隶一样。

艾丝特和路西安还没有准备好说一句话。他们听了西班牙人的讲话，并观看了他下达的命令的两个珍贵标本。他两张脸上写着的顺从和奴役是出于什么秘密——一张顽皮地顽抗，另一张又如此恶毒残忍？

他读懂了路西恩和埃丝特的想法，他们似乎瘫痪了，就像保罗和维吉尼亚看到两条可怕的蛇一样，他用温和的语气说道：

“你可以像信任我一样信任他们；不要向他们保守秘密； “去你的工作吧，我的小阿西，”他对厨师补充道。“你，我的女孩，换个地方，”他对欧洲说； “孩子们不能不请爸爸吃早餐。”

当两个女人关上门，西班牙人可以听到欧洲来来往往的声音时，他转向吕西安和埃丝特，张开一只宽大的手掌，说道：

“我把它们握在手里。”

他的话语和动作让听众不寒而栗。

“你从哪里捡到它们的？”吕西安喊道。

“什么鬼啊！我并没有在王座脚下寻找他们！”那人回答道。 “欧洲已经从泥潭中站起来，也害怕再次陷入泥潭。当他们不让你高兴时，用阿贝先生来威胁他们，当提到猫时，你会看到他们像老鼠一样颤抖。我习惯驯服野兽。”他笑着补充道。

“你让我觉得你是个恶魔。”艾丝特说道，靠得更近了路西恩。

“我的孩子，我试图带你去天堂；但悔改的抹大拉总是教会的恶作剧。如果有的话，她会重蹈天堂妓女的覆辙。你已经获得了这么多：你被遗忘了，并且学会了一位女士的礼仪，因为你在修道院学到了你在臭名昭著的行列中永远不可能学到的东西。——你不欠我什么，”说。他注意到埃丝特脸上露出了美丽的感激之情。 “我所做的一切都是为了他。”他指着吕西安。 “你现在是，你永远是，你会以妓女的身份死去；因为尽管养牛者有令人愉快的理论，但在尘世，除了你自己之外，你永远无法成为任何东西。感觉颠簸的人是对的。你身上有爱情的火花。”

可以看出，西班牙人是一个宿命论者，就像拿破仑、穆罕默德和许多其他伟大的政治家一样。奇怪的是，大多数实干家都倾向于宿命论，就像大多数伟大的思想家倾向于相信上帝一样。

“我是谁，我不知道。”埃丝特带着天使般的甜蜜说道。 “但我爱吕西安，我会为了崇拜他而死。”

“来吃早餐吧，”西班牙人严厉地说。 “向上帝祈祷，希望吕西安不要太早结婚，否则你就再也见不到他了。”

“他的婚姻就是我的死亡，”她说。

她让假牧师带路，这样她就可以踮起脚尖对路西恩低声说话，而不被人发现。

“你希望我继续受这个派了两只鬣狗看守我的人的控制吗？”

路西恩低下了头。

可怜的孩子强忍着悲伤，装出高兴的样子，但她却感到了残酷的压迫。她需要一年多的持续和专注的照顾才习惯了这两只可怕的生物，卡洛斯·埃雷拉称之为两只看门狗。

吕西安回到巴黎后的行为就带有如此深刻的政策印记，以至于激起了——而且不可能不激起——他所有以前的朋友的嫉妒，他没有对他们进行报复，而是让他们对他的成功感到愤怒，他精致的“起立”，以及他与每个人保持距离的方式。这位曾经如此健谈、如此和蔼可亲的诗人，现在变得冷漠而矜持。德马赛是巴黎所有年轻人的榜样，他在言行上并不比吕西安表现得更加沉默寡言。至于大脑，记者现在已经证明了自己的勇气。许多人选择与吕西安作对，偏爱这位诗人，德·马赛心胸狭隘，对此表示不满。

吕西安现在深受那些秘密操纵权力的人的青睐，他对文学名声完全漠不关心，以至于他不关心他的浪漫小说的成功，以真实的标题重新出版， 查理九世弓箭手。，或由他的十四行诗卷引起的兴奋 雏菊花，其中 Dauriat 在一周内就售空了该版本。

“这是死后的名声，”他笑着对德·图什小姐说道，后者向他表示祝贺。

可怕的西班牙人用铁腕控制着他的生物，让他一直在通往目标的路上，胜利的号角和礼物等待着耐心的政客们。吕西安把博德诺在马拉奎斯码头的单身汉宿舍搬到了泰特布街附近，他的顾问住在四楼的同一屋檐下。吕西安只养了一匹马供骑乘和驾驶，还有一名男仆和一名马夫。当他不出去吃饭时，他就和埃丝特一起吃饭。

卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera）对马拉奎斯码头（Quai Malaquais）的房子的服务非常关注，以至于吕西安（Lucien）一年总共花费不到一万法郎。由于亚西和欧洲始终如一的、莫名其妙的奉献，一万个对埃丝特来说就足够了。吕西安进出泰特布特街时采取了最严格的预防措施。他从来不来，只是开一辆出租车，把百叶窗拉下来，然后总是开进院子。因此，他对埃丝特的热情以及泰特布街这家不为世人所知的机构的存在，对他的关系和事业没有造成任何损害。在这个微妙的话题上，他从来没有说过任何鲁莽的话。第一次在巴黎逗留时，他在科拉莉身上犯下的这种错误使他积累了经验。

首先，他的生活具有正确的规律性，在这种规律性之下隐藏着许多谜团。他每天晚上都待在社交场合，直到凌晨一点。他总是从晚上十点到下午一点在家。然后他把车开进布洛涅森林，一直打电话到五点。人们很少看到他步行，因此避开了老熟人。当一些记者或他的一位前同事向他挥手致意时，他以鞠躬回应，礼貌得足以避免烦恼，但明显的蔑视足以抹杀所有法国人的友善。因此，他很快就摆脱了那些他宁愿永远不认识的人。

一种由来已久的厌恶感使他无法去见德斯帕夫人，她经常希望带他去她家。但当他在莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人、德·图什小姐、蒙科内伯爵夫人或其他地方遇见她时，他总是对她彬彬有礼。这种仇恨，得到了德斯帕夫人的充分回报，迫使吕西安谨慎行事。但我们可以看到，他是如何通过允许自己进行报复来火上浇油的，这确实让他受到了卡洛斯的严厉教训。

“你还没有强大到可以向任何人复仇，无论是谁，”西班牙人说道。 “当我们在烈日下行走时，我们甚至不会停下来采集最美丽的花朵。”

吕西安实在是太优秀了，他的前途是如此美好，以至于那些选择对他回到巴黎和他难以解释的好运感到​​冒犯或困惑的年轻人，只要他们能对他不利，他们就会着迷。他知道自己有很多敌人，也很清楚朋友之间的敌意。事实上，神甫对他的养子给予了令人钦佩的照顾，让他警惕世界的背叛和年轻人致命的轻率。吕西安每天晚上都会告诉神甫，事实上，他也确实告诉了神父当天发生的每一件小事。多亏了导师的建议，他放下了最强烈的好奇心——对世界的好奇心——不再关注气味。他固守着英国人的严肃态度，并因外交上的谨慎而设置了堡垒，因此从未给予任何人哪怕是他关心的事情的权利或机会。他那张英俊年轻的脸，在社交场合已经习惯了变得面无表情，就像典礼上的公主一样。

1829 年中期，人们开始谈论他与格朗德利厄公爵夫人的长女的婚姻，当时公爵夫人至少有四个女儿需要抚养。没有人怀疑，为了纪念这样的联盟，国王将恢复吕西安侯爵的头衔。这一荣誉将奠定吕西安作为外交官的财富，他可能会被任命为某个德国宫廷的大臣。在过去的三年里，吕西安的生活一直很规律，无可挑剔。事实上，德马赛曾发表过关于他的精彩演讲：

“这个年轻人背后一定有很强的势力。”

因此，吕西安几乎是一个重要人物。事实上，他对埃丝特的热情极大地帮助他扮演了一个严肃男人的角色。这种习惯可以使雄心勃勃的人免于做出许多愚蠢的事情。他与任何时尚女性都没有联系，因此不能被纯粹的身体本性对他的道德感的反应所吸引。

至于幸福，吕西安的幸福是诗人梦想的实现——一个身无分文、在阁楼里挨饿的诗人的梦想。埃丝特是理想的恋爱交际花，虽然她让吕西安想起了与他同居一年的女演员科拉莉，但她却让她黯然失色。每一个充满爱心和忠诚的女人都发明了隐居、隐姓埋名、大海深处珍珠的生命；但对他们中的大多数人来说，这只不过是一种令人愉快的奇思妙想，为谈话提供了一个话题。他们梦想给予但却没有给予的爱的证明；而埃丝特，对她的第一次迷恋始终是新鲜的，她永远生活在吕西安第一眼燃烧的目光中，而在四个你的目光中，却从未有过好奇的冲动。她全心全意地致力于遵守险恶的西班牙人规定的计划条款。不，还有更多！在令人陶醉的幸福之中，她从来没有不公平地利用情人不断复活的欲望赋予他所爱的女人无限的权力，向吕西安询问一个关于埃雷拉的问题，事实上，她对埃雷拉一直抱有敬畏之心；她甚至不敢去想他。埃丝特无疑将她的女性修养和有教养的举止归功于那个非凡男人的精心恩惠，这让可怜的女孩觉得这是对地狱的追求。

“有一天我将不得不为这一切付出代价，”她沮丧地告诉自己。

每个晴朗的夜晚，她都会乘一辆租来的马车出去。毫无疑问，神甫坚持要她快速行驶，在巴黎、布洛涅、文森、罗曼维尔或阿夫雷城周围美丽的树林中的一处或另一处，经常与吕西安在一起，有时独自与欧洲在一起。在那里她可以无所畏惧地走来走去；因为当吕西安不在的时候，她身边就有一个仆人，他打扮得像最聪明的骑手，手里拿着一把真正的刀，他的脸和强壮的体格都表明他是一个无情的运动员。这个保护器还按照英国步兵的风格配备了一根棍子，但就像单棍球员使用的那样，他们可以用它来抵挡多个攻击者。遵照神甫的命令，埃丝特从未对这支护卫说过一句话。当夫人想回家时，欧洲打来电话；侍者向司机吹口哨，司机总是在听得见的范围内。

当路西恩和艾丝特一起散步时，欧洲和这个男人保持着大约一百步的距离，就像电影中的两个地狱爪牙一样。 一千零一夜，巫师们为他们的信徒服务。

巴黎的男人，尤其是女人，对在美好的夜晚在树林里散步的魅力一无所知。寂静、月光的效果、孤独，有沐浴的舒缓效果。艾丝特通常十点出去，从半夜一直走到一点，两点半回来。她的房间里直到十一点才天亮。然后，她洗澡并经过一个大多数女人都不知道的复杂厕所，因为它占用了太多时间，而且除了交际花、城里的女人或即将迎来这一天的贵妇之外，很少有人这样做。她才刚刚准备好，路西恩就来了，如一朵新开的花朵出现在他面前。她唯一关心的是她的诗人应该幸福；她是他的玩具，他的财产；她给了他完全的自由。她的目光从未超出她发光的范围。神甫坚持这一点，因为吕西安应该进行勇敢的冒险，这是他的深刻政策的一部分。

幸福没有历史，世界各地的讲故事的人都深知这一点，“他们很幸福”这句话是每个爱情故事的结尾。因此，只有方式方法才能记录下巴黎市中心这种真正浪漫的幸福。这是最可爱的幸福形式，一首诗，一首交响乐，持续了四年。每个女人都会感叹：“太多了！”艾丝特和路西恩都没有说过“这太过分了！”而“他们很幸福”这个公式甚至比童话故事里的还要真实，因为“他们有 没有 孩子“。

因此，吕西安可以向世界卖弄风情，屈服于他诗人的反复无常，而且，可以明确地承认，他的立场的必要性。一直以来，他都在慢慢摸索，能够为某些政治人物提供特务，帮助他们开展工作。在这些事情上他表现得非常谨慎。他培养了德·塞里齐夫人的圈子，据说与这位女士的关系非常好。塞里齐夫人把他从莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人手中夺走，据说是她“把他扔了下去”，这是女人为她们羡慕的幸福而报复的短语之一。可以说，吕西安是大主教的一员，与大主教的私人朋友的女性关系密切。他为人谦虚、内向；他耐心地等待着。因此，德马赛的演讲——德马赛现在已经结婚了，并让他的妻子过着像埃丝特一样的退休生活——在更多方面都具有重要意义。

但像吕西安这样的做法所带来的潜艇危险将在这部编年史中变得十分明显。

事情就这样发生了，八月的一个晴朗的夜晚，纽辛根男爵正从一位定居法国的外国银行家的乡村住所开车返回巴黎，当时他正与这位外国银行家共进晚餐。该庄园位于拉布里区，距离巴黎八里格。现在，男爵的车夫已经开始用自己的马匹开车送他的主人来回，在夜幕降临时，他大胆地放慢了步伐。

当他们进入文森斯森林时，野兽、人类和主人的地位如下：——马车夫在交易所贵族的厨房里泡得浑身湿透，已经喝得醉醺醺的，睡得很熟，同时仍然握着缰绳。欺骗其他行人。坐在后面的男仆正在打呼噜，就像来自德国的木陀螺——德国是一个充满小雕刻人物、大酒桶和嗡嗡声陀螺的国家。男爵试图思考；但过了古尔奈的桥后，消化带来的柔和的睡意封闭了他的眼睛。马匹从缰绳松弛的状态中了解了车夫的困境。他们听到男仆从后面的座位上发出连续低音。他们看到自己是局势的主人，并利用这几分钟的自由来调整自己的节奏。就像聪明的奴隶一样，它们给公路劫匪提供了掠夺法国最富有的资本家之一的机会，这是法国最狡猾的种族，在法国被称为“山猫”（loups-cerviers）。最后，由于不受控制，并受到每个人对家畜都一定有的好奇心的诱惑，他们在四条路交汇处停了下来，与其他一些马面对面，毫无疑问，他们用马的语言问他们：“你可能是谁？你在干什么？你舒服吗？”

当躺椅停下来时，男爵从午睡中醒来。起初他以为自己还在朋友的公园里；后来他发现自己还在朋友的公园里。然后他被天上的异象吓了一跳，发现他手无寸铁，手里拿着他惯用的武器——自利。月光灿烂；他可以阅读它——甚至是一份晚报。在寂静的森林里，在这纯净的光线下，男爵看到一个女人，独自一人，当她坐上一辆租来的马车时，看着这辆昏昏欲睡的马车的奇怪景象。一看到这位天使，男爵就觉得他体内仿佛有一道光辉闪现出来。年轻的女士看到自己受到了赞赏，惊慌失措地匆忙拉下了面纱。男仆发出了一个司机完全明白的信号，因为车子像箭一样开走了。

老银行家非常激动。血液让他的双脚冰冷，并把火带到他的大脑，他的头将火焰送回他的心脏。他感到窒息。这个不幸的人预见到自己会消化不良，但尽管极度恐惧，他还是站了起来。

“跟着奎克，费里奎克。——谭你，你睡着了！”他哭了。 “如果你能赶上那张躺椅，就花一百法郎。”

听到“一百法郎”这句话，车夫就醒了。毫无疑问，后面的仆人在梦中听到了他们的声音。男爵重申了他的命令，车夫催促马匹驰骋，在特罗内巴里埃成功地超越了一辆马车，这辆马车很像纽辛根见过的神圣美丽的马车，但里面有一个趾高气扬的首席职员。一流的商店和维维安街的一位女士。

这个错误使男爵惊愕不已。

“要是我劝乔尔吉代替你就好了，愚蠢的傻瓜，他就应该找到那个女人了，”他对仆人说，当时税务官员正在搜查马车。

“确实，男爵先生，我相信魔鬼就在这辆马车后面，伪装成一名武装护卫，他派出了这辆马车而不是她的。”

“Dere 与 de Teufel 不一样，”男爵说。

纽辛根男爵 (Baron de Nucingen) 拥有六十个财产；他不再关心女人，尤其是他的妻子。他夸口说，他从来没有见过如此让人愚弄的爱情。他宣称他很高兴与女性交往。他坦白说，即使你不花钱得到她，他们中最天使般的人也不值她付出的代价。他应该已经完全厌倦了，以至于他不再每月支付两千法郎来享受被欺骗的乐趣。他的目光从歌剧院的包厢里冷冷地俯视着芭蕾舞团。那些令人生畏的一大群年轻的年轻姑娘和年轻的老妇人，巴黎的享乐精华，从来没有看过资本家一眼。

自然的爱、做作的、爱作秀的爱、基于自尊和虚荣的爱、作为品味展示的爱、体面的夫妻爱、古怪的爱——男爵为这一切付出了代价，认识了除了真实的一切之外的一切。自发的爱。这种激情现在像鹰扑向猎物一样向他扑来，就像梅特涅亲王殿下的密友根茨一样。全世界都知道这位老外交官为范妮·埃尔斯勒犯下的愚蠢行为，他的排练时间比关心欧洲的时间还要多得多。

那个刚刚推翻那个铁装钱箱的女人，名叫纽辛根，在他看来是他们这一代人中独一无二的人之一。提香的情妇、达·芬奇的蒙娜丽莎、拉斐尔的福纳丽娜，都不能肯定与这位精致的埃丝特一样美丽，即使是最有经验的巴黎人的最老练的眼睛也无法在她身上发现普通妓女的最微弱的痕迹。男爵尤其惊讶于埃丝特所拥有的高贵和庄严的气质，这是出身名门的女人的气质，她最受爱戴，并在奢华、优雅和忠诚中表现得淋漓尽致。幸福的爱情是女人的神圣恩膏；这让她们都像皇后一样崇高。

男爵连续八个晚上去了万森森林，然后去了布洛涅森林，去了阿夫赖城的森林，去了默东，总之，走遍了巴黎附近的各个地方，但都没能见到埃丝特。那张美丽的犹太面孔，他称之为“圣经中的面孔”，始终出现在他的眼前。两周后，他失去了胃口。

德尔菲娜·德·纽辛根和她的女儿奥古斯塔（男爵夫人现在正在带她出去）一开始并没有意识到男爵身上发生的变化。母女俩只在早上吃早饭和晚上吃晚饭的时候见到他，当时她们都在家吃饭，而且只有在戴尔芬有陪伴的晚上。但到了两个月后，男爵在急躁的狂热的折磨下，在一种像急性思乡病一样的状态下，惊讶地发现他的数百万人无能为力，变得如此瘦弱，而且似乎病得很重，德尔菲娜她暗暗希望自己能成为寡妇。她有点虚伪地怜悯她的丈夫，并把女儿隐居起来。她的问题让她的丈夫感到厌烦。他的回答就像英国人患脾病时的回答一样，几乎一言不发。

德尔菲娜·德纽辛根每周日都会举办盛大的晚宴。她选择这一天举办招待会，是因为她观察到没有时尚界人士去看演出，而且这一天通常都是开放的。商店老板和中产阶级的解放使得周日在巴黎几乎和在伦敦一样令人厌烦。于是，男爵夫人邀请著名的德普兰共进晚餐，不顾病人的病情，向他咨询，因为纽辛根坚持声称他完全康复。

凯勒、拉斯蒂涅、德马赛、杜蒂莱，他们所有的朋友都让男爵夫人明白，不能让像纽辛根这样的人在没有引起任何注意的情况下死去；他的巨额商业交易需要小心谨慎。绝对有必要知道他的立场。这些先生们也被邀请共进晚餐，还有弗朗索瓦·凯勒的岳父冈德维尔伯爵、德斯帕德骑士、德斯普兰最喜爱的学生比安雄医生、博德诺和他的妻子蒙科内伯爵和伯爵夫人。 、布隆代、德·图斯小姐和孔蒂，最后是吕西安·德鲁本普雷，拉斯蒂涅在过去的五年里对他表现出了最热烈的敬意——正如广告上所说的那样，是按顺序来的。

“我们会发现摆脱那个年轻人并不容易，”当拉斯蒂涅看到吕西安进来时比以前更加英俊，而且衣着异常考究时，布隆代对他说道。

“与他交朋友更明智，因为他很强大，”拉斯蒂涅说。

“他？”德马赛说。 “据我所知，除了地位稳固的人之外，没有人是令人畏惧的，而且他的地位不受攻击，而不是可攻击！看看这里，他靠什么生活？他的钱从哪里来？我确信他欠了六万法郎的债。”

“他在一位非常富有的西班牙牧师中找到了一位朋友，他很喜欢他，”拉斯蒂涅回答道。

“他将与最年长的德·格兰德利厄小姐结婚，”德·图什小姐说道。

“是的，”德斯帕德骑士说道，“但是他们要求他每年购买一处价值三万法郎的庄园，作为他将在这位年轻女士身上得到的财产的担保，为此他需要一百万法郎，这在任何西班牙人的鞋子上都找不到。”

“这真是太好了，因为克洛蒂尔德长得很丑。”男爵夫人说。

纽辛根夫人假装用她的教名称呼德·格兰德利厄小姐，就好像她（娘家姓高老头）经常光顾那个社交场合。

“不，”杜蒂莱回答道，“对于我们这样的人来说，公爵夫人的女儿从来都不是丑陋的，尤其是当她拥有侯爵头衔和外交任命时。但婚姻的最大障碍是德塞里齐夫人对吕西安的疯狂热情。她必须给他很多钱。”

“那么看到路西恩如此严肃，我并不感到惊讶；因为塞里齐夫人肯定不会给他一百万法郎帮助他娶德·格兰德利厄小姐。他可能看不到摆脱困境的出路，”德马赛说。

“但是格朗德利厄小姐很崇拜他，”蒙科内伯爵夫人说。 “在这个年轻人的帮助下，他也许能达成更好的条件。”

“他会怎样对待他在昂古莱姆的妹妹和姐夫呢？”德斯帕德骑士问道。

“嗯，他的妹妹很有钱，”拉斯蒂涅回答道，“他现在称她为塞沙尔·德·马尔萨克夫人。”

“无论遇到什么困难，他都是一个非常英俊的小伙子，”比安雄站起来迎接吕西安说道。

“怎么样，亲爱的朋友？”拉斯蒂涅一边说，一边和吕西安热情地握手。

路西恩先行鞠躬后，德玛赛冷冷地鞠了一躬。

晚饭前，德斯普兰和比安雄一边逗乐男爵，一边打量着他，他们确信自己的这种毛病完全是神经质造成的。但两人都猜不出原因，货币市场上伟大的政治家似乎不可能恋爱。当比安雄只喜欢解释银行家的状况时，当他向德尔菲娜·德·努辛根暗示这一点时，她微笑着，就像一个早已知道丈夫所有弱点的女人一样。然而，晚饭后，当他们都休会到花园时，当他们听到比安雄宣称纽辛根一定恋爱了时，更亲密的人聚集在银行家周围，急于解决这个非同寻常的案件。

“你知道吗，男爵，”德·马赛说，“你已经变得很瘦了？你涉嫌违反金融自然法则。”

“啊，尼弗！”男爵说。

“是的，是的，”德马赛回答道。 “他们竟然敢说你恋爱了。”

“确实如此，”纽辛根可怜兮兮地回答道。 “我爱上了一个我不认识的人。”

“你，恋爱了吗？你就是个花花公子！”德斯帕德骑士说道。

“在洛夫，在我的阿杰！我知道这太荒谬了。但我可以帮忙吗！确实如此。”

“一个女人的世界？”吕西安问道。

“不，”德马赛说。 “如果不是为了无望的爱情，男爵不会变得这么瘦，而且他有足够的钱买下所有愿意或能够出卖自己的女人！”

“我不知道她是谁，”男爵说。 “既然莫塔姆·德·努辛根在拖拉室里，我可以这么说，直到现在我还不知道拖拉室是什么。洛夫！我认为是为了种植锡。”

“你在哪里遇见这朵无辜的雏菊的？”拉斯蒂涅问。

“半夜，芬塞讷森林里的一辆马车里。”

“描述一下她，”德马赛说。

“一顶白色的凝视帽，一件玫瑰色的礼服，一条白色的围巾，一条白色的羽毛——一张来自德比普尔的脸。像Feuer一样的眼睛，东方的颜色——”

“你在做梦。”路西恩微笑着说道。

“这是真的；我像头猪一样睡觉——一头裹满了皮肤的猪，”他补充道，“因为我正从我朋友家的罐头店回家——”

“她一个人吗？”杜蒂莱打断了他的话。

“啊，”男爵悲伤地说。 “但是她那辆马车后面还有一个女仆——”

“吕西安看起来好像认识她，”拉斯蒂涅看到埃丝特情人的微笑，惊呼道。

“谁不认识那个半夜出去见纽辛根的女人？”吕西安说着，转过身来。

“好吧，她不是一个出现在社会上的女人，否则男爵会认出这个男人的，”德斯帕德骑士说道。

“我从来没有见过他，”男爵回答道。 “四十天以来，我一直让警察寻找她，但他们没有找到她。”

“她花你几百法郎总比花你的命要好，”德斯普兰说。 “而且，在你这个年纪，没有希望的激情是危险的，你可能会因此丧命。”

“啊，啊，”男爵对德斯普兰回答道。 “我吃的东西对我没有好处，我觉得空气让我窒息。我去芬森森林看我见到她的地方——那就是我的全部生活。我想不起最后一笔贷款——我相信我的伙伴们会怜悯我。我可以花一百万法郎去看那个女人——而且我应该从中获利，因为我在德交易所什么也没做。——去问杜蒂莱。”

“非常正确，”杜蒂莱回答道。 “他讨厌做生意；他和他自己很不一样；这是死亡的征兆。”

“这是洛夫的标志，”纽辛根回答道。 “对我来说，这都是一样的。”

不再是股票经纪人的老人，生平第一次看到了比黄金更神圣、更珍贵的东西，他的朴实坦诚着实让这些铁石心肠的人感动不已。有些人交换了微笑；另一个人看着纽辛根，脸上的表情显然是在说：“真是一个人啊，竟能走到这一步！”——然后他们都回到客厅，谈论着这件事。

因为这确实是一件旨在引起最大轰动的事件。当吕西安泄露了她丈夫的秘密时，纽辛根夫人大笑起来。但是，当男爵听到妻子的讽刺时，他抓住了她的手臂，把她带到了窗户的凹处。

“莫塔姆，”他低声说道，“我曾经嘲笑过你的激情，而你也应该嘲笑我的吗？一个善良的女人应该帮助她的丈夫摆脱困境，而不是像你一样捉弄他。”

从老银行家的描述中，路西恩认出了他的艾丝特。他很恼火，因为他的微笑竟然被人看到了，他趁着咖啡上来，谈话变得很笼统的时候，从现场消失了。

“德鲁班普雷先生怎么样了？”男爵夫人说。

“他忠实于他的座右铭：让我继续吗？”拉斯蒂涅说。

“这意味着，‘谁能拘留我？’或者‘我是不可征服的’，由你选择。”德马赛补充道。

“正当男爵先生谈到他不知名的女士时，吕西安微笑着，让我觉得他可能认识她，”霍勒斯·比安雄说道，并没有想到这种自然的言论可能有多么危险。

“哎呀！”银行家自言自语地说。

像所有不治之症一样，男爵紧紧抓住一切看似有希望的东西。他向自己保证，除了卢沙尔和他的手下之外，他还会让卢西安由另一个人来监视——卢沙尔，巴黎最敏锐的商业侦探——大约两周后，他就向他提出了申请。

在回到埃丝特家之前，吕西安将在格兰德利酒店度过两个小时，这使得克洛蒂尔德·弗雷德里克·德·格兰德利小姐成为圣日耳曼郊区最幸福的女孩。但这位雄心勃勃的年轻人的谨慎性格警告他要立即告知卡洛斯·埃雷拉男爵对埃丝特的描述让他脸上露出笑容所产生的影响。银行家对埃丝特的热情，以及他想到的让警察去寻找未知美丽的想法，确实是足够重要的事件，必须立即传达给那个穿着牧师长袍寻求庇护的人。古代的罪犯可以在教堂里找到。吕西安从纽辛根当时居住的圣拉扎尔街到格兰德利酒店所在的圣多米尼克街的道路，引导他经过他在马拉奎斯码头的住所。

吕西安发现他的那位令人敬畏的朋友正在抽他的祈祷书——也就是说，在上床睡觉之前给一根短烟斗上色。这个男人与其说是外国人，不如说是个奇怪的人，他已经戒掉了西班牙香烟，因为发现它们太温和了。

当吕西安告诉他一切后，西班牙人说道：“事情看起来很严重。” “男爵雇佣了卢查德来追捕那个女孩，他肯定会精明地派出间谍跟踪你，一切都会水落石出。今晚和明天早上我都没有足够的时间收拾牌，准备与男爵进行的比赛。首先，我必须向他证明警察无法帮助他。当我们的山猫放弃了找到他的母羊羔的所有希望时，我将承诺以她对他的一切价值将她卖掉——”

“卖掉以斯帖！”吕西安喊道，他的第一冲动总是正确的。

“你忘记我们站的位置了吗？”卡洛斯·埃雷拉喊道。

“没有钱了，”西班牙人继续说道，“还有六万法郎的债务要偿还！如果你想嫁给克洛蒂尔德·格朗德利厄，你必须投资一百万法郎购买土地，作为那个丑陋生物定居点的担保。好吧，那么，埃丝特就是我打算在那只山猫面前设置的猎物，以帮助我们减轻他那一百万的负担。这是我关心的问题。”

“艾丝特永远不会——”

“这是我关心的问题。”

“她会因此而死。”

“这是殡葬承办人关心的问题。再说了，然后呢？”野蛮人喊道，仅仅通过他的态度就可以阻止吕西安的哀叹。 “有多少将军在年富力强时为拿破仑皇帝牺牲了？”短暂的沉默后，他问道。 “总是有很多女性。 1821年，科拉莉在你眼中是独一无二的；但你还是找到了以斯帖。在她之后将会出现——你知道是谁吗？——未知的集市。她是所有女人中最美丽的，你会在首都找到她，格兰德利厄公爵的女婿将在那里担任法国国王的大臣和代表。——你现在告诉我吗，伟大的宝贝，那艾丝特会因此而死吗？再说了，德·格兰德利厄小姐的丈夫能保住艾丝特吗？

“你只要把一切都交给我就可以了；你根本不需要费心去思考；这是我关心的问题。只是你必须有一两个星期没有埃丝特；但无论如何，还是要去泰特布特街吧。——来吧，在你的救赎之路上走来走去，好好扮演你的角色；把你今天早上写下的火热的便条塞到克洛蒂尔德手里，并给我带来热情的回应。她会用写作来补偿自己的许多苦难。我喜欢那个女孩。

“你会发现埃丝特有点沮丧，但请告诉她服从。我们必须展示我们的美德，我们的诚实，这是所有伟人隐藏耻辱的屏障。——我必须展示我更英俊的自己——你永远不能被怀疑。机会比我的大脑更适合我们，在过去的两个月里，我的大脑一直在虚无中运转。”

卡洛斯·埃雷拉一边像手枪射击一样一一吐出这些可怕的句子，一边穿好衣服准备出去。

“你显然很高兴，”吕西安喊道。 “你从来不喜欢可怜的埃丝特，你满怀喜悦地期待着摆脱她的那一刻。”

“你从来没有厌倦过爱她，不是吗？好吧，我对她的厌恶从未厌倦过。但我不是一直表现得好像我真诚地依恋着这个女人——我，通过阿西，把她的生命掌握在我手中吗？炖一些坏蘑菇——就这样结束了。但埃丝特小姐仍然活着！——而且很幸福！——你知道为什么吗？因为你爱她。不要做一个愚蠢的人。四年来，我们一直在等待机会出现，无论是支持我们还是反对我们；好吧，要洗清现在向我们抛来的卷心菜运气，需要的不仅仅是聪明。在这一轮的转动中，有好有坏——就像一切事物一样。你知道你进来的时候我在想什么吗？”

“没有。”

“在阿西的帮助下，我成为了一位老偏执狂的继承人，就像我在巴塞罗那所做的那样。”

“犯罪？”

“我看不出有其他方法可以保护你的财产。债权人正在闹腾。如果一旦法警追随你，你被赶出格兰德利厄酒店，你会在哪里？到时候魔鬼就会付出代价。”

卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera）以哑剧的姿势表现了一名男子跳水自杀的情景；然后他用一种坚定、锐利的目光注视着吕西安，可以说，这种目光将一个强者的意志注入到一个弱者身上。这种令人着迷的目光，放松了路西恩所有的抵抗力，不仅揭示了他和他的顾问之间存在的生死秘密，而且还揭示了远远高于普通情感的感情，就像这个人本人超越了他卑鄙的地位一样。

卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera），一个既卑鄙又宽宏，默默无闻又出名的人，被迫生活在法律禁止他进入的世界里，被恶习和疯狂而可怕的斗争所折磨，尽管他拥有吞噬他的精神力量。灵魂，特别是被狂热的活力所消耗，现在又生活在吕西安·德鲁宾普雷这位优雅的人身上，他的灵魂已经成为他自己的灵魂。他在社会生活中以诗人为代表，他赋予诗人坚韧和钢铁般的意志。对他来说，吕西安不仅仅是一个儿子，不仅仅是一个心爱的女人，不仅仅是一个家庭，不仅仅是他的生命。他是他的复仇者；由于灵魂更执着于一种感觉而不是存在，他用不解之缘将这个年轻人与他联系在一起。

当诗人绝望地濒临自杀时，他救了吕西安的命，并向他提出了一项地狱般的交易，这种交易只在浪漫小说中听说过，但其可怕的可能性经常在法庭上得到证明。通过著名的犯罪剧伸张正义。在向吕西安倾尽巴黎生活的所有乐趣、向他证明自己还有美好未来的同时，他也将吕西安当作了自己的财产。

但事实上，对于这个陌生的人来说，当为了满足他的第二个自我时，没有什么牺牲是太大的。凭借他的全部力量，他对这个他创造的生物是如此软弱，以至于他甚至告诉了他所有的秘密。也许这种抽象的共谋是他们之间更多的纽带。

自从拉·托皮耶被夺走的那一天起，吕西安就知道他的好运是建立在多么卑鄙的基础上的。雅克·柯林穿着那件牧师长袍，他是一位在浩克界很有名的人，十年后，他以沃特林这个朴素的名字住在伏盖宅邸，拉斯蒂涅和比安雄当时是这里的寄宿者。

雅克·柯林，被称为 特龙佩拉莫特几乎在他被重新抓获后就逃离了罗什福尔，并以著名的圣海伦伯爵为榜样，同时修改了科瓦尼亚大胆计划中所有糟糕的计划。取代一个诚实的人并继续犯人的职业是一个命题，这两个术语太矛盾，以至于灾难性的结果不是不可避免的，尤其是在巴黎；因为，通过在家庭中建立自己的地位，罪犯会使这种替代的危险成倍增加。为了免受所有调查，一个人不得担任远远高于生活普通利益的职位。一个世俗的人会面临一些风险，比如很少会困扰那些与世界没有接触的人；因此，牧师的长袍是最安全的伪装，因为它可以通过孤独和无所事事的模范生活来验证。

“所以我会成为一名牧师，”合法死亡的人说道，他决心复活，成为世界上的一个人物，并满足像他自己一样奇怪的激情。

1812年西班牙宪法引发的内战，这位精力充沛的人投身其中，使他能够秘密伏击真正的卡洛斯·埃雷拉。这位神职人员是一位贵族的私生子，早已被父亲遗弃，也不知道他的出生是哪个女人的，他被一位主教推荐给斐迪南七世国王，委托他去法国执行政治使命。 。主教是唯一对卡洛斯·埃雷拉感兴趣的人，他在这位教会弃儿从加的斯到马德里，再从马德里到法国的途中去世了。雅克·柯林很高兴能得到这个渴望已久的机会，在最理想的条件下，雅克·柯林在自己的背上划伤，抹去了致命的信件，并使用化学物质改变了自己的肤色。就这样，他将自己变成了与尸体面对面的人，他设法与他的索西亚有一些相似之处。为了完成几乎与阿拉伯故事中所描述的一样奇妙的变化，一个苦行僧尽管年纪很大，却通过咒语获得了进入年轻身体的力量，讲西班牙语的囚犯学会了安达卢西亚牧师需要了解很多拉丁语。

作为三巨头的银行家，科林拥有丰富的现金，他的诚实是众所周知的，而且确实是强制的。在这样的队伍中，犯错就会以匕首刺伤为代价。现在，他将主教给予唐·卡洛斯·埃雷拉的钱添加到这笔资金中。然后，在离开西班牙之前，他得以拥有巴塞罗那一位老顽固分子的宝藏，他赦免了这位老顽固分子，并承诺将归还她的财产，这些钱是他的忏悔者通过谋杀手段偷走的。 。

雅克·柯林现在是一名牧师，肩负着一项秘密使命，这将使他在巴黎获得最出色的介绍，他决心不做任何可能损害他所扮演的角色的事情，并放弃了自己新生活的机会，当他在昂古莱姆和巴黎之间的路上遇见吕西安时。在这个年轻人身上，假牧师看到了一个奇妙的权力工具。他把他从自杀中救了出来，说道：

“把你自己交给我，就像把自己交给上帝一样，就像人把自己交给魔鬼一样，你将有一切机会从事新的职业。你将像在梦中一样生活，而最糟糕的觉醒将是你现在希望面对的死亡。”

这两个人之间的联盟，事实上，他们合而为一，是基于这一实质性的推理，卡洛斯·埃雷拉通过巧妙策划的共谋巩固了这一联盟。他具有腐败的天才，使吕西安陷入残酷的困境，并通过获得他对不良或可耻行为的默许而使他摆脱困境，从而破坏了吕西安的诚实，但这使他在世人眼中保持纯洁，忠诚和高贵。吕西安是社会名流，伪造者本想生活在他的阴影下。

“我是作者，你是剧本；如果你失败了，我会受到嘘声，”他在承认自己的亵渎伪装的那天说道。

卡洛斯谨慎地一次只坦白了一点，用吕西安的进步和需要来衡量他的揭露的恐怖程度。因此 特龙佩拉莫特 直到巴黎人的享乐和成功的习惯以及满足的虚荣心奴役了这位意志薄弱的诗人的身体和灵魂，他才泄露了他最后的秘密。拉斯蒂涅在这个恶魔的诱惑下坚定不移，而吕西安则管理得更好，更巧妙地妥协，屈服，征服了，尤其是因为他获得了显赫的地位而感到满足。邪恶的化身，其诗意化身被称为魔鬼，在这个半个女人的年轻人面前展现出各种令人愉悦的诱惑，起初给予很多，索取很少。卡洛斯所使用的伟大论据是塔尔图夫向埃尔迈尔许诺的永恒秘密。

反复证明绝对忠诚的证据，例如赛义德对穆罕默德的证明，为雅克·柯林征服吕西安的可怕成就画上了画龙点睛的一笔。

此时此刻，不仅以斯帖和路西恩吞噬了托付给绿巨人银行家的所有资金，银行家为了他们的利益，让自己承担了可怕的责任，而且花花公子，伪造者和妓女也负债累累。因此，就在吕西安预期成功的那一刻，这三个人脚下任何一个最小的鹅卵石都可能导致如此大胆地建立起来的奇妙财富结构的毁灭。

在歌剧舞会上，拉斯蒂涅认出了伏盖夫人家里的那个他称为伏脱冷的人。但他知道，如果他不闭嘴，他就死定了。就这样，纽辛根夫人的情人和吕西安交换了一个眼神，双方在友善的表情下都潜藏着恐惧。显然，在危险时刻，拉斯蒂涅很乐意提供车辆将雅克·柯林送上断头台。从这一切可以看出，卡洛斯听到了男爵的热情，脸上洋溢着一种忧郁的满足感，同时他在一瞬间意识到像他这样脾气的人可以通过倒霉的埃丝特获得所有优势。

“继续吧，”他对吕西安说。 “魔鬼很关心他的牧师。”

“你在火药桶上抽烟。”

“Incedo perignes，”卡洛斯微笑着回答。 “那是我的生意。”

格朗德利厄家族大约在上世纪中叶分裂为两个分支：第一，公爵世系注定要失效，因为现任公爵只有女儿；第二，公爵世系注定要消失。然后是格朗利厄子爵，他现在将继承老支系的头衔和徽章。公爵的房子有红色、三根宽轴或宽轴，上面有著名的座右铭：Caveo non timeo，集中体现了家族的历史。

格朗利厄子爵的外套与纳瓦莱子爵的外套是一样的：红色，呈锯齿状，上面有骑士头盔，上面写着格言：Grands faits, grand lieu。现任子爵夫人于 1813 年丧偶，育有一子一女。尽管她从移民归来几乎身无分文，但在律师德尔维尔的热心帮助下，她又恢复了一笔可观的财产。

1804 年，格朗利厄公爵和公爵夫人回国后，成为了皇帝求爱的对象。事实上，拿破仑在看到他们来到他的宫廷后，将所有被没收给国家的格兰德利庄园归还给他们，每年大约四万法郎。圣日耳曼郊区所有被拿破仑拉拢的大贵族中，这位公爵和公爵夫人——她是高级家族的阿茹达家族成员，与布拉干萨家族有联系——是唯一一个后来从未与他断绝关系的家族。和他的慷慨。当圣日耳曼郊区记住这是对路易十八路易十八的犯罪行为时。为此尊重他们；但也许他唯一的目的就是惹恼 先生.

年轻的格朗德利厄子爵和公爵最小的女儿、现年九岁的玛丽-雅典娜之间的婚姻被认为是可能的。萨宾 (Sabine) 是最小的一位，在 1830 年 1822 月革命后与杜盖尼克男爵 (Baron du Guenic) 结婚。侯爵的第一任妻子罗什菲德小姐或罗什古德去世后，第三任约瑟芬成为达茹达·平托夫人。其中最大的一个于 XNUMX 年戴上了面纱。第二个，克洛蒂尔德·弗雷德里克小姐，此时七岁二十岁，深深地爱着吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷。不用问，格兰德利厄公爵的宅邸是圣多米尼克街上最好的宅邸之一，是否没有对吕西安的想象力施加一千种魔力。每当沉重的大门打开铰链让他的出租车进入时，他都会体验到米拉波所承认的那种满足的虚荣心。

“虽然我父亲只是乌莫的一名药剂师，但我可以进入这里！”这是他的想法。

事实上，他犯下的罪行远比与伪造者结盟来维护他登上入口台阶、在精美的路易十四门口听到自己被宣布为“鲁宾普雷先生”的权利要严重得多。客厅，在大君主时期按照凡尔赛宫的风格进行装饰，那里是巴黎上流社会的精英人士聚集的地方，当时被称为“小城堡”。

这位高贵的葡萄牙女士是一位从不出门的人，她通常是邻居们关注的焦点——肖利厄斯家族、纳瓦莱家族、列农库家族。漂亮的德·麦库默男爵——娘家德·肖利厄——莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人、德斯帕德夫人、德·坎普斯夫人和德·图什小姐——布列塔尼家族格兰德利厄斯家族的亲戚——是他们去参加舞会的常客。或者从歌剧回来后。格朗利厄子爵、雷托雷公爵、肖利厄侯爵——后来的列农古-肖利厄公爵——他的妻子玛德琳·德·莫特绍夫，列农古公爵的孙女，阿茹达-平托侯爵，布拉蒙亲王——乔夫里、博塞昂侯爵、维达姆·德·帕米尔、旺德内斯、老卡迪尼昂亲王和他的儿子莫弗里涅斯公爵，经常出现在这间庄严的客厅里，他们呼吸着宫廷的气氛，那里的举止、语气和智慧与主人和夫人的尊严相得益彰，他们的贵族风度和华丽已经抹去了他们对拿破仑的奴性记忆。

老于克塞尔公爵夫人，莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人的母亲，是这个圈子的代言人，德·塞里齐夫人虽然是尼·德·龙克罗勒，但从未获准加入这个圈子。

吕西安是由莫弗里涅斯夫人带到那里的，她说服了她母亲出言支持他，因为她宠爱了他两年。由于法国高级阿尔莫纳的影响和巴黎大主教的支持，这位迷人的年轻诗人在那里站稳了脚跟。尽管如此，直到他获得恢复鲁宾普雷家族的名字和徽章的专利后，他才被录取。雷托雷公爵、德斯帕德骑士和其他一些人嫉妒吕西安，时不时地散布这位年轻人以前的职业生涯的轶事，激起格兰德利厄公爵对他的偏见。但公爵夫人是一位虔诚的天主教徒，周围都是教会的伟大主教，她的女儿克洛蒂尔德不会放弃他。

吕西安将这些敌对行为归因于他与德·埃斯帕夫人的表弟、现在的夏特莱伯爵夫人德·巴格东夫人的联系。然后，吕西安意识到与如此强大的家族结盟的重要性，并在他的枢密顾问的敦促下赢得克洛蒂尔德的支持，吕西安找到了暴发户的勇气。他一周来五天，他吞下所有嫉妒的侮辱，他忍受无礼的目光，并用机智回应讽刺。他的坚持、他的举止魅力、他的和蔼可亲，最终消除了反对意见，减少了障碍。他仍然很受莫弗里涅斯夫人的宠爱，她在热情的影响下写下的热情的信件被卡洛斯·埃雷拉保存了下来。他深受德·塞里齐夫人的崇拜，并深受德·图什小姐的青睐。吕西安对在这些房子里受到的接待感到很满意，神甫指示吕西安在所有其他地方尽可能保持低调。

“你不能同时投入几所房子，”他的导师说。 “一个人到处走走，却没有人对他产生浓厚的兴趣。伟大的人只会光顾那些模仿他们的家具的人，他们每天都能看到这些人，并且拥有成为他们所需要的艺术的人，就像他们坐的座位一样。”

因此，吕西安习惯于将格兰德留斯的客厅视为他的竞技场，每天晚上在那里度过的时间里，他保留了他的智慧、他的笑话、他的新闻和他朝臣的风度。他含沙射影、机智得体，克洛蒂尔德警告他应该避开浅滩，他还对德·格朗德利厄先生的小弱点进行了奉承。克洛蒂尔德一开始嫉妒莫弗里涅斯夫人的幸福，最后却疯狂地爱上了吕西安。

吕西安意识到了这种联系的所有优点，他扮演了他爱人的角色，就像阿尔芒（Armand）扮演的那样。 青年总理 在 法国喜剧.

他写信给克洛蒂尔德，这些信无疑是文学作品的杰作。克洛蒂尔德回答道，她在纸上表达热烈的爱情方面与他比拼天才，因为她没有其他的出路。吕西安每周日都会去圣托马斯达奎因教堂，表现出自己是一名虔诚的天主教徒，他滔滔不绝地发表君主论和虔诚的长篇大论，令所有人惊叹不已。他还在专门为“会众”撰写的报纸上写了一些极其出色的文章，但拒绝支付报酬，并且只在文章上署名“L”。当查理十世国王或高级施舍者要求时，他制作了政治小册子，并且他不会为此收取任何费用。

“国王，”他会说，“为我做了这么多，我欠他血。”

几天来，一直有一个想法，让吕西安加入总理内阁，担任他的私人秘书；但德斯帕德夫人带了这么多人来反对吕西安，以至于查理十世的 迈特·雅克（Maitre Jacques） 犹豫是否要解决这件事。吕西安的立场无论如何也不清楚。不仅是“他靠什么生活？”这个问题。随着这个年轻人的成长，每个人都在谈论这个问题，需要一个答案，但即使是善意的好奇心——就像恶意的好奇心一样——也会从一个问题转到另一个问题，并在这个雄心勃勃的年轻人的束缚中发现了不止一个接头。

克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄无意识地充当了她父母的间谍。几天前，她带领吕西安进入休息区，向他讲述了她家人提出的困难。

“投资一百万法郎购买土地，我的手就归你所有：这是我母亲的最后通牒，”克洛蒂尔德解释道。

“很快他们就会问你从哪里来的钱，”当吕西安报告了交易中的最后一句话时，卡洛斯说道。

“我的姐夫一定会发财的。”吕西安说道。 “我们可以让他成为负责任的支持者。”

“那么只需要一百万，”卡洛斯说。 “我会考虑一下。”

准确来说，路西恩在格兰德利厄酒店的地位，他从来没有在那里吃过饭。无论是克洛蒂尔德，还是于克塞尔公爵夫人，还是一直对吕西安非常友善的莫弗里涅斯夫人，都无法从公爵那里获得这种恩惠，这位老贵族对这个人始终抱有怀疑态度，他将这个人称为“le Sire de鲁本普雷。”这种区别对待每一个来过这座房子的人都明白，但它不断地伤害着吕西安的自尊，因为他觉得自己只能被容忍。但世界的怀疑是有道理的。它经常被采用！

在没有已知财富来源、没有得到认可的工作的情况下在巴黎崭露头角是一个不可能长期维持的职位。因此，当吕西安悄悄来到这个世界时，他越来越重视这个问题：“他靠什么生活？”他确实不得不向德·塞里齐夫人坦白，他得到了检察官格兰维尔先生和国务大臣兼最高法院院长奥克塔夫·德·鲍万伯爵的赞助：“我我负债累累。”

当他走进宅邸的庭院，为自己的虚荣心找到借口时，他一边反思一边自言自语道。 特龙佩拉莫特 心计：

“我能听到脚下大地开裂的声音！”

他爱埃丝特，他想娶德·格兰德利厄小姐！一个奇怪的困境！必须出售一个才能购买另一个。

只有一个人可以在不损害吕西安名誉的情况下完成这笔交易，那就是所谓的西班牙人。难道他们不必然对彼此同样保密吗？这样的契约，其中每个人轮流担任主人和奴隶，在任何人的一生中都不会出现两次。

路西恩驱散了眉间的乌云，满面笑容地走进了格兰德利厄的客厅。此刻窗户开着，花园里飘来的清香扑鼻而来，中央的花篮里摆满了金字塔形的鲜花。公爵夫人坐在角落的沙发上，正在与肖利厄公爵夫人交谈。几位妇女组成了一个团体，她们的态度各不相同，每个人都努力表现出不同的表情，以表现出一种假装的悲伤。在时尚界，没有人对悲伤或痛苦感兴趣。一切都是说说而已。男人们在房间或花园里走来走去。克洛蒂尔德和约瑟芬在茶桌上忙碌着。维达姆·德·帕米尔、德·格兰德利厄公爵、阿茹达-平托侯爵和德·莫弗里涅斯公爵正在房间的一角演奏他们所说的“威斯克”。

当吕西安被宣布后，他穿过房间向公爵夫人鞠躬，询问他从她脸上看出的悲伤的原因。

“德肖利厄夫人刚刚听到了可怕的消息；她的女婿、前索里亚公爵德·麦库默男爵刚刚去世。年轻的索里亚公爵和他的妻子前往尚特普勒尔照顾他们的兄弟，写下了这份悲伤的情报。路易丝的心都碎了。”

“女人一生不会被爱两次，就像路易丝被她的丈夫爱过一样，”玛德琳·德·莫尔索夫说。

“她会成为一个富有的寡妇，”老于克塞尔公爵夫人看着吕西安说道，而吕西安的表情没有任何变化。

“可怜的路易丝！”德斯帕夫人说。 “我理解她，也可怜她。”

德斯帕德侯爵夫人一脸忧郁的神情，充满了灵魂和情感。年仅十岁的萨宾娜·德·格兰德利厄抬起眼，会意地看着母亲的脸，但讽刺的目光被公爵夫人的目光压抑住了。这才是正确地养育孩子。

“如果我的女儿能经受住这次打击，”德肖利厄夫人以一种非常慈母的态度说道，“我将会为她未来的生活感到焦虑。路易丝真是太浪漫了。”

一位德高望重的红衣主教说：“现在很难调和感情与礼节。”

吕西安一言不发，走到茶几前对格兰德利厄小姐做了些客气的事。当诗人走出几码远时，德斯帕德侯爵夫人俯身在公爵夫人耳边低声说道：

“那你真以为那个年轻人这么爱你的克洛蒂尔德吗？”

除非借助克洛蒂尔德的素描，否则无法完全理解这个问题的背信弃义。那位年轻女子，此时已经站了起来。她的态度让德斯帕德侯爵夫人用嘲讽的目光看到了克洛蒂尔德瘦削的身材，就像一根芦笋茎一样。这个可怜的女孩的半身像太平了，不允许使用裁缝师所知道的技巧 榕树或带衬垫的习惯衬衫。克洛蒂尔德知道自己的名字在生活中已经是一个足够的优势，她不但没有试图掩盖这个缺陷，反而英勇地把它展现出来。通过穿着朴素、紧身的连衣裙，她达到了中世纪雕塑家成功地赋予小雕像那种僵硬、拘谨的效果，这些小雕像的轮廓在大教堂壁龛的背景下非常引人注目。

克洛蒂尔德身高超过五英尺四英寸。如果我们可以使用一个熟悉的短语，无论如何，它的优点是完全可以理解的话——她都是腿。这些有缺陷的比例让她的身材看起来近乎畸形。肤色黝黑，头发乌黑，眉毛很粗，眼睛火辣辣的，眼窝里已经深深变色，侧脸像上弦月，眉毛突出，简直就是她母亲的漫画，葡萄牙最漂亮的女人之一。大自然总是用这样的把戏来取乐。我们经常在一个家庭中看到一位美丽绝伦的姐妹，而她哥哥的面容却极其丑陋，尽管两人却惊人地相似。克洛蒂尔德的嘴唇过薄而凹陷，永远带着不屑的表情。然而，她的嘴比她脸上的任何其他特征都更能揭示她内心的每一个秘密冲动，因为感情赋予它一种甜蜜的表情，这更加引人注目，因为她的脸颊太黄，没有脸红，而她的坚硬，黑色眼睛从来不告诉任何事情。尽管有这些缺陷，尽管她的举止像木板一样，但她出生和受的教育却有一种高贵的气质，一种骄傲的举止，简而言之，一切都被称为“我不知道”，也许部分归因于她毫不妥协的简单性裙子，这让她成为了一个有着高贵血统的女人。她把头发打理得恰到好处，这对她来说也许算得上是一种美，因为它长得旺盛、又粗又长。

她的声音经过精心训练，可以施展魔咒。她唱得真好听。克洛蒂尔德正是人们所说的“她有一双美丽的眼睛”或“她有一个令人愉快的脾气”的女人。如果有人用英语称呼她“阁下”，她会说，“你的意思是‘你的瘦弱’。”

“为什么我可怜的克洛蒂尔德就不能有情人呢？”公爵夫人对侯爵夫人说道。 “你知道她昨天对我说了什么吗？ “如果我因为野心而被爱，我承诺让他为了我自己而爱我。”——她聪明又野心勃勃，有些男人喜欢这两种品质。至于他——亲爱的，他英俊如幻；如果他能回购鲁本普雷庄园，出于对我们的尊重，国王将恢复他的侯爵头衔。毕竟，他的母亲是鲁本普雷家族的最后一位。

“可怜的家伙！他到哪儿去找一百万法郎呢？”侯爵夫人说。

“这不关我们的事，”公爵夫人回答道。 “他当然不可能偷钱。——此外，我们永远不会把克洛蒂尔德交给一个有趣或不诚实的人，即使他很英俊、年轻，而且是一位诗人，比如德·鲁本普雷先生。”

“今晚你迟到了。”克洛蒂尔德说道，对路西恩微笑着，充满无限的亲切。

“是的，我一直在外面吃饭。”

“这几天你真是太高兴了。”她微笑着掩饰着嫉妒和焦虑。

“很同性恋吗？”吕西安回答道。 “不——只是碰巧我这周每天都和银行家一起吃饭；今天和纽辛根夫妇，昨天和杜蒂莱夫妇，前天和凯勒夫妇——”

由此可见，吕西安成功地表现出了伟人那种轻率无礼的语气。

“你有很多敌人，”克洛蒂尔德说道，并给了他一杯茶——多么仁慈啊！ “有人告诉我父亲，你欠了六万法郎的债，不久之后，圣佩拉吉将成为你的夏季住所。——如果你能知道所有这些诽谤对我来说意味着什么！——这一切都对我产生了反作用。 ……我没有说我自己的痛苦——我父亲的看待方式把我钉在十字架上——但我说的是你一定正在遭受的痛苦，如果其中至少有一部分是事实的话。

“别让这种废话让你担心；爱我就像我爱你一样，给我时间——几个月——”路西恩说着，将空杯子放回到银托盘上。

“别让我父亲看见你；他会说一些令人不快的话；既然你不能屈服于这一点，我们就完蛋了。——那个可恶的德斯帕德侯爵夫人告诉他，你的母亲曾是一名月度护士，而你的妹妹则负责熨烫——”

“我们处于最赤贫的境地，”吕西安回答道，泪水在眼眶里打转。 “这不是诽谤，但却是最恶意的流言蜚语。我姐姐现在已经是百万富翁了，而我母亲已经去世两年了。——这些信息一直被保存起来，以备我在这里即将取得成功的时候使用——”

“但是你对德斯帕夫人做了什么？”

“在塞里齐夫人家里，我太鲁莽了，当着塞里齐夫人的面讲了这个故事，还加了一些客套话。德·鲍万和德·格兰维尔，她试图任命一个疯狂的委员会来任命她的丈夫德斯帕德侯爵。这是比安雄告诉我的。德·格兰维尔先生的意见得到了鲍万和塞里齐的支持，影响了掌玺大臣的决定。他们都害怕 Tribunaux公报，并且害怕丑闻，而侯爵夫人在最后记录在这件悲惨的事情中的判决的总结中受到了指关节的敲打。

“尽管德·塞里齐先生的流言蜚语使侯爵夫人成为了我的死敌，但我还是得到了他、检察官和奥克塔夫·德·鲍万伯爵的斡旋；因为德塞里齐夫人告诉他们，由于他们允许别人猜测他们的信息来源，我将面临危险。德斯帕德侯爵笨手笨脚地拜访了我，认为我是他穿着那件残暴的衣服赢得胜利的首要原因。

“我会把你从德斯帕夫人手中救出来，”克洛蒂尔德说。

“如何？”吕西安喊道。

“我母亲会在这里问年轻的德斯帕夫妇；他们是迷人的男孩，现在正在成长。父子俩会歌颂你，然后我们就再也见不到他们的母亲了。”

“哦，克洛蒂尔德，你是天使！如果我不是因为你自己而爱你，我应该因为你如此聪明而爱你。”

“这不是聪明，”她说道，嘴唇上洋溢着她所有的爱意。 “晚安。几天之内不要再来。当你在圣托马斯达奎因的教堂里看到我戴着粉红色的围巾时，我父亲的脾气就会好一些。——你会发现答案贴在你所坐的椅背上；也许它会安慰你没有见到我。把你带来的纸条放在我的手帕下面——”

这个年轻人显然已经七二十多岁了。

吕西安在拉普朗什街搭了一辆出租车，在大道上下了车，在马德琳街又搭了一辆出租车，要求司机打开大门，把车开进泰特布街的房子。

十一点钟进去时，他发现埃丝特泪流满面，但她穿得像往常一样，以向他表示敬意。她等待着她的吕西安斜倚在沙发上，沙发上铺着饰有黄色花朵的白色缎子，身上穿着一件迷人的印度平纹细布外套，上面有樱桃色的蝴蝶结。她没有穿紧身衣，头发简单地盘成一个结，脚上穿着衬有樱桃色缎子的小天鹅绒拖鞋。所有的蜡烛都点着了，水烟袋也准备好了。但她没有抽自己的烟，烟放在她旁边，没有点燃，象征着她的孤独。听到门打开的声音，她像羚羊一样跳了起来，用双臂搂住吕西安，把他包裹起来，就像一张被风抓住的网，扔到树上。

“分手了——是真的吗？”

“哦，就几天。”路西恩回答道。

艾丝特松开了他，像个死人一样倒在沙发上。

在这种情况下，大多数女人都会像鹦鹉学舌一样喋喋不休。哦！他们多么相爱啊！五年结束时，他们感觉好像他们的第一次幸福已经成为昨天的事情，他们无法放弃你，他们的愤怒、绝望、爱、悲伤、恐惧、沮丧、预感都是伟大的。简而言之，它们就像莎士比亚的场景一样崇高。但别搞错了！这些女人不爱。当他们真正做到了他们所声称的那样时，当他们真正地爱时，他们就会像以斯帖那样做，像孩子一样，像真爱一样；艾丝特一言不发，把脸埋在枕头里，流着苦涩的泪水。

路西恩则试图将她扶起来，并对她说话。

“但是，我的孩子，我们不会分开。过了四年的幸福时光，你就这样短暂离开了。——我到底该对这些女孩做什么呢？”他对自己补充道，想起科拉莉就是这样爱他的。

“啊，先生，你真帅。”欧洲说。

感官有自己的理想。当加上这种令人着迷的美丽时，我们发现了自然的甜蜜，诗意，这是吕西安的特征，很容易想象这些女人所激发的疯狂激情，她们对外在的礼物充满活力，在她们的钦佩中天真无邪。艾丝特静静地抽泣着，躺着的样子表现出最深的痛苦。

“但是，小鹅，”路西恩说，“你难道不明白我的生命正处于危险之中吗？”

听到他故意选择的这句话，埃丝特像野兽一样惊慌失措，她的头发掉落下来，像树叶花环一样在她兴奋的脸上翻滚。她定定地看着路西恩。

“你的生命？”她喊道，举起双臂，又放下，这是只有处于危险之中的妓女才知道的姿势。 “为了确定;这位朋友的留言谈到了严重的风险。”

她从腰带里拿出一张破旧的纸片；然后看到欧洲，她说：“离开我们，我的女孩。”

当欧洲关上门时，她继续说道：“这里，这就是他写的。”她把刚从卡洛斯那里收到的一张字条递给吕西安，吕西安大声读到：

“你必须明天早上五点出发；你会
被带到森林中心的一个饲养员小屋
圣日耳曼，您将在一楼拥有一个房间。做
在我允许你离开之前，不要离开那个房间；你会一无所求。
饲养员和他的妻子是值得信任的。不要写信给吕西安。
白天不要走到窗边；但你可以在夜间行走
如果您想锻炼身体，请与守门员一起。保持车厢百叶窗
下在路上。吕西安的生命危在旦夕。

“吕西安今晚会去向你告别；把这个烧在他的
在场。”

吕西安立即在蜡烛的火焰中烧毁了这张纸条。

“听着，我自己的吕西安，”艾丝特在听到他像一个罪犯听到死刑判决一样读这封信后说道。 “我不会告诉你我爱你；这太愚蠢了。近五年来，爱你对我来说就像呼吸和生活一样自然。从我的幸福在那个神秘的存在的保护下开始的第一天起，他把我安置在这里，就像你把一些好奇的小野兽关在笼子里一样，我就知道你必须结婚。婚姻是你事业的必要因素，愿上帝保佑我不妨碍你的财富发展。

“那场婚姻将是我的死亡。但我不会让你担心；我不会像普通女孩那样用火盆里的炭自杀；我曾经受够了。正如玛丽埃特所说，两次会让你胃口大开。不，我要去很远的地方，离开法国。阿西知道她国家的秘密；她会帮助我安静地死去。刺——呼，一切都结束了！

“我只要求一件事，亲爱的，那就是你不要欺骗我。我已经拥有了属于自己的生活。自从1824年我第一次见到你的那天起，直到今天，我所感受到的幸福比十个幸运的妻子的生活还要多。所以请接受我本来的样子——一个坚强而脆弱的女人。说“我要结婚了。”我不会向你提出更多的要求，除了深情的告别，你就再也不会听到我的消息了。”

解释完之后，一阵沉默，她的动作和语气都那么真诚，那么真诚。

“是说你要结婚了吗？”她重复道，用迷人的目光注视着吕西安的蓝眼睛，那双眼睛像钢刀一样明亮。

“过去十八个月，我们一直在为我的婚姻操劳，但事情还没有解决。”吕西安回答道。 “我不知道什么时候能解决；但现在这不是问题了，孩子！——这是神父，我，你。——我们正处于真正的危险之中。纽辛根看到你了——”

“是的，在万塞讷的树林里，”她说。 “他认出了我吗？”

“不，”吕西安说。 “但他是如此地爱你，以至于他愿意牺牲他的金库。晚饭后，当他描述他是如何认识你的时候，我傻乎乎地不由自主地、极其不谨慎地笑了，因为我生活在一个像野蛮人一样被敌对部落的陷阱所包围的世界里。卡洛斯省去了我思考的麻烦，他认为这个职位很危险，如果男爵有意监视我们，他已经承诺向纽辛根付钱。他完全有能力做到这一点；他向我谈到了警察的无能。你在一个被烟灰堵塞的旧烟囱里点燃了火焰。”

“那你的西班牙人打算做什么？”艾丝特轻声问道。

“我一点也不知道，”吕西安说。 “他告诉我，我可以睡得很香，交给他；”——但他不敢看艾丝特。

“如果是这样的话，我会像狗一样服从他，”艾丝特说着，把手挽住路西恩的手臂，领着他走进自己的卧室，说道，“无论如何，我希望你吃得好，我的露露，在那个可恶的男爵家吗？”

“无论我碰巧用餐的地方的厨师多么有名，阿西的厨艺让我永远不会觉得晚餐好吃。不过，今晚的晚餐是卡雷姆做的，就像他每个周日都会做的那样。”

路西恩不由自主地将艾丝特与克洛蒂尔德进行了比较。女主人是如此美丽，如此迷人，以至于她还对吞噬永恒爱情的怪物——饱腹感保持着一定的距离。

“真遗憾，”他想，“在两卷书中找到了自己的妻子。合而为一——诗歌、欢乐、爱、奉献、美丽、甜蜜——”

艾丝特在睡觉前像女人一样大惊小怪。她来来去去，扑腾着翅膀，一直唱着歌。你可能认为她是一只蜂鸟。

“另一方面——高贵的名字、家庭、荣誉、地位、世界知识！——而且没有世俗的手段将它们结合起来！”吕西安对自己喊道。

第二天早上七点，当诗人在漂亮的粉白色房间里醒来时，他发现自己独自一人。他按了电话，欧洲匆忙赶了进来。

“先生有何吩咐？”

“艾丝特？”

“夫人今天早上五点一刻出发了。根据拉贝先生的命令，我接纳了一张新面孔——运费已付。

“一个女人？”

“不，先生，一位英国女人——那些在晚上完成白天工作的人，我们被命令像对待夫人一样对待她。对于这样的黑客，你还能说什么呢！——可怜的夫人，当她上了马车时，她哭得多么伤心。 “好吧，必须这么做！”她喊道。 “我让那个可怜的可爱的男孩睡着了，”她擦干眼泪说道。 “欧洲，如果他看着我或说出我的名字，我就会留下来——我只能和他一起死。”——我告诉你，先生，我是如此喜欢夫人，以至于我没有向她展示那个人谁取代了她的位置；一些侍女这样做会伤了她的心。”

“那个陌生人在吗？”

“好吧，先生，她是坐着带走夫人的马车来的，我按照我的吩咐把她藏在我的房间里——”

“她长得好看吗？”

“就这样的二手物品而言。但如果你扮演你的角色，她会发现她的角色很容易，先生。”欧洲说着，准备去拿假艾丝特。

前一天晚上，临睡前，这位无所不能的银行家向他的贴身男仆下达了命令，他的贴身男仆早上七点就把臭名昭著的卢查德带到了他面前，他是最著名的商业警察，他把他留在了办公室。一间小客厅；男爵穿着晨衣和拖鞋加入了他的行列。

“你真是个傻瓜！”他在回答这位官员的问候时说道。

“我无法控制自己，男爵先生。我不想失去我的位置，并且我荣幸地向您解释，我不能插手与我的职责无关的事情。我答应过你什么？让您与我们的一位代理人取得联系，在我看来，他最能为您服务。但你知道，男爵先生，不同行业的人之间存在着明显的界限：如果你建造一座房子，你就不会安排一个木匠来做铁匠的工作。嗯，警察有两个部门——政治警察和司法警察。政治警察从不干涉其他部门，反之亦然。如果你向政治警察局长提出申请，他必须得到部长的许可才能接手我们的业务，而你也不敢向整个王国的警察局长解释。一个只顾自己利益的警察将会失去他的职位。

“嗯，普通警察和政治警察一样谨慎。因此，无论是在内政部还是警察局，除非是为了国家利益或为了正义，否则任何人都不会采取行动。

“如果有阴谋或犯罪需要追查，那么，确实，军团首领会为您服务；不过，男爵先生，您必须明白，除了照顾巴黎的五万起爱情故事之外，他们还有其他事情要做。对于我和我的手下来说，我们唯一的任务就是逮捕债务人；一旦要做任何其他事情，如果我们干扰任何男人或女人的安宁与安宁，我们就会面临巨大的风险。我派了一名手下给你，但我告诉过你我无法替他负责。你指示他去巴黎寻找一个特定的女人；康坦森让你流了一千法郎的血，却一动不动。你不妨在河里寻找一根针，就像在巴黎寻找一个女人一样，据说她经常出没于文森，而对她的描述符合首都每一个漂亮的女人。”

“康坦森难道不能告诉我真相，而不是让我捐出一千法郎吗？”

“听我说，男爵先生，”卢沙尔说。 “你愿意给我一千克朗吗？我会给你——卖给你——一条建议？”

“你的顾问是一万克朗吗？”纽辛根问道。

“我不会被抓住的，男爵先生，”卢沙尔回答道。 “你恋爱了，你想发现你所热爱的对象；你会变得像没有水的生菜一样黄。你的人告诉我，昨天有两位医生来看你，他们认为你有生命危险；现在，我一个人就能把你交给一个聪明人。——但事情就在其中！如果你的命连一千克朗都不值——”

“告诉我那个聪明人的名字，依靠我的慷慨——”

卢查德拿起帽子，鞠了一躬，然后离开了房间。

“Wat ein teufel！”纽辛根喊道。 “回来——看这里——”

“请注意，”卢沙尔在拿钱之前说道，“我只是在出售一条信息，纯粹而简单。我可以告诉你唯一一个对你有用的人的名字和地址——但他是一位大师——”

“滚出去，”纽辛根喊道。 “这并不是无名，那是一万克朗，而是​​冯·瓦尔希尔德——而且只是银行票据底部的标志。——我将赠送给你一万法郎。”

卢查德是个小黄鼠狼，从来没能买下一间办公室作为律师、公证人、职员或律师，他以一种明显的方式斜视着男爵。

“给你——一千克朗，还是别管它了。几秒钟后你就会在交易所得到它们，”他说。

“我送你一万法郎，”男爵重复道。

“你会让金矿变得更便宜！”卢沙尔说着，鞠了一躬，然后离开了。

“我只要花五百法郎就能得到那个地址！”男爵喊道，他希望仆人派他的秘书来见他。

图尔卡雷特已经不复存在了。如今，最小的银行家，就像最伟大的银行家一样，在最小的交易中发挥他的聪明才智。他在艺术、仁慈和爱情上讨价还价；他会与教皇讨价还价以获得豁免。因此，纽辛根在听卢沙尔讲话时，匆忙得出结论，卢沙尔的得力助手康坦森肯定知道那个间谍大师的地址。康坦森会以五百法郎的价格告诉他，卢沙尔想要一千克朗的价格。快速的计算清楚地证明，如果这个人的内心拥有爱情，那么他的头脑仍然是山猫股票经纪人的头脑。

“你自己去吧，先生，”男爵对他的秘书说，“去康坦森那里，卢沙的法警手下的那个间谍——但是，快点坐上一辆卡普里奥莱特，把他带到我这儿来。我会等。——从花园出去。——这是那把钥匙，因为没有人会看到这个人在这里。你应该带他去那个小花园屋。试着把这件小事做得更聪明。”

来访者来访纽辛根出差；但他等待着康坦森，他梦见了埃丝特，告诉自己不久他就会再次见到那个在他心中激起如此意想不到的情感的女人，然后他用含糊的答复和双刃剑的承诺打发所有人离开。康滕森对他来说是巴黎最重要的人，他每时每刻都向花园望去。最后，在下令禁止其他人进入后，他在花园一角的避暑别墅里享用了早餐。在银行家的办公室里，最有见识、最敏锐、最精明的巴黎金融家的行为和犹豫似乎令人费解。

“首领怎么了？”一位股票经纪人对一位主管职员说道。

“没人知道;看来他们很担心他的健康。昨天，男爵夫人让德斯普兰和比安雄会面。”

有一天，艾萨克·牛顿爵士正在给他的一只名叫“美人”的狗做身体检查（众所周知，这只狗毁掉了大量的工作，他只用这些话责备了它：“啊！美人，你很少有人知道你做了什么恶作剧！”），一些陌生人打电话来看他；但他们立即退休，尊重这位伟人的职业。在每一个或多或少崇高的生活中，都有一只小狗“美人”。当黎塞留元帅前来向路易十五致敬时。在夺取十八世纪最伟大的军事功绩之一马洪之后，国王对他说：“你听到这个好消息了吗？可怜的兰斯马特死了。”——兰斯马特是国王阴谋秘密的看门人。

巴黎的银行家们永远不知道他们欠康滕森多少。那个间谍是纽辛根允许发放巨额贷款的原因，其中他的份额分配给了他，而他又把这笔贷款交给了他们。股票经纪人随时都可以利用投机大炮发财，但这个人却是幸福希望的奴隶。

这位伟大的银行家喝了点茶，正像一个长期被胃口磨利的人一样，啃着一片面包和黄油，这时他听到一辆马车停在小花园门口。几分钟后，他的秘书带了康滕森来，他在离圣佩拉吉不远的一家咖啡馆里跑到了地球上，他正在那里吃早餐，因为一个被监禁的债务人向他行贿，以获得一定的津贴，这些津贴必须是付了钱。

你必须知道，康坦森是一首完整的诗——一首巴黎诗。只要看到他就足以告诉你，博马舍 费加罗报“, 莫里哀的 马斯卡里尔, 马里沃的 弗朗廷，和丹古特的 拉夫勒——那些胆大妄为的骗局、被逼入绝境的狡诈、断线重生的阴谋的伟大代表——与这个聪明而卑鄙的巨人相比，全都是二流的。当你在巴黎找到一个真正的典型时，他不再是一个人，他是一个奇观；他是一个奇观。不再是生命中的一个因素，而是整个生命，许多生命。

将石膏模型在熔炉中烘烤四次，你就会得到一种佛罗伦萨青铜的混蛋仿制品。好吧，无数灾难的霹雳，可怕必需品的压力，使康坦森的头变成了古铜色，就好像烤箱里的汗水三倍地玷污了他的皮肤一样。无法再松弛的紧密皱纹形成了永恒的皱纹，裂缝中更白。黄黄的脸上满是皱纹。光秃秃的头骨，就像伏尔泰的头骨一样，像死人的头一样干燥，如果不是后面有几根头发，人们似乎怀疑它是否是一个活人。僵硬的眉毛下，有一双中国式的眼睛，就像茶馆玻璃罩下的图像一样——人造的眼睛，模仿生活，但从不改变——移动，但没有任何表情。鼻子像头骨一样扁平，嗅着命运；嘴巴像守财奴一样薄，总是张着，但面无表情，就像信箱里的笑容一样。

康坦森像个野蛮人一样冷漠，双手被晒伤，表现出第欧根尼式的冷漠，永远不会屈服于任何形式的尊重。

对于任何能够解读衣服的人来说，他的衣服上写下了对他一生的评论！最重要的是，多好的裤子啊！经过长时间的磨损，它变得像制作律师袍的羽绒服一样又黑又闪亮！背心，是在圣殿旧衣服店买的，领子是深绣的！一件生锈的黑色外套！——所有的东西都刷得很干净，很时尚，还有一块手表和一条仿金链子。康滕森让衬衫呈现出三角形，褶皱中闪闪发光的假钻石别针；他的黑色天鹅绒枪托像护颈一样僵硬，上面放着一卷卷像加勒比海鱼一样红的肉。他的丝质帽子像缎子一样光滑，但如果杂货店买来煮沸的话，里面的油脂足以装两盏路灯。

但列举这些配件并不算什么；如果我能了解康坦森设法向他们传达的极其重要的气氛就好了！他外套的领子和一双鞋底张开的靴子上新涂的黑色有某种难以形容的东西，任何语言都无法公正地描述它们。然而，为了对这种混合效应有所了解，可以补充一点，任何有智慧的人，只有在看到康坦森时，才会感觉到，如果他不是间谍，而是小偷，那么所有这些零碎的东西，相反，扬起微笑，就会让人惊恐不寒而栗。仅从他的衣着来看，旁观者一定会自言自语地说：“这是一个恶棍；这是一个无赖。”他赌博，他酗酒，他恶习十足；但他没有喝醉，他没有欺骗，他既不是小偷，也不是杀人犯。”直到“间谍”这个词出现之前，康滕森一直保持着神秘莫测的状态。

这个人从事的不为人知的交易与被认可的交易一样多。他嘴角挂着狡黠的笑容，绿眼睛里闪烁着光芒，塌鼻子奇怪地抽动着，都表明他并不缺乏幽默感。他有一张铁皮脸，他的灵魂大概也和他的脸一样。他脸上的每一个动作都是出于礼貌而做出的鬼脸，而不是出于内心的冲动。如果他看起来不是那么滑稽的话，他一定会让人感到震惊。

康滕森是浮渣最奇怪的产物之一，他上升到巴黎这个沸腾的大锅顶部，一切都在发酵，他最自豪的是自己是一位哲学家。他会毫无怨恨地说道：

“我有很大的天赋，但是有什么用呢？我还不如当个白痴呢。”

他没有指责人类，而是责怪自己。如果可以的话，找出许多对自己的恶毒程度不及康滕森的间谍。

“情况对我不利，”他会对他的酋长们说。 “我们可能是精美的水晶；我们不过是一粒沙，仅此而已。”

他对着装的漠视有一定的道理。他并不比演员更关心自己的日常着装。他擅长伪装自己，擅长“化妆”。他本可以给弗雷德里克·勒梅特一个教训，因为必要时他可以成为一个花花公子。以前，他年轻的时候一定是混迹于卑微的社会。他对刑警队表现出过度的厌恶；因为，在帝国时期，他曾属于富什警察，并视他为伟人。自从这个政府部门被打压之后，他就将精力投入到追踪商业违约者上；但他众所周知的才能和敏锐使他成为一个有价值的助手，而那些不被承认的政治警察局长把他的名字留在了他们的名单上。康坦森和他的同事们一样，只是在一场政治调查即将展开时由他的上司扮演主角的戏剧中的超级人物。

“走吧，”纽辛根挥挥手示意秘书离开。

“为什么这个人要住别墅，而我要住别墅？”康坦森心里想道。 “他三度躲避债主；他抢劫了他们；我从来没有偷过一文钱；我比他聪明——”

“好吧，我的朋友，”男爵说道，“你有一张一千法郎的钞票求我。”

“我的女儿欠上帝和魔鬼——”

“瓦特，你有一个女孩，一个情妇！” “纽辛根喊道，他看着康滕森，眼中充满钦佩，其中不乏嫉妒。

“我才六十六岁，”康滕森回答道，他的恶习使他成为了一个坏榜样。

“那她做什么呢？”

“她帮助了我，”康滕森说。 “当一个男人是小偷，而一个诚实的女人爱上他时，要么她成为小偷，要么他成为诚实的男人。我一直都是间谍。”

“你总是想要钱吗？”纽辛根问道。

“总是，”康滕森微笑着说道。 “想要钱是我的事，赚钱也是你的事；我们很容易达成共识。你找我一点，我就承诺花掉它。你是井，我是桶。”

“您愿意买一张一百法郎的钞票吗？”

“这是什么问题！但我真是个傻瓜！——你提供它不是出于无私的愿望来修复命运的轻视吗？

“一点也不。除了你向我请求的那张一千法郎钞票之外，我还把它送给了你。我送你十五百法郎增值税。”

“很好，你把我身上的一千法郎给我，再加上五百法郎。”

“正是如此，”纽辛根点点头说道。

“但是还剩下五百法郎，”康滕森平静地说。

“就是这样，”男爵补充道。

“我接受。非常好;男爵先生，您想要什么？

“有人告诉我，在巴黎，有一个男人可以找到我爱的女人，而且你知道他的地址……”真正的间谍大师。”

“非常正确。”

“Vell den，把地址给我，我给你一百法郎。”

“他们在哪里？”康滕森说。

“他们在这里，”男爵说，从口袋里掏出一张纸条。

“好吧，把它们交给我吧，”康坦森伸出手说道。

“为了注意而注意！让我们见人，你就得到钱；你可以按这个价格卖给我很多地址。”

康坦森开始大笑。

“当然，你有权利这么想我，”他带着自责的神情说道。 “我们的生意越无赖，就越需要诚实。但是看这里，男爵先生，把它改为六百，我会给你一些建议。”

“把它送给我，相信我的慷慨。”

“我愿意冒险，”康滕森说，“但它的表现很高。在这种事情上，你看，我们必须在地下工作。你说，“快进军！”——你很富有；你认为金钱可以解决一切问题。嗯，毫无疑问，钱是很重要的东西。尽管如此，正如我们部队中两三个最优秀的首脑经常说的那样，金钱只能买到人才。还有很多你想不到的东西是金钱买不到的。——你买不到好运气。所以好的警察工作不是以这种方式完成的。你愿意和我一起坐马车吗？我们应该被看到。机会对我们来说和对我们来说一样常见。”

“真的吗？”男爵说。

“当然可以，先生。警察局长在街上捡到的马蹄铁发现了这台地狱机器。好吧，如果我们今晚要乘坐出租马车去圣日耳曼先生，他不希望看到你走进去，就像你不希望看到你去那里一样。”

“确实如此，”男爵说。

“啊，他是伟人中的伟人！另一位是著名的科朗坦（Corentin），他是富什的右臂，有人说他是他的亲生儿子，出生时他还是一名牧师。但这是无稽之谈。富什知道如何成为一名牧师，就像他知道如何成为一名牧师一样。嗯，你看，你不会让这个人为你做任何事，你看，花不到一万法郎的钞票——想想这一点。——但他会做这项工作，而且做得很好。正如他们所说，既没有看到也没有听到。我应该通知圣日耳曼先生，他会安排你们见面的时间，地点在一个没人能看到或听到的地方，因为为了私人利益而扮演警察是一种危险的游戏。不过，还有什么可说的呢？他是一个好人，好人之王，一个遭受了很多迫害的人，而且还拯救了他的国家！——就像我，就像所有帮助拯救国家的人一样。”

“Vell den，写下并命名快乐的一天，”男爵对他谦虚的玩笑微笑着说道。

“男爵先生会让我为他的健康干杯吗？”康坦森说道，语气中既畏缩又充满威胁。

“希恩，”男爵对园丁喊道，“去告诉乔奇给我寄二十法郎，然后把它们给我——”

“不过，男爵先生，如果你所掌握的信息不比你刚才给我的多，我怀疑这位伟人对你是否还有用处。”

“我知道有什么命令！”男爵一脸狡黠地回答道。

“我很荣幸向您问早安，男爵先生，”康坦森接过那枚二十法郎的硬币说道。 “我很荣幸再次打电话告诉乔治你今晚要去哪里，因为在处理得当的情况下，我们绝不会写任何东西。”

“真有趣，这些流氓竟然如此犀利！”男爵自言自语道； “这和巴斯尼斯的警察局是一样的。”

离开男爵酒店后，康滕森悄悄地从圣拉扎尔街走到圣奥诺雷街，一直走到大卫咖啡馆。他透过窗户往里看，看到了一位老人，他的名字叫勒佩雷·坎库埃尔。

大卫咖啡馆（Cafe David）位于莫奈街（Rue de la Monnaie）和圣奥诺雷街（Rue Saint-Honore）的拐角处，在本世纪头三十年享有一定的知名度，尽管它的名气仅限于布尔多内区。一些退休的老商人和仍在做生意的大店主经常在这里见面——卡缪索家族、勒巴斯家族、皮勒罗家族、波皮诺家族，以及一些像小老莫利纽克斯这样的房主。时不时可以看到老纪尧姆从哥伦比耶街过来。人们以安静但谨慎的方式讨论政治，因为大卫咖啡馆的观点是自由主义的。邻里闲话重演，男人们迫切地需要互相嘲笑！

与所有咖啡馆一样，这家咖啡馆的 Pere Canquoelle 也有其古怪的性格，自 1811 年以来，他就经常光顾这里，而且他似乎与聚集在那里的好人完全融洽。 ，他们都在他面前毫无保留地谈论政治。有时候，这个老家伙的朴实无华让顾客们大笑，有时会消失一两个月。但他的缺席从来没有让任何人感到惊讶，人们总是将其归咎于他的体弱多病或年事已高，因为 1811 年他看起来已经六十多岁了。

“老坎奎勒怎么样了？”有人会询问前台的女经理。

“我非常希望有一天我们会在广告上看到他死了，”她回答道。

老坎奎勒的口音带着他家乡省份的永久证明。他谈到 乌恩庄园 （一塑雕像）， 人民报 （人民），并说 TURE 土耳其。他的名字是一个叫做 les Canquoelles 的小庄园，这个词在某些地区的意思是金龟子，位于沃克吕兹省，他就是从那里来的。最后，每个人都养成了称呼他坎库埃尔（Canquoelle）的习惯，而不是德·坎库埃尔（des Canquoelles），老人并没有生气，因为在他看来，贵族在 1793 年就已经灭亡了。此外，莱斯·坎库埃勒斯的土地也不属于他。他是小儿子的小儿子。

如今，老坎库埃尔的服装看起来很奇怪，但在 1811 年至 1820 年间，它并没有让任何人感到惊讶。老人穿着带雕花钢扣的鞋子，腿上穿着蓝色和白色交替条纹的丝袜，还有绳子丝质及膝马裤，椭圆形带扣的剪裁与他鞋子上的扣子相配。一件白色刺绣背心、一件带有金属纽扣的橄榄棕色旧外套和一件带有平褶褶边的衬衫完成了他的服装。衬衫褶边的中间闪烁着一个金色的小挂坠盒，在玻璃下可以看到挂在头发上的一个小太阳穴，这是那些赋予男人信心的可悲的小玩意之一，就像稻草人吓跑麻雀一样。大多数人，像其他动物一样，会因一些琐事而感到害怕或安心。老坎库埃勒的马裤是用一个带扣固定住的，按照上个世纪的时尚，把裤子从腹部收紧。腰带两侧各挂着一条短钢链，由几条较细的链组成，末端有一串封印。他的白色领巾后面用一个小金扣扣紧。最后，1816 年，他在雪白、扑粉的头发上仍然戴着法院院长特里先生也曾戴过的市政三角帽。但康奎勒神父最近用一顶有损尊严的大礼帽取代了这顶对老人来说非常珍贵的帽子，没有人敢反抗。这位好人认为他对时代精神负有如此多的责任。一条用丝带扎着的小辫子在他的外套背面划出了一个半圆，油腻的痕迹被粉末掩盖了。

如果你只看他脸上最显眼的特征，鼻子上布满赘生物，红肿得像一盘松露，你可能会推断出这个可敬的人脾气很随和，愚蠢而随和，一个完美的盖比；你可能会被欺骗，就像大卫咖啡馆里的所有人一样，那里没有人注意到这个老人的勤奋的眉毛、讽刺的嘴和冷酷的眼睛，这个老人被他的恶习所宠爱，并且像维特里乌斯一样冷静，他的帝国主义可以这么说，肥胖的胃在他身上重新出现了。

1816 年，一位名叫高迪萨尔 (Gaudissart) 的年轻商业旅行者经常光顾大卫咖啡馆，他和一名半薪官员一起从十一点喝酒到午夜。他竟然鲁莽地讨论了一场针对波旁王朝的阴谋，这在当时是一个相当严重的阴谋，即将被处决。咖啡馆里除了似乎睡着了的坎库埃尔神父、两个打瞌睡的服务员和办公桌旁的会计外，没有其他人。高迪萨被捕后不到四个小时，阴谋就被发现了。两名男子死在脚手架上。无论高迪萨特还是其他人都没有怀疑过那个值得尊敬的老坎库埃尔偷桃子了。服务员被解雇了；一年来，他们都保持警惕，害怕警察——坎库埃尔神父也是如此。事实上，他谈到要从大卫咖啡馆退休，因为他对警察感到如此恐惧。

康滕森走进咖啡馆，要了一杯白兰地，没有看坎库埃尔，后者正坐在那儿看报纸。但当他喝完白兰地后，他拿出男爵的金币，在桌子上敲了三声，叫来了服务员。前台女士和服务员仔细地检查着硬币，这让康滕森很不高兴。但他们的怀疑是有道理的，因为康滕森的出现让所有常客都感到惊讶。

“那些金子是偷窃还是谋杀得到的？”

当一些头脑清醒、精明的人戴着眼镜看着康滕森，假装在读新闻时，他们就想到了这个想法。康坦森什么都看在眼里，从来没有对任何事情感到惊讶，他轻蔑地用一条只有三块布的头巾擦了擦嘴唇，拿起零钱，把所有的铜币塞进了他的侧袋里，里面的衬里曾经是白色的，现在已经变成了白色。现在已经像裤子的布料一样黑了，而且没有给服务员留下一条。

“真是一只绞架鸟啊！”坎库埃尔神父对他的邻居皮勒罗先生说道。

“噗！”卡缪索先生对大家说道，因为只有他一个人并没有表现出惊讶，“这是康滕森，卢沙尔的得力助手，我们在生意上雇用的警察特工。这些恶棍可能想抓捕某个正在徘徊的人。”

似乎有必要在这里解释一下这个隐藏在康库埃尔神父幌子下的可怕而又极其狡猾的人，就像沃特林隐藏在卡洛斯神父的幌子下一样。

这位南方人出生在坎库埃尔斯，这是他家族唯一的财产，非常受人尊敬，他的名字叫佩拉德。事实上，他属于佩拉德家族的年轻分支，这是弗朗什孔德家族的一个古老但贫穷的家族，仍然拥有拉佩拉德的小庄园。他是他父亲的第七个孩子，1772 年，他十七岁，口袋里装着两枚六法郎的克朗，步行来到巴黎，受到热情的精神恶习和粗俗的“上进”欲望的驱使。当许多男人了解到他们父亲的财产永远无法为他们提供满足自己激情的手段时，他们就从南方来到了巴黎。佩拉德年轻时的表现足以说明，1782 年，他受到警察局长的信任，成为警察局的英雄，受到 MM 的高度评价。勒努瓦和达伯特是最后一位警察中将。

革命时期没有警察；它不需要任何东西。间谍活动虽然很常见，但被称为公共精神。

总局是一个比公共安全委员会更为正规的政府，它有义务重组警察，第一任领事通过设立警察局长和警察监督部门来完成这项工作。

佩拉德是一个了解传统的人，他在一个名叫科朗廷的人的帮助下收集了力量，科朗廷是一个比佩拉德聪明得多的人，尽管他年轻。但他只是在警方秘密调查方面才是天才。 1808 年，佩拉德所取得的伟大成就得到了奖励，他被任命为安特卫普警察局长。在拿破仑心目中，这种警察总督就相当于部长的职位，肩负着监管荷兰的职责。 1809 年战役结束时，根据皇帝的枢密院命令，佩拉德被带离安特卫普，由两名宪兵用马车运往巴黎，并被囚禁在拉福斯。两个月后，他在警察局长办公室接受了三次检查，每次持续六个小时，之后在朋友科朗坦的帮助下获得保释。

佩拉德的推翻是否归功于他在援助富歇保卫法国海岸时所表现出的神奇力量，当时他受到当时所谓的瓦尔赫伦远征的威胁，奥特朗托公爵表现出的能力让皇帝感到震惊？富歇当时就认为这很可能。现在，当每个人都知道坎巴塞雷斯召集的内阁委员会发生了什么时，这是绝对肯定的。大臣们对英国企图报复拿破仑布洛涅远征的消息感到震惊，当大师被困在洛鲍岛时感到惊讶，全欧洲都认为他已经迷失在那里，不知道该往哪个方向走。转动。普遍的意见是赞成速递给皇帝。只有富歇一个人有足够的勇气制定了一项战役计划，并且事实上他将其付诸实施。

“随你便吧，”坎巴塞雷斯说。 “但我，更愿意把头放在肩膀上，向皇帝报告。”

众所周知，皇帝回国后在国务委员会全体会议上找到了一个荒谬的借口，解雇了他的大臣，并惩罚他在没有君主帮助的情况下拯救了法国。从那时起，拿破仑对塔列朗亲王和奥特朗托公爵的敌意加倍，他们是革命中仅有的两位伟大的政治家，他们或许能够在 1813 年拯救拿破仑。

为了除掉佩拉德，他只是被指控纵容走私并与大商人分享某些利润。对于一个因做出巨大贡献而赢得警察局元帅接力棒的人来说，这样的侮辱是很难受的。这个在活跃的商业活动中变老的人，自 1775 年参政以来，知道每个政府的所有秘密。皇帝相信自己有足够的力量创造男人为自己所用，他没有理会随后摆在他面前的陈述，而是选择了一个被认为是最值得信赖、最有能力、最敏锐的未知人物之一的人。其任务是监视国家安全的天才。他认为他可以让康坦森代替佩拉德；但康坦森当时受雇于科朗坦，是为了自己的利益。

佩拉德对这一打击的感受更加强烈，因为他贪婪又放荡，在女人面前，他发现自己就像一个爱吃甜食的糕点师。他的恶习已经成为他的第二天性。没有一顿丰盛的晚餐，没有赌博，简而言之，没有朴实无华的绅士生活，他就活不下去。 拥有强大才能的人在允许过度放纵成为一种必要时，通常会沉迷于这种生活。迄今为止，他一直过着时尚的生活，但从未被期望去娱乐。并且生活得很好，因为没有人期望从他或他的朋友科朗坦那里得到回报。他很愤世嫉俗，很机智，而且他喜欢自己的职业。他是一位哲学家。此外，一个间谍，无论他在警察机构中的级别如何，都不能再回到被认为是光荣或自由的职业，就像来自绿巨人的囚犯一样。一旦被打上烙印，一旦被录取，间谍和罪犯就像执事一样，就具有了不可磨灭的性格。有些人的社会条件强加了不可避免的命运。

佩拉德更不幸的是，他非常喜欢一个漂亮的小女孩，他知道她是他和一位著名女演员所生的孩子，他曾为这位女演员做过重要的服务，三个月来，她一直对他心存感激。佩拉德从安特卫普派人去接孩子，现在他发现自己在巴黎没有工作，除了警察局作为勒努瓦的老弟子每年允许他领取一千二百法郎的养老金之外，他什么也没有。他在穆瓦诺街四楼租了一套住所，有五间小房间，租金为两百五十法郎。

如果有人应该意识到友谊的用途和好处，那他岂不是被世人视为间谍、被暴民视为间谍的道德麻风病人吗？ 莫沙德，到部门当“代理人”？佩拉德和科朗坦是奥瑞斯特斯和皮拉德斯这样的朋友。佩拉德训练科朗坦就像维恩训练大卫一样。但这个学生很快就超过了他的老师。他们一起完成了不止一项任务。佩拉德很高兴认识到科朗坦的卓越能力，并为他的成功做好了准备，开始了他的职业生涯。他强迫他的弟子利用一个蔑视他的情妇作为诱饵来捕捉一个男人（见 uan族）。科朗坦当时还不到五岁二十岁。

科朗坦曾被保留为将军之一，其中警察部长为高级警官，但他仍然在罗维戈公爵手下担任他在奥特朗托公爵手下担任的高职。现在当时一般警察和刑警的管理原则是差不多的。当手头上有任何重要的业务时，可以说，为三、四、五个真正有能力的代理人开设一个账户。部长在收到任何阴谋警告后，无论以何种方式，都会对他的一位警察上校说：

“你有多想实现这个或那个结果？”

科伦坦或康坦森会深入探讨此事并回复：

“二十、三十、四万法郎。”

然后，一旦下达了继续行动的命令，所有的手段和人员都交由科朗坦或选定的特工来判断。而刑警过去也曾以同样的方式发现犯罪，与著名的维多克一样。

警察的两个部门主要从知名特工队伍中选拔人员，这些特工都是从事这一行的，可以说是秘密军队的士兵，对政府来说是不可或缺的，尽管慈善家或狭隘道德家的公开演讲。但是，对佩拉德和科朗坦这两个脾气暴躁的人的绝对信任，让他们有权雇用完全陌生的人，而且，在所有严重的情况下，还要冒着对部长负责的风险。佩拉德的经验和智慧对科朗坦来说太有价值了，1820 年的风暴过去后，科朗坦雇用了他的老朋友，不断向他咨询，并为他的生活做出了很大的贡献。科朗坦每个月设法将大约一千法郎存入佩拉德手中。

佩拉德则为科朗坦提供了良好的服务。 1816年，科朗坦发现了波拿巴派高迪萨尔的阴谋，试图让佩拉德恢复在警察局的职务；但一些未知的影响正在对佩拉德产生不利影响。这就是原因。

为了让自己变得必要，佩拉德、科朗坦和康坦森在奥特朗托公爵的怂恿下，为路易十八的利益组织起来。一种反对派警察，其中雇用了非常有能力的特工。路易十八。死者身上蕴藏着秘密，对于最有见识的历史学家来说，这些秘密仍然是秘密。王国的一般警察和国王的反对派警察之间的斗争导致了许多可怕的灾难，其中一定数量的处决密封了秘密。这里既不是讨论这个主题细节的地方，也不是场合，因为这些“巴黎生活场景”不是“政治生活场景”。已经说得足够多了，足以说明这个在大卫咖啡馆被称为好老坎库埃尔的人的谋生手段是什么，以及他通过什么线索与警察可怕而神秘的权力联系在一起。

1817 年至 1822 年间，科朗坦、康坦森、佩拉德和他们的侍从经常被要求监视警察部长本人。这也许可以解释为什么部长拒绝雇用佩拉德和康滕森，科朗坦设法对他们表示怀疑，以便在他的朋友复职显然不可能的情况下能够利用他的朋友。该部对科朗坦充满信心；他们嘱咐他留意佩拉德，这让路易十八觉得很有趣。科朗坦和佩拉德当时是这个职位的主人。康坦森长期以来一直依恋佩拉德，仍然为他服务。在朋友的命令下，他加入了商业警察（Gardes du Commerce）的队伍。事实上，由于我们所热爱的职业所激发的热情，这两位酋长喜欢将他们最好的人选放在信息最有可能流入的岗位上。

事实上，康坦森的恶习和放荡的习惯使他的地位低于他的两个朋友，消耗了如此多的金钱，以至于他需要大量的生意。

康坦森并没有做出任何轻率的行为，他告诉卢沙尔，他认识唯一一个有能力完成纽辛根男爵要求的事情的人。事实上，佩拉德是唯一可以代表私人行事而不受惩罚的警察特工。路易十八去世后，佩拉德不仅失去了影响力，而且还失去了作为国王陛下的普通间谍的地位。他相信自己是不可或缺的，所以生活得很快。妇女、高喂养率和俱乐部、 外国人圈子，阻止了这个人储蓄，而且，像所有天生放荡的人一样，他拥有钢铁般的体质。但从 1826 年到 1829 年，当他年近七十四岁的时候，用他自己的话来说，他却半途而废了。年复一年，他发现自己的舒适感越来越少。他跟随警察局走向坟墓，遗憾地看到查理十世政府正在背离其良好的古老传统。出于对这种政府方式的仇恨和改革该机构的坚定决心，每次会议都会削减维持警察所需的预算。

“就好像他们认为自己可以戴着白手套做饭一样，”佩拉德对科朗廷说。

1822 年，这对夫妇预见到了 1830 年。他们知道路易十八有多么痛苦。憎恨他的继任者，这就是他对年轻分支的鲁莽行为的原因，如果没有继任者，他的统治将是一个无法解答的谜。

随着佩拉德年龄的增长，他对亲生女儿的爱也与日俱增。为了她，他披上了公民的外衣，因为他希望他的莉蒂能体面地结婚。因此，在过去的三年里，他一直特别渴望找到一个角落，要么在警察局，要么在警察总局——一些表面上得到认可的职位。最后，他发明了一个地方，正如他告诉科朗坦的那样，人们迟早会感觉到这个地方的必要性。他急于在警察局设立一个调查办公室，作为严格意义上的巴黎警察、刑事警察和高级总警察之间的中间人，以便最高委员会能够从各个分散的力量中获利。 。除了佩拉德这个年纪，在从事了五十五年的机密工作之后，没有人能够成为警察三个部门之间的联系纽带，或者记录的保存者，政治和司法当局都可以向其申请澄清。某些情况下。佩拉德希望通过这种方式，在科朗坦的帮助下，找到一个丈夫，并为他的小莉迪筹集到一部分。科朗坦已经向王国警察部队总干事提到了此事，但​​没有点名佩拉德；局长是一位南方人，他认为这个建议应该由市警察局局长提出。

当康坦森拿着金币在桌子上敲击三下，传达出“我想和你说话”的信号时，这位学长正在思考这个问题：“警察局长在谁的帮助下，在什么压力下可以被迫移动吗？”——他看起来就像一根面条在研究他的 法国信使报.

“可怜的富歇！”当他沿着圣奥诺雷街前进时，他心里想：“那个伟人死了！我们与路易十八的中间人。失宠了。此外，正如科朗坦昨天所说，没有人相信七十岁老人的活动或智力。哦，为什么我养成了在 Very's 用餐、喝精选葡萄酒、唱歌的习惯 拉梅尔·戈迪雄，当我有资金时赌博？正如科朗坦所说，要想获得并保住这个位置，仅仅聪明是不够的，你还必须具备管理天赋。可怜的亲爱的勒努瓦先生在写信给我关于王后项链的事时是对的，‘你永远不会做任何好事’，当他听说我没有呆在那个荡妇奥利瓦的床底下时。

如果可敬的坎库埃尔神父——他在房子里被这样称呼——住在穆瓦诺街的四楼，你可以相信，他在房屋的布置中发现了一些特殊之处，有利于他可怕的实践。职业。

这所房子坐落在圣罗克街的拐角处，一侧没有邻居；另一侧没有邻居。由于中间的楼梯将其一分为二，因此每层都有两个完全隔离的房间。这两个房间面向圣罗克街。四楼以上有阁楼房间，其中一间是厨房，另一间是坎库埃尔神父唯一仆人的卧室，他是弗莱明人，名叫卡特，以前是莉迪的奶妈。老坎奎勒把外面的一间房间当作卧室，另一间当作书房。书房的尽头是一堵非常厚的隔墙。穆瓦诺街的窗户看着对面角落的一堵空白的墙壁。由于这间书房与楼梯之间的距离与佩拉德卧室的宽度相当，所以朋友们在这间专为他的可憎行业而设计的书房里谈论生意时，无所畏惧，无所畏惧。

作为进一步的预防措施，佩拉德为卡特的房间配备了一张厚厚的稻草床、一张毛毡地毯和一张很重的地毯，借口是让他孩子的保姆舒服。他还堵住了烟囱，用炉子取暖房间，并用一根管道穿过墙壁通向圣罗克街。最后，他在地板上铺了几块地毯，以防止下面的邻居听到最轻微的声音。他本身就是间谍伎俩的专家，每周都会对外墙、天花板和地板进行一次探测，就像在寻找有毒的昆虫一样。正是这个房间的安全性使得科朗坦在不在自己的房间举行会议时选择了这里作为他的会议厅。

除了高级警察局长和佩拉德外，没有人知道科朗坦住的地方。他在那里接待了内阁或国王等挑选来处理非常严重案件的人士。但没有任何代理人或下属去过那里，他在佩拉德策划了与他们的生意有关的一切。在这个朴实无华的房间里，计划成熟了，决议通过了，如果只有墙壁会说话，这将提供奇怪的记录和好奇的戏剧。 1816 年至 1826 年间，最高利益在这里进行讨论。那里首先爆发了对法国产生影响的事件。佩拉德和科朗坦具有远见卓识，而且比总检察长贝拉特掌握的更多信息甚至在 1819 年就曾说过：“如果路易十八。不肯这样那样的打击，不肯杀掉这样那样的王子，难道是因为恨他的兄弟吗？他一定希望留给他革命的继承人。”

佩拉德的门上装饰着一块石板，有时可以在石板上看到非常奇怪的标记，用粉笔潦草地写着数字。这种魔鬼代数对于入门者来说具有最清晰的意义。

莉迪的房间位于佩拉德破旧的住所对面，包括一间前厅、一间小客厅、一间卧室和一间小更衣室。这扇门和佩拉德房间的门一样，是用一块三线厚的铁皮制成的，夹在两块坚固的橡木板之间，配有锁和精致的铰链，使它像监狱门一样无法强行打开。 。因此，尽管房子里有一条公共通道，下面有一家商店，而且没有门卫，莉迪住在那里却毫无恐惧。餐厅、小客厅和她的卧室——每个窗户阳台都是一个空中花园——在荷兰式的清洁中显得奢华。

这位佛兰德斯护士从未离开过莉迪，她称她为女儿。两人经常去教堂，这让住在楼下街角商店的保皇党杂货商对这位值得尊敬的坎奎勒有了很好的评价。杂货店的家人、厨房和柜台人员占据了一楼和中间层；房东住在二楼；第三块已出租给宝石匠二十年了。每个居民都有一把临街门的钥匙。杂货店的妻子更愿意收到寄给这三户安静家庭的信件和包裹，因为杂货店有一个信箱。

如果没有这些细节，陌生人，甚至那些熟悉巴黎的人，都无法理解使这所房子在巴黎与众不同的私密性和安静性、隔离性和安全性。午夜过后，坎库埃尔神父就可以策划阴谋、接待间谍或部长、妻子或妓女，而地球上没有任何人对此一无所知。

佩拉德（Peyrade），佛兰德妇女会对他的杂货店厨师说：“他不会伤害一只苍蝇！”被认为是最优秀的男人。他对女儿没有任何怨恨。莉迪受过施穆克的音乐教育，她自己也是一位会作曲的音乐家。她可以用深褐色的画作洗涤，也可以用水粉画和水彩画。每个星期天，佩拉德都会和她一起在家吃饭。那天，这位尊贵的人完全是父亲般的。

莉迪虽然虔诚，但并不偏执，她在复活节领受圣礼，每个月都忏悔。尽管如此，她还是时不时地接受观众的款待。天气好的时候，她在杜乐丽宫散步。这些都是她的乐趣，因为她过着久坐的生活。莉迪崇拜她的父亲，但对他邪恶的天赋和黑暗的职业一无所知。没有任何愿望打扰过这个纯洁的孩子纯洁的生活。她像她的母亲一样苗条而英俊，有着优美的声音，精致的脸庞衬托着金色的细发，她看起来就像那些天使之一，神秘而不是真实，一些早期画家将其归为神圣家族的背景。她那双蓝眼睛的一瞥，仿佛将一道光芒从天而降，洒在她所喜爱的人身上。她的着装很简单，没有夸张的时尚，有一种令人愉悦的中产阶级的端庄。想象一个老撒旦是天使的父亲，并在她神圣的存在下得到净化，你就会对佩拉德和他的女儿有一个想法。如果有人弄脏了这颗宝石，她的父亲就会发明一种可怕的阴谋，把他活活吞掉，在复辟时期，不幸的不幸者被困在绞刑台上。一千克朗对于莉迪和卡特来说足够了，她称他们为护士。

当佩拉德拐入穆瓦诺街时，他看到了康坦森。他超过了他，在他之前上楼，听到了楼梯上男人的脚步声，并在女人把鼻子伸出厨房门之前让他进去了。宝石匠居住的三楼的玻璃门打开时，铃声响起，当有访客来到时，向该楼和四楼的居民发出警报。不用说，午夜过后，佩拉德压低了铃声。

“什么事这么急，哲学家？”

“哲学家”是佩拉德给康滕森起的绰号，也是警察中的爱比克泰德所推崇的。康坦森这个名字，唉！隐藏了封建诺曼底最古老的名字之一。

“嗯，大概能赚到一万法郎。”

“它是什么？政治的？”

“不，真是愚蠢至极。纽辛根男爵，你知道，那个经过认证的老骗子，正在对他在文森森林看到的一个女人发出嘶嘶声，必须找到她，否则他会死于爱情。——昨天他们咨询了医生，由他的人告诉我的。——我已经以寻求公平的名义，从他那里减掉了一千法郎。”

康滕森讲述了纽辛根与埃丝特的会面，并补充说男爵现在有了一些进一步的信息。

“好吧，”佩拉德说，“我们会找到他的杜尔西内亚；请男爵今晚乘坐马车前往香榭丽舍大街——加布里埃尔大道和马里尼大道的拐角处。”

佩拉德送康坦森出去，然后敲了敲女儿的房间，就像他总是敲门让她进来一样。机会终于为他提供了到达他渴望的地方的途径。

他亲吻了莉迪的额头，然后一屁股坐进一张很深的扶手椅里，说道：

“给我玩点东西吧。”

莉迪给他弹了一首贝多芬的钢琴曲。

“打得非常好，我的宠物，”他说，把莉迪抱在膝盖上。 “你知道我们今年一二十岁吗？我们得赶紧结婚了，我们老爹已经七十多岁了——”

“我在这里很开心，”她说。

“除了你丑陋的老父亲，你谁都不爱？”佩拉德问。

“为什么，我该爱谁？”

“亲爱的，我正在家里吃饭；去告诉卡特。我正在考虑安顿下来，考虑预约，寻找一个配得上你的丈夫；某个优秀的年轻人，非常聪明，有一天你可能会为他感到骄傲——”

“除了一个我应该喜欢的丈夫之外，我还从未见过——”

“那你见过一个吗？”

“是的，在杜乐丽宫。”莉迪回答道。 “他从我身边走过；他把他的手臂交给了塞里齐伯爵夫人。”

“他叫什么名字？”

“吕西安·德鲁本普雷。——我和卡特坐在一棵椴树下，什么也不想。我旁边坐着两位女士，一位对另一位说：“这是德·塞里齐夫人和那位英俊的吕西安·德·鲁本普雷。”——我看着两位女士正在注视的那对夫妇。 '哦，我亲爱的！'另一个说：“有些女人很幸运！”那个女人可以做她想做的一切，只是因为她是德龙克罗勒家族的人，而且她的丈夫掌权。”——“但是，亲爱的，”另一位女士说，“吕西安让她付出了很大的代价。”——她做了什么？爸爸的意思是？”

“纯粹是胡说八道，就像时尚人士会说的那样，”佩拉德回答道，语气十分坦率。 “也许他们在暗示政治问题。”

“嗯，总之，你问了我一个问题，那我就回答你。如果你想让我结婚，就给我找一个像那个年轻人一样的丈夫。”

“傻孩子！”她父亲回答道。 “一个男人英俊并不总是善良的标志。少年人貌美如花，出身无阻碍，故不施才；他们被社会给予他们的进步所腐蚀，后来他们必须为自己的吸引力付出利息！——我希望你看到的是中产阶级、富人和傻瓜们所不希望的和不受保护的——”

“什么，父亲？”

“一个未被认可的才华横溢的人。但是，那里，孩子；我有能力搜寻巴黎的每一间阁楼，并通过为你的爱情提供一个像你所说的年轻流氓一样英俊的男人来执行你的计划；但他是一个有前途的人，他的未来注定会获得荣耀和财富。——顺便说一句，我忘了。我一定有一大批侄子，其中一定有一个配得上你的！——我会写信，或者找人写信到普罗旺斯。”

奇怪的巧合！此刻，一个饥肠辘辘、疲惫不堪的年轻人，是从沃克吕兹省步行而来的，他是康奎勒神父的侄子，正在寻找叔叔，他正通过意大利边境进入巴黎。在全家人的白日梦中，佩拉德对这位叔叔的命运一无所知，他为许多希望提供了文本。他本来应该带着数百万美元从印度回来的！在这些炉边浪漫的刺激下，这位名叫西奥多的侄孙开始了环游世界的旅程，寻找这位古怪的叔叔。

在享受了几个小时的父亲之乐后，佩拉德洗了头发，染了头发——因为他的粉是一种伪装——穿着一件粗壮、粗糙的蓝色礼服大衣，扣子一直扣到下巴，披着一件黑色斗篷，穿着厚实的鞋子。穿着厚底靴子，给自己准备了一张私人卡片，沿着加布里埃尔大道慢慢地走着，装扮成一位老妇人的康滕森在爱丽舍宫的花园前遇见了他。

“圣日耳曼先生，”康滕森说，用他的正式名字命名了他的老酋长，“你让我赚了五百块（法郎）；但我来这里的目的是告诉你，那个该死的男爵在给我闪光之前，一直在房子（警察局）问问题。”

“毫无疑问，我会想要你，”佩拉德回答道。 “查找数字 7、10 和 21；我们可以在没有任何人发现的情况下雇用这些人，无论是在警察部还是在县。”

康滕森回到马车附近的一个哨所，德·纽辛根先生正在车里等待佩拉德。

“我是圣日耳曼先生，”佩拉德对男爵说道，同时站起身子往车厢门外看去。

“Ver' goot；” “跟我上车吧。”男爵回答道，命令车夫慢慢地往星形凯旋门走去。

“男爵先生，你去过警察局吗？这不公平。请问您对勒普雷费特先生说了些什么，他又说了些什么？佩拉德问。

“在我向康坦森这样的恶棍赠送一百法郎之前，我想知道他是否赚到了这些钱。我只是对警察局长说，我想雇用一位名叫佩拉特的特工来处理一件微妙的事情，我应该相信他吗——无限！——警察局长告诉我，你是一个非常聪明的人，非常诚实男人。这就是一切。”

“现在你已经知道了我的真名，男爵先生，你能告诉我你想要什么吗？”

当男爵用他那难看的波兰犹太人方言，详细地解释了他与埃丝特的会面、马车后面那个人的叫喊以及他徒劳的努力时，他最后讲述了在他家里发生的事情：前一天晚上，吕西安不自觉的微笑，以及比安雄和其他一些年轻花花公子的看法，他和那个不知名的集市之间一定有什么熟人。

“听我说，男爵先生；首先，你必须把一万法郎交给我，作为开支；因为，对你来说，这是生死攸关的问题；由于你的生活是一个商业工厂，所以必须不遗余力地为你找到这个女人。哦，你被抓住了！——”

“嘉，我被发现了！”

“如果需要更多的钱，男爵，我会让你知道；请相信我，”佩拉德说。 “我不是间谍，正如你想象的那样。 1807 年，我担任安特卫普警察总监；现在是路易十八。死了，我可以私下告诉你，七年来我一直是他的反警察局长。所以没有人能打败我。男爵先生，您必须明白，在深入研究此类事件的细节之前，不可能对每个人的良心代价做出任何估计。保持轻松；我一定会成功的。别以为你可以用一笔钱来满足我；我想要一些东西作为报酬——”

“只要那不是一个王国！”男爵说。

“对你来说，这还不算什么。”

“我是你的男人。”

“你认识凯勒夫妇吗？”

“哦！很好。”

“弗朗索瓦·凯勒是冈德维尔伯爵的女婿，昨天冈德维尔伯爵和他的女婿和您一起吃饭了。”

“是谁告诉你的？”男爵喊道。 “那就是乔治；他总是一个八卦的人。”佩拉德笑了，银行家立刻对他的男仆产生了奇怪的怀疑。

“贡德维尔伯爵完全有能力为我在警察局获得一个我梦寐以求的职位；四十八小时内，省长就会通知要创建这样一个地方，”佩拉德继续说道。 “帮我求一下；让贡德维尔伯爵以某种程度的热情对此事感兴趣——这样你就会报答我即将为你提供的服务。我只问你一句话；因为，如果你让我失望了，你迟早会诅咒你出生的那一天——佩拉德是这么说的。

“我以我的荣幸向您表示，您可以做任何事情。”

“如果我不为你做更多的事，那是不够的。”

“好吧，好吧，我会坦白行事的。”

“坦白说——这就是我所要求的，”佩拉德说，“坦白是你我可以为彼此提供的唯一新鲜事物。”

“坦白说，”男爵附和道。 “我会把你放下来的。”

“在路易十六桥的拐角处。”

“去房间桥，”男爵对马车门口的男仆说。

“那我就去找那个陌生人了。”开车回家时男爵自言自语道。

“真是奇怪的事情！”佩拉德一边想，一边步行回到王宫，他打算在那里把他的一万法郎增加三倍，为莉迪赚点小钱。 “在这里，我需要调查一个非常年轻的男人的私事，他对我的小女儿一见倾心。我想，他是那种对女人有眼光的男人之一。”他用自己的语言对自己说，在这种语言中，他或科朗坦的观察结果可以用任何语言来概括。不是古典的，但正因为如此，充满活力且风景如画。

纽辛根男爵一进来，就变了一个人。他向家人和妻子展示了一张充满生机和色彩的脸，他感到如此高兴，这让他们感到惊讶。

“我们的股东最好自己照顾自己，”杜蒂莱对拉斯蒂涅说。

他们从歌剧院回来后，正在德尔菲娜·德·纽辛根的闺房里喝茶。

“啊，”男爵微笑着说道。 “我觉得我应该做点生意。”

“那你见过公平的存在吗？”纽辛根夫人问道。

“不，”他说。 “我只是希望能见到她。”

“男人真的这么爱自己的妻子吗？”纽辛根夫人喊道，感觉，或者假装感觉，有点嫉妒。

“当你得到她之后，你一定要请我们和她一起吃晚饭，”杜蒂莱对男爵说，“因为我很好奇，想研究这个让你这么年轻的生物。”

“她是一个 主厨 创造！”老银行家回答道。

“他会像个孩子一样被骗。”拉斯蒂涅在德尔菲娜耳边说道。

“呸！他赚的钱足够——”

“我想是为了回馈一点，”杜蒂莱打断了男爵夫人的话。

纽辛根在房间里走来走去，好像他的腿坐立不安。

“现在是你让他偿还你新欠的债的时候了，”拉斯蒂涅在男爵夫人耳边说道。

就在此时，卡洛斯满怀希望地离开了泰特布街。他去那里是为了向欧洲提供最后的建议，欧洲将在这场旨在捉拿纽辛根男爵的闹剧中扮演主要角色。路西恩一直陪着他来到林荫大道，他很难发现这个伪装得如此完美的恶魔，就连他也只能通过声音认出他来。

“你到底在哪里找到比埃丝特更漂亮的女人？”他问他的邪恶天才。

“我的孩子，在巴黎找不到这样的东西。这样的肤色不是法国制造的。”

“我向你保证，我仍然感到非常惊讶。金星卡利皮吉（Venus Callipyge）没有这样的人物。一个男人会为了她失去灵魂。但她是从哪里冒出来的？”

“她是伦敦最漂亮的女孩。她喝醉了杜松子酒，嫉妒之下杀死了自己的情人。这位情人是个可怜人，伦敦警方已经将她绳之以法了，这个女人一度被送往巴黎，让这件事平息下去。这个贱人是一位牧师的女儿，教养很好。她说法语就像她的母语一样。她不知道，也永远不会知道，她为什么会在这里。有人告诉她，如果你看上她，她可能会骗取你数百万美元，但你却嫉妒得像只老虎，她还被告知以斯帖的生活。”

“但是假设纽辛根应该更喜欢她而不是埃丝特呢？”

“啊，终于出来了！”卡洛斯喊道。 “你现在担心的是，生怕昨天让你沮丧的事情最终不会发生！很轻松。那个金发碧眼的女孩有着蓝色的眼睛；她是美丽的犹太女人的对立面，只有像埃丝特这样的眼睛才能激起像纽辛根这样腐朽的男人。什么鬼啊！你无法隐藏一个丑陋的女人。当这个傀儡发挥出自己的作用时，我会将她安全地送往罗马或马德里，在那里她将风靡一时。”

“如果我们只和她在一起很短时间，”路西恩说，“我会回到她身边——”

“去吧，我的孩子，自娱自乐吧。明天你就长大一天了。就我而言，我必须等待我所指示的人来了解纽辛根男爵那里发生的事情。”

“谁？”

“他的贴身男仆的情妇；毕竟，我们必须随时了解敌人营地中正在发生的事情。”

午夜时分，埃丝特的高个子猎手帕卡德在艺术桥上遇见了卡洛斯，那是全巴黎最适合说出几句话但谁也不能偷听的话的地方。他们说话的时候，仆人一直注视着一侧，而他的主人则注视着另一侧。

“男爵今天早上四点到五点之间去了警察局，”那人说，“他今天晚上吹嘘说他应该找到他在文森森林看到的那个女人——有人向他保证过——”

“我们被监视了！”卡洛斯说。 “通过谁？”

“他们已经聘请了法警卢查德。”

“那简直就是儿戏，”卡洛斯回答道。 “我们不需要害怕，除了公共安全的卫士——刑警；只要不启动，我们就可以继续！”

“这还不是全部。”

“还有什么？”

“我们的绿巨人好友。——昨天我见到了拉普拉耶——他掐死了一对已婚夫妇，并装进了一万枚五法郎的金币。”

“他会被逮捕的，”雅克·科林说。 “这就是布歇街犯罪。”

“今天的顺序是什么？”帕卡德说道，带着元帅在接受路易十八命令时必须表现出的恭敬举止。

“你必须每天晚上十点出去，”埃雷拉回答道。 “快步前往文森森林 (Bois de Vincennes)、默东森林 (Bois de Meudon) 和阿夫赖城 (de Ville-d'Avray)。如果有人要跟随你，就让他们跟随吧；言论自由、健谈、容易受贿。谈论鲁本普雷的嫉妒和他对夫人的疯狂热情，说他无论如何都不会知道他有这样的情妇。”

“够了——我必须有武器吗？”

“绝不！”卡洛斯激烈地喊道。 “一件武器？那有什么用呢？让我们陷入困境。任何情况下都不要使用猎刀。当你知道你可以用我向你展示的伎俩打断最强壮的人的腿时——当你可以对抗三名武装看守时，并且确信自己可以在他们拿出打火石之前解决掉他们中的两个时，什么时候？有什么好怕的？你没有手杖吗？”

“当然，”那人说。

帕卡德，绰号“老守卫”、“老清醒者”或“正确的人”——一个有着铁腿、钢铁手臂、意大利式胡须、艺术家般的头发、工兵般的胡须、一张毫无血色、一动不动的脸的男人。康坦森保持着自己的精神，并为消除怀疑而感到高兴。普瓦西或默伦的逃亡者没有如此严肃的自我意识和对自己优点的信念。作为绿巨人哈龙·拉希德的贾法尔，他怀着佩拉德对科朗廷的友好钦佩之情为他服务。

这个身材魁梧的家伙，身材矮小，胸口平坦，四肢瘦弱，踩着两根长钉，神情严肃地走来走去。每当他的右腿一动，他的右眼就会以盗贼和间谍特有的平静而迅速的方式观察周围的一切。左眼效仿右眼。雅克·柯林曾经说过，他身材魁梧，敏捷，随时准备应对任何情况，但如果不是荷兰人勇气的弱点，帕卡德就很完美了，雅克·科林过去常说，他完全具备了与社会作战的人所必需的才能；但主人成功地说服了他的奴隶只在晚上喝酒。晚上回家时，帕卡德把从但泽买来的大肚石罐里倒进小玻璃杯里的液体黄金倒了。

“我们会让他们睁开眼睛，”帕卡德说，在向卡洛斯鞠躬后戴上他的大帽子和羽毛，他称卡洛斯为他的忏悔者。

这些事件导致雅克·科林、佩拉德和科朗坦这三个如此聪明、各有其道的人在同一场地上进行了肉搏战，每个人都在为自己的斗争中发挥了自己的才能。热情或兴趣。这是一场晦涩却可怕的冲突，在这些冲突中，人们花费了进军和反击、策略、技巧、仇恨和烦恼，这些力量可能会带来一笔丰厚的财富。佩亚德对人员和资金绝对保密，并由他的朋友科朗坦协助开展这项业务——他们认为这只是一件小事。因此，对于他们来说，历史是沉默的，正如许多革命的真正原因一样。

但这就是结果。

德纽辛根先生在香榭丽舍大街会见佩拉德五天后，一个大约五十岁的男人早上打来电话，从一辆漂亮的出租车里走出来，把缰绳交给他的仆人。他有着“世间”生活赋予外交官的死白肤色，穿着蓝色衣服，有一种时尚的气质——几乎是国务大臣的气质。

他询问坐在台阶上长凳上的仆人纽辛根男爵是否在家。那人恭敬地打开了华丽的平板玻璃门。

“先生，您贵姓？”男仆说。

“告诉男爵，我是从加百利大道来的。”科朗坦说道。 “如果有人和他在一起，千万不要说得太大声，否则你会发现自己格格不入！”

一分钟后，那人回来了，带着科朗坦从后面的通道来到男爵的私人房间。

科朗坦和银行家交换了难以理解的眼神，两人都​​礼貌地鞠了一躬。

“男爵先生，”科朗坦说道，“我以佩拉德的名义而来——”

“真的！”男爵一边说，一边拧紧两扇门的插销。

“德·鲁本普雷先生的情妇住在泰特布街，以前德·贝尔菲耶小姐、德·格朗维尔先生的前情妇——总检察长——住过的公寓里——”

“瓦特，离我这么近？”男爵惊呼道。 “这很奇怪。”

“我非常理解你对那个美妙生物的疯狂； “我很高兴看到她，”科朗坦回答道。 “吕西安非常嫉妒这个女孩，从来不让别人看见她；她全心全意地爱着他；因为自从她在这些房间里继承了拉·贝尔弗耶的位置，继承了她的家具和她的职业以来，四年来，无论是邻居、门房还是房子里的其他房客都没有见过她。我的女士除了晚上以外从不活动。当她出发时，车厢的百叶窗被拉下，她蒙着面纱。

“路西恩隐瞒这个女人，除了嫉妒之外，还有其他原因。他将与克洛蒂尔德·德·格朗利厄结婚，此时此刻，他是塞里齐夫人最喜欢的人。他自然希望留住他时尚的情妇和他许下的新娘。所以，你是这个位置的主人，因为吕西安会为了他的利益和虚荣而牺牲他的快乐。你好有钱;这可能是你获得幸福的最后机会；自由一点。你可以通过她的侍女来达到你的目的。给那个荡妇一万法郎；她会把你藏在她情妇的卧室里。这对你来说一定很值得。”

没有任何修辞手法可以形容科朗坦讲话的简短而精确的语气。男爵不可能看不到这一点，他的脸上流露出惊讶之情——这种表情早已从他那难以捉摸的脸上消失了。

“我还得向你向我的朋友佩拉德要五千法郎，他掉了你的五张千法郎钞票——这是一次令人厌烦的意外，”科朗坦继续说道，语气中充满了命令的威严。 “佩拉德太了解他的巴黎了，不会花钱做广告，他完全信任你。但这还不是最重要的。”科朗坦补充道，他的语气让自己觉得要钱的要求显得微不足道。 “如果你不想悲惨地结束你的日子，就为佩拉德找到他让你为他争取的地方——这是一件你可以轻松做到的事情。昨天总警察局长一定已经知道了这件事。所需要的只是让冈德维尔与警察局长谈话。——很好，只要对马林说，冈德维尔伯爵，这是为了帮助解除他MM职务的人之一。德·西默兹，他会努力的——”

“先生，在这儿，”男爵一边说，一边掏出五千法郎的钞票递给科朗坦。

侍女和一位名叫帕卡德的高个子猎手是好朋友，他住在普罗旺斯街一家马车制造商的房子里；他对那些自以为是王子的人表现出heyduque的态度。你可以通过帕卡德（Paccard）了解范·博格赛克夫人的女人，帕卡德是一个强壮的皮埃蒙特人，喜欢苦艾酒。”

这条信息作为附言被优雅地添加进来，显然是五千法郎的回报。男爵试图猜测科朗坦在生活中的地位，因为他很清楚，这个人与其说是间谍，不如说是间谍大师。但科朗坦对他来说仍然很神秘，就像四分之三的字母丢失时铭文对考古学家来说一样神秘。

“那个女仆叫瓦特吗？”他问。

“尤金妮，”科朗坦回答道，他鞠了一躬，退了出去。

男爵欣喜若狂，放下了当天的工作，关上办公室，走进自己的房间，心情愉快，就像一个二十岁的年轻人期待着与他的第一位情妇的第一次会面。

男爵从他的私人钱箱里取出了所有的千法郎钞票——这笔钱足以让全村人高兴，五万五千法郎——然后把它们塞进了自己的外套口袋里。但百万富翁的挥霍只能与他的利欲熏心相比。一旦心血来潮或激情得到满足，金钱对于克洛伊索斯来说就是渣滓；事实上，他发现心血来潮比黄金更难。在这些满足的生活中，强烈的快乐是最稀有的东西，充满了巨大的投机所带来的兴奋，而这些干涸的心在其中被烧毁了。

例如，巴黎最富有的资本家之一有一天遇到了一位非常漂亮的小女工。她的母亲和她在一起，但女孩挽着一个年轻人的手臂，他的服饰令人怀疑，神气十足。百万富翁对这个女孩一见钟情。他跟着她回家，他进去了；他听了她所有的故事，记录了在马比勒跳舞和挨饿的日子、玩耍和努力工作的交替的记录。他对此很感兴趣，并在一张五法郎的纸币下留下了五千法郎的钞票——这是一种被滥用的慷慨行为。第二天，一位著名的室内装潢商布拉雄 (Braschon) 前来接受少女的订单，布置了她所选择的房间，并支付了两万法郎。她抱着最疯狂的希望，给母亲穿上了相配的衣服，并自以为自己会在保险公司为她的前情人找到一个地方。她等了一天，两天，然后一周，两周。她认为自己一定要忠诚；她负债累累。被召唤到荷兰的资本家已经忘记了这个女孩。他从来没有去过他安置她的天堂，她从那里跌落到即使在巴黎也可能跌落的最低点。

纽辛根不赌博，纽辛根不赞助艺术，纽辛根没有爱好；因此，他盲目地投入到对埃丝特的热情中，卡洛斯·埃雷拉对此充满信心。

早餐后，男爵派人叫来他的贴身仆人乔治，要他去泰特布特街，请范博格赛克夫人的女仆尤金妮小姐来他的办公室处理一件重要的事情。

“你要照顾她，”他补充道，“让她来到我的房间，告诉她我会让她发财。”

乔治在说服欧洲-尤金妮来时遇到了最大的困难。

“夫人从来不让我出去，”她说。 “我可能会失去我的位置”等等；乔治向男爵大声赞美，男爵给了他十个路易。

“如果夫人今晚不带她出去，”乔治对他的主人说，他的眼睛像痈一样闪闪发亮，“她十点钟就会到这儿来。”

“哎呀。你应该在九点钟来给我穿衣服——并给我做头发。我会尽可能看起来漂亮。我相信我会真的见到那个情妇——否则钱就不再是钱了。”

男爵从中午到下午花了一个小时染头发和胡须。晚上九点，晚饭前洗了个澡，他做了一个新郎般的厕所，还给自己喷了香水——一个完美的美男子。纽辛根夫人得知这一变态后，特意去检查一下她的丈夫。

“我的妈呀！”她叫道：“多么可笑的数字啊！至少，戴上黑色缎面长袜，而不是白色领巾，因为白色领巾会让你的胡须看起来很黑；此外，它是如此的“帝国”，相当老套。你看上去就像一位年过半百的议会顾问。把这些钻石纽扣摘下来；每件价值十万法郎——那个荡妇会向你索要，而你无法拒绝她；如果行李里有它们，我还不如把它们当耳环戴。”

这位不幸的银行家被妻子的智慧所震惊，不情愿地服从了。

“可笑，可笑！我从来没有告诉过你，当你把自己打扮得这么漂亮去见你的小拉斯蒂涅先生时，你会变得可笑！

“我希望你从未见过我让自己变得可笑。我是那种在衣服的第一个音节就犯下这种错误的女人吗？来吧，转身吧。把你的外套扣到脖子上，除了最上面的两颗扣子，就像莫弗里涅斯公爵那样。简而言之，尽量让自己看起来年轻。”

“先生，”乔治说，“这是尤金妮小姐。”

“阿迪，莫塔姆，”银行家说，然后他护送妻子到她自己的房间，以确保她不会无意中听到他们的会议。

回来后，他拉着欧洲的手，带着一种讽刺的尊重将她带进了自己的房间。

“维尔，我的孩子，你是一个幸福的生物，因为你是维尔特最美丽的女人的女仆。如果你愿意为我和我的利益与她交谈，你就会发财。”

“为了一万法郎我不会做这种事！”欧洲惊呼。 “男爵先生，我想让你知道，我是一个诚实的女孩。”

“哦是的。我希望为你的诚实付出高昂的代价。在商界，这就是好奇心。”

“这还不是全部，”欧洲继续说道。 “如果你不喜欢夫人——这是有可能的——她会生气的，我就完蛋了！——而我的房子每年值一千法郎。”

“赚一万法郎的资本是二十万法郎；如果我把这些数据送给你，你一定会注意到的。”

“好吧，可以肯定的是，如果这就是你的语气，我可敬的老伙计，”欧洲说，“那就完全是另一回事了。——钱在哪里？”

“这里，”男爵回答道，一次一张地举起钞票。

他注意到欧洲人眼中依次闪过的闪光，背叛了他所指望的贪婪。

“这是我的地位的代价，但我的原则、我的良心呢？” “欧洲说，翘起她那狡猾的小鼻子，向男爵投来严肃而滑稽的一瞥。

“你的良心不会因为你的位置而受到惩罚；但我要说的是五万法郎，”他说着又加上了五千法郎的纸币。

“不，不。两万换我的良心，五千换我的位置，如果我失去了它——”

“请您务必遵守，”他说，并加上了五个音符。 “但是为了赢得这些，你应该在晚上把我打到你女士的房间里，即使她会‘孤独’。”

“如果你发誓永远不告诉是谁让你进来的，我同意。但我警告你一件事。——夫人像土耳其人一样坚强，她疯狂地爱着德·鲁本普雷先生，如果你付一百万法郎的钞票，她永远不会对他不忠。这很傻，但这就是她恋爱时的方式；我告诉你，她比一个诚实的女人还糟糕！当她晚上开车去树林里兜风时，先生很少呆在家里。她今晚出去了，所以我可以把你藏在我的房间里。如果夫人单独进来，我会去接你；你可以在客厅等候。我不会锁她房间的门，然后——好吧，剩下的就是你的事了——所以做好准备吧。”

“我将在客厅里付给你二十五千法郎。——你给——我给！”

“的确！”欧洲说：“你就这么自信吗？我的话！”

“哦，你还有机会敲诈我。我们会成为朋友的。”

“那么，半夜到泰特布街去吧；但请带上三万法郎。女服务员的诚实，就像出租屋的出租车一样，在午夜之后更加珍贵。”

“我给你一张我银行的支票会比较谨慎——”

“不，不”欧洲说。 “请注意，否则讨价还价。”

因此，在某个清晨，纽辛根男爵躲在欧洲长眠的阁楼里，正承受着一个渴望胜利的人的所有焦虑。他的脚趾甲里似乎有血液在刺痛，他的头就像一台过热的蒸汽机一样快要爆炸。

“我心里有更多一百万克朗的享受，”他在向杜蒂莱讲述这个故事时说道。

他倾听街上的每一个细微的噪音，凌晨两点，他听见情妇的马车远远地行驶在林荫大道上。当大门打开铰链时，他的丝绸背心下的心脏剧烈跳动。他即将看到他的埃丝特那张天堂般的、容光焕发的脸！——马车的脚步声和关门声敲击着他的心。他在等待这个至高无上的时刻时比他的财产受到威胁时更加激动。

“啊哈！”他喊道：“这就是我对生命的呼唤——这对生命来说太过分了；”我将无能为力。”

“夫人独自一人；下来吧，”欧洲看着里面说道。“最重要的是，不要发出声音，伟大的大象。”

“伟大的大象！”他笑着重复道，走路就像踩在烧红的铁板上。

欧洲举着蜡烛走在前面。

“来——数一数！”男爵走到客厅时说道，递出了寄给欧洲的纸条。

欧洲非常严肃地接过三十张钞票，然后离开了房间，把银行家锁在里面。

纽辛根径直走进卧室，在那里他找到了那位英俊的英国女人。

“是你吗，路西恩？”她说。

“不，我的宝贝儿，”纽辛根说，但他没有再说什么。

当他看到一个与以斯帖截然相反的女人时，他站在那里说不出话来。他曾看到黑色的头发，现在却看到了金色的头发；他曾欣赏过强壮的身躯，却看到了苗条的头发！一个柔和的英国夜晚，他在那里寻找阿拉伯的灿烂阳光。

“全盛时期！你是从哪里来的？——你是谁？——你想要什么？英国女人大声叫道，拉动门铃，但门铃没有发出任何声音。

“这些铃铛是用棉线包起来的，但不要有任何恐惧——我会去的，”他说。 “那是肮脏的十法郎，我有 tron in de vater。你是吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷先生的情妇吗？

“是的，我的儿子，”那位法语说得很好的女士说道，“但是你呢？”她模仿纽辛根的口音继续说道。

“一个人的大部分都被吸收了，”他悲伤地回答道。

“一个男人即使发现了一个漂亮的女人，也会上当吗？”她笑着问。

“请允许我明天给您寄一些咀嚼物，作为冯·纽辛根男爵的纪念品。”

“不认识他！”她说，笑得像个疯子。 “但是咀嚼物是受欢迎的，我的胖盗贼朋友。”

“你会认识他的。晚安，莫塔梅。你是国王的花边；但我只是一个六十多岁的贫穷银行家，你让我感受到了我所爱的女人所给予我的巨大力量，因为你的美丽并没有让我忘记她。

“呃，你说的那真是太漂亮了，”英国女人回答道。

“我对她这么说的时候，她并不是那么漂亮。”

“你说的是三万法郎——你给了谁？”

“对那个贱人，你的女仆——”

那个英国女人打电话给欧洲，她就在不远处。

“哦！”欧洲尖叫道，“夫人房间里有一个人，他不是先生——太令人震惊了！”

“他给了你三万法郎让你进来吗？”

“不，夫人，因为我们两个人不值得这么做。”

欧洲坚决地大喊“小偷”，银行家吓得向门口跑去，欧洲把他绊倒，从楼梯上滚了下来。

“老东西！”她叫道：“你竟然给我的女主人讲故事！贼！贼！拦住小偷！”

迷恋的男爵在绝望中成功地毫发无伤地登上了他留在大道上的马车。但他现在一筹莫展，不知道该向谁申请。

“请问，夫人，您想把我的收入从我这里拿走吗？” “欧洲说，愤怒地回到女士的房间。

“我对法国习俗一无所知，”英国女人说。

“但是，如果我明天对先生说一句话，夫人，你就会发现自己流落街头了。”欧洲无礼地反驳道。

“该死的女仆！”男爵对乔治说，乔治很自然地问他的主人一切是否顺利，“我可以用肮脏的大法郎来代替我——但这是我自己的错，我自己的大错——”

“那么先生的衣服就全部浪费了。事情就在其中，我劝你，男爵先生，不要白白吃你的补药——”

“乔治，我快要绝望死了。我感冒了——我的心结了冰——不再有埃丝特了，我的好朋友。”

当事情严肃时，乔治总是男爵的朋友。

欧洲对这个场景的描述比它所能写的要有趣得多，因为她用很多模仿的方式讲述这一场景，两天后，卡洛斯和吕西安正在面对面地吃早餐。

“我亲爱的孩子，无论是警察还是其他任何人都不能插手我们的担忧，”埃雷拉低声说道，同时点燃了卢西安的雪茄。 “它不会同意我们的观点。我想出了一个大胆而有效的计划，让我们的男爵和他的特工保持安静。你必须去见德·塞里齐夫人，让她感到非常愉快。在谈话的过程中告诉她，为了满足长期以来对纽辛根夫人感到厌倦的拉斯蒂涅，你同意为他打架，以隐瞒情妇。德·纽辛根先生深深地爱上了拉斯蒂涅隐藏起来的这个女人——这会让她发笑——他脑子里想的就是让警察监视你——监视你，你对他的所有诡计都是无辜的，而且你的与格兰德留斯的利益可能会受到严重损害。那么你必须恳求伯爵夫人获得她丈夫的支持，因为他是国务大臣，带你去警察局。

“当你到达那里时，与省长面对面提出申诉，但作为一个具有政治影响力的人，他迟早会成为政府庞大机器的动力之一。你会像政治家那样谈论警察，钦佩一切，包括省长。最好的机器也会留下油渍或溅出痕迹。在适当的时机之前不要生气。你对勒普雷费特先生没有任何怨恨，但说服他密切监视他的人民，并为他不得不炸毁他们而感到同情。你越安静，越有绅士风度，省长对他的手下就越可怕。然后我们就可以安心了，我们可以派人把埃丝特叫回来，因为她一定像森林里的母鹿一样叫着。”

当时的省长是一位退休的地方法官。退休的治安法官担任的省长太年轻了。右翼分子在法律问题上居高临下，他们不会在危急情况下采取任意行动；在这种情况下，省长应该像消防员被叫去救火一样迅速。因此，在与国务委员会副主席面对面时，省长承认了比警察实际情况更多的过错，对警察的滥用职权表示谴责，并很快回忆起纽辛根男爵及其手下对他的拜访。关于佩拉德的询问。省长虽然承诺要制止他的特工们的鲁莽热情，但他感谢吕西安直接来找他，承诺保密，并假装了解这个阴谋。

省长和部长之间就个人自由和家庭生活的神圣性发表了一些精彩的演讲。德塞里齐先生最后指出，尽管王国的高度利益有时需要秘密采取非法行动，但当这些国家措施应用于私人案件时，犯罪就开始了。

第二天，正当佩拉德前往他心爱的大卫咖啡馆时，他喜欢在那里观看资产阶级吃饭，就像一位艺术家观看鲜花开放一样，一名穿着便服的宪兵在街上对他说话。

“我要去接你。”他在他耳边说道。 “我奉命带你去府里。”

佩拉德叫了一辆出租汽车，二话不说就上了车，宪兵跟在后面。

省长对待佩拉德就好像他是船上最底层的看守一样，在省政府花园的一条小路上来回走动，当时花园位于奥尔费弗尔码头。

“先生，自 1830 年以来，您一直被排除在办公室之外，这并非没有充分的理由。难道你不知道你让我们面临多大的风险吗，更不用说你自己了？”

讲座在一声惊雷中结束了。省长严厉地告诉可怜的佩拉德，不仅他的年度津贴将被切断，而且他本人也会受到严密监视。老人以极其平静的神情接受了震惊。没有什么比一个被闪电击中的人更加面无表情的了。佩拉德输掉了比赛中的所有赌注。他本来指望能得到预约，结果却发现自己失去了一切，只剩下了朋友科朗坦的施舍。

“我本人曾担任过警察局长；我认为你完全正确。”老人平静地对站在他面前的官员说道，后者耸了耸肩。

“但是，请允许我指出，你根本不认识我，而不是试图为自己辩护，”佩拉德继续说道，目光敏锐地看了一眼省长。 “你的语言要么对一个曾经担任过荷兰警察局长的人来说太严厉，要么对一个纯粹的间谍来说不够严厉。但是，勒普雷费特先生，”佩拉德停顿了一下，而另一个人则保持沉默，“请记住我现在荣幸地告诉你的话：我无意干涉你们的警察，也无意为自己辩护，但是你很快就会发现这个行业有人受骗了；此时此刻，它是您卑微的仆人；渐渐地你会说，‘是我。’”

他向酋长鞠了一躬，酋长被动地坐着，以掩饰他的惊讶。

佩拉德回到家，双腿和手臂都断了，对男爵充满了冰冷的愤怒。除了那位魁梧的银行家之外，没有人能够泄露康坦森、佩拉德和科朗坦心中的秘密。老人指责银行家既然已经达到了目的，就想避免付款。一次采访就足以让他看出这位最精明的银行家的精明。

“他试图与每个人复合，甚至与我们复合；但我会报仇的。”老家伙想。 “我从来没有请求科朗坦帮忙；我现在就请他帮我向那个低能的存钱罐报仇。诅咒男爵！——好吧，当你发现你的女儿丢脸的一个美好的早晨，你就会知道我是怎样的人了！——但我想知道他爱他的女儿吗？

到了这场灾难使老人的希望破灭的那天晚上，他已经老了十岁。当他与他的朋友科朗坦交谈时，他的悲痛与泪水交织在一起，想到他必须将悲惨的前景留给他的女儿、他的偶像、他的宝藏、他对上帝的平安祭。

“我们将跟进此事，”科朗坦说。 “首先，我们必须确定是男爵偷桃的。我们争取冈德维尔的支持是否明智？那个老流氓欠我们太多，不急着要把我们淹没；事实上，我正在密切关注他的女婿凯勒，一个政治上的傻瓜，很有能力干涉一些阴谋，推翻老派，为年轻派谋取利益。——我明天就会知道是什么正在纽辛根发生的事情，他是否见到了他的爱人，以及我们应该感谢谁才能够迅速崛起。——不要灰心丧气。首先，省长的任期不会太久；时代正值革命，革命为我们带来了好鱼。”

就在这时，街上传来一阵奇怪的口哨声。

“那是康滕森，”佩拉德说，他把灯放在窗户上，“他有话要说，让我担心。”

一分钟后，忠实的康坦森出现在警察的两个侏儒面前，他尊敬他们，就好像他们是两个精灵一样。

“怎么了？”科朗廷问道。

“新东西！我从113出来，在那里我失去了一切，我什么时候在画廊下面监视谁？乔治！该男子已被男爵解雇，男爵怀疑他有背叛行为。”

“这就是我给他微笑的效果，”佩拉德说。

“呸！当我想到我所知道的所有由微笑引起的恶作剧时！”科朗坦说。

“更不用说由鞭子抽打造成的了，”佩拉德在谈到西默兹案时说道。 （在 阴暗事件.）“但是，康滕森，到底发生了什么事？”

“这就是正在发生的事情，”康滕森说。 “我让乔治请我喝了无数各种颜色的利口酒，这让他胡言乱语——我让他喝醉了；我让他喝得酩酊大醉。我自己一定已经吃饱了！——我们的男爵去过泰特布特街，那里挤满了塞拉尔软糖。在那里他找到了你所知道的那个美丽的人；但是——一个好笑话！这位英国美女并不是他所不知道的！——而且他还花了三万法郎贿赂了那位女仆，真是愚蠢至极！

“那个生物认为自己是一个伟大的人，因为它确实意味着具有巨大资本的事情。颠倒这个命题，你就得到了一个需要天才来解决的问题。——男爵回到家时情况很可怜。第二天，乔治为了分一杯羹，对他的主人说：

“‘男爵先生，你为什么雇用这样的恶棍？如果你相信我，我会找到那个不知名的女士，因为你对她的描述就足够了。我要把巴黎翻个底朝天。”——“说吧，”男爵说道； “我会丰厚地奖励你！”——乔治用最荒唐的细节告诉了我整个故事。但是——人生来就是要受雨淋的！

第二天，男爵收到一封匿名信，大意是这样的：“纽辛根先生因爱上一位不知名的女士而死去；他已经白费了很多钱了；如果他能在午夜到达讷伊桥的尽头，登上马车，他在万塞讷看到的猎手就站在他后面，让自己被蒙住眼睛，他就会看到他所爱的女人。由于他的财富可能使他怀疑以这种方式行事的人的意图，因此他可能会带上他忠实的乔治作为护卫。马车上不会有人。”——男爵带着乔治走了，但什么也没告诉他。他们都服从了，眼睛被蒙住，头被蒙着面纱。男爵认出了男仆。

“两个小时后，马车以路易十八的步伐行驶。——愿上帝安息！他知道警察的意思，他知道！——把车停在树林中央。男爵摘下手帕，看见一辆马车里静静地站着，他心爱的美人——什么时候，嗬！她消失了。马车以同样活泼的步伐把他带回纳伊桥，在那里他找到了属于自己的地方。

“有人塞给乔治手里一张纸条，大意是这样的：‘男爵会拿出多少钞票来与他不知名的集市进行沟通？乔治把这个交给了他的主人；男爵毫不怀疑乔治与我或佩拉德先生你勾结，为了讨价还价，把他赶出了家门。那个银行家真是个傻瓜！在他知道未知的事情之前，他不应该送走乔治！”

“然后乔治看到了那个女人？”科朗坦说。

“是的，”康坦森回答道。

“那么，”佩拉德喊道，“她是什么样的人？”

“哦，”康坦森说，“他只说了一个词——‘可爱的太阳。’”

“我们被一些在比赛中击败我们的流氓欺骗了，”佩拉德说。 “那些恶棍想把他们的女人卖给男爵。”

“啊，我的先生，”康滕森说。 “所以，当我听说你在县里被打耳光时，我就让乔治胡言乱语。”

“我非常想知道是谁抢在我前面，”佩拉德说。 “我们会测量我们的马刺！”

“我们必须扮演窃听者的角色，”康滕森说。

“他是对的，”佩拉德说。 “我们必须钻进缝隙里听，然后等待——”

“我们将研究这个问题的另一面，”科朗坦喊道。 “目前，我失业了。佩拉德，你是一个非常好的孩子。我们必须永远服从勒普雷费先生！”

“德纽辛根先生想要流血，”康滕森说。 “他的血管里藏着太多钞票。”

“但我在那里寻找的是莉迪的婚姻部分！”佩拉德对科朗廷小声说道。

“现在，走吧，康坦森，我们走吧，让我们的爸爸再见，再见！”

“先生，”康坦森在门口对科朗坦说道，“我们的好朋友正在策划一项多么奇怪的经纪业务啊！呵！——什么，娶个女儿，代价是——啊哈！这将是一部相当小的戏剧，而且也非常有道德，标题为“女孩的嫁妆”。”

“确实，你们是高度组织化的动物，”科朗坦回答道。 “你有什么耳朵啊！当然，社会自然赋予了她所有的物种所需的品质，以履行她所期望的职责！社会是第二天性。”

“这是一种高度哲学的观点，”康滕森喊道。 “教授会把它整合成一个系统。”

“让我们尽可能地了解一下，”科朗坦带着间谍沿着街道走去，微笑着回答，“关于德·纽辛根先生家里发生的关于这个女孩的事情——主要事实；别介意细节——”

“看看他的烟囱有没有冒烟！”康滕森说。

“纽辛根男爵这样的人不可能隐姓埋名地快乐，”科朗坦回答道。 “此外，对于我们来说，男人只不过是一张纸牌，决不应该被他们欺骗。”

“天啊！这将是被判死刑的囚徒以割断刽子手的喉咙来取乐。”

“你总是有一些滑稽的话要说，”科朗坦回答道，脸上带着淡淡的微笑，苍白的脸上泛着淡淡的皱纹。

除了其后果之外，这项业务本身也极其重要。如果不是男爵背叛了佩拉德，谁有兴趣去见警察局长？从科朗坦的角度来看，这似乎很可疑。他的手下有叛徒吗？当他上床睡觉时，他想知道佩拉德也在考虑什么。

“谁能去向省长投诉呢？这个女人是谁的？”

因此，在彼此不认识的情况下，雅克·柯林、佩拉德和科朗坦汇聚到了一个共同点上。而不幸的埃丝特、纽辛根和吕西安不可避免地卷入了已经开始的斗争，而这场斗争的骄傲之处在于，警察特工特有的，就是进行一场你死我活的战争。

多亏欧洲的聪明才智，埃丝特和吕西安所欠的六万法郎债务中更紧迫的一半得到了还清。债权人甚至没有失去信心。路西恩和他的邪恶天才暂时可以喘口气了。就像某个水池一样，他们可以沿着悬崖边缘重新开始，在那里强者引导弱者走向绞刑架或走向财富。

“我们现在正在下注，”卡洛斯对他的傀儡说，“要么赢，要么输。但令人高兴的是，牌是斜角的，而且赌客也很年轻。”

一段时间以来，吕西安按照他可怕的导师的命令，对德塞里齐夫人非常殷勤。事实上，最重要的是，吕西安不应被怀疑为他的情妇包养了一个女人。在被爱的快乐和时尚生活的兴奋中，他发现了一种虚假的遗忘力量。他服从克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄小姐的吩咐，除了在森林和香榭丽舍大街外，从未见过她。

艾丝特被关在公园管理员家里的第二天，这个对她来说如此神秘和可怕、压在她灵魂上的存在，开始要求她在三张盖章的纸上签名，这些致命的话语使她变得可怕：第一天，接受六万法郎的付款；第二次，接受十二万法郎的付款；第三次，接受了十二万法郎的付款——总共三十万法郎。通过写作 适合，您只需承诺付款即可。这个单词 公认 构成汇票，并使您面临监禁。对于如此轻率而签署的人来说，这个词意味着五年监禁的风险——这是治安法官很少施加的惩罚，并且只有巡回法院才会对已证实的流氓行为进行惩罚。债务监禁法是野蛮时代的遗物，它的愚蠢与无用的罕见优点结合在一起，因为它永远不会抓住骗子。

“重点是，”西班牙人对埃丝特说，“是让吕西安摆脱困境。我们欠下六万法郎的债务，有了这三十万法郎我们或许可以渡过难关。”

卡洛斯把账单提前了六个月，让县法院“误解”了一个人，把账单画在埃丝特身上，而他的冒险经历，尽管引起了人们的兴奋，很快就被遗忘、隐藏、迷失了。 1830 年 XNUMX 月伟大交响曲的喧嚣。

这个年轻人是一位最大胆的冒险家，是巴黎附近布洛涅一位律师职员的儿子，名叫乔治·玛丽·德图尼。他的父亲迫于不利的环境，被迫卖掉了自己的关系，于 1824 年去世，在给儿子提供了出色的教育之后，他却失去了生活来源，这是下层中产阶级的愚蠢行为。 XNUMX岁时，这位聪明的年轻法律系学生通过在卡片上打印来否认自己的父亲身份

乔治·德·爱图尔尼.

这张卡给了他一种贵族的气息；现在，作为一个时尚人士，他竟如此厚颜无耻地设立了蒂尔伯里和新郎，并出没于俱乐部。有一句话可以解释这一点：他用他熟人包养的女人托付给他的钱在交易所赌博。最后他落入了警察手中，并被指控玩牌太运气。

他有同谋，有被他腐蚀的年轻人，有他的强制随从，有他的时尚和信誉的附属品。由于被迫飞行，他忘记支付交易所的差价。整个巴黎——证券交易所和俱乐部的巴黎——仍然被这双重诈骗所震撼。

在乔治·德·爱图尔尼辉煌的时代，一位英俊的年轻人，尤其是一位快乐的小伙子，像强盗首领一样慷慨，几个月来“保护”了拉托皮耶。假神父的计算依据是埃丝特以前与这个著名的恶棍的亲密关系，这是她这个阶层的女性所特有的事件。

乔治·德·爱图尔尼的野心随着成功而变得更加大胆，他保护了一个从乡村深处来到巴黎做生意的人，自由党急于赔偿他因某些刑罚而遭受的刑罚。新闻界与查理十世政府的斗争中表现出了很大的勇气，但在马蒂尼亚克政府期间，迫害有所放松。塞里泽先生随后被赦免，从此他被称为“勇敢的塞里泽”。

随后，塞里泽在左翼权贵的庇护下，创办了一家将总代理业务与银行和佣金代理业务结合起来的公司。在商业上，正是这些担忧之一提醒了那些在报纸上登广告的仆人，他们能够并且愿意做任何事情。塞里泽非常高兴与乔治·德·爱图尼结盟，后者给了他一些提示。

凭借有关诺农的轶事，埃丝特可能被视为乔治·德·爱图尔尼部分财产的忠实守护者。以乔治·德·爱图尼 (Georges d'Estourny) 的名义代言，使卡洛斯·埃雷拉 (Carlos Herrera) 成为了他创造的财富的主人。只要埃丝特小姐或她的某人能够或必须付款，这种伪造品就完全安全。

在询问了塞里泽特的房子后，卡洛斯发现他与一位一心想要发财的谦虚的人有关系，但是——合法的。塞里泽实际上是德爱图尔尼把他的钱存入的人，他手里有一大笔钱，他正在用这些钱投机股市上涨，这种状况使他能够自称为银行家。这种事在巴黎也有发生。一个人可能会被鄙视，但金钱却永远不会。

卡洛斯去了塞里泽特，打算按照他的方式为他工作。因为，碰巧的是，他掌握了这位值得尊敬的人的所有秘密——他是德爱图尼的会面伙伴。

勇敢的塞里泽特住在格罗斯切内街的一个中间层，而卡洛斯神秘地宣称自己来自乔治·德·爱图尔尼，他发现这位自封的银行家对这个名字相当苍白。神甫在这间简陋的私人房间里看到了一个身材矮小的男人，头发稀疏，浅色。根据吕西安的描述，他立刻认出了他就是毁掉大卫·塞查德的犹大。

“我们可以在这里谈话而不会有被偷听的风险吗？”西班牙人说道，他现在已经变成了红头发、戴着蓝色眼镜的英国人，干净而拘谨，就像一个去开会的清教徒一样。

“为什么，先生？”塞里泽特说。 “你是谁？”

“先生。威廉·巴克 (William Barker)，M. d'Estourny 的债权人；如果你愿意的话，我可以向你证明关门的必要性。先生，我们知道您与小克劳德家族、库安泰家族以及昂古莱姆的塞查德家族的所有关系——”

听到这些话，塞里泽特冲到门口，关上门，然后飞到另一扇通向卧室的门上，将门闩上。然后他对陌生人说：

“小点声，先生，”他打量着这个假英国人，问道，“你想对我做什么？”

“天哪，”威廉·巴克说，“这个世界上每个人都是为了自己。你有爱斯托尼那个流氓的钱。——放心吧，我不是来要钱的；我不是来要钱的。但是那个在你我中间该绞死的恶棍却给了我这些钞票，说也许有机会追回这笔钱。由于我不选择以自己的名义起诉，他告诉我你不会拒绝支持他们。”

塞里泽特看着账单。

“但他已经不在法兰克福了，”他说。

“我知道，”巴克回答道，“但在那些账单发出之日，他可能还在那儿——”

“我不会承担责任，”塞里泽说。

“我不要求你做出这样的牺牲，”巴克回答道。 “您可能会被指示接收它们。认可他们，我将承诺追回这笔钱。”

“我很惊讶德爱图尼对我表现出如此少的信心，”塞里泽说。

“在他的位置上，”巴克回答道，“你很难责怪他把鸡蛋放在不同的篮子里。”

“你能相信吗——”小经纪人开始说道，同时将正式接受的汇票还给英国人。

“我相信你会妥善保管他的钱，”巴克说。 “我确定！它已经出现在交易所的绿桌上了。”

“我的命运取决于——”

“因为你看起来失去了它，”巴克说。

“先生！”塞里泽特喊道。

“听着，我亲爱的塞里泽先生，”巴克冷静地打断了他的话，“你通过促成这笔付款来为我提供服务。请给我写一封信，告诉我，您正在将这些在德爱图尼账户上收据的票据寄给我，收款员将把信的持有人视为这三张票据的持有人。”

“你愿意告诉我你的名字吗？”

“没有名字，”英国资本家回答道。 “写上‘这封信和这些账单的持有者。’——你会因为答应我的要求而得到丰厚的回报。”

“如何？”塞里泽特说。

“总而言之——你打算留在法国，不是吗？”

“是的，先生。”

“好吧，乔治·德爱图尼永远不会再进入这个国家了。”

“请问为什么？”

“至少据我所知，有五个人会谋杀他，而他也知道这一点。”

“那么难怪他向我要足够的钱来开始他到印度群岛的贸易？”塞里泽特喊道。 “不幸的是，他迫使我在国家投机中冒着一切风险。我们已经对杜蒂莱家族产生了巨大的分歧。我只能勉强糊口。”

“撤回你的赌注。”

“哦！要是我早点知道就好了！”塞里泽特惊呼道。 “我已经错过机会了！”

“最后一句话，”巴克说。 “保持你自己的想法，你有能力做到这一点；但你也必须忠诚，这也许不太确定。我们再见面，我会帮你发财的。”

卡洛斯向这个肮脏的灵魂扔下了一点希望，以确保在未来一段时间内保持沉默，卡洛斯仍然伪装成巴克，找到了一位他可以信赖的法警，并指示他把账单带回家交给埃丝特。

“他们会得到报酬的，”他对军官说。 “这是一件关乎荣誉的事情；只是我们想定期做这件事。”

巴克请了一名律师代表埃丝特出庭，以便双方都在场的情况下作出判决。收税官员在被请求以礼相待的情况下，带着所有手续令，亲自来到泰特布街没收了家具，并在那里受到了欧洲的接待。一旦证明她的个人责任，埃丝特表面上毫无争议地要承担三十万法郎的债务。

在这一切中，卡洛斯并没有表现出伟大的发明能力。假债闹剧在巴黎时常上演。有许多次戈布塞克和次吉贡内特人，为了一定比例，会利用这种诡计，并将这种臭名昭著的伎俩视为笑话。在法国，一切事情——甚至是犯罪——都是在笑声中完成的。通过这种方式，顽固的父母被迫付出代价，或者富有的情妇可能会进行艰难的讨价还价，但面对公然的需要，或一些迫在眉睫的耻辱，她们会付出代价，即使是不礼貌的。马克西姆·德·特雷尔斯经常使用这种借用旧舞台喜剧的手段。卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera）想要挽救他和吕西安礼服的荣誉，他通过伪造对他来说并不危险的伪造来施展咒语，但现在这种做法如此频繁，以至于正义开始反对。据说，皇宫附近有一家伪造钞票的交易所，在那里你可以得到一张三法郎的伪造签名。

在讨论十万克朗作为卧室门的问题之前，卡洛斯决定先从德纽辛根先生那里再索取十万克朗。

事情就是这样：按照他的命令，阿西为了男爵的利益而起身，作为一个老妇人，对这位不知名的美女的事情了如指掌。

迄今为止，风俗小说家已经把许多高利贷者搬上了舞台。但女性放债人却被忽视了，即当今的资源夫人——一个非常独特的人物，被委婉地称为“衣柜长袍购买者”；凶猛的阿西可以扮演这个角色，因为她有两家旧衣服店，由她可以信任的女人经营——一家在圣殿，另一家在新圣马克街。

“你必须融入圣埃斯特夫夫人的内心，”他说。

埃雷拉希望看到阿西穿好衣服。

中间人穿着一件锦缎花朵连衣裙，是用一些拆除的闺房窗帘制成的，还有一条印度设计的披肩——过时、破旧、毫无价值，在这些女人的背上结束了她们的职业生涯。她有一个华丽的蕾丝衣领，虽然已经撕破了，还有一顶可怕的帽子。但她的鞋子是优质山羊皮的，她胖脚的肉围成一卷黑色蕾丝长袜。

“还有我的腰扣！”她大声说道，展示了一件看起来可疑的华丽服饰，突出显示在她厨师的肚子上，“这就是适合你的风格！还有我的前胸！——哦，诺里森夫人让我变得非常漂亮！”

卡洛斯说：“一开始要像蜜一样甜。” “几乎胆怯，像猫一样多疑；最重要的是，让男爵为雇用警察而感到羞耻，同时又不会暴露出你在警察面前瑟瑟发抖。最后，让您的客户或多或少地明白，您不顾世界上所有警察的要求，发现了他的珠宝。小心毁掉你的痕迹。

“当男爵允许你拍他的肚子，并骂他是大腹便便的老家伙时，你可以随心所欲地无礼无礼，让他像个男仆一样小跑。”

纽辛根受到阿西的威胁，如果他尝试进行哪怕是最小的间谍活动，就再也见不到她了。他在去交易所的路上，在新圣马克街的一个破烂的中间秘密地遇见了这个女人。多情的百万富翁们多少次带着多么狂喜的心情踏上这些肮脏的道路啊！巴黎的人行道都知道。圣埃斯特夫人将男爵从希望轮流推向绝望，使他坚持不惜一切代价，坚持要了解与未知之美有关的一切。与此同时，法律生效了，法警们没有发现埃丝特的抵抗，立即对她的物品执行了处决。

吕西安在顾问的指导下，拜访了圣日耳曼的这位隐士五六次。所有这些阴谋的无情的作者认为这对于拯救以斯帖免于死亡是必要的，因为她的美丽现在是他们的资本。当他们离开公园管理员的小屋时，他把吕西安和可怜的女孩带到了路上的一个地方，从那里他们可以看到巴黎，在那里没有人可以听到他们的声音。他们三人在初升的太阳下坐在一棵被砍倒的白杨树干上，眺望着世界上最美的景色之一，拥抱着塞纳河的河道，以及蒙马特、巴黎和圣但尼。

“我的孩子们，”卡洛斯说，“你们的梦想已经结束了。——你们，小家伙，再也见不到吕西安了；或者如果你应该认识的话，你一定只认识他几天，五年前。”

“死亡降临到我身上了，”她说，没有流一滴眼泪。

“嗯，这五年来你一直在生病，”埃雷拉说。 “想象一下你自己患有肺痨病，然后死去，而你的哀悼却不会让我们感到厌烦。但你会发现，你仍然可以生活，而且也很舒服。——离开我们，吕西安——去收集十四行诗吧！”他指着不远处的一块田地说道。

路西恩向艾丝特投去一种谦卑恳求的眼神，这是这类人特有的表情之一——软弱而贪婪，内心温柔，精神懦弱。以斯帖低下头回答说：“我会听刽子手的声音，这样我就知道如何把头放在斧头下，这样我就有足够的勇气体面地死去。”

这一举动是如此亲切，但又充满了可怕的含义，以至于诗人哭泣了。艾丝特飞到他身边，把他抱在怀里，喝干眼泪，说道：“别紧张！”一种以神智不清的方式、神情和语气说出来的演讲。

卡洛斯然后非常清楚地向她解释，毫不减弱，常常用可怕的简单言语，吕西安发现自己所处的关键地位，他与格兰德利厄酒店的联系，如果他成功的话，他的辉煌前景;最后，埃丝特必须牺牲自己才能确保他拥有这个胜利的未来。

“我必须做什么？”她带着狂热分子的急切喊道。

“盲目地服从我，”卡洛斯说。 “那你还有什么可抱怨的呢？获得幸福取决于你。你可能就像图莉亚一样，就像你的老朋友弗洛琳、玛丽埃特和拉瓦尔诺布尔一样——一个你不需要爱的富翁的情妇。等我们的事情解决了，你的爱人就足够有钱了，让你高兴了。”

“快乐的！”她抬起眼睛望向天空说道。

“你已经在天堂生活了四年了，”他说。 “你不能活在这样的回忆里吗？”

“我会服从你的。”她擦着眼角的泪水说道。 “剩下的，你不用担心。你已经说过了；我的爱是一种致命的疾病。”

“这还不够，”卡洛斯说。 “你必须保持你的容貌。两点二十多岁的时候，你正处于美丽的黄金时期，这要归功于你过去的幸福。最重要的是，再次成为“玉米饼”。对我交给你的百万富翁，要耍流氓、奢侈、狡猾、无情。听我说！那个人是一个规模宏大的强盗；他对很多人都是无情的；他依靠寡妇和孤儿的财富发了大财。你将为他们报仇！

“阿西会开一辆出租马车来接你，你今晚就到巴黎了。如果你让任何人怀疑你和路西恩的关系，你还不如立刻把他的脑袋打碎。你会被问到这么长时间你去哪里了。你一定会说，你一直在和一个极度嫉妒的英国人一起旅行。——你曾经有足够的智慧来欺骗别人。现在又找到这样的智慧了。”

你见过华丽的风筝，童年时的巨型蝴蝶，闪闪发光，飞向天空吗？孩子们忘记了固定它的绳子，某个路人把它剪断了，正如男孩们所说，这个花哨的玩具翻了个个儿，然后以惊人的速度坠落。艾丝特就是这样听卡洛斯讲话的。

一个老人的爱情要付出什么代价

整整一个星期，纽辛根几乎每天都去新圣马克街的商店为他心爱的女人讨价还价。在这里，有时以圣埃斯特夫的名义，有时以她的工具努里森夫人的名义，阿西坐在美丽的衣服中间，在那种丑陋的状态下，它们不再是裙子，还不是破烂的衣服。

环境与女人的外表很和谐，因为这些商店是巴黎最丑陋的特征之一。你会发现那些衣服被死神的瘦手扔到一边；可以说，你在披肩下听到了肺结核的喘息声，或者在金光闪闪的长袍下感受到了乞讨的痛苦。奢侈与饥饿之间的可怕斗争被写在薄薄的鞋带上；你可能会想象一位女王的面容，她戴着羽毛头巾，其姿态令人回想起并几乎再现了缺失的特征。一切都是美丽之中的丑恶！估价师手中，尤维纳尔的鞭子打散了破旧的手筒，以及妓女的破烂皮毛。

这里有一堆鲜花，其中到处都有一朵鲜艳的玫瑰，昨天才被摘下，已经穿了一天了；在这上面，总是能看到一个老太婆蹲着——高利贷的堂兄，吝啬的讨价还价者，秃头，没有牙齿，随时准备出售里面的东西，她习惯于出售覆盖物——没有女人的礼服，或者没有穿礼服的女人！

在这里，阿西如鱼得水，就像囚犯中的看守，就像尸体中的一只红嘴秃鹫。比野蛮的恐怖更可怕，有时，路人看到他们最年轻、最甜蜜的回忆挂在肮脏的商店橱窗里，而圣埃斯特夫坐在橱窗后面，咧着嘴笑，有时会感到惊讶不寒而栗。

烦恼又烦恼，每次一千法郎，银行家竟然愿意给圣埃斯特夫夫人六万法郎，而圣埃斯特夫夫人仍然拒绝帮助他，脸上的表情比任何猴子都强。经过一个不安的夜晚之后，在承认埃丝特完全打乱了他的想法之后，在意识到交易所发生了一些意想不到的转机之后，有一天，他来找她，打算给阿西坚持要的十万法郎，但他心意已决。为了钱而获得大量的信息。

“那么，你下定决心了吗，老家伙？” “阿西说，拍拍他的肩膀。

最不光彩的熟悉是这些女人对向她们倾诉的疯狂激情或悲伤征收的第一税；他们永远无法达到客户的水平；他们让他们看起来像是蹲在他们旁边的泥堆上。可以看出，阿西非常服从她的主人。

“需要必须！”纽辛根说。

“而且你得到了最好的讨价还价，”阿西说。 “相对而言，卖给你的女人比这个要贵得多。有女人也有女人！德马赛为现已去世的科拉莉支付了六万法郎。你想要的女人刚买的时候要花十万法郎；但对你来说，你这个老山羊，这是一个同意的问题。”

“但是她是吗？”

“啊！你将会看到。我和你一样——礼物中的礼物！噢，我的好人，你心爱的人太奢侈了。这些女孩不懂得节制。你的公主此刻就是所谓的夜蝇——”

“一只苍蝇 - ？”

“得了，得了，别装傻子了。——卢沙尔紧随其后，而我——我——借给了她五万法郎——”

“二十五说！”银行家喊道。

“嗯，当然，二十五对五十，这是很自然的，”阿西回答道。 “要公正地评价女人，她本身就是诚实的。她除了她自己什么也没有留下，她对我说：“我的好圣埃斯特夫夫人，法警们正在追捕我；除了你，没有人能帮助我。给我两万法郎。我将向你保证我的心。哦，她有一颗甜蜜的心；除了我之外没有人知道它在哪里。如果我犯了任何一个愚蠢的错误，我就会损失两万法郎。

“以前她住在泰特布街。离开之前——（她的家具被扣押以支付费用——那些无赖的法警——你认识他们，你们是交易所的伟人之一）——好吧，离开之前，她不是傻子，她把房间租了两个月一个英国女人，一个出色的女人，有一个小东西——鲁本普雷——作为情人，他非常嫉妒，只让她晚上出去。但当家具要被没收时，英国女人已经砍断了她的棍子，尤其是因为她对于像吕西安这样的小自吹自擂者来说代价太高了。”

“你哭得够呛，”纽辛根说。

“当然，”阿西说。 “我借给美女；而且这是值得的，因为一份工作你可以获得两份佣金。”

阿西讽刺了一类妇女的举止，以此自娱自乐，她们比马来妇女更贪婪，但更爱哄骗，更爱说谎，而且她们对自己从事的行业掩饰着最好的动机。阿西假装失去了所有的幻想，失去了五个情人和一些孩子，尽管她有经验，但她还是屈服于每个人的抢劫。她时不时地拿出一些当票，以证明她的生意有多么倒霉。她把自己描述为穷困潦倒、负债累累，最糟糕的是，她是如此毫不掩饰的丑陋，以至于男爵最终相信了她所说的一切。

“Vell den，我付钱给她，然后我就能见到她吗？”他说道，一副下定决心不惜一切牺牲的神气。

“我的胖朋友，今晚你要来——当然是坐马车——到体育馆对面。正在路上。”阿西说道。 “停在圣巴贝街的拐角处。我会留意，我们会去寻找我抵押的美丽，黑发。——哦，她有一头漂亮的头发，有我的抵押。如果她拔出梳子，埃丝特就会像蒙上一层布一样被覆盖。尽管你在算术方面很精通，但在其他方面却让我觉得你很笨。我建议你把那个女孩安全地藏起来，因为如果她被发现，她第二天就会被送进圣佩拉吉。——他们正在寻找她。”

“难道就不能拿走账单吗？”那位不可救药的票据经纪人说道。

“法警已经拿到了它们——但这是不可能的。这个女孩有激情，并且花掉了她手中剩下的一些钱，现在她被要求支付。凭扑克说的！——两岁和二十岁的心是一件奇怪的事。”

“非常好，非常好，我会安排所有这些，”纽辛根说道，露出狡猾的表情。 “我保护她已经是板上钉钉的事情了。”

“好吧，老面条，让她爱上你是你的事，你当然有足够的手段来买假爱情和真爱情。我会把你的公主交给你保管；她一定会粘着你，之后我就不在乎了。——但她习惯了奢侈和最大的体贴。我告诉你，我的孩子，她真是个淑女。——如果不是，我应该给她两万法郎吗？

“Ver' goot，这是一个优惠。直到毁灭。”

男爵重复了他曾经实现过的新娘盥洗室。但这一次，他确信成功了，于是服用了双倍剂量的药丸。

九点钟，他在指定地点找到了那个可怕的女人，并把她带上了他的马车。

“维尔去吗？”男爵说。

“在哪里？”阿西附和道。 “玛黑区的珍珠街 (Rue de la Perle)——一个随机应变的地址；因为你的珍珠在泥土里，但你会把她洗干净。”

到达现场后，假圣埃斯特夫夫人带着狰狞的笑容对纽辛根说道：

“我们必须步行一小段路；我不会傻到给你正确的地址。”

“你真有臭味！”男爵说道。

“这是我的事，”她说。

阿西带着纽辛根来到巴贝特街，在那里，他被带到了四楼，那里有一个室内装潢商提供的家具齐全的住所。

当埃丝特在一间肮脏的房间里发现她穿着女工的衣服，从事刺绣工作时，百万富翁的脸色变得苍白。一刻钟过去了，阿西假装低声跟艾丝特说话，年轻的老人却几乎说不出话来。

“蒙特米塞尔，”他最后对那个不幸的女孩说道，“你愿意让我做你的保护者吗？”

“哎呀，我情不自禁，先生，”埃丝特回答道，流下了两滴大泪。

“别发牢骚。我会让你成为最幸福的女人。只要允许我爱你——你就会明白的。”

“好吧，好吧，孩子，这位先生很有道理。”阿西说道。 “他知道自己已经六十多岁了，一定会对你很好的。你看，我的美女，我发现你真是一位父亲——我不得不这么说。”阿西低声对银行家说，银行家不太高兴。 “你不能用手枪射击燕子来抓住它们。——来这里，”她继续说道，领着纽辛根走进了隔壁的房间。 “你还记得我们的约定吗，我的天使？”

纽辛根拿出钱包，数出了十万法郎，卡洛斯藏在柜子里，不耐烦地等待着，厨师把这些钱交给了他。

“这是我们的人押在阿西身上的十万法郎。现在我们必须让他躺在欧洲，”当他们登陆时，卡洛斯对他的知己说道。

他向回到房间的马来人发出指示后就消失了。她发现埃斯特正在痛哭。可怜的女孩，像一个被判处死刑的罪犯，编织了一段希望的浪漫，致命的时刻已经敲响。

“我亲爱的孩子们，”艾西说，“你们要去哪里？——为了纽辛根男爵——”

艾丝特惊讶地看着这位伟大的银行家，她的表现令人钦佩。

“啊，我的善良，我是冯·纽辛根男爵。”

“纽辛根男爵绝对不能、不能留在这样的房间里，”阿西继续说道。 “听我说;你以前的女仆尤金妮。”

“尤金妮，来自泰特布街吗？”男爵喊道。

“就是这样；那个拥有家具的女人，”阿西回答道，“谁把公寓租给了那位英俊的英国女人——”

“哈！我明白了！男爵说。

“夫人的前侍女，”艾茜继续说道，恭敬地提到埃丝特，“今晚将会非常舒适地接待您；而商警绝对不会想到去她三个月前离开的旧房间里寻找她——”

“费斯特率，费斯特率！”男爵喊道。 “此外，我认识这些商业警察，而且我知道各种各样的事情会让他们消失。”

“你会发现尤金妮是一位敏锐的顾客，”阿西说。 “我为夫人找到了她。”

“哈！我认识她！”百万富翁笑着喊道。 “她从肮脏的大法郎中骗取了我的钱。”

艾丝特吓得浑身发抖，任何有感情的男人都会把自己的财产托付给她。

“哦，那是我自己的错，”男爵说。 “我正在寻找你。”

他还讲述了因把埃丝特的房间出租给英国女人而发生的事件。

“好了，现在，你看，夫人，尤金妮从来没有告诉过你这一切，狡猾的东西！” “不过，夫人已经习惯了女人，”她对男爵补充道。 “还是让她继续吧。”

她把纽辛根拉到一边说道：

“如果你每个月给尤金妮五百法郎，这足以填满她的袜子，你就可以知道夫人所做的一切：让她成为女士的女仆。尤金妮会更加忠诚于你，因为她已经对你做过了。——没有什么比女人曾经欺骗过男人更能让女人对男人产生依恋的了。但要严格控制尤金妮；为了钱，她愿意做任何世俗的事情；她是一个可怕的生物！”

“你就是一个大桶吗？”

“我，”阿西说，“我能维持收支平衡。”

纽辛根是一位精明的金融家，他的眼睛上缠着绷带。他让自己像个孩子一样被人引导。看到那个一尘不染、可爱的埃丝特像天真的少女一样端庄地擦着眼睛，扎着绣花的针线，让多情的老人又想起了他在文森森林里经历过的感觉；他会把保险箱的钥匙给她。他感觉自己是那么年轻，心中充满了崇拜；他只是等到阿西走后，才拜倒在拉斐尔的圣母像脚下。

股票经纪人、老人心中青春的突然绽放是社会现象之一，必须由生理学来解释。被生意的重担压垮，被没完没了的计算和不断追逐百万的焦虑所窒息，年轻的情感以其崇高的幻想而复活，像被遗忘的原因或被遗忘的种子一样发芽和开花，其结果，其华丽的花朵，是运动偶然的机会，由迟来的、突然的阳光带来。

男爵十二岁时就在斯特拉斯堡的奥尔德里格古宅里担任职员，从未踏足过感情世界。就这样，他站在他的偶像面前，脑子里听到了一千种语言，却没有一个能说出他的嘴里，直到最后，他在残酷的欲望驱使下采取了行动，这背叛了一个六十六岁的男人。

“你要来泰特布街吗？”他说。

“无论您想去哪里，先生，”埃丝特站起来说道。

“无论怎样，我愿意！”他欣喜若狂地重复道。 “你是天上来的天使，我爱你就像爱一个小男人一样，可恶，我的头发花白了——”

“你最好说白色，因为它们太精细了，黑色不可能只是灰色，”阿西说。

“滚出去，人肉贩子！你已经拿到钱了；别再为这朵爱情之花流口水了！”银行家大声喊道，用这种暴力虐待来赔偿自己所遭受的所有无礼行为。

“你这个老家伙！我会为这次演讲付钱给你！” “阿西说，用哈雷的手势威胁银行家，男爵只是耸了耸肩。 “在壶口和酒鬼壶口之间经常有一条毒蛇，你会在那里找到我！”她继续说道，对纽辛根的蔑视感到愤怒。

百万富翁的钱由法国银行看管，他们的豪宅由一群步兵看守，他们在街上的行人在一辆装有敏捷英国马的马车的壁垒后面是安全的，他们不用担心有什么坏事；于是男爵平静地看着阿茜，就像一个刚刚给了她十万法郎的男人一样。

这种尊严产生了效果。阿西撤退了，用高度革命性的语言咆哮着走下楼梯。她谈到了断头台！

“你对她说什么了？”圣母玛利亚问，“因为她是一个善良的灵魂。”

“她已经骗了你，她已经抢了你——”

“当我们被乞讨时，”她用一种外交官心碎的语气说道，“谁会为我们提供金钱或关怀呢？”

“可怜的小婷！”纽辛根说。 “一刻都不要在这里停留。”

男爵向她伸出了手臂。他原样把她带走了，把她放进马车里，他对她的尊重或许比对英俊的莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人的尊重还要多。

“你们将拥有一辆精美的马车，巴黎最漂亮的马车，”他们一路前行时纽辛根说道。 “一切奢华的东西都适合你。没有任何一个女人会比你更富有。你将像 Cherman Braut 一样受到尊重。我希望你能自由。——别偷懒！听我说——我真的、真的、最纯粹的爱你。你的泪水让我心碎。”

“买来的女人真的能爱吗？”可怜的女孩用最甜美的语气说道。

“乔瑟夫被他的兄弟们抛弃，因为他是如此英俊。 《圣经》中也是如此。在东方兰斯，男人买自己的妻子。”

到达泰特布街后，埃丝特再也无法回到她幸福的地方，不免有些痛苦。她依然坐在沙发上，一动不动，一滴一滴地擦着眼泪，根本没有听到银行家滔滔不绝的疯狂演讲。他倒在她的脚边，她一声不吭地让他跪下，让他随心所欲地握住她的手，而没有想到那个正在摩擦她的脚取暖的生物的性别；因为纽辛根发现他们很冷。

这一幕滚烫的泪水落在男爵的头上，他试图温暖冰冷的双脚，这一幕从午夜一直持续到凌晨两点。

“尤金妮，”男爵最后对欧洲喊道，“说服你的小姐去打赌。”

“不！”艾斯特喊道，她像一匹受惊的马一样站了起来。 “永远不要在这所房子里！”

“瞧她，先生，我认识夫人；她像羔羊一样温柔善良。”欧洲对男爵说。 “只是你不能用错误的方式惹恼她，你必须从侧面攻击她——她在这里太痛苦了。——你看家具有多破旧。——让她走她自己的路吧。

“为她布置一些漂亮的小房子，非常漂亮。也许当她看到关于她的一切新事物时，她会觉得那里很陌生，并认为你比实际的样子更好看，并且像天使一样甜蜜。——哦！夫人没有她的对手，你可以吹嘘自己做了一件非常好的生意：善良的心，优雅的举止，漂亮的脚背——还有皮肤，肤色！啊！ -

“而且机智得足以让一个被判死刑的坏蛋发笑。夫人能感觉到一种依恋。——然后她会如何穿衣服！——好吧，即使它很贵，但正如他们所说，你得到你的钱是值得的。——在这里，所有的礼服都被没收了，她拥有的一切都是三个月前的……但是，你看，夫人是如此善良，我爱她，她是我的情妇！——但平心而论——像她这样的女人，却在被没收的家具中！——为了谁？对于一个毁了她的年轻流氓。可怜的小东西，她根本就不是她自己了。”

“以斯帖，以斯帖；去打赌吧，我的天使！如果是我吓到你了，我就待在沙发上——”男爵看到埃丝特还在哭泣，他被最纯粹的奉献所激发，大声喊道。

“好吧，那么，”埃丝特说，握住“山猫”的手，怀着感激的冲动吻了吻它，这让他的眼睛流下了眼泪，“我会感激你——”

她逃进自己的房间并锁上了门。

“这一切都有些奇怪，”纽辛根对他的药丸感到兴奋，他想。 “他们在家里会说Vat吗？”

他站起来，看着窗外。 “我的马车还在。”马上就要天亮了。”他在房间里走来走去。

“瓦特·蒙塔姆·德·纽辛根应该嘲笑我，即使她应该知道我是如何度过这个夜晚的！”

他把耳朵贴在卧室的门上，觉得自己太傻了。

“ Esther！”

无回复。

“我的哥特！她还在偷懒！”他在沙发上伸了个懒腰，自言自语地说。

日出后大约十分钟，努辛根男爵正在沙发上以一种尴尬的姿势睡着不安的睡眠，他被欧洲从在这种时刻拜访我们的梦之一惊醒，然后其中迅速出现的并发症是医学生理学无法解释的现象。

“哦，上帝帮助我们，女士！”她尖叫道。 “女士！——士兵——宪兵——法警！他们是来抓我们的。”

当埃丝特打开门，裹着晨衣，光着脚，穿着拖鞋​​，头发凌乱，可爱得足以让天使拉斐尔陷入灭亡的那一刻，客厅的门就吐进了房间。一条人类泥沼的沟渠，在十英尺高的地方，朝美丽的女孩走来，她像佛兰德教堂画中的天使一样站着。走在最前面的是一名男子。康坦森，那个可怕的康坦森，把手放在埃丝特沾满露水的肩膀上。

“你是范小姐——”他开始说道。欧罗巴反手一巴掌打在了康滕森的脸颊上，把他打倒在地毯上测量自己的长度，效果更佳，因为与此同时，她用猛烈的一脚踢住了他的腿，这一脚对于那些练习这一艺术的人来说是众所周知的。致命一击。

“放手！”她喊道。 “任何人都不能碰我的女主人。”

“她打断了我的腿！”康坦森站了起来，大喊道。 “我会受到损害的！”

卢查德从这群布巴利夫中走了出来，他们看起来都像他们本来的样子，都戴着可怕的帽子，头上戴着更可怕的帽子，红褐色的脸，模糊的眼睛，受伤的鼻子和丑陋的嘴巴，卢沙尔现在走了出来，穿着比他们更得体的衣服。他的手下，但仍然戴着帽子，脸上的表情立刻变得光滑而微笑。

“小姐，我逮捕你了！”他对以斯帖说。 “至于你，我的女孩，”他对欧洲补充道，“任何反抗都会受到惩罚，而且毫无用处。”

步枪的声音，伴随着枪托落在餐厅地板上的砰砰声，表明入侵者有士兵来烘烤它们，强调了这次演讲。

“那我是因为什么被捕的呢？”以斯帖说。

“那我们的小额债务呢？”卢查德说。

“当然，”埃丝特喊道。 “让我穿衣服吧。”

“但是，不幸的是，小姐，我有义务确保你无法离开你的房间，”卢沙尔说。

这一切发生得太快，男爵还没来得及干预。

“那么，纽辛根男爵，我还是一个不法的人肉贩子吗？” “可怕的阿西叫道，强行越过治安官，走到沙发上，假装刚刚发现了银行家。

“可鄙的恶棍！”纽辛根大声说道，他自诩为金融霸主。

他站在埃丝特和卢沙尔之间，卢沙尔在康坦森喊道“纽辛根男爵先生”时脱下了帽子。

卢沙尔发出信号后，法警们就从房间里消失了，恭敬地摘下了帽子。只剩下康坦森一人了。

“男爵先生，您打算付钱吗？”他手里拿着帽子问道。

“我来付钱，”银行家说。 “但我必须知道这是什么意思。”

“三十一万二千法郎和一些生丁，已付费用；但逮捕的指控不包括在内。”

“三十万法郎，”男爵喊道。他在欧洲耳边补充道：“对于一个男人来说，在沙发上度过一夜的昂贵烟瘾真是太疯狂了。”

“那个人真的是纽辛根男爵吗？”向卢沙尔询问欧洲的情况，用一种法国人的低俗喜剧仆人杜邦小姐可能会羡慕的姿态来加重怀疑。

“是的，小姐，”卢查德说。

“是的，”康坦森回答道。

“我将负责，”男爵说道，欧洲的怀疑激起了他的荣誉。 “你应该允许我对她说‘ein vort’。”

艾丝特和她年迈的情人回到卧室，卢查德发现有必要把耳朵贴在钥匙孔上。

“我更爱你，就像爱我的生命一样，埃丝特；但是如果把钱给你的债权人，放在你的口袋里会好得多吗？进监狱吧。我将承诺用每百枚法郎购买一百枚冠冕，这样你就有了两枚百枚法郎——”

“这个计划完全没用，”卢查德在门外喊道。 “债主并不爱小姐——不是他！你明白？他想要拥有更多，现在他知道你爱她。”

“你他妈的偷偷摸摸！”纽辛根大声喊道，打开门，把卢查德拖进卧室。 “你不知道你所说的是什么。如果你能胜任这份工作，我会给你百分之百分之二十的报酬。”

“不可能，男爵先生。”

“怎么，先生，你竟然忍心让我的情妇进监狱？”欧洲介入说道。 “但是拿走我的工资，我的积蓄；夫人，把它们拿走吧；我有四万法郎——”

“啊，我的好姑娘，我还真不认识你！”艾斯特喊道，将欧洲抱在怀里。

欧洲开始热泪盈眶。

“我会付钱的，”男爵可怜兮兮地说，同时掏出一个皮夹，从里面拿出一张法国银行发给银行家的小印刷表格，他们只需在上面写下数字即可。并用言语将其作为支票提供给持票人。

“男爵先生，不值得这么麻烦，”卢沙尔说。 “我接到指示，不接受除本国硬币（金币或银币）以外的任何付款方式。既然是你，那我就收钞票了。”

“Der Teufel！”男爵喊道。 “好吧，把你的证件给我看看。”

康坦森递给他三个包着蓝色纸的包裹，男爵接过，看着这个男人，低声补充道：

“即使你通知了我，这对你来说应该是更好的一天。”

“为什么，我怎么知道你在这里，男爵先生？”间谍回答道，不管卢沙尔是否听到他的声音。 “你因为失去了信心而失去了我的服务。你已经完成了，”这位哲学家耸耸肩补充道。

“确实如此，”男爵说。 “啊，我的孩子，”他看到汇票，转向埃丝特，大声喊道，“你简直就是一个彻头彻尾的恶棍，高速公路上的强盗！”

“唉，是的，”可怜的埃丝特说。 “但他真的爱我。”

“我早该知道——我早该让你抗议——”

“你疯了，男爵先生，”卢沙尔说。 “还有第三个认可。”

“是的，这是一个可怕的认可——Cerizet！一个反对派的人。”

“男爵先生，您能在收银台上写下订单吗？”卢查德说。 “我会派康坦森去见他，并解散我的手下。时间已经很晚了，大家都会知道——”

“去吧，康滕森，”纽辛根说。 “我的收银员住在 Rue des Mathurins 和 Rue de l'Arcate 的拐角处。这是他应该去杜蒂莱或德凯勒斯的最佳选择，以防万一我们没有一百大法郎——因为我们的现金应该放在银行里。——穿好衣服，我的女秘书，”他对埃丝特说。 。 “你有自由。——老女人，”他看着阿西继续说道，“比年轻女人更危险。”

“我要去让债主好好笑一笑，”阿西说，“他今天会给我一些东西作为款待。——我们没有恶意，男爵先生，”圣埃斯特夫以一种可怕的礼貌补充道。

卢查德从男爵手里接过钞票，和他单独留在客厅，半小时后，收银员来了，康滕森也跟着来了。随后，埃斯特再次出现，身着一身临时搭建的迷人服装。当卢沙尔清点完钱后，男爵想要检查一下钞票。但艾丝特像猫一样一把抓住了它们，并把它们带到了她的办公桌前。

“你会给乌合之众什么？”康滕森对纽辛根说道。

“你没有表现出太多的考虑，”男爵说。

“那我的腿呢？”康坦森喊道。

“卢查德，你应该从千法郎纸币的零钱中拿出一百法郎给康坦森。”

“这位女士是一位美女，”当他们离开泰特布街时，收银员对男爵说道，“但她让你付出了很大的代价，男爵先生。”

“请保密，”男爵说道，他也对康坦森和卢沙尔说了同样的话。

卢查德带着康坦森离开了。但在大街上，正在寻找他的阿西拦住了卢沙尔。

“法警和债权人都在出租车里，”她说。 “他们口渴，而且还有钱。”

当卢查德数现金时，康滕森研究顾客。他通过眼睛认出了卡洛斯，并在假发下描绘了他额头的形状。他精明地认为假发很可疑；他记下了出租车的号码，看上去对发生的事情漠不关心。亚洲和欧洲让他无比困惑。他认为男爵是过于聪明的骗子的受害者，更是如此，因为卢沙尔在确保他的服务时，已经异常接近了。而且，欧罗巴脚的扭曲不仅仅影响到了他的小腿。

“这样的技巧是在圣拉扎尔学到的，”他起身时这样想。

卡洛斯解雇了法警，给了他丰厚的报酬，同时对出租车司机说：“去佩隆宫，皇宫。”

“无赖！”听到命令，康坦森想道。 “有事！”卡洛斯驱车前往皇宫，速度快得让人完全不用担心被追赶。他以自己的方式穿过拱廊，在城堡广场上乘坐另一辆出租车，并吩咐那人“到皮农街尽头的歌剧院通道”。

一刻钟后，他来到了泰特布街。艾丝特一看到他就说：

“这是致命的文件。”

卡洛斯接过钞票，检查了一下，然后在厨房的火里烧掉了。

“我们成功了，”他一边说，一边从外套口袋里掏出一卷三十一万法郎给她看。 “这一点，加上阿西榨取的十万法郎，让我们可以自由行动。”

“天啊，天啊！”可怜的埃丝特喊道。

“但是，你这个白痴，”凶恶的骗子说道，“你只要表面上是纽辛根的情妇，就可以随时见到吕西安；他是纽辛根的朋友；我不禁止你疯狂地爱他。”

艾丝特在她黑暗的生活中看到了一线曙光；她再次呼吸。

“欧洲，我的女孩，”卡洛斯说着，把这个生物带到了闺房的一个角落，那里没人能听到任何一个字，“欧洲，我对你很满意。”

欧洲抬起头，看着这个男人，脸上的表情彻底改变了她苍白的面容，阿西在门口看着她，目睹了这次采访，想知道卡洛斯对欧洲的兴趣是否可能不存在。甚至比她自己对他的束缚还要强烈。

“这还不是全部，我的孩子。四十万法郎对我来说根本不算什么。帕卡德会给你一个盘子的账户，金额为三万法郎，钱已经存入账户；但我们的金匠比丁已经为我们付了钱。我们的家具被他没收了，毫无疑问明天就会刊登广告。去看看比丁；他住在 Rue de l'Arbre Sec；他会给你一万法郎的 Mont-de-Piete 门票。你明白，埃丝特点了盘子；她没有付钱，就把它放进了壶嘴里。她将面临因诈骗而被传唤的危险。所以我们必须付给金匠三万法郎，并向蒙德皮耶特付一万法郎才能拿回盘子。算上杂费，总共四万三千法郎。银的合金化程度很高；男爵将为她提供一项新服务，我们将从中扣除几千法郎。你欠——什么？与裁缝的两年账目？

“估价为六千法郎，”欧洲回答道。

“好吧，如果奥古斯特夫人想要得到报酬并保持我们的习惯，请告诉她在四年内开出一张三万法郎的账单。与女帽设计师进行类似的安排。圣阿沃街 (Rue Saint-Avoie) 的珠宝商犹太人塞缪尔·弗里施 (Samuel Frisch) 会借给你一些当票；我们必须欠他两万五千法郎，而且我们必须要六千法郎来购买在皮耶特山抵押的珠宝。我们会将小饰品退还给珠宝商，一半的宝石将是仿制品，但男爵不会检查它们。简而言之，你会让他在一周内再拿出十五万法郎来增加我们的积蓄。”

“夫人或许可以帮我一点忙。”欧洲说道。 “告诉她这一点，因为她坐在那儿很偶然，迫使我为一件作品找到比三位作者更多的发明。”

“如果埃丝特变得拘谨，请告诉我，”卡洛斯说。 “纽辛根必须给她一辆马车和马匹；她必须自己选择和购买所有东西。去帕卡德找到工作的工作主管雇用的马贩和车匠那里。我们将得到一匹漂亮的马，非常亲爱的，它们在一个月内就会跛行，我们必须更换它们。”

“我们可能会从调香师的账单中得到六千法郎，”欧洲说。

“哦！”他摇摇头说：“我们必须轻轻地走。纽辛根刚刚向媒体伸出了手臂；我们必须抓住他的头。除此之外，我还必须拿到五十万法郎。”

“你可以得到它们，”欧洲回答道。 “夫人给六十万左右就会对胖傻子心软，坚持要四十万才真正爱他！”

“听我说，我的孩子，”卡洛斯说。 “等我拿到最后十万法郎的那一天，也给你两万法郎。”

“他们对我有什么好处？”欧洲说道，她垂下双臂，就像一个对生活似乎不可能的女人一样。

“如果你愿意的话，你可以回到瓦朗谢纳，买下一家好企业，然后做一个诚实的女人；人性有很多种品味。帕卡德有时会考虑安定下来。他手上没有任何负担，良心上也没有多少负担。你们可能很合适，”卡洛斯回答道。

“回瓦朗谢纳去吧！先生您在想什么？”欧洲惊慌失措地喊道。

欧洲出生在瓦朗谢纳，是一个非常贫穷的家庭的孩子，七岁时就被送到一家纺纱厂，在那里，现代工业的需求削弱了她的体力，就像罪恶过早地使她堕落一样。她在十二岁时就堕落了，在十三岁时就成为了母亲，她发现自己与最堕落的人类生物联系在一起。在一起谋杀案中，她曾作为证人出庭。十六岁的囚犯被残余的正直和法律所激发的恐惧所困扰，她的证据导致囚犯被判处二十年苦役。

罪犯是那些不止一次受到司法审判的人之一，他的脾气很容易进行可怕的报复，他在公开法庭上对女孩说：

“十年后，只要你还活着，普鲁登斯”（欧洲的名字是普鲁登斯·塞维恩），“如果我被抓伤的话，我会回来成为你的死亡。”

法院院长试图安抚女孩，向她承诺将受到法律的保护和照顾；但这个可怜的孩子却因为太害怕而病倒了，在医院里住了将近一年。正义是一个抽象的存在，由不断变化的个人集合所代表，他们的良好意图和记忆就像他们自己一样，容易受到许多变迁的影响。法院和法庭无能为力阻止犯罪；他们的任务是在完成后处理它们。从这个角度来看，预防性警察对国家来说是一件好事；但如今，“警察”这个词本身就令立法者们头疼，他们不再能够区分“政府”、“行政管理”和“立法”这三个词。立法者倾向于将一切事务集中于国家，就好像国家可以采取行动一样。

罪犯一定会永远记住他的受害者，并在正义不再想起他们中的任何一个时为自己报仇。

普鲁登斯本能地意识到了危险——可以说是一般意义上的危险——十七岁时离开瓦朗谢纳来到巴黎躲藏起来。她尝试过四种行业，其中最成功的是在一家小剧院当“超级”演员。她被帕卡德接走，并向他讲述了自己的痛苦。雅克·柯林的弟子和得力助手帕卡德向他的主人谈到了这个女孩，当主人需要奴隶时，他对普鲁登丝说：

“如果你像必须侍奉魔鬼一样侍奉我，我就会除掉你杜鲁特。”

杜鲁特是罪犯；达摩克利斯之剑悬在普鲁登斯·塞维恩的头上。

如果不是这些细节，许多批评家可能会认为欧洲的依恋有些怪诞。没有人能够理解卡洛斯准备好的这一令人震惊的声明。

“是的，我的女孩，你可以回瓦朗谢纳了。来，读一下这个。”

他把昨天的报纸递给她，指着这样一段话：

“土伦——昨天，让·弗朗索瓦·杜鲁特在这里被处决。早期的
早上驻军，”等等。

普鲁登丝把纸掉了。她的双腿在身体的重压下垮掉了。她又活了；因为，用她自己的话说，自从杜鲁特威胁她那天起，她就不再喜欢食物的味道了。

“你看，我遵守了诺言。花了四年的时间，杜鲁特才被带上了断头台，把他带进了陷阱。——好吧，完成我在这里的工作，你就会发现自己在你的家乡成为了一家小乡村企业的负责人，拥有两万法郎的财产。作为帕卡德的妻子，我会让他保持贞洁，作为一种养老金。”

欧洲拿起报纸，用贪婪的目光阅读着所有的细节，二十年来报纸上从未厌倦过这些细节，比如被定罪的罪犯的死亡：令人印象深刻的场景，牧师——他总是让受害者转变——冷酷无情的人罪犯向同狱犯人布道，枪炮连连，犯人跪下；然后是胡言乱语和反思，但这些想法从未导致监狱的管理发生任何改变，监狱关押着一千八百名罪犯。

“我们必须再次让阿西成为员工，”卡洛斯说。

阿西挺身而出，不理解欧洲的哑剧。

“把她带回来当厨师，你首先必须给男爵一顿他一生中从未吃过的晚餐，”他继续说道。 “告诉他阿西在游戏中输掉了所有的钱，并再次投入使用。我们不需要户外仆人。帕卡德将担任车夫。车夫不会离开他们的包厢，这样他们就安全了；而且他面临间谍的风险也会更小。夫人必须把他带上撒了粉的假发、戴着编织毡三角帽把他赶出去。这会改变他的外貌。而且，我会让他成为我们的。”

“我们家里有男仆吗？”艾西斜眼问道。

“都是诚实的人，”卡洛斯说。

“都是些软弱的人。”混血儿反驳道。

卡洛斯说：“如果男爵买了一栋房子，帕卡德就有一个朋友可以担任旅馆的搬运工。” “那我们只需要一个男仆和一个厨娘，你当然可以照看两个陌生人——”

当卡洛斯离开时，帕卡德出现了。

“等一下，街上还有人。”那人说道。

这个简单的陈述令人震惊。卡洛斯走到欧洲的房间，一直呆在那里，直到帕卡德叫了一辆开进院子的出租车来接他。卡洛斯拉下百叶窗，以难以追赶的速度被赶走。

到达圣安东尼郊区后，他在离出租汽车站不远的地方下了车，步行前往那里，然后回到了马拉奎斯码头，避开了所有的询问。

“给你，孩子，”他对吕西安说，并给他看了四百张一千法郎的钞票，“这是购买鲁本普雷庄园的帐单。我们将冒十万的风险。综合巴士刚刚启动；巴黎人会喜欢新奇事物；三个月内我们的资本将增加两倍。我知道大家的担忧；他们将从资本中支付丰厚的股息，以增强股票的活力——这是纽辛根复兴的一个老想法。如果我们获得了鲁本普雷的土地，我们就不必付钱了。

“你必须去见德斯·卢波克斯，请求他向你推荐一位名叫德罗什的律师，他是一只狡猾的狗，你必须去他的办公室拜访他。让他去鲁本普雷看看那片土地的情况；如果他在老房子废墟周围的土地上投资八十万法郎，每年能赚到三万法郎，我就答应给他两万法郎的溢价。”

“你怎么继续——继续！在！”

“我总是在继续。现在不是开玩笑的时候。——然后你必须将十万克朗投资于国债，这样才不会损失利息；你可以放心地把它留给德罗什，他是诚实的，因为他知道。——完成后，去昂古莱姆，说服你的妹妹和你的姐夫保证在生意上撒点小谎。 。你的亲戚们将给你六十万法郎来促进你与克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利的婚姻；这并没有什么丢脸的。”

“我们得救了！”吕西安喊道，他眼花缭乱。

“你是，是的！”卡洛斯回答道。 “但即使你也不安全，除非你带着克洛蒂尔德作为你的妻子走出圣托马斯达奎因。”

“那你有什么好怕的呢？”吕西安说道，显然非常关心他的顾问。

“一些好奇的灵魂正在追寻我的踪迹——我必须表现出真正牧师的举止；这是最烦人的。如果魔鬼看到我腋下夹着一本圣经，他就会停止保护我。”

这时，拄着收银员手臂的纽辛根男爵来到了他的宅邸门口。

“我非常担心，”他走进去时说道，“我已经完成了一天的工作。维尔，我们必须想出一些办法。”

“不幸的是，你被抓住了，我的男爵先生，”这位可敬的德国人说，他的全部注意力都在外表上。

“啊，我的小姐应该处于我的位置，”路易十四说道。会计室的。

男爵确信埃丝特迟早会属于他，现在他又恢复了原来的样子，成为了一位出色的金融家。他重新开始处理他的事务，结果第二天早上六点，他的出纳员发现他在办公室里核实他的证券，满意地搓了搓手。

“啊哈！男爵先生，你昨晚已经省钱了！”他带着半狡猾半粗鲁的德国人笑容说道。

尽管像纽辛根男爵这样富有的人比其他人有更多的机会赔钱，但他们也有更多的机会赚钱，即使他们沉迷于自己的愚蠢行为。尽管纽辛根家族的财务政策已在其他地方解释过，但最好指出的是，如此巨大的财富并不是在商业活动中创造的，不是积累的，不是增加的，也不是保留的，当今的政治和工业革命，但代价是巨大的损失，或者，如果你选择这样看的话，是以对私人财产征收重税为代价的。很少有新创造的财富被投入世界的共同金库。每一次新的积累都代表着财富总体分配中新的不平等。国家索取什么，就会有什么回报；但像纽辛根这样的房子所占用的，它都会保留。

这种秘密抢劫行为可以逃脱法律制裁，因为如果他不是通过战争的方式处理各省的事务，而是从事走私货物或可转让证券的交易，那么他就会成为腓特烈大帝的雅克·科林。赚钱的高层政治包括迫使欧洲国家以百分之二十或百分之十的利率发放贷款，通过使用公共资金来赚取百分之二十或百分之十的贷款，通过收购来大规模挤压工业。原材料，向企业的第一位创始人扔一根绳子，只是为了让他保持在水面上，直到他被淹没的企业安全登陆——简而言之，在所有为赚钱而进行的伟大斗争中。

毫无疑问，银行家就像征服者一样，也承担着风险。但有能力发动这场战争的人太少了，羊群无权干涉。如此宏大的斗争发生在牧羊人之间。因此，由于违约者因过于想赢得胜利而感到内疚，因此对于纽金根联盟所带来的不幸通常很少有同情心。如果一个投机者打爆了脑袋，如果一个股票经纪人逃跑了，如果一个律师卷走了一百个家庭的财产——这比杀人更糟糕——如果一个银行家资不抵债，所有这些灾难很快就会在巴黎被遗忘。几个月，并被这座伟大城市的海浪淹没。

雅克·科尔、美第奇家族、迪耶普的安戈斯家族、拉罗谢尔的奥弗雷迪家族、富格尔家族、提埃坡洛斯家族、科纳斯家族的巨额财富，老实说，很久以前就通过他们所拥有的优势而获得了，而这些人对其他人的无知并不了解。人们了解珍贵产品的来源；但如今，地理信息已经普及到大众，竞争实际上限制了利润，以至于每笔快速发财的结果都是偶然、发现或合法抢劫的结果。较低等级的商业企业对高级商业的不诚实交易进行了反击，特别是在过去十年中，通过原材料的基本掺假。凡是有化学作用的地方，就不再能买到酒了。因此，葡萄藤产业正在衰落。出售制成的盐以避免消费税。法庭对这种普遍的不诚实行为感到震惊。简而言之，法国的贸易受到全世界的怀疑，而英国的士气也正在迅速下降。

对我们来说，恶作剧的根源在于政治局势。 《宪章》宣告了金钱的统治，成功已成为无神论时代的最高考虑因素。事实上，尽管有令人眼花缭乱的炫耀和似是而非的财富争论，但上层阶级的腐败比下层阶级的不光彩和更个人化的腐败要可怕得多，其中某些细节增添了喜剧元素——可怕的，如果你愿意的话——看这部戏剧。政府总是对新想法感到震惊，已将这些现代喜剧材料从舞台上驱逐出去。公民阶级不像路易十四那么自由，他们害怕它的到来。 费加罗玛丽日，禁止政治的出现 伪君子，并且肯定不会允许 图卡莱特 被代表，因为图卡雷特是国王。因此，喜剧必须被叙述，而一本书现在成为作家使用的武器——不那么迅速，但也不再那么确定。

今天早上，在来来往往的来电者、下达的命令和简短的采访中，纽辛根的私人办公室变成了一种金融游说团体，他的一位股票经纪人向他宣布公司一名成员失踪了，雅克·法莱克斯（Jacques Falleix）也是最富有、最聪明的人之一，他是马丁·法莱克斯（Martin Falleix）的兄弟，也是儒勒·德马雷（Jules Desmarets）的继承人。雅克·法莱克斯 (Jacques Falleix) 是纽辛根家族的普通股票经纪人。男爵与杜蒂莱和凯勒家族合作，冷血地策划了对这个人的毁灭，就像杀死逾越节的羔羊一样。

“他已经坚持不住了，”男爵平静地回答道。

雅克·法莱克斯在股票交易方面为他们做出了巨大的贡献。几个月后的一次危机中，他大胆行动，挽救了局面。但是，向钱商寻求感激之情，就像在冬天试图触动乌克兰狼群的心一样，是徒劳的。

“可怜的家伙！”股票经纪人说道。 “他没有预料到会发生这样的灾难，以至于他在圣乔治街为他的情妇布置了一座小房子；他在装饰品和家具上花了十五万法郎。他对杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人如此忠诚！可怜的女人必须放弃这一切。而且没有任何报酬。”

“咕咕，咕咕！”纽辛根想，“这正是弥补我今晚失去的损失的好机会！——他已经付钱了？”他问他的线人。

“为什么，”股票经纪人说，“哪里能找到一个消息灵通的商人，拒绝向雅克·法莱克斯赊账呢？看起来有一个华丽的酒窖。顺便说一句，房子正在出售；他打算买它。租约是在他的名下。——真是愚蠢透顶！盘子、家具、酒、车马，统统都值钱了，债主又能得到什么呢？”

“明天再来吧，”纽辛根说。 “我已经看到了所有这些；如果不是宣布破产，如果可以安排和妥协，我会告诉你为这些家具提供一些合理的价格，如果我购买租赁的话——”

“这是可以解决的，”他的朋友说。 “如果你今天早上去那里，你会发现法莱克斯的一个合作伙伴和商人一起在那里，他们想要建立第一个索赔；但拉瓦尔诺布尔的账目已记入法莱克斯。”

男爵立即派他的一名职员去见他的律师。雅克·法莱曾跟他谈过这座房子，最多价值六万法郎，他希望立即拥有它，以便享受房主的特权。

收银员是个诚实的人，他来询问他的主人是否因法莱克斯的破产而损失了任何东西。

“与沃尔夫冈相反，我要喝很多法郎。”

“怎么样？”

“好吧，我将拥有可怜的托菲尔·法莱克斯今年应该为他的小姐提供的小房子。我将把所有这些资料以五十万法郎的价格交给债权人；我的公证人卡多先生将接受我的命令，以土地主的钱购买房子——我知道这一点，但我已经失去了理智。很快我高贵的埃丝特就会生活在一座小宫殿里……我去过法莱克斯——它离这里很近。——它会像一只手套一样适合我。”

法莱克斯的失败需要男爵到场。但他无法忍受离开圣拉扎尔街的家而不去泰特布街。离开埃丝特这么多个小时，他已经很痛苦了。他真想把她留在自己身边。他希望从股票经纪人的掠夺中赚取利润，这使得之前四十万法郎的损失变得很容易忍受。

很高兴地向他的“女仆”宣布，她将从泰特布街搬到圣乔治街，在那里她将拥有“一座小宫殿”，在那里她的记忆将不再与他们的幸福相冲突，人行道脚下感觉有弹性；他走起路来就像一个年轻人在一个年轻人的梦里。当他在梦中和道路中转过三兄弟街的拐角时，男爵看到欧洲向他走来，看上去非常沮丧。

“维尔你要走吗？”他问。

“嗯，先生，我正在去见您的路上。你昨天说得很对。我现在明白了，可怜的夫人最好去监狱里呆几天。但女性应该如何理解金钱问题呢？当夫人的债主听说她回家了，他们都像猛禽一样向我们扑来。——昨晚七点钟，先生，人们来了，贴了可怕的海报，宣布周六出售家具——但是这没什么。——夫人，她曾全心全意地帮助你认识的那个卑鄙的人——”

“瓦特坏蛋？”

“嗯，她所爱的那个男人，德·爱图尔尼——嗯，他很有魅力！他只是一个赌徒——”

“他用斜角牌赌博！”

“那么——你在交易所做什么？”欧洲说。 “但是让我继续说下去。有一天，为了阻止乔治（正如他所说）打爆他的大脑，她典当了她所有的盘子和珠宝，而这些东西从未得到付款。现在一听说她把东西给了她的一个债主，他们就聚集在一起大吵大闹。他们用警察法庭来威胁她——你在酒吧里的天使！难道把假发立起来还不够吗？她泪流满面；她说要跳进河里——她会这么做的。”

“如果我去看她，那就是和德交易所告别了；这是不可能的，但我会去，因为我会为她赚一些钱——你会安抚她。我会偿还她的债务；我四点钟去看她。但是告诉我，尤金妮，她会爱我一点——”

“一点点？——很多！——我告诉你，先生，只有慷慨才能赢得女人的心。毫无疑问，让她进监狱你可以节省十万法郎左右。好吧，你永远不会赢得她的心。正如她对我说的那样——‘尤金妮，他是高贵的、伟大的——他有一个伟大的灵魂。’”

“她说过这样的话吗，尤金妮？”男爵喊道。

“是的，先生，对我来说，我自己。”

“给——拿十个路易。”

“谢谢你。——但她此刻在哭；她在哭泣。”从昨天起她就一直在哭，就像一个哭泣的玛格达琳在六个月内哭泣的次数一样。你所爱的女人正陷入绝望，还欠着不属于她的债务！哦！男人——他们吞噬女人，就像女人吞噬老顽童一样——就在那里！”

“他们都是一样的！——她已经保证了自己。——嘿，没有人会保证自己。——告诉她，她将签署更多。——我会付钱；我会付钱的。”但如果她再签点什么——我——”

“你会怎么做？”欧洲神情严肃地说。

“我的哥特！我对她没有权力。——我会处理她的小事——德雷，德雷，去安慰她，你会说，她将来会住在一座小宫殿里。

“男爵先生，您在女人的心上投入了大量的资金，并且产生了巨大的兴趣。我告诉你——你看起来比我年轻。我只是一个侍女，但这样的变化我却屡见不鲜。这就是幸福——幸福会带来某种光芒……如果你花了一点钱，不要为此担心；你将会看到它会带来多么好的回报。我对夫人说，我告诉她，如果她不爱你，她就会成为最低贱的女人，一个完美的女人，因为你已经把她从地狱里救了出来。——一旦她脑子里什么都没有了，你就会看。在你我之间，我可以告诉你，那天晚上，当她哭得很厉害的时候——也就是说，我们很珍惜那个养育我们的男人的尊重——她不敢告诉你一切。她想飞。”

“飞翔！”男爵对这个想法感到沮丧地喊道。 “但是交易所，交易所！——走吧，我不会进来。——但是告诉她，我会在她的窗口见到她——这会给我勇气！”

当德·纽辛根先生经过房子时，埃丝特对他微笑，而他则沉重地继续前行，说道：

“她是个天使！”

这就是欧洲成功实现不可能的任务的方式。大约两点半，埃丝特穿好了衣服，因为她习惯在等待吕西安时穿好衣服。她看起来很迷人。普鲁登丝见状，望向窗外，说道：“先生来了！”

这个可怜的生物飞到窗前，以为她会看到吕西安；她看到了纽辛根。

“哦！你对我的伤害是多么的残酷啊！”她说。

“没有其他方法可以让你对一个可怜的老人表现出仁慈，毕竟他会偿还你的债务，”欧洲说。 “因为他们都要得到报酬。”

“什么债？”女孩说，她只想保存她的爱情，而那双可怕的手却被风吹散了。

“卡洛斯先生以您的名义制作的那些。”

“哎呀，这里有将近四十五万法郎，”埃丝特喊道。

“你还欠十五万。但男爵对这一切都接受得很好。——他要把你从这里搬走，把你安置在一座小宫殿里。——以我的名誉来说，你的处境还不错。代替你，你站在这个人的右边，一旦卡洛斯满意，我就应该让他给我一套房子和一份稳定的收入。夫人，您无疑是我见过的最英俊的女人，也是最有魅力的女人，但我们很快就变得丑陋了！我清新又好看，你看我！我今年二十三岁，和夫人年纪相仿，看上去老了十岁。生病就够了。——好吧，但是当你在巴黎有房子并有投资时，你就永远不用担心流落街头。”

艾丝特已经不再听欧洲-尤金妮-普鲁登斯·塞维恩的讲话了。一个拥有腐败天才的男人的意志，用同样的力量将艾丝特从泥沼中拖了出来，而他的意志却把她重新扔回了泥沼里。

那些了解爱的无限的人知道，那些不接受爱的美德的人不会体验到爱的快乐。自从朗格拉德街那间书房里的那一幕之后，埃丝特就完全忘记了她以前的存在。从那以后，她过着非常贤惠的生活，因自己的热情而与世隔绝。因此，为了避免任何障碍，这个狡猾的恶魔足够聪明地设置了这样一个火车，以至于可怜的女孩在她的奉献精神的推动下，只需表示同意已经完成或即将完成的诈骗行为。这种微妙之处揭示了诱惑者的掌握程度，也体现了他征服吕西安的方法。他制造了一个可怕的局面，挖了一个地雷，装满了火药，在关键时刻对他的同伙说：“你只要点头，整个就会爆炸！”

古代的埃丝特只知道交际花特有的道德，她认为所有这些关注都是理所当然的，所以她衡量竞争对手的标准只是看她们能让男人在她们身上花多少钱。命运的毁灭是这些生物的行为准则。卡洛斯凭借艾丝特的记忆，并没有算错。

这些战争伎俩，这些计谋，不仅被这些女人使用了一千次，而且也被那些挥霍无度的人使用了，但并没有扰乱埃丝特的心。她只感到自己的人格被贬低。她爱吕西安，“按约定”她将成为纽辛根男爵的情妇。她只想到这些。所谓的西班牙人可能会吸收诚意金，吕西安可能会用她坟墓的石头积累财富，一夜的享乐可能会让老银行家或多或少花费数千法郎的钞票，欧洲可能会提取几十万法郎的钞票。通过或多或少巧妙的诡计赚来的法郎——这些事情都没有让这位倾心的女孩感到困扰。仅此一点就是侵蚀她内心的溃疡。五年来，她一直认为自己像天使一样洁白。她爱过，她幸福过，她从未犯过哪怕是最轻微的不忠行为。这份美好纯洁的爱情现在被玷污了。

在她的脑海里，她并没有刻意地将她那幸福而孤立的过去与她肮脏的未来生活进行对比。打动她的既不是兴趣，也不是情感，而是一种说不清的、强烈的感觉：她曾经是白人，现在是黑人，纯洁现在是不纯洁的，高贵现在是卑鄙的。她一心想成为一只貂，道德败坏对她来说似乎是难以忍受的。当男爵的激情威胁到她时，她真的想过从窗户跳下去。简而言之，她全心全意地爱着吕西安，而女人很少会爱上一个男人。那些自称爱的女人，常常认为自己最爱的女人，会跳舞、跳华尔兹、与其他男人调情、穿着得体、寻找肉欲的目光；但以斯帖没有做出任何牺牲，就实现了真爱的奇迹。她爱了吕西安六年，就像女演员和交际花一样——那些在泥潭和不洁中打滚的女人，渴望高尚的东西，渴望真爱的自我奉献，并且实行排他性——这是唯一可以形容这种想法的词。现实生活中众所周知。

消失的国家，希腊、罗马和东方，一直让女性闭嘴。爱的女人应该把自己封闭起来。因此，不难想象，当艾丝特离开她心目中的宫殿，即这首诗的发源地，来到这位老人的“小宫殿”时，她的心是多么的难受。在铁腕的催促下，她还没来得及反思，就发现自己已经陷入了齐腰深的耻辱之中。但这两天她不断反思，心里却感到一阵阵寒意。

听到“到街上去”这句话，她站起来说道：

“在街上！——不，是在塞纳河里。”

“在塞纳河？那么吕西安先生呢？欧洲说。

这一句话让艾丝特重新回到了座位上。她坐在扶手椅上，眼睛盯着地毯上的玫瑰花结，大脑中的火焰擦干了她的眼泪。

四点钟，纽辛根发现他的天使迷失在沉思和决心的海洋中，一个女人的灵魂在其中漂浮，她从那里出现，说出了那些没有在她的船队中航行过的人无法理解的话语。

“清理一下你的眉毛，我的舍恩，”男爵说道，在她旁边坐下。 “你不会再有任何债务了——我会安排尤金妮，在一个月里你会离开这些房间，去那个小宫殿。——Vas a beautiful hant.——把它给我，我会吻它。 ”艾丝特向他伸出手，就像狗向他伸出爪子一样。 “啊，啊！你应该给予德汉特，但不是给予你的心，而我爱的是那颗心！”

这句话的口音是如此真诚，可怜的艾丝特看着老人的眼神里充满了怜悯，几乎让他发疯了。恋人就像烈士一样，在苦难中感受到兄弟情谊！世界上没有什么比悲伤的共同体更能给人一种血脉相连的感觉。

“悲惨的人！”她说：“他真的很爱。”

当他听到这句话时，误解了它们的意思，男爵脸色变得苍白，血液在他的血管里刺痛，他呼吸着天堂的空气。在他这个年纪，一个百万富翁为了获得这样的轰动，愿意付出一个女人能要的尽可能多的黄金。

“我爱你就像我爱我的女儿一样，”他说。 “我觉得”——他把她的手放在他的心口上——“我不忍心看到你除了幸福。”

“如果你只是我的父亲，我会非常爱你；我永远不会离开你；你会发现我不是一个坏女人，不贪婪也不贪婪，就像我现在在你看来——”

“你做了一些小蠢事，”男爵说，“就像所有漂亮女人一样——仅此而已。不再多说有关数据的事情。为您赚钱是我们的努力。要开心！我将在几天内成为你的父亲，因为我知道我必须让你习惯我的旧尸体。

“真的吗！”她喊道，跳到纽辛根的膝盖上，用手臂搂住他的脖子。

“真的吗！”他重复道，努力挤出一个微笑。

她吻了吻他的额头；她相信一种不可能的结合——她可能保持原样并见到吕西安。

她对银行家如此哄骗，以至于她又变成了拉·托皮耶。她相当迷惑了老人，老人答应做她四十天的父亲。这四十天将用于购买和布置圣乔治街的房子。

当他再次来到街上，回家时，男爵对自己说：“我是一套旧公寓。”

尽管在埃丝特面前他还只是个孩子，但离开她之后，他又恢复了山猫的皮肤。正如赌徒（在 今日报当安吉丽克没有骗子时，他就会对他产生感情。

“我已经付了五十万法郎了，但我还没见过她的腿是什么样子。——这太傻了！但幸运的是，没有人会知道！”三周后他对自己说。

他下定决心，一定要和那个让他付出了如此惨重代价的女人谈谈。然后，当着艾丝特的面，他用尽一切时间来弥补他第一句话的粗鲁。

“毕竟，”他在月底说道，“我不能成为永恒的命运！”

1829 年 XNUMX 月月底，就在将埃丝特安置在圣乔治街的房子之前，男爵恳求杜蒂莱带弗洛琳去那里，让她看看一切是否适合纽辛根的命运，以及描述是否合适。 “一座小宫殿”的概念是由受委托的艺术家们恰如其分地实现的，他们的目的是让笼子与鸟相配。

1830 年革命之前的每一种奢华设施都使这座住宅成为品味的杰作。建筑师格林多认为这是他作为装饰师的最大成就。楼梯由大理石重建，明智地使用灰泥装饰、纺织品和镀金，无论是最小的细节还是整体效果，都超越了路易十五时代以来巴黎留下的所有同类建筑。

“这就是我的梦想！——这就是美德！”弗洛琳微笑着说道。 “你为谁花这么多钱？”

“因为上面有一个沃曼缸，”男爵回答道。

“玩木星的一种方式？”女演员回答道。 “她什么时候出现？”

“乔迁之日，”杜蒂莱喊道。

“在那之前，”男爵说。

“我的话，我们必须如何系带、刷牙并弄清楚自己，”弗洛琳继续说道。 “女人们将带领她们的裁缝和美发师跳舞，度过一个愉快的夜晚！——什么时候举行？”

“这不是我能说的。”

“她一定是一个多么好的女人啊！”弗洛琳喊道。 “我多么想见到她啊！”

“我也应该这么做。”男爵天真地回答道。

“什么！房子、家具、女人，一切都是新的吗？”

“甚至是银行家，”杜蒂莱说，“因为在我看来，我的老朋友又变得年轻起来了。”

“好吧，他必须回到二十岁，”弗洛琳说。 “无论如何，就一次。”

1830 年初，巴黎的每个人都在谈论纽辛根的热情和他的房子的令人惊叹的辉煌。可怜的男爵被人指指点点，嘲笑他，气得火冒三丈，这是可以想象的，他想到在乔迁之际，他会同时摆脱他父亲的伪装，并且得到如此慷慨的代价。由于总是被“La Torpille”所绕，他决定通过信件来对待他们的结合，以赢得她的签名承诺。银行家对本票以外的任何东西都没有信心。

于是，这一年早些时候的一个早晨，他早早起床，把自己锁在房间里，用流利的法语写了下面这封信；因为虽然他的语言说得很糟糕，但他写得很好：——

“亲爱的艾丝特，我思想的花朵，也是我唯一的快乐
生活，当我告诉你我爱你就像爱我的女儿一样，我
骗了你，我也骗了我自己。我只是想表达
我的情感是神圣的，这与其他人的感受不同
男人们，首先因为我是个老人，也因为
到现在为止我还没有爱过。我是如此爱你，如果你付出代价
我是我的幸运，我不应该减少对你的爱。

“公正一点！大多数人不会像我一样看到你身上的天使；
我从来没有看过你的过去。我爱你们，就像我爱你们一样
我的女儿奥古斯塔，我可能会爱我的妻子，如果我的妻子
本来可以爱我的。既然是老人爱的唯一借口
是他应该高兴，扪心自问我是不是玩得太过
可笑的部分。我把你当作安慰和快乐
我日渐衰落的日子你知道直到我死你都会幸福
作为一个女人可以做到的；你也知道，我死后你会
足够富有，让很多女人羡慕。在每一个笔触中
自从我拥有你的幸福以来，我所做的事情
相识，你的份额是分开的，你有地位
Nucingen 银行账户。几天后，您将搬进一个
房子，如果你喜欢的话，迟早会是你自己的。
现在，说白了，你还会接受我作为父亲吗？
你让我快乐？

“请原谅我写得这么坦率，但当我和你在一起时，我就输了
全部勇气；我太强烈地感觉到你确实是我的情妇。我
不想伤害你；我只想告诉你我有多少
受苦，在我这个年纪等待是多么困难，每一天都在等待
随之而来的是一些希望和一些快乐。除此之外，我的美味
行为是我的诚意的保证。我有没有
曾经表现得像你的债权人吗？你就像一座城堡，而我就像一座城堡
不是一个年轻人。为了回应我的呼吁，你说你的生活是在
赌注，当我听到你的声音时，你让我相信了；但在这里我
陷入黑暗的忧郁和怀疑，这对我们俩来说都是不光彩的。你
在我看来，你就像可爱的人一样甜美天真；但是你
坚持要摧毁我的信念。问问你自己！——你告诉我
你心里有一种激情，一种不屈不挠的激情，但是你
拒绝告诉我你所爱的男人的名字。——这很自然吗？

“你把一个相当坚强的人变成了一个极其软弱的人。
你知道我现在的处境了；我很想在最后问你
五个月了，我的热情对未来有什么希望。再说一遍，我
必须知道我在你的房子开业时扮演什么角色。
钱是为你花的，对我来说不算什么；我不会这样
荒谬到让你的这种蔑视成为一种优点；但尽管我的
爱无极限，我的财富有限，但我珍惜它
只为你着想。好吧，如果我给你我所拥有的一切
也许，作为一个穷人，可以赢得你的喜爱，我宁愿做穷人
被你爱过，而不是富有，被你蔑视。

“亲爱的艾丝特，你彻底改变了我，以至于没有人
认识我；我花了一万法郎买了约瑟夫的一幅画
布里多，因为你告诉我他很聪明但不被赏识。我
以你的名义给我遇到的每个乞丐五法郎。嗯，还有什么
穷人是否会问，当你
他有荣幸接受他能给你的任何东西吗？他问
只是为了一个希望——多么好的希望啊，仁慈的上帝！难道不是
除了我的热情之外，我确信永远不会从你那里得到任何东西
可以抓住吗？我心中的火焰将助长你残酷的欺骗。
你发现我已经准备好接受你提出的每一个条件
我的幸福，在于我为数不多的快乐；但至少答应我
当您拥有房屋的那一天，您将接受
他的心和服务，在他的余生中，必须签署
他自己就是你的奴隶，

“弗雷德里克·德纽辛根。”

“呸！他让我多么厌烦——这个钱袋子！”再次成为妓女的埃丝特喊道。她拿了一小张信纸，尽可能地写满了抄写员的名言，这句话已经成为一句谚语：“Prenez mon ours”。

一刻钟后，悔恨交加的埃丝特写下了下面的信：

“男爵先生——

“别理会你刚刚收到的我发来的便条；我有
又陷入了我年轻时的愚蠢行为。原谅先生，一个可怜的人
应该是你的奴隶的女孩。我从未如此强烈地感受到
与我被移交之日相比，我的地位下降了
给你。您已付款；我欠你一个人情。没有更多了
比耻辱的债务更神圣。我无权将其复合
投身塞纳河。

“债务总是可以用那枚可怕的硬币来免除，
仅对债务人有利；你会发现我是你的指挥者。我会
一晚上就还清了那致命的一小时所欠的所有款项
已抵押；我相信和我在一起这样的一个小时是值得的
数百万——尤其是因为这将是唯一的、最后的。
那时我就​​还清了债务，就可以摆脱生活了。 A
好女人跌倒后有挽回的机会；但我们，
像我们一样，跌得太低了。

“我的决心如此坚定，恳求您保留这封信
作为她的死因的证据，她仍然留了一天，
你的仆人，

“以斯帖。”

寄出这封信后，埃丝特感到一阵后悔。十分钟后，她写了第三张纸条，如下：

“请原谅我，亲爱的男爵——又是我了。我也不是这个意思
捉弄你或伤害你；我只想让你反思
这个简单的论点：如果我们继续处于这个位置
对于父亲和女儿彼此，你的荣幸是
虽然很小，但它会持久。如果您坚持遵守本协议的条款
讨价还价，你会活着为我哀悼。

“我不会再打扰你了：当你选择的那一天
对我来说，快乐比幸福更没有明天。——你的
女儿，

“以斯帖。”

收到第一封信后，男爵陷入了百万富翁可能会死于的冰冷愤怒之中。他看着镜子里的自己，按响了门铃。

“这对我的脚来说是一个热棒，”他对他的新男仆说。

当他把脚浸在浴缸里时，第二封信来了；他读完之后就晕倒了。他被抬到床上。

当银行家恢复知觉时，纽辛根夫人正坐在床尾。

“娘娘说得对！”她说。 “你为什么要尝试去购买爱情？是在市场上买的吗？——让我看看你写给她的信。”

男爵把他起草的各种草稿交给了她。纽辛根夫人读了这些信，笑了。然后是以斯帖的第三封信。

“她是一个很棒的女孩！”男爵夫人读完后喊道。

“我该做什么，蒙塔姆？”他的妻子男爵问道。

“等待。”

“等待？但大自然是无情的！”他哭了。

“听着，亲爱的，你对我真是太好了，”德尔菲娜说。 “我会给你一些好的建议。”

“你是个非常好的女人，”他说。 “就算你有欠债我也得还。”

“你收到这些信时的状态对一个女人的触动，远远超过了数百万美元的花费，或者你能写的所有信件，无论它们有多好。试着间接地让她知道；也许她会是你的！而且——不用顾忌，她不会因此而死。”她补充道，目光敏锐地看着她的丈夫。

但纽辛根夫人对这些女人的本质一无所知。

“最聪明的人是蒙塔姆·德·纽辛根！”当他的妻子离开他时，男爵自言自语地说。

尽管如此，男爵越是欣赏他妻子的巧妙建议，他就越不知道自己该如何行动。他不仅觉得自己很蠢，而且他自己也这么告诉自己。

富人的愚蠢虽然几乎是众所周知的，但只是相对而言的。心智的能力就像四肢的灵活性一样，需要锻炼。舞者的力量在于脚；铁匠在他怀里；市场搬运工接受过搬运货物的培训；歌手活动他的喉部；钢琴家绷紧了手腕。银行家从事商业事务；他研究和计划它们，并拉动各种兴趣的线，就像剧作家通过结合情境、研究演员、赋予戏剧人物生命来训练他的智力一样。

我们不应该在纽辛根男爵身上寻找对话的力量，就像在数学家的大脑中寻找诗人的形象一样。一个时代有多少诗人，要么是优秀的散文作家，要么像科努埃尔夫人一样在日常生活中诙谐幽默？布冯是个乏味的伙伴。牛顿从来没有恋爱过。拜伦勋爵只爱他自己。卢梭心情郁闷，有些疯狂。拉封丹心不在焉。人的能量如果分布均匀，就会产生愚笨、平庸的现象；给予的不平等会导致那些被称为天才的不协调者，如果我们能看到它们，它们看起来就像是畸形。同样的法则支配着身体；完美的美通常与冷漠或愚蠢联系在一起。尽管帕斯卡既是一位伟大的数学家又是一位伟大的作家，尽管博马舍是一位优秀的商人，扎梅特是一位深奥的朝臣，但这些罕见的例外证明了大脑功能专业化的一般原则。

在投机计算的范围内，银行家所投入的智慧和技能、技巧和精神力量，与经验丰富的外交家在国家事务上的投入一样多。如果他在办公室之外也同样出色，那么这位银行家将是一个伟人。纽辛根与德利涅亲王、马扎林或狄德罗共同创造了一个几乎不可思议的人类公式，但它仍然被称为伯里克利、亚里士多德、伏尔泰和拿破仑。帝国皇冠的辉煌决不能让我们忽视个人的优点；皇帝很有魅力，见多识广，而且很机智。

德纽辛根先生只是一名银行家，仅此而已，像大多数银行家一样，在自己的业务之外没有创造力，除了健全的安全之外，不相信任何东西。在艺术方面，他有很好的判断力，手头有现金，可以向各个领域的专家求助，当他愿意时，他可以求助于最好的建筑师、最好的外科医生、最伟大的绘画或雕像鉴赏家、最聪明的律师。建造一座房子，照顾他的健康，购买一件艺术品或一处房产。但由于没有公认的阴谋专家，没有公认的爱情鉴赏家，银行家在恋爱时就会遇到困难，对女人的经营也很困惑。因此，纽辛根想不出比他迄今为止所追求的更好的方法了——给一些弗朗廷（男性或女性）一笔钱，让他为他行动和思考。

只有圣埃斯特夫夫人才能实现男爵夫人设想的计划。纽辛根非常后悔与那个可恶的老卖衣服的人争吵。然而，他对自己的钱箱和加拉特签署的令人宽慰的文件充满信心，于是他打电话给他的人，告诉他在圣马克街上寻找那个令人厌恶的寡妇，并希望她来见他。

在巴黎，极限因激情而相遇。罪恶不断地将富人与穷人、伟人和普通人捆绑在一起。皇后咨询了莱诺曼小姐；每个时代的优秀绅士总能找到朗波诺。

两个小时后，该男子就回来了。

“男爵先生，”他说，“圣埃斯特夫夫人毁了。”

“啊！好多了！男爵高兴地喊道。 “我会给她一个安全的巢穴。”

“好女人似乎都沉迷于赌博，”男仆继续说道。 “而且，更重要的是，她受到郊区剧院一位三流演员的控制，为了体面，她称他为教子。她看起来是一位一流的厨师，并且想要一个位置。”

“普通人的天才们总是有十种赚钱的方式，也有十几种花钱的方式，”男爵自言自语地说，他完全没有意识到潘努奇也有同样的想法。

他派仆人去寻找圣埃斯特夫夫人，但她直到第二天才来。在阿西的质问下，仆人向这位女间谍透露了他的情妇写给男爵先生的纸条的可怕后果。

“先生一定非常爱这个女人，”他最后说道，“因为他快要死了。就我而言，我建议他永远不要回到她身边，因为他很快就会被哄骗。他们说，一个女人已经让男爵先生花费了五十万法郎，还没有算上他在圣乔治街的房子上花了多少钱！但这个女人只关心钱，而且只关心钱。——夫人从先生房间出来时，笑着说：“再这样下去，那个贱人就要让我成为寡妇了！”

“恶魔！”阿西喊道； “杀鸡取卵是不行的。”

“男爵先生现在除了你别无希望，”男仆说。

哎呀！事实上，我确实知道如何让女人走。”

“好吧，走进去吧，”那人说道，向这种神秘的力量鞠躬。

“嗯，”假圣埃斯特夫说道，带着卑鄙的神情走进受难者的房间，“男爵先生遇到了一些困难吗？你还能期待什么！每个人都愿意攻击他的弱点。亲爱的我，我也有过烦恼。两个月之内，我的命运之轮发生了翻天覆地的变化。我正在这儿寻找一个地方！——我们俩都不太聪明。如果男爵先生愿意让我当埃丝特夫人的厨师，我将是最忠诚的奴隶。先生，我应该对您有所帮助，让您留意尤金妮和夫人。”

“没有希望了，”男爵说。 “我无法成功成为主人，我被允许这样的姿态——”

“作为上衣，”艾西插嘴道。“好吧，你已经让别人跳舞了，爸爸，而那个小荡妇却抓住了你，并且在愚弄你。——天堂是公正的！”

“只是？”男爵说。 “我并没有派人去叫你来向我传道——”

“呸，我的孩子！一点点说教不会伤到骨头。对于我们这样的人来说，它是生命之盐，就像恶习对于你们这些偏执狂来说一样。——来吧，你慷慨吗？她的债你还清了吗？”

“啊，”男爵悲伤地说。

” “那就好；你已经把她的东西从典当里拿走了，那就更好了。但你必须看到这还不够。这一切都让她没有了职业，而这些生物就爱冲锋陷阵——”

“我要给她一个惊喜，圣乔治街——她知道这一点，”男爵说。 “但我不会被愚弄。”

“好吧，那就放了她吧。”

“我只怕她会放我走！”男爵喊道。

“我们希望我们的钱物有所值，我的孩子，”阿西回答道。 “听我说。我们已经欺骗了公众数百万美元，我的小朋友？我听说你拥有两千五百万。”

男爵忍不住笑了。

“好吧，你必须放开一个。”

“我会放一个，但一旦我放了一个，我就不得不再放一个。”

“是的，我明白了。”阿西回答道。 “你不会说B，因为害怕不得不继续说Z。不过，埃丝特是个好女孩——”

“一个非常诚实的女孩，”银行家喊道。 “她已经准备好屈服了；但仅限于偿还债务。”

“总之，她不想当你的情妇，她不想当你的情妇。”她感到厌恶。——好吧，我理解；这孩子总是做她想做的事。当一个女孩只认识迷人的年轻人时，她就无法接受一个年长的男人。你并不英俊；你和路易十八一样大，而且是个相当乏味的伙伴，因为所有男人都试图哄骗财富，而不是把自己奉献给女人。——好吧，如果你不认为六十万法郎太多的话，”阿西说， “我保证让她成为你想要的任何东西。”

“六亨特图桑法郎！”男爵吃惊地叫道。 “艾丝特一开始就要花我一百万！”

“幸福确实值一百六十万法郎，你这个老罪人。要知道，现在的男人在情妇身上的花费肯定不止一两百万。我什至认识那些让男人付出生命代价的女人，她们的头颅被滚进篮子里。——你知道毒死他朋友的医生吗？他想要钱来满足女人。”

“贾，我知道所有这些。但如果我在爱情中，我就不是白痴，至少我在这里是卑鄙的；但如果我见到她，我会把我的钱包给她——”

“好吧，听听男爵先生，”阿西摆出塞米勒米斯人的态度说道。 “你已经被榨干了。现在，尽管我的名字叫圣埃斯蒂夫——当然，从商业角度来说——我会支持你。”

“咕咕，我一定会报答你的。”

“我相信你，我的孩子，因为我已经向你表明我知道如何报仇。此外，我告诉你，爸爸，我知道如何像吹灭蜡烛一样吹灭你的埃丝特夫人。我认识我的女士！当小哈比曾经让你开心过的时候，她对你来说会比此时更加重要。你给了我丰厚的报酬；你允许自己被愚弄，但毕竟你已经掏钱了。——我已经履行了协议中我的部分，不是吗？好吧，你看这里，我和你做一笔交易。”

“让我听听。”

“你应该让我担任夫人厨师，聘用我十年，并预付最后五年的费用——那是什么？只要一点保证金。当我谈到夫人时，我可以让她接受这些条款。当然，你必须先向奥古斯特夫人订购一件可爱的裙子，奥古斯特夫人了解她的风格和品味；并吩咐新马车四点钟就到门口。交易所关门后，去她的房间，带她去布洛涅森林兜一圈。好吧，通过这个行为，女人宣称自己是你的情妇；她向全巴黎的目光和知识宣传自己：十万法郎。——你必须和她一起吃饭——我知道如何做这样的晚餐！——你必须带她去看戏，去综艺节目，去舞台-盒子，然后整个巴黎都会说，“那个老流氓纽辛根和他的情妇在那里。”知道有这样的说法真是令人受宠若惊。——嗯，所有这些，因为我不明白，都包括在第一个十万法郎中。——一周内，通过这样的行为，你会取得一些进展—— ”

“但我已经付了一百法郎了。”

“在第二周的时间里，”艾茜继续说道，仿佛她没有听到这可悲的呼喊，“夫人，在这些预备的诱惑下，会下定决心离开她的小公寓，搬到你住的房子里去。”给她。你的埃丝特将会再次看到这个世界，找到她的老朋友；她会希望光芒四射，为她的宫殿带来荣誉——这是事物的本质：再花十万法郎！——天哪！埃丝特妥协了，你在那里就像在家里一样——她必须是你的。剩下的只是小事，你必须扮演主角，老象。 （这个怪物的眼睛睁得多么大啊！） 好吧，我也答应：四十万——而且，我的好朋友，你不必等到第二天才付钱。对于诚实，你怎么看？我对你的信心胜过你对我的信心。如果我说服夫人以你的情妇的身份出现，让自己妥协，接受你送给她的每一份礼物——也许就在这一天，你就会相信我有能力诱使她打开大圣伯纳德的通道。我可以告诉你，这是一项艰苦的工作；让你的大炮通过所需要的拉力就像第一位执政官翻越阿尔卑斯山所需要的拉力一样。”

“但是维？”

“她的心充满了爱，老剃须刀，拉西布斯，就像你说的懂拉丁文的人一样，”阿西回答道。 “她认为自己是示巴女王，因为她已经为她的爱人做出了牺牲——这种想法已经进入了她的脑海！好吧，好吧，老伙计，我们必须公正。——没关系！那个包袱会因为成为你的情妇而悲伤而死——我真的不应该感到奇怪。但我相信，并且我告诉你要给你勇气，底层的女孩也有好的一面。”

“你有腐败的天赋，”男爵说道，他在钦佩的沉默中听着阿西的讲话，“就像我有银行业的诀窍一样。”

“那么就这么决定了，我的鸽子？”阿西说。

“五十法郎就完成了，而不是一百法郎！——在我胜利后的第二天，我将给你五百法郎。”

“很好，我这就开始工作。”阿西说道。 “您可以来，先生，”她恭敬地补充道。 “你会发现夫人已经像猫的背一样柔软，也许还倾向于让自己变得愉快。”

“走吧，走吧，我的好女人，”银行家搓着双手说道。

看到可怕的混血儿走出房子后，他对自己说：

“拥有很多钱是多么不幸啊。”

他从床上跳起来，走进办公室，心情轻松地继续处理他那庞大的事务。

对于埃丝特来说，没有什么比纽辛根采取的步骤更致命的了。这个不幸的女孩在捍卫自己的忠诚时，也是在捍卫自己的生命。这种非常自然的本能就是卡洛斯所说的拘谨。现在，阿西在遇到这种情况时，也像往常一样采取了预防措施，她去向卡洛斯报告了她与男爵举行的会议，以及她从中获得的所有利润。这个男人的愤怒，就像他自己一样，非常可怕。他立即乘着一辆拉着百叶窗的马车来到了埃丝特面前，驶进了庭院。那个双染伪造者仍然气得脸色苍白，径直走进了可怜女孩的房间。她看着他——她站起来了——然后她倒在一张椅子上，好像她的腿断了一样。

“怎么了，先生？”她说，四肢都在颤抖。

“欧洲，离开我们吧，”他对女仆说。

艾丝特看着这个女人，就像一个孩子看着自己的母亲一样，因为某个刺客从母亲手中夺走了她并谋杀了她。

“你知道你要把路西恩送到哪里吗？”当卡洛斯和埃丝特单独在一起时，卡洛斯继续说道。

“在哪里？”她低声问道，并冒险看了一眼刽子手。

“我从哪里来，我的美丽。”艾丝特看着这个男人，脸红了。 “对绿巨人来说，”他低声补充道。

艾丝特闭上眼睛，伸了个懒腰，双臂垂下，脸色煞白。那人按响了电话，普鲁登斯出现了。

“把她带过来，”他冷冷地说。 “我还没做呢。”

他一边等待，一边在客厅里走来走去。普鲁登斯-欧罗普只好过来恳求先生把埃丝特抱到床上。他轻松地抱着她，透露出运动的力量。

他们必须获得药剂师所有最强的兴奋剂，才能让埃丝特重新认识到她的痛苦。一小时后，可怜的女孩坐在床脚边，能够听到这个活生生的噩梦，他的眼睛固定着，像两点熔化的铅一样闪闪发光。

“我的小甜心，”他说，“吕西安现在正处于辉煌的生活、光荣的、幸福的、受人尊敬的生活和我遇见他时他要跳进的充满水、泥土和碎石的洞之间。格兰德利厄家族要求这个可爱的男孩拥有价值一百万法郎的庄园，然后才为他争取侯爵头衔，并将那根名叫克洛蒂尔德的五月柱交给他，在克洛蒂尔德的帮助下，他将登上权力宝座。感谢你和我，吕西安刚刚购买了他母亲的庄园，古老的鲁宾普雷城堡，事实上，这并没有花多少钱——三万法郎；但他的律师通过巧妙的谈判，成功地在其中增加了价值一百万的遗产，并为此支付了三十万法郎。城堡、费用以及那些被提出作为盲人向乡下人隐瞒交易的人的百分比，已经吞噬了剩下的部分。

“可以肯定的是，我们在这里投资了十万法郎，几个月后这家企业的价值将达到二三十万法郎；但仍需支付四十万法郎。

“三天后，吕西安就会从他去过的昂古莱姆回家，因为他不会被怀疑通过重新整理你的床而发了大财——”

“不好了！”她喊道，带着高贵的冲动抬起头来。

“那我问你，现在是吓跑男爵的时候吗？”他平静地继续说道。 “前天你差点杀了他；读到你的第二封信时，他像个女人一样晕倒了。你的风格很好——我祝贺你！如果男爵死了，我们现在应该在哪里？——当吕西安从圣托马斯女婿走向格兰德利厄公爵时，如果你想尝试在塞纳河里畅游——好吧，我的美女，我向你伸出我的手，一起潜水。这是结束事情的一种方式。

“但是请考虑一下。活着并一次又一次地对自己说“这好运，这个幸福的家庭”不是更好吗——因为他会有孩子——孩子们！——你有没有想过用手指抚摸孩子们的头发是多么快乐？”

艾丝特闭上眼睛，微微颤抖。

“好吧，当你凝视那个幸福的结构时，你可能会对自己说，‘这是我做的！’”

一阵停顿，两人对视一眼。

“这就是我在绝望中试图做出的事情，因为除了河牌之外没有任何问题，”卡洛斯说。 “我自私吗？这就是爱的方式！人们只对国王表现出如此的忠诚！但我已任命吕西安为王。如果我余下的日子都被我的旧链条牢牢地牢牢拴住，我想我可以辞职呆在那里，只要我能说，“他是同性恋，他在法庭上。”我的灵魂和思想将会胜利，而我的尸体却被交给了狱卒！你只是一个女人；你像女人一样爱！但对妓女来说，就像对所有堕落的生物一样，爱应该成为母性的一种手段，尽管大自然使你无法生育！

“如果有一天，在卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父的皮下，有人发现我曾经是一个罪犯，你知道我会怎么做才能避免连累吕西安吗？”

艾丝特有些焦急地等待着答复。

“好吧，”他短暂停顿后说道，“我会像黑人一样死去——一言不发。而你，你的架势会让人们发现我的踪迹。我对你有什么要求？——再次成为拉·托皮耶六个月——六个星期；并做到这一点以抓住一百万。

“路西恩永远不会忘记你。人们不会忘记每天早上醒来时富有的喜悦日复一日地提醒他们的存在。吕西安是一个比你更好的人。他一开始就爱科拉莉。她死了——很好；但他没有足够的钱埋葬她；他没有像你刚才那样做，他没有晕倒，尽管他是一个诗人；他写了六首欢快的歌曲，赚了三百法郎，用来支付科拉莉的葬礼费用。我有那些歌；我对他们了如指掌。好吧，那么你也创作你的歌曲：快乐、狂野、不可抗拒，而且——永不满足！你听到我了吗？——别让我再说话了。

“亲爸爸。再见。”

半小时后，当欧洲走进她情妇的房间时，她发现她跪在十字架前，以最虔诚的画家在何烈山燃烧的灌木丛前对摩西的态度，描绘他深沉而坚定的内心。完全崇拜耶和华。在祈祷之后，埃丝特放弃了她更好的生活，她为自己创造的荣誉，她的荣耀，她的美德和她的爱。

她起来了。

“噢，夫人，您再也不会像现在这样了！” “普鲁登斯·瑟维恩喊道，她被女主人的绝美美貌所震惊。

她赶紧转动长镜子，让这个可怜的女孩看到自己。她的眼眸中依然闪烁着灵魂飞翔的光芒。犹太女的肤色光彩夺目。她的睫毛在祈祷的热情中闪闪发光，就像夏日阵雨后的树叶，最后一次闪耀着纯洁爱的阳光。她的嘴唇似乎保留着她最后一次向天使求助时的表情，毫无疑问，她借用了天使的殉难手掌，同时将她过去纯洁的生活交到了他们手中。她拥有玛丽·斯图尔特在告别王冠、告别尘世和爱情时一定表现出的威严。

“但愿路西恩也能看到我这个样子！”她叹了口气说道。 “现在，”她用刺耳的语气补充道，“现在就去纵情狂欢吧！”

欧洲闻言呆呆地站着，仿佛听到了天使的亵渎。

“好吧，为什么你需要盯着我看我嘴里是否有丁香而不是牙齿？从此以后，我只是一个卑鄙肮脏的生物、一个小偷——我期待大人。那就给我洗个热水澡，把衣服拿出来。十二点了;毫无疑问，当交易所关闭时，男爵会介入。我会告诉他我在等他，阿西要为我们准备晚餐，请注意，第一顿饭；我的意思是转动这个人的大脑。——来吧，快点，快点，我的女孩；我们要找点乐子——也就是说，我们必须去工作。”

她在桌边坐下，写下了下面的字条：——

“我的朋友，——如果你派给我的厨师还没有来的话
我的服务，我可能以为你的目的是让我
你知道昨天收到我的三封信时你有多少次晕倒吗？
笔记。 （我能说什么？那天我很紧张；我
回想我悲惨的存在的记忆。）但我知道
阿西多么真诚啊。尽管如此，我仍无法后悔造成你的后果
如此多的痛苦，因为它向我证明了你有多么
爱我。我们就是这样被造的，我们不幸且被鄙视
生物;真正的感情比寻找更能触动我们的心
我们自己就是慷慨的对象。就我而言，我有
总是很害怕成为一个钉子，把你挂在上面
虚荣心。我对你来说什么都不是，这让我很恼火。是的，尽管如此
在你所有的抗议中，我想你只是把我当作一个
女人付钱了。

“好吧，你现在会给我找一个好女孩，但条件是你
总是稍微服从我。

“如果这封信能以任何方式代替医生的信
处方，在交易所之后来见我来证明它
关闭。你会发现我身披无花果，穿着你的礼物，因为我
我一生都是你的快乐机器，

“以斯帖。”

在交易所，纽辛根男爵是如此快乐，如此开朗，看起来如此随和，并且允许自己开很多​​玩笑，以至于正在改变的杜蒂莱和凯勒夫妇忍不住问他为何如此兴奋。烈酒。

“我很受宠。我们很快就会提供房屋维修服务，”他告诉杜蒂莱。

“那你花了多少钱？”弗朗索瓦·凯勒粗鲁地问道——据说他每年在科勒维尔夫人身上花费了两万五千法郎。

“那沃曼是一位天使！她从来没有向我要过一苏。”

“他们从来不这样做，”杜蒂莱回答道。 “这是为了避免询问他们总是有阿姨或母亲。”

在交易所和泰特布街之间，男爵七次对他的仆人说：

“你走得太慢了——贵宾马！”

他轻快地跑上楼，第一次看到他的情妇拥有如此美丽的女人，她们除了照顾自己的身体和衣服之外没有其他事情。刚从浴缸里出来的花非常新鲜，散发着香味，激发了罗伯特·达布里塞尔的欲望。

艾丝特穿着迷人的服装。一件镶有玫瑰色镶边的黑色绳索丝绸连衣裙，在灰色缎子衬裙上敞开，英俊的歌手阿米戈随后在 清教徒。一条霍尼顿蕾丝头巾从她的肩膀上掉落或飘过。她礼服的袖子上用绳子绑起来，将泡泡分开，有一段时间，时尚已经取代了已经变得过于怪异的大袖子。艾丝特用别针将一顶梅赫林蕾丝帽固定在她华丽的头发上， 阿拉福勒顾名思义，她准备坠落，但并没有真正坠落，给人一种翻滚凌乱的感觉，尽管她的小脑袋上波浪发间的白色缝隙清晰可见。

“在这样一间破旧的客厅里看到如此可爱的夫人，难道不是一种耻辱吗？”当欧洲接纳男爵时，她对他说道。

“维尔，书房，到圣乔治街来，”男爵说着，像狗标记鹧鸪一样完全停下来。 “天气很好，我们将乘车前往香榭丽舍大街，蒙塔姆·圣埃斯特夫和尤金妮将携带你们所有的衣服和床单，我们将在圣乔治街用餐。”

“我会做任何你想做的事，”埃丝特说，“只要你能好心地称呼我的厨师为阿西，和尤金妮·欧罗普。我把这些名字命名给了从前两个名字以来一直为我服务的所有女性。我不喜欢改变——”

“亚洲，欧洲！”男爵笑着回应道。 “你真是个滑稽的人。——你有传染病。——我应该吃很多顿饭才应该叫厨师阿西。”

“我们的职责就是搞笑，”埃丝特说。 “来吧，现在，当你生活在全世界时，难道一个可怜的女孩不能由亚洲喂养，由欧洲穿衣吗？我说，这是一个神话；有些女人会吞噬地球，我只要求一半。——你明白吗？

“最重要的是蒙塔姆·圣埃斯特夫！”男爵一边自言自语，一边欣赏艾丝特改变的举止。

“欧洲，我的女孩，我想要我的帽子，”埃丝特说。 “我必须拥有一顶黑色丝绸帽子，内衬粉色，并饰有蕾丝。”

“托马斯夫人还没有把它送回家。——来吧，男爵先生；快点，走吧！开始你作为一个全能工作的人——也就是说，全能快乐的人的职责！幸福是一种负担。你的马车在这里，去托马斯夫人那里吧。”欧洲对男爵说道。 “让你的仆人为范博格塞克夫人要一顶帽子。——而且，最重要的是，”她在他耳边补充道，“给她带来巴黎最美丽的花束。现在是冬天，所以尽量买热带花卉。”

男爵下楼，吩咐仆人去“蒙塔姆·托马斯”那里。

马车夫把车开到了一家著名的糕点师那里。

“她是个女帽商，你这个该死的白痴，而不是个蛋糕店！”男爵喊道，他冲到王宫的普雷沃夫人家，在那里花了十个路易买了一束花，而他的人则去了大莫迪斯特。

一个肤浅的观察者，在巴黎走来走去，想知道谁是傻瓜，会购买那些装饰着著名花束店橱窗的精美鲜花，以及欧洲著名的 Chevet 展示的精选产品，Chevet 是唯一可以与花束竞争的供应商。 康卡勒罗谢尔 真实而美味 回顾两个世界.

好吧，在巴黎，每天都会产生一百种或更多的纽辛根热情，并通过提供女王不敢购买的稀有物品来表达，向那些用阿西的话来说是喜欢冒险的包袱们展示、跪下。但对于这些小细节，一个正派的公民会困惑地想象财富如何在这些妇女手中融化，按照傅里叶的计划，她们的社会功能也许是纠正贪婪和贪婪造成的灾难。毫无疑问，这种浪费对于社会团体来说就像柳叶刀对于众多主题的刺痛一样。两个月内，纽辛根在贸易方面的广播收入超过了二十万法郎。

当旧情人回来时，夜幕已经降临。花束已经没有任何用处了。冬天在香榭丽舍大街开车的时间是两点到四点。然而，马车的作用是将埃丝特从泰特布街运送到圣乔治街，在那里她占有了“小宫殿”。以斯帖以前从未受到如此崇拜或如此奢侈的对象，这让她感到惊讶。但就像所有王室忘恩负义的人一样，她小心翼翼地表现得并不惊讶。

当你走进罗马的圣彼得大教堂时，为了让你欣赏这座大教堂女王的范围和高度，你会看到一尊雕像的小指，它看起来是自然尺寸，尺寸我不知道有多少。描述受到了如此严厉的批评，尽管它们对于一部礼仪史来说是必要的，所以我在这里必须效仿罗马西塞罗尼的例子。当他们进入餐厅时，男爵忍不住要埃丝特摸摸窗帘的材质，窗帘华丽而华丽，衬里是白色的水洗丝绸，边缘是葡萄牙公主的镶边。紧身胸衣。材料是从广州带来的丝绸，中国人的耐心在丝绸上画出了完美的东方鸟类，只有在中世纪的插图或维也纳皇家图书馆的骄傲查理五世的弥撒书中才能看到。

“一位大人从因蒂亚带来的，花了两千法郎一埃尔——”

“这非常好，迷人，”埃丝特说。 “我将多么享受在这里喝香槟；泡沫在光秃秃的地板上不会弄脏。”

“哦！夫人！”欧洲喊道：“只看地毯！”

“这块地毯是为我的朋友托洛尼亚公爵制作的，他觉得它太珍贵了，所以我把它送给了你，我的皇后，”纽辛根说。

偶然的机会，这张地毯由我们最聪明的设计师之一设计，与中国窗帘的异想天开相匹配。墙壁由辛纳（Schinner）和莱昂·德洛拉（Leon de Lora）绘制，描绘了性感的场景，雕刻的乌木框架是从杜索梅拉德（Dusommerard）购买的与其重量相同的黄金，并用窄窄的金色线条形成面板，害羞地捕捉光线。

由此你可以判断其余的事情。

“你带我来这里真是太好了，”埃丝特说。 “我需要一周的时间才能适应我的家，而不是在里面看起来像个暴发户——”

“My 家！你会接受吗？男爵高兴地喊道。

“当然，当然，还有一千次，愚蠢的动物，”她微笑着说。

“动物管够了——”

“愚蠢是一个表示爱意的词，”她看着他说道。

可怜的人握住埃丝特的手，把它按在自己的心口上。他很动物性，能够感受到，但又太愚蠢，无法用语言表达。

“感受一下它的跳动——因为那小小的温柔的漩涡——”

他把他的女神带到了她的房间。

“哦，夫人，我不能留在这里！”尤金妮喊道。 “这让我很想睡觉。”

“好吧，”埃丝特说，“我的意思是取悦那位创造了所有这些奇迹的魔术师。——听着，我的胖象，晚饭后我们一起去看戏。我很饿，想看一场戏。”

艾丝特上一次去剧院才五年。当时整个巴黎都涌向圣马丁门，观看其中一部演员的力量赋予现实可怕的表达的作品， 理查德·达灵顿。像所有天真无邪的人一样，埃丝特喜欢感受恐惧的刺激，也喜欢流下悲伤的眼泪。

“我们去见弗雷德里克·勒梅特吧，”她说。 “他是我崇拜的演员。”

“这是一部可怕的作品，”纽辛根预见到他必须在公共场合展示自己的那一刻时说道。

他派他的仆人去保护顶层的两个舞台包厢之一。——这是巴黎的另一个奇怪的特征。每当成功的成功充满一屋子时，在幕布升起前十分钟总会有一个舞台包厢。经理们把它据为己有，除非它碰巧被认为是出于纽辛根那样的热情。这个盒子，就像切维特的美味佳肴一样，是对巴黎奥林巴斯的奇思妙想征收的税。

描述盘子和瓷器是多余的。 Nucingen提供了三种板块服务——普通、中等、最佳；最好的——盘子、盘子等等，都是雕花镀金的银质的。为了避免桌上的金银过多，银行家用德累斯顿瓷器风格的精美易碎的瓷器完成了每项服务的排列，这些瓷器的价格比盘子还要高。至于亚麻布——萨克森、英格兰、佛兰德斯和法国都在争夺花朵锦缎的完美程度。

晚餐时，轮到男爵对阿西的厨艺感到惊讶。

“我明白，”他说，“你可以叫她阿西；这就是亚洲烹饪。”

“我开始认为他爱我，”埃丝特对欧洲说； “他说过类似的话 本莫设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“我说过很多次，”他说。

“出色地！他比我听说的更像图卡雷特！”女孩听到这个回答，大笑起来，大声喊道，这与这位银行家著名的许多朴实的演讲不相上下。

这些菜肴的香料太重了，导致男爵消化不良，故意让他早点回家。所以这就是他与埃丝特在一起的第一个晚上所得到的所有快乐。在剧院里，他不得不喝大量的蔗糖水，在演出间隙留下埃丝特独自一人。

那天晚上，图莉亚、玛丽埃特和杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人都在看戏，这可能是一个巧合，很难说是巧合。 理查德·达灵顿 取得了巨大的成功——而且是当之无愧的成功——这种情况只有在巴黎才能看到。看过这部剧的男人们都得出这样的结论：合法的妻子可能会被扔出窗外，而妻子们则喜欢看到自己受到不公正的迫害。

女人们互相说：“这太过分了！我们被迫这样做——但这种事经常发生！”

现在，像埃丝特一样美丽、穿着像埃丝特那样的女人，不能在圣马丁门的包厢里炫耀而不受惩罚。因此，在第二幕中，两位舞者所坐的包厢里发生了一阵骚动，原因是未知的公平者与拉·托皮耶的身份无疑。

“全盛时期！她是从哪里掉下来的？”玛丽埃特对杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说道。 “我以为她被淹死了。”

“但是是她吗？在我看来，她比六年前年轻了三十七倍，也英俊了三十七倍。”

“也许她像德斯帕德夫人和扎永切克夫人一样，把自己保存在冰里，”带这三位女士去看戏的布朗堡伯爵说，他把她们带到了一个地下包厢里。 “她不是你要派我去捉弄我叔叔的‘老鼠’吗？”他对图莉亚说道。

“一模一样，”歌手说。 “杜布鲁尔，去摊位看看是不是她。”

“她有什么黄铜！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人大声说道，这句话虽然富有表现力，但却很粗俗。

“哦！”勃朗堡伯爵说，“她很可能。她和我的朋友纽辛根男爵在一起——我会去——”

“这就是在纽辛根掀起风暴的完美圣女贞德吗？三个月过去了，人们一直在谈论她，直到我们都厌倦了她？”玛丽埃特问道。

“晚上好，亲爱的男爵，”菲利普·布里道走进纽辛根的包厢时说道。 “那么，你就在这里，嫁给了埃丝特小姐。——小姐，我是一位老军官，你曾一度要让他摆脱困境——在伊苏丹——菲利普·布里道——”

“我对此一无所知，”埃丝特一边说，一边透过望远镜环视着房子。

“这位女士，”男爵说道，“‘艾丝特’不再那么短了！她叫蒙塔姆·德·尚皮——我为她买了一个小庄园——”

“虽然你做事风格如此，”伯爵说，“这些女士们却说尚皮夫人太架子了。——如果你不选择记住我，你能屈尊承认玛丽埃特、图莉亚、杜夫人吗？”瓦尔-诺布尔？”暴发户继续说道——莫弗里纽斯公爵为他赢得了王太子的青睐。

“如果这些女士对我友善，我愿意让自己对她们友善。”尚皮夫人冷冷地回答。

“种类！为什么，他们很优秀；他们给你命名为圣女贞德。”菲利普回答道。

“维尔登，如果这些女士愿意陪伴你，”纽辛根说，“我会离开的，因为我吃得太多了。你的马车将为你和你的人民而来。——Dat teufel Asie！

“第一次，你就别管我了！”以斯帖说。 “来吧，来吧，你要有足够的勇气死在甲板上。我出去的时候必须有我的男人陪着我。如果我被侮辱了，难道我就可以无缘无故地哭吗？”

老百万富翁的自私不得不让位于他作为情人的责任。男爵受了苦，但留下来了。

艾丝特拘留“她的男人”有她自己的理由。如果她承认自己是熟人，那么当他在场时，她会比独自一人时受到更少的严密盘问。菲利普·布里多（Philippe Bridau）赶紧回到舞者们所坐的包厢，向他们通报了情况。

“哦！ “这么说来，她就是我在圣乔治街的房子的继承人了。”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人有些苦涩地说道。因为，正如她所说，她逍遥法外。

“很有可能，”上校说。 “杜蒂莱告诉我，男爵在那里花的钱是你可怜的法莱克斯的三倍。”

“我们去她的包厢吧，”图莉亚说。

“如果我知道的话就不会，”玛丽埃特说。 “她太帅了，我回家看看她。”

“我认为自己长得足够漂亮，可以冒险，”图莉亚说。

于是，这位大胆的领舞者在表演间隙走来走去，重新认识了埃丝特，而埃丝特只谈论一般性话题。

“我亲爱的孩子，你从哪里回来？”图莉亚抑制不住好奇心问道。

“哦，我和一个英国人一起在阿尔卑斯山的一座城堡里呆了五年，他像老虎一样嫉妒，是个富翁；我称他为“nabot”，即“侏儒”，因为他没有 le bailli de Ferrette 那么大。

“然后我遇到了一位银行家——正如弗洛琳可能会说的那样，从野蛮人到拯救者。现在我又来到了巴黎；我非常渴望娱乐，所以我想度过一段难得的时光。我将保持开放。我还有五年的单独监禁时间需要弥补，现在我正在开始这样做。对于一个英国人来说，五年的时间实在是太长了。广告上说的是六周的津贴。”

“那条蕾丝是男爵给你的吗？”

“不，这是富翁的遗物。——亲爱的，我的运气真不好！他脸色发黄，就像朋友因成功而微笑一样。我以为十个月后他就会死。呸!他坚强如山。永远不要相信那些自称患有肝脏疾病的男性。我永远不会听一个谈论他的肝脏的人。我已经有太多的肝脏了，他不能死。我的富翁抢劫了我；他没有立遗嘱就去世了，家人像麻风病人一样把我赶出了家门。——所以，那么，我对这里的胖朋友说，“付两个人的钱！”——你不妨叫我圣女贞德；因为我是圣女贞德。我毁了英格兰，也许我会死在火刑柱上——”

“爱情？”图莉亚说。

“然后被活活烧死了。”埃丝特回答道，这个问题让她陷入沉思。

男爵对这些粗俗的胡言乱语一笑置之，但他并不总是乐于接受，因此他的笑声听起来就像烟花过后被遗忘的爆竹。

我们都生活在某种领域，每个领域的居民都被赋予了同等的好奇心。

第二天晚上在歌剧院，埃丝特的再次出现是幕后的好消息。下午两点到四点之间，香榭丽舍大街上的整个巴黎都认出了拉·托皮耶，终于知道谁是纽辛根男爵的激情对象了。

“你知道吗，”布隆代在歌剧院的休息室里对德·马赛说道，“当我们在这里看到拉托皮耶并认出她是小鲁本普雷的情妇的那天晚上之后的第二天，她就消失了。”

在巴黎，就像在外省一样，一切都是众所周知的。耶路撒冷街的警察并不像世界本身那么高效，因为每个人都是其他人的间谍，尽管是无意识的。卡洛斯在泰特布特街事件期间和之后充分了解了吕西安立场的危险性。

杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人现在所处的处境是最可怕的。而“逍遥法外”这个短语，或者用法国人的话来说，“步行离开”，完美地表达了这一点。这些女人的鲁莽和奢侈，排除了对未来的所有关心。在那个奇怪的世界里，比人们想象的要诙谐有趣得多，只有那些不具备完美美貌的女人，而这种美貌是时间难以磨灭的，而且是毫无疑问的——简而言之，只有这样的女人才可以被爱。作为一个幻想，曾经想过晚年并节省一笔财富。越是帅，越是没有远见。

“你省钱就不怕变丑吗？”这是弗洛琳对玛丽埃特的一次演讲，这或许可以为人们这种不节俭的原因提供一些线索。

因此，如果一个投机者自杀，或者一个挥霍无度的人耗尽了自己的资源，这些女人就会以可怕的速度从大胆的财富跌入极度的痛苦。他们投入旧衣买家的怀抱，为了一首歌而出售精美的珠宝；他们负债累累，显然是为了维持一种虚假的奢侈，希望能找回他们失去的东西——一个可以动用的钱箱。他们职业生涯的起起落落说明了这种联系的代价高昂，通常是因为阿西为埃丝特迷上了纽辛根（她的词汇中的另一个词）。

因此，那些了解巴黎的人都非常清楚，当他们在香榭丽舍大街——那个熙熙攘攘、杂乱无章的集市——遇到一些坐在租来的飞机上的女人时，他们六个月或一年前曾在一家华丽的酒店里见过她。以及耀眼的马车，演绎出最奢华的风范。

“如果你在圣佩拉吉跌倒，你必须想办法在布洛涅森林反弹，”弗洛琳说，一边和布朗德一起笑着谈论小子爵波尔滕杜埃。

一些聪明的女人从来不会冒这种对比的风险。他们把自己埋在设施简陋的住所里，用在撒哈拉沙漠中迷路的旅行者所忍受的贫困来弥补自己的奢侈。但他们从不考虑经济。他们冒险去参加化装舞会；他们前往各省旅行；天气好的时候，他们在林荫大道上穿着得体。然后他们在彼此身上发现了只有被禁止的种族才有的忠诚的善意。一个幸运的女人不需要付出任何努力就可以提供帮助，因为她对自己说：“到周日我可能也会陷入同样的​​困境！”

然而，最有效的保护者仍然是服装的购买者。当这个贪婪的放债人发现自己是债权人时，她就煽动所有她认识的老人的心，让她青睐这个穿着薄靴子、戴着精美帽子的抵押生物。

就这样，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人无法预见最富有、最聪明的股票经纪人之一的垮台，因此措手不及。她随心所欲地花掉了法莱克斯的钱，并信任他提供所有必需品并为未来做好准备。

“我怎么能想到一个看起来这么好的人会做出这样的事情呢？”

几乎在社会的每一个阶层，好人都是一个慷慨的人，他会时不时地借出一些克朗，而不期望得到回报，他的行为总是符合某种微妙的情感准则，而不仅仅是粗俗的、强制性的和平庸的。道德。某些被视为有道德和诚实的人，像纽辛根一样，却毁掉了他们的恩人；还有一些经历过刑事法庭审判的人对女性有着巧妙的诚实。完美的美德，作为阿尔赛斯特的莫里哀的梦想，是极其罕见的。尽管如此，它仍然随处可见，甚至在巴黎也是如此。 “好人”是某种自然设施的产物，但它并不能证明什么。人是好人，就像猫是柔滑的，就像拖鞋是为了滑到脚上一样。因此，按照一个被保留的女人赋予这个词的含义，法莱克斯应该警告他的情妇他即将破产，并给她足够的生活费。

德爱图尔尼，这个风度翩翩的骗子，是个好人。他打牌时作弊，但他已经为他的情妇留了三万法郎。在狂欢节晚宴上，女人们会反驳他的指控者：“没关系。你可以随心所欲地说，乔治是个好人。他有迷人的举止，他值得更好的命运。”

这些女孩嘲笑法律，蔑视法律，崇拜某种慷慨。他们像以斯帖一样，为了一个秘密的理想而出卖自己，这就是他们的宗教。

费了九牛二虎之力从沉船中拯救了一些珠宝后，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人被可怕的报告所压垮：“她毁了法莱。”她已经快三十岁了；尽管她正值盛年，但她仍然可能被称为老妇人，更何况在这样的危机中，所有女人的竞争对手都反对她。玛丽埃特、弗洛琳、图莉亚会请他们的朋友吃饭，并给她一些帮助；但由于他们不知道她的债务有多少，所以他们不敢去探寻那个深渊。拉托皮耶和杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人之间的巴黎潮汐潮起潮落之间的间隔六年太长了，“步行”的女人无法与马车里的女人说话。但拉瓦尔·诺布尔知道，埃丝特太慷慨了，有时她不会忘记，正如她所说，她已经成为了自己财产的继承人，也不会不通过一些看似偶然的会面来寻找她，虽然是安排好的。为了造成这样的意外，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人穿着最淑女的打扮，每天挽着西奥多·盖拉德的手臂在香榭丽舍大街上散步，后来盖拉德娶了她，而盖拉德在这些海峡里，对他的前情妇表现得很好，在演出时给她盒子，并邀请她参加每次狂欢。她自以为埃丝特会在一个晴朗的日子开车出去，与她面对面地见面。

埃丝特的车夫是帕卡德——因为她的家庭是在卡洛斯的指导下，阿西、欧罗普和帕卡德在五天之内就布置好了的，这样一来，圣乔治街的房子就成了一座坚不可摧的堡垒。

佩拉德方面，出于深深的仇恨，出于对复仇的渴望，最重要的是，他希望看到他亲爱的莉迪结婚，当他从康滕森那里听说这一消息后，他立即将香榭丽舍大街作为他散步的终点站。德·纽辛根先生的情妇可能会在那里被发现。佩拉德的穿着与英国人一模一样，法语说得那么完美，带着英国人赋予这种语言的装腔作势的口音。他对英国本身非常了解，也非常熟悉这个国家的所有风俗习惯，1779年至1786年间，他曾三度被警察当局派往英国，因此他可以在伦敦和大使官邸中不眠不休地发挥自己的作用。怀疑。佩拉德与著名杂耍演员穆森有些相似，他能如此有效地伪装自己，以至于康滕森一度认不出他。

佩拉德身后跟着装扮成黑白混血儿的康坦森，他用一双看似漫不经心的眼睛审视着埃丝特和她的仆人。因此，很自然地，在晴朗干燥的天气里，在马车公司行走的小巷里，他站在了马车公司的旁边。有一天，埃丝特就是在这里遇见杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人的。佩拉德穿着制服的黑白混血儿跟在他后面，很自然地表现出自己的样子，就像一个只想自己的富翁一样，和两个女人排成一排，以便能听到她们谈话的几句话。

“好吧，我亲爱的孩子，”埃丝特对杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说，“来看看我吧。纽辛根有责任不让他的股票经纪人的情妇身无分文——”

“更重要的是，据说他毁了法莱克斯，”西奥多·盖拉德说道，“我们完全有权利压制他。”

“他明天和我一起吃饭，”埃丝特说。 “过来见见他。”然后她低声补充道：

“我可以对他做我喜欢做的事，但他还没有做到这一点！”她把戴着手套的手指放在她最漂亮的牙齿下面，发出咔哒声，众所周知，这种声音表达着一种特殊的能量：“没什么。”

“你保证他安全——”

“亲爱的，到目前为止他只还清了我的债务。”

“怎么说！”苏珊娜·杜瓦尔·诺布尔喊道。

“哦！”以斯帖说：“我的债务足以吓坏财政部长。现在，我的意思是在午夜钟声敲响之前每年有三万。哦！他很优秀，我没有什么可抱怨的。他做得很好。——一周后我们举行乔迁典礼；你一定要来。——那天早上，他要把圣乔治街那栋房子的租约送给我作为礼物。老实说，我自己的一年花费不到三万法郎，不可能住在这样的房子里，以便万一发生意外时保证他们的安全。我了解贫穷，我不想再有贫穷了。有些熟人让人一下子就受够了。”

“而你，曾经说过，‘我的脸就是我的财富！’——你变了多大啊！”苏珊娜惊呼道。

“这是瑞士的空气；你在那里变得节俭。——看这里；你自己去那里吧，亲爱的！抓住一个瑞士人，你也许就能抓住一个丈夫，因为他们还不知道像我们这样的女人会是什么样子。而且，无论如何，你回来时可能会带着对基金投资的热情——一种最值得尊敬和优雅的热情！——再见。”

埃丝特又坐上了她的马车，这辆漂亮的马车是由当时巴黎最优秀的一对斑纹灰马拉着的。

“上马车的那个女人很漂亮，”佩拉德对康坦森说，“但我最喜欢那个走路的女人；跟着她，看看她是谁。”

“这就是那个英国人刚刚用英语说的话，”西奥多·盖拉德说道，向杜瓦尔·诺布尔夫人重复了佩拉德的言论。

在用英语发表演讲之前，佩拉德用英语说了一两个词，这让西奥多抬起头来，让他相信记者听得懂英语。

杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人非常缓慢地走回家，来到路易大路的布置得非常体面的房间，时不时地环顾四周，看看混血儿是否在跟着她。

这所房子是由一位杰拉德夫人经营的，苏珊娜在她辉煌的日子里对她表示了感激，并为她提供了一个合适的家，以表达对她的感激之情。这个善良的灵魂，一个诚实、有道德的公民，甚至是虔诚的，把妓女视为上等的女人；她总是看到她处于奢华之中，并认为她是一个堕落的女王。她信任她的女儿们；而且——这是一个比想象的更自然的事实——妓女带她们去看戏时就像她们的母亲一样一丝不苟，杰拉德的两个女儿很爱她。这位值得尊敬、善良的宿舍管理员就像那些崇高的牧师一样，他们在这些非法妇女身上只看到了值得拯救和热爱的生物。

杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人尊重这一价值；当她与这位好女人聊天时，她常常一边羡慕她，一边哀叹自己的不幸。

“你还是那么帅；你可能会有一个好的结局，”杰拉德夫人会说。

但事实上，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人只是相对贫困而已。这个女人的衣柜如此奢华和优雅，但仍然布置得足够好，足以让她偶尔出现——就像那天晚上在圣马丁门看到的那样。 理查德·达灵顿——非常辉煌。杰拉德夫人会非常善意地为那位“步行”的女士支付出租车费，以便她出去吃饭、看戏，然后再回家。

“好吧，亲爱的杰拉德夫人，”她对这位可敬的母亲说，“我相信我的运气即将改变。”

“好吧，好吧，夫人，那就更好了。但要谨慎；不要再陷入债务了。我很难摆脱那些追捕你的人。”

“哦，不用担心那些猎犬！他们都从我身上赚了很多钱。——这里有一些给你们女儿们的综艺节目门票——第二层的一个好包厢。今晚我进来之前，如果有人要找我，还是让他们来吧。阿黛尔，我的老处女，会来的；我这就送她过来。”

杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人既没有母亲，也没有姑姑，她不得不求助于她的女仆——同样是步行——与这位不知名的追随者一起扮演圣埃斯特夫的角色，这位追随者的征服使她能够在世界上再次崛起。 。她去和西奥多·盖拉德一起吃饭，那天，西奥多·盖拉德碰巧吃了一顿狂欢，也就是说，内森为支付他输掉的赌注而提供的一顿晚餐，这是当一个男人对他的客人：“可以带个女人来。”

佩拉德下定决心亲自奔赴这场阴谋的战场，并非没有充分的理由。与此同时，他的好奇心也像科朗坦一样强烈地兴奋起来，即使没有理由，他也会尝试在这出戏中扮演一个角色。

此时查理十世的政策已经完成了最后的演变。在将国家的掌权交给他自己选择的部长之后，国王正准备征服阿尔及尔，并利用应有的荣耀作为通行证，进入所谓的他的国家。 政变。家里不再有阴谋了；查理十世相信他没有国内敌人。但在政治上，就像在海上一样，平静可能具有欺骗性。

就这样，科朗廷陷入了彻底的无所事事。在这种情况下，真正的运动员必须把手伸进去，因为缺乏百灵鸟会杀死麻雀。我们知道，多米善因为缺乏基督徒而杀死了苍蝇。目睹了埃丝特被捕的康坦森，凭借间谍的敏锐本能，完全明白了这件事的后果。正如我们所见，这个流氓并没有试图隐瞒他对纽辛根男爵的看法。

“让银行家为他的热情付出如此高昂的代价，谁会受益？”这是盟友们互相问的第一个问题。康滕森认识到阿西是这篇文章的领导者，希望通过她找到作者。但她却一次又一次地从他的指缝中溜走，像一条鳗鱼躲在巴黎的泥巴里。当他再次发现她在埃丝特的餐厅当厨师时，他觉得莫名其妙的是，这个混血儿女人竟然插手了这件事。因此，这两个艺术间谍第一次遇到了他们无法破译的文本，同时怀疑这个故事有一个黑暗的情节。

在对泰特布街的房子进行了三次大胆的尝试之后，康滕森仍然遇到了绝对的愚蠢。只要埃丝特还住在那里，旅馆的看门人似乎就生活在极度的恐惧之中。或许，阿西已经承诺，如果发生任何不检点行为，就会给全家人提供有毒的肉丸。

埃丝特被搬走的第二天，康坦森发现这个男人更顺从。他说，他对这位女士感到遗憾，她用桌上的碎盘子喂他。康坦森伪装成经纪人，试图为房间讨价还价，一边听着门房的哀叹，一边愚弄他，通过询问“真的吗？”对这个人所说的一切产生了怀疑。

“是的，先生，这位女士在这里住了五年，从来没有出去过，更重要的是，她的情人虽然无可非议，却嫉妒心极强，进出时都采取了最严格的预防措施。而且他也是一个非常英俊的年轻人！”

吕西安此时还和他的妹妹塞查德夫人住在一起。但康坦森一回来，就派门房去马拉奎斯码头，询问德·鲁本普雷先生是否愿意放弃范·博格赛克夫人最近住过的房间里剩下的家具。搬运工随后认出吕西安是年轻寡妇的神秘情人，而这正是康坦森想要的。可以想象，吕西安和卡洛斯接待看门人时内心深处的惊讶之情，他们假装将他视为疯子。他们试图推翻他的信念。

在二十四小时内，卡洛斯组织了一支部队，当场发现了康滕森的间谍活动。康滕森伪装成市场搬运工，已经两次把阿西早上买的粮食带回家，并两次进入圣乔治街的小宅邸。科朗坦则引起了轰动。但当他认出卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera）的身份时，他的脚步戛然而止。因为他立刻得知这位阿贝，斐迪南七世的秘密特使，已于 1823 年底来到巴黎。 尽管如此，科朗坦认为有必要研究一下西班牙人对吕西安·德感兴趣的原因。鲁本普雷。他很快就清楚地认识到，毫无疑问，埃丝特已经做了路西恩的情妇五年了。因此，英国女人的替换是为了那位年轻花花公子的利益而进行的。

现在吕西安没有办法了。他作为德·格兰德利厄小姐的追求者被拒绝了。他刚刚以一百万法郎的价格买下了鲁本普雷的土地。

科朗坦非常巧妙地让警察总局局长迈出了第一步。警察局长向佩拉德提出建议，告诉他的长官，这起事件的上诉人实际上是塞里齐伯爵和吕西安·德·鲁本普雷。

“我们有它！”佩拉德和科朗坦喊道。

两个朋友立刻就制定了计划。

“这个女人，”科朗坦说，“有过亲密行为；她一定有一些女性朋友。在他们当中，我们肯定会发现一个或另一个运气不佳的人。我们中的一个人必须扮演一个富有的外国人的角色并接受她。我们会把它们放在一起。在恋人的游戏中，他们总是想要从对方身上得到一些东西，然后我们就会在城堡里了。”

佩拉德自然提议伪装成英国人。在他要解开他所受害的阴谋的这段时间里，他应该过着放荡的生活，这对他的幻想来说是微笑的；而科朗坦，由于他的职能已经老了，而且身体也很虚弱，所以并不关心它。康坦森伪装成混血儿，立即躲开了卡洛斯的追捕。就在佩拉德与杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人在香榭丽舍大街会面的三天前，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人是 MM 雇用的最后一位代理人。德·萨丁和勒努瓦带着护照抵达和平街的米拉波酒店，他们从殖民地经勒阿弗尔而来，乘坐一辆旅行马车，上面沾满了泥巴，就好像它真的来自勒阿弗尔一样。不用走从圣但尼到巴黎的路。

卡洛斯·埃雷拉则持有护照 目的 在西班牙大使馆，并在马拉奎斯码头安排好一切，出发前往马德里。这就是原因。几天之内，埃丝特就成为了圣乔治街那栋房子的主人，并拥有了每年收益三万法郎的股票。欧罗和阿西相当狡猾，说服她卖掉了这些股份，并私下将钱转给了路西恩。因此，吕西安通过他姐姐的慷慨宣称自己很富有，他将支付鲁本普雷庄园的剩余价格。对于这笔交易，没有人可以抱怨。只有埃丝特才能背叛自己；但她宁愿死也不愿眨一下眼睛。

克洛蒂尔德出现时，她的鹤脖子上戴着一条粉红色的小头巾，所以她在格兰德利厄酒店赢得了比赛。综合公司的股票价值已经是初始价值的三倍。卡洛斯消失几天，就能消除恶意。人类的审慎已经预见到了一切。不可能出现任何错误。假西班牙人将于佩拉德会见杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人的第二天出发。但就在那天晚上，凌晨两点，阿西乘坐一辆出租车来到了马拉奎斯码头，发现机器的加油员在他的房间里冒着烟，并重新考虑了这里用几句话陈述的所有情况，就像一个作者翻阅书中的一页以发现需要纠正的错误。这样的人不会允许自己再犯像泰特布特街搬运工那样的疏忽。

“帕卡德，”阿西在她主人耳边低声说道，“昨天凌晨两点半，在香榭丽舍大街上，康滕森伪装成一名英国人的混血儿仆人，在过去的三天里，人们看到他在香榭丽舍大街上散步。 -爱丽舍宫，看着埃丝特。帕卡德通过眼睛认出了那只猎犬，就像我在他打扮成市场搬运工时那样。帕卡德开车送女孩回家，绕了一圈，以免失去这个可怜虫。 Contenson 位于米拉波酒店 (Hotel Mirabeau)；但他与英国人交换了如此多的情报迹象，以至于帕卡德说对方不可能是英国人。”

“我们身后有一只牛虻，”卡洛斯说。 “我要到后天才会离开。那个康坦森肯定就是派门房从泰特布街跟着我们的那个人。我们必须查明这个虚伪的英国人是否是我们的敌人。”

中午，塞缪尔·约翰逊先生的黑人仆人正庄重地等待着他的主人，而他的主人总是吃得很丰盛，而且是有目的的。佩拉德希望冒充一个喝得醉醺醺的英国人。直到过了半海他才出去。他穿着一直到膝盖的黑布绑腿，并加了衬垫，让双腿看起来更粗壮。他的裤子里衬着最厚的粗布。他的背心扣子一直扣到脸颊。一顶红色的假发遮住了他一半的前额，他的身高增加了近三英寸。简而言之，大卫咖啡馆最年长的常客不可能认出他。从他那件方形黑布大衣和长裙来看，他可能会被认为是一位英国百万富翁。

康坦森表现出了一位富豪心腹仆人的冷漠傲慢。他沉默寡言、唐突、轻蔑、沉默寡言，常常大声喊叫，做出粗鲁的手势。

佩拉德喝完他的第二瓶酒时，一名酒店服务员毫不客气地向他展示了一个男人，佩拉德和康滕森立刻从他身上看出了一个穿着便服的宪兵。

“佩拉德先生，”宪兵在大佬耳边对他说道，“我的指示是带你去县里。”

佩拉德一言不发，起身摘下帽子。

“你会在门口找到一辆出租马车。”他们下楼时，那人说道。 “省长本来想逮捕你，但他决定派人来找你，通过你在马车上找到的治安官员，要求对你的行为做出一些解释。”

“要我和你一起骑吗？”佩拉德进来后，治安官的宪兵问道。

“不，”另一个回答道。 “轻声吩咐车夫，开车去府里。”

佩拉德和卡洛斯现在在车厢里面对面。卡洛斯手下握着一把细剑。长途汽车司机是一个他可以信任的人，完全有能力让卡洛斯在没有看到他的情况下下车，或者在到达旅程终点时在他的出租车里发现一具尸体而感到惊讶。从未对间谍进行任何询问。法律几乎总是让此类谋杀不受惩罚，因此很难了解案件的权利。

佩拉德用最敏锐的目光看着警察局长派来检查他的地方法官。卡洛斯给他的印象很满意：秃头，后背有深深的皱纹，头发上扑了粉；一副非常浅的金色眼镜，双绿色眼镜遮住了弱小的眼睛，红框，显然需要保养。这双眼睛似乎有某种肮脏疾病的痕迹。平褶荷叶边的棉质衬衫，破旧的黑缎马甲，法治长裤，黑丝丝袜，系着丝带的鞋子；一件长长的黑色大衣，戴着便宜的黑色手套，戴了十天，还有一条金表链——从各个方面来说，都是较低级别的治安官，被歪曲为和平官员。

“我亲爱的佩拉德先生，我很遗憾发现像你这样的人成为监视的对象，并且你应该采取行动来证明这一点。你的伪装不合省长的口味。如果你以为这样就能逃脱我们的警惕，那你就错了。毫无疑问，你是从英国取道瓦兹河畔博蒙来的。”

“瓦兹河畔博蒙？”佩拉德重复道。

“还是圣但尼的？”假律师说。

佩拉德失去了理智。这个问题必须得到回答。现在任何回复都可能是危险的。肯定的是，这是一场闹剧；从消极的角度来看，如果这个人知道真相，佩拉德就会毁掉。

“他是个精明的家伙，”他想。

他试图看着这个男人微笑，他也给了他一个微笑作为答案；他的微笑毫无异议地通过了。

“你乔装打扮、在米拉波酒店住下房间、把康坦森打扮成黑人仆人的目的是什么？”和平官员问道。

“勒普雷费特先生可以对我做他选择的事情，但除了我的首长之外，我的行为不需对任何人负责，”佩拉德尊严地说。

“如果你想让我推断你是按照警察总局的命令行事的话，”对方冷冷地说，“那我们就改变路线，从耶路撒冷路开到格勒内尔路。我对你有明确的指示。不过要小心！你并没有受到任何严重的耻辱，你可能会立刻破坏你自己的游戏。至于我——我不欠你任何怨恨。——来吧；告诉我真相。”

“那么，这就是事实，”佩拉德说道，同时看了一眼他的地狱犬的红眼睛。

假律师面无表情，面无表情；他在做他的事，所有的真理对他来说都是一样的，他看起来好像怀疑省长有什么任性。省长们也有小脾气。

“我绝望地爱上了一个女人——那个股票经纪人的情妇，他出国是为了自己的快乐和债权人的不满——法莱克斯。”

“杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人？”

“是的，”佩拉德回答道。 “为了留住她一个月，这不会花费我超过一千克朗，我已经把自己打扮成一个富翁，并把康坦森当作我的仆人。这是千真万确的，先生，如果您愿意把我留在车厢里，我会在那里等您，以我作为一名老警察局长的荣誉，您可以去旅馆询问康滕森。康坦森不仅会证实我有幸声明的内容，而且您可能会看到杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人的侍女，她今天早上会来表示她的女主人接受了我的提议或她提出的条件。

“老猴子知道鬼脸意味着什么：我每个月给她一千法郎和一辆马车——总共一千五百法郎；价值五百法郎的礼物，以及在外出、聚餐和玩耍时同样多的礼物；你看，当我说一千克朗时，我一点也没有欺骗你。——像我这个年纪的人很可能会在他最后的幻想上花费一千克朗。”

“保佑我，佩拉德爸爸！而你仍然足够关心女性——？但你在欺骗我。我自己已经六十岁了，没有他们我也能过。——不过，如果情况如你所说，我很理解你应该发现有必要把自己打扮成一个外国人来放纵自己的幻想。

“你可以理解佩拉德，或者穆瓦诺街的老坎库埃尔——”

“嗯，他们都不适合杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人，”卡洛斯插话道，很高兴听到了坎库埃尔的地址。 “革命之前，”他继续说道，“我的情妇是一个女人，她以前是由侍从绅士（当时他们称之为刽子手）养着的。一天晚上看戏时，她被一根别针刺破了自己，然后大声喊叫——这是当时的习惯性的喊叫——“啊！布罗！她的邻居问她这是否是一种回忆？——好吧，我亲爱的佩拉德，她因为那次演讲而抛弃了她的男人。

“我想你不想让自己遭受这样的耳光。——杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人是一位适合绅士的女人。我在歌剧院见过她一次，觉得她很漂亮。

“告诉司机回到和平街，亲爱的佩拉德。我会和你一起上楼到你的房间去亲自看看。对于勒普雷费先生来说，口头报告无疑就足够了。”

卡洛斯从侧袋里掏出一个鼻烟盒——一个内衬镀银的黑色鼻烟盒——怀着愉快的友好情谊将其递给佩拉德。佩拉德对自己说：

“这些是他们的代理人！我的妈呀！如果勒努瓦先生能够复活，或者德萨丁先生会说什么？

“毫无疑问，这是事实的一部分，但还不是全部，”假律师吸了一口鼻烟说道。 “你插手了纽辛根男爵的风流韵事，毫无疑问，你希望让他陷入某种活结之中。你的手枪没有开火，而你却用野战枪瞄准他。杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人是尚皮夫人的朋友——”

“魔鬼接受它。我必须小心，不要摔倒。”佩拉德自言自语道。 “他是一个比我想象的更好的人。他在玩弄我；他说要让我走，但他却继续让我胡言乱语。”

“出色地？”卡洛斯带着威严的神气问道。

“先生，我确实愚蠢到为了德·纽辛根先生而去寻找一个女人，因为他已经为爱而疯狂了。这就是我失宠的原因，因为我似乎不知不觉地触及了一些重要的利益。”

执法人员依然一动不动。

“但是经过五十二年的经验，”佩拉德继续说道，“我对警察非常了解，在我被勒普雷费先生炸死后，我很了解警察，毫无疑问，他是对的——”

“那么，如果勒普雷费先生要求你这样做，你会放弃这个幻想吗？我认为，这将是你所说的诚意的最好证明。”

“他要这么做！他要去了！佩拉德想。 “啊！天哪，今天的警察可与勒努瓦先生的警察相媲美。”

“放弃？”他大声说道。 “我会等到勒普雷费先生的命令为止。——但是我们在旅馆里，如果你愿意的话。”

“你从哪里找到钱？”卡洛斯目光敏锐地直截了当地说道。

“先生，我有一个朋友——”

“相处吧，”卡洛斯说。 “去把这个故事告诉预审法官吧！”

卡洛斯这一大胆的举动就是其中一项计算的结果，如此简单，除了像他这样脾气的人之外，没有人能想到这一点。

一大早，他就送吕西安去塞里齐夫人家。吕西安恳求伯爵的私人秘书——伯爵的私人秘书——去警察局局长那里获取有关纽辛根男爵雇用的特工的全部细节。秘书回来时收到了一张有关佩拉德的便条，这是他的记录背面注明的摘要副本：

“自 1778 年起就加入警察队伍，从阿维尼翁来到巴黎
两年前。

“没有金钱，没有品格；拥有某些国家秘密。

“住在 Rue des Moineaux，名叫 Canquoelle，
他的家人居住在该部门的一个小庄园的名称
沃克吕兹省；非常值得尊敬的人。

“最近一位名叫西奥多·德拉的侄孙询问
佩拉德. （见代理人报告，文件第37号。）”

“他一定就是康坦森扮演混血儿仆人的那个人！”当吕西安带着除了这张纸条之外的其他信息回来时，卡洛斯喊道。

不到三个小时，这个充满了总司令精力的人，在帕卡德的帮助下，找到了一个能够扮演伪装宪兵角色的无辜同谋，并让自己成为了一名和平官员。在马车上，他曾三次想杀死佩拉德，但他立下规矩，决不能亲手杀人；他向自己保证，他会向镇上一些刑满释放的囚犯指出佩拉德是百万富翁，从而及时除掉他。

佩拉德和他的导师一进去，就听到康坦森和杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人的女仆争论的声音。佩拉德示意卡洛斯留在外间，他的眼神意味着：“这样你就可以确信我的诚意了。”

“夫人同意一切，”阿黛尔说。 “夫人此时正在拜访一位朋友，德·尚皮夫人，她在泰特布街有一些房间可供使用一年，里面装满了家具，毫无疑问，她会让她拥有这些房间。夫人在那里接待约翰逊先生比较合适，家具还是很像样的，先生可以和尚皮夫人达成协议，买给夫人。”

“很好，我的女孩。如果这不是羊毛的工作，那就是一点羊毛。”混血儿对惊讶的女人说道。 “不过，我们会去参股——”

“这就是你的黑眼圈！”阿黛尔小姐叫道。 “如果你的富豪是富豪，他完全有能力给夫人送家具。租约于 1830 年 XNUMX 月结束；如果你的老板愿意的话，他可以续订它。”

“我非常愿意，”佩拉德说着带着浓重英国口音的法语，走进来拍了拍那女人的肩膀。

他会心地回头看了卡洛斯一眼，卡洛斯点头表示同意，明白这位富翁要履行自己的职责。

但当一个卡洛斯和佩拉德都没有丝毫权力的人进来时，场景突然发生了变化。科朗坦突然进来了。他发现门开着，路过时就往里看，想看看他的老朋友是如何扮演富翁的角色的。

“省长还欺负我！”佩拉德低声对科朗坦说道。 “他发现我是个富豪。”

“我们会把省长泄露出去，”科朗廷低声回答道。

然后，他冷静地鞠了一躬，站在那里，阴沉地审视着法官。

“留在这里直到我回来，”卡洛斯说。 “我要去县里。如果你再也见不到我了，你就可以走自己的路了。”

卡洛斯低声对佩拉德说了这句话，以免在侍女面前羞辱他，然后走开了，不愿意留在新来者的目光下，他在新来者身上发现了其中一个金发女郎，蓝眼男子，冷酷可怕。

“那是省长派来跟踪我的和平官员，”佩拉德说。

“那？”科朗坦说。 “你已经走进了陷阱。那个人的鞋子里有三副牌；你可以从他的脚在鞋里的位置看出；此外，和平官员不需要任何伪装。”

科朗廷急忙下楼去证实自己的怀疑：卡洛斯正在搞事情。

“哈喽！神甫先生！”科朗廷喊道。

卡洛斯环顾四周，看到了科朗廷，赶紧钻了进去。尽管如此，科朗坦还是有时间说道：

“这就是我想知道的一切。——Quai Malaquais，”他对司机喊道，语气和表情都带有恶魔般的嘲讽。

“我做完！”雅克·柯林自言自语道。 “他们抓住了我。我必须以绝对的速度领先于他们，最重要的是，找出他们想要我们做什么。”

科朗坦见过卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父五六次，那人的眼神令人难忘。科朗坦立刻就从他肩膀上的伤口、浮肿的脸，以及鞋内鞋跟增加了三英寸高度的技巧中怀疑了他。

“啊！ “老家伙，他们吸引了你。”科朗坦说道，发现房间里除了佩拉德和康滕森之外没有人。

“WHO？”佩拉德喊道，他有着金属般的硬度； “我将在生命的最后几天把他放在烤架上并让他上床。”

“我想，他就是卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父，西班牙的科朗坦。这说明了一切。西班牙人是第一流的恶魔，他试图通过从一个漂亮的行李垫上赚钱来为那个小年轻人赚大钱。——如果你认为你可以与一个看起来像个男人的人一起衡量你的技能，那么你就得当心了。对我来说，这就是要对付的魔鬼。”

“哦！”康坦森惊呼道，“埃丝特被捕那天，他掏出了三十万法郎；他在出租车里。我记得那双眼睛，那眉毛，还有那些天花的痕迹。”

“哦！我的莉迪可能拥有多么大的财富啊！”佩拉德喊道。

“你可能仍然扮演富翁的角色，”科朗坦说。 “为了监视艾丝特，你必须保持她与瓦尔·诺布尔的亲密关系。她确实是路西恩的情妇。”

“他们已经从纽辛根拿到了超过五十万法郎，”康滕森说。

“他们又想要同样多的东西，”科朗坦继续说道。 “鲁本普雷庄园要花费一百万美元。——爸爸，”他拍着佩拉德的肩膀补充道，“你可能会得到超过十万法郎来安置莉迪。”

“别告诉我这个，科朗廷。如果你的计划失败了，我不知道我会做什么——”

“也许明天你就能拿到了！我亲爱的朋友，神甫是最精明的。我们将不得不亲吻他的马刺；他是一个非常高级的恶魔。但我确实拥有他。他不是傻子，他会摔倒的。努力成为一个同性恋者和一个富翁，无所畏惧。”

这天傍晚，双方在平地上对峙之后，路西恩就在格兰德利厄酒店过夜。聚会规模很大。面对众人，公爵夫人将吕西安留在身边一段时间，对他非常友善。

“你要离开一会儿吗？”她说。

“是的，公爵夫人。我姐姐为了促成我的婚姻，做出了巨大的牺牲，我才得以重新购买鲁本普雷斯的土地，重建整个庄园。但我发现我的巴黎律师是一位非常聪明的人，他成功地使我免受勒索条款的影响，如果持有者知道购买者的名字，他们就会询问他们。”

“有城堡吗？”克洛蒂尔德问道，笑容灿烂。

“有一种东西可以称为城堡；但更明智的计划是使用这些建筑材料建造现代住宅。”

克洛蒂尔德的眼睛里闪烁着幸福的光芒，脸上洋溢着满足的微笑。

“今晚你必须和我父亲一起玩橡皮游戏，”她说。 “两周后，我希望有人请你吃饭。”

“好吧，亲爱的先生，”格朗德利厄公爵说道，“我听说您已经买下了鲁本普雷的庄园。我祝贺你。这是对那些说你负债累累的人的回答。我们这些大人物，比如法国或英国，可以拥有公共债务；但是，没有财富的人，新手，你看，可能不会享有这种特权——”

“确实，公爵先生，我的土地还欠着五十万法郎。”

“好吧，好吧，你必须娶一个能给你带来钱的妻子；但在我们郊区，你很难找到拥有如此财富的匹配对象，因为那里的女儿得不到大量嫁妆。”

“他们的名字就足够了。”路西恩说道。

“我们只有三个威斯克玩家——莫弗里纽斯、德斯帕和我——你能安排第四个吗？”公爵指着牌桌说道。

克洛蒂尔德来到球桌旁观看她父亲的比赛。

“她希望我相信她是真心实意的，”公爵一边说，一边拍着女儿的手，同时又看了看吕西安，而吕西安仍然很严肃。

德斯帕德先生的合伙人吕西安损失了二十路易。

“我亲爱的母亲，”克洛蒂尔德对公爵夫人说，“他是如此明智，以至于输了。”

十一点钟，吕西安与德·格兰德利厄小姐深情地聊了几句之后，就回家睡觉了，想着一个月后他将享受到的彻底胜利。因为他毫不怀疑自己会被接受为克洛蒂尔德的情人，并于 1830 年四旬斋前结婚。

第二天，当吕西安吃完早饭后，正和心情郁闷的卡洛斯坐在一起抽烟时，有人宣布德·圣埃斯特夫先生来——真是讽刺——他请求见见卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父或吕西安先生。德鲁本普雷。

“他在楼下被告知我已经离开巴黎了吗？”神甫喊道。

“是的，先生。”新郎回答道。

“那么，你必须见见这个人，”他对吕西安说。 “但是不要说任何妥协的话，不要让你流露出惊讶的迹象。这是敌人。”

“你会无意中听到我的，”吕西安说。

卡洛斯躲在隔壁的房间里，透过门缝，他看到了科朗廷，他只通过声音认出了科朗廷，这位伟人拥有如此巨大的转变力量。这一次，科朗坦看上去就像一位年迈的军需总长。

“我没有荣幸被您认识，先生，”科朗坦开始说道，“但是——”

“抱歉打扰您了，先生，但是——”

“但问题是你与克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄小姐的婚姻——这永远不会发生，”科朗坦急切地补充道。

路西恩坐下来，没有回答。

“你掌握着一个人的权力，他有能力、愿意并准备好向格兰德利厄公爵证明，鲁本普雷的土地是用一个傻瓜给你的情妇埃丝特小姐的钱来支付的，”科朗坦继续。 “很容易找到埃丝特小姐被传唤的法律意见记录；让德爱图尔尼说话的方法也有很多。对付纽辛根男爵的非常巧妙的策略将被揭露。

“目前一切都还可以安排。付上十万法郎，你就会得到平安。——这一切都与我无关。我只是那些勒索者的代理人；而已。”

科朗坦可能已经讲了一个小时了；路西恩抽着烟，一副漠不关心的样子。

“先生，”他回答道，“我不想知道您是谁，因为从事此类工作的人没有名字——至少在我的词汇中。我允许你在闲暇时说话；我在家里。——在我看来，你并没有丧失常识；听听我的困境。”

一阵停顿，路西恩遇到了科朗坦猫般的眼睛，用一种完全冰冷的目光盯着他。

“要么你建立在完全错误的事实之上，而我不需要理会它们，”吕西安说； “或者你是对的；在这种情况下，通过给你十万法郎，我让你可以向我索要尽可能多的十万法郎，只要你的雇主可以找到圣埃斯蒂夫。

“然而，为了一劳永逸地结束你的善意干预，我想让你知道，我，吕西安·德鲁宾普雷，不惧怕任何人。我没有参与你所说的工作。如果格兰德利厄斯家有困难，还有其他名门望族的小姐准备结婚。毕竟，如果我保持单身，对我来说并没有什么损失，特别是如果像你想象的那样，我以空白票据交易以获得如此优势。”

“如果神甫卡洛斯·埃雷拉先生——”

“先生，”吕西安插话道，“埃雷拉神父此时正在前往西班牙的路上。他与我的婚姻无关，我的利益与他无关。这位杰出的政治家曾经足以向我提供建议，但他有报告要提交给西班牙国王陛下；如果你有什么话要对他说，我建议你出发去马德里。”

“先生，”科朗坦坦率地说，“您永远不会成为克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄小姐的丈夫。”

“对她来说更糟糕了！”路西恩回答道，不耐烦地将科朗坦推向门口。

“这件事你已经考虑清楚了？”科朗廷冷冷地问道。

“先生，我不认为您有权利插手我的事情，也没有权利让我浪费一根烟。”吕西安一边说着，一边扔掉了已经熄灭的香烟。

“再见，先生，”科朗坦说。 “我们不会再见面了。——但在你的生命中肯定会有那么一个时刻，你会愿意捐出你一半的财产来把我从楼梯上叫回来。”

作为对这一威胁的回应，卡洛斯做出了一副要砍下人头的样子。

“现在开始正事！”他看着吕西安喊道，经过这次可怕的会面，吕西安脸色惨白如灰。

如果我对这本书的道德和哲学方面感兴趣的少数读者中只有一个人能够相信纽辛根男爵是幸福的，那么这个人就会证明解释他的内心是多么困难。任何一种生理公式的妓女。艾丝特决心让这位可怜的百万富翁为他所谓的胜利日付出高昂的代价。 1830年XNUMX月初，“小宫殿”还没有举行乔迁派对。

“好吧，”埃丝特对她的朋友们秘密地说，他们又向男爵重复了一遍，“我将在狂欢节上开放，我的意思是让我的男人像石膏公鸡一样快乐。”

这句话在与她同龄的女性中广为流传。

男爵悲痛万分。像已婚男人一样，他让自己变得非常可笑，他开始向他的亲密朋友抱怨，他的不满是众所周知的。

与此同时，埃丝特非常认真地对待自己作为这位投机者王子的蓬巴杜夫人的地位。她举办了两三个小型晚会，只是为了让吕西安进屋。卢斯托、拉斯蒂涅、杜蒂莱、比休、内森、勃朗堡伯爵——所有这些放荡的船员中的精英——经常光顾她的客厅。而且，作为她所演奏的作品中的女主角，埃丝特接受了图莉亚、弗洛伦汀、范妮·博普雷和弗洛琳——除了杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人之外，还有两名舞者和两名女演员。没有什么比妓女的家没有竞争的刺激、衣着的展示和某种类型的变化更沉闷的了。

六周之内，埃丝特就成为了那些被遗弃的女性中最机智、最有趣、最可爱、最优雅的人。她被放置在适合她的基座上，享受着所有令一般女性着迷的虚荣的乐趣，但仍然是一个通过秘密思想而高于她的种姓的人。她心里珍藏着一个自己的形象，她为此感到自豪，但它却让她脸红；她的意识中一直萦绕着她必须退位的时刻。就这样，她过着双重生活，非常鄙视自己。她的讽刺言论中夹杂着一种脾气，这种脾气是由于隐藏在妓女体内的爱天使的强烈蔑视而激起的，因为身体在灵魂面前所扮演的可耻和可憎的角色。她既是演员又是观众，既是受害者又是法官，她是美丽的阿拉伯故事的活生生的实现，在这个故事中，一个高贵的生物隐藏在可耻的形式之下，而这个故事的典型就是《圣经》中尼布甲尼撒的故事。圣经。受害人给了自己重生的机会，直到出轨后的第二天，她肯定会和刽子手玩一会儿。

此外，埃丝特了解到男爵是通过秘密不光彩的手段赚取巨额财富，这让她不再顾忌。正如卡洛斯所说，她可以扮演复仇女神阿特的角色。因此，对于只为她而活的银行家来说，她时而迷人，时而令人厌恶。当男爵被激怒到只想离开埃斯特时，她用温柔的爱抚让他回心转意。

埃雷拉在西班牙首发中表现出色，最终前往图尔。他已经把马车送到了波尔多，里面有一个仆人，答应扮演主人的角色，在波尔多等他。然后，他勤奋地回来，装扮成一名商业旅行者，秘密地在埃丝特的屋檐下住了下来，在那里，在阿西和欧洲的帮助下，他小心翼翼地指挥着他的所有阴谋，监视着每一个人，尤其是佩拉德。

大约在为她举行盛大娱乐活动的日子（定于第一场歌剧舞会后的晚上举行）前两周，这位妓女的俏皮话开始让她感到害怕，碰巧在意大利歌剧院，在剧院后面。男爵被迫给了一个盒子，把它放在最底层，以便隐藏他的情妇，并且不让她在距离纽辛根夫人几英尺的地方公开炫耀。埃丝特已经坐下来，以便“掠夺”塞里齐夫人的座位，而吕西安几乎总是陪着她。这个可怜的女孩每周二、周四、周六都在塞里齐夫人身边看着吕西安，这让她整个的幸福都集中在了这一点上。

晚上九点半左右，埃丝特看见吕西安走进了伯爵夫人的包厢，他眉头忧郁，脸色苍白，五官几乎憔悴。这些精神痛苦的症状只有埃丝特看得出来。对于爱他的女人来说，了解男人的面容就像了解大海对于水手一样。

“天啊！到底是怎么回事？发生了什么事？他想和那个地狱天使说话吗？对他来说，地狱天使是守护天使，住在欧洲和亚洲之间的阁楼里？”

埃丝特被这样的想法折磨着，几乎没有听音乐。更不用说，可以相信，她没有听到男爵说话，男爵双手握着他的“安切尔”的一只手，用他可怕的波兰犹太口音与她说话，这种行话读起来一定很不愉快。是听说话。

“艾丝特，”他说着，松开了她的手，又稍稍有些生气地推开，“你不听我的话。”

“我告诉你吧，男爵，当你用法语胡言乱语时，你在爱情上就犯了错误。”

“德特费尔”

“我不在我的闺房里，我在歌剧院。如果你不是胡雷特或菲谢特制造的木桶，通过自然的某种诡计变成了一个男人，你就不会在一个喜欢音乐的女人的盒子里发出如此大的噪音。我不听你的？我应该认为不会！你坐在那儿，把我的裙子弄得沙沙作响，就像纸袋里的金龟子一样，让我轻蔑地笑起来。你对我说：“你这么漂亮，我想吃掉你！”老傻瓜！假设我对你说，“今晚你不像昨天那么难以忍受了——我们回家吧？”——好吧，从你喘气和叹息的方式来看——因为如果我不听你的话，我就能感觉到你——我发现你吃了一顿丰盛的晚餐，你的消化系统正在工作。让我告诉你——因为我花了你足够的钱时不时地给你一些建议——让我告诉你，我亲爱的朋友，一个像你这样消化系统如此困难的男人，没有理由告诉他的情妇：她在不合时宜的时候也很漂亮。正如布隆戴所说，一名老士兵在“宗教的怀抱中”死于这种愚蠢的行为。

“现在已经十点了。九点钟，你和你的鸽子“勃朗堡伯爵”一起在杜蒂莱家吃完了晚饭。你有数以百万计的松露需要消化。明天晚上十点来。”

“你太残忍了！”男爵大声喊道，他认识到这一医学论点的深刻真理。

“残忍的！”艾丝特附和道，仍然看着路西恩。 “你们没有咨询过比安雄、德普兰、老豪德里吗？——既然你们已经看到了未来的幸福，你们知道你们在我眼中是什么样子吗？”

“不——大桶？”

“一个裹着法兰绒的胖老头，每小时都会从扶手椅上走到窗前，看看温度计是否升至标记的温度”蚕，'他的医生规定的温度。”

“你真是忘恩负义的贱人！”男爵听到这首曲子绝望地喊道，然而，多情的老人在歌剧院经常听到这首曲子。

“忘恩负义！”艾丝特反驳道。 “到现在为止你给了我什么？非常烦恼。来吧，爸爸！我可以为你感到骄傲吗？你！你为我感到骄傲；我穿着你的制服和徽章，神气十足。你还清我的债了吗？所以你做到了。但你已经抢了那么多百万了——来吧，你不用生闷气；你向我承认了这一点——你不必三思而后行。这是你成名的主要头衔。一个行李和一个小偷——天作之合的一对！

“你为一只让你开心的鹦鹉建造了一个华丽的笼子。去问问一只巴西凤头鹦鹉，它对把它关在镀金笼子里的人有什么感激之情。——别那样看着我；你就像一个和尚一样。

“好吧，你向整个巴黎展示你的红白凤头鹦鹉。你说，‘巴黎还有其他人拥有这样的鹦鹉吗？它说话多么流利，用词多么巧妙！”如果杜蒂莱进来，它会立即说：“你好，小骗子！”——哎呀，你就像一个种植了独特郁金香的荷兰人一样高兴，就像一个在亚洲靠英国养老金领取养老金的老富翁一样高兴，当一位商业旅行者向他出售了第一个可以在三个地方打开的瑞士鼻烟盒。

“你想赢得我的心吗？好吧，现在我就告诉你该怎么做。”

“说吧，说吧，我注意到我不会为你做任何事。我就喜欢被你愚弄。”

“年轻一点，英俊一点，像你妻子那边的吕西安·德·鲁本普雷那样，你就会免费得到你用百万美元买不到的东西！”

“我要走了，因为今天晚上你真的太棒了！”银行家拉长了脸说道。

“很好，那么晚安，”埃丝特说。 “告诉乔治把你的枕头放高一点，把你的费用放低一点，因为你今晚看上去很生气。——亲爱的，你不能说我对你的健康不感兴趣。”

男爵站了起来，手里拿着门把手。

“这里，纽辛根，”埃丝特用一种专横的姿态说道。

男爵像狗一样对她弯下腰。

“你想看到我非常甜蜜，给你糖和水，今晚在我家里抚摸你吗，老怪物？”

“你会伤透我的心！”

“伤透你的心——你的意思是让你感到厌烦，”她继续说道。 “好吧，把吕西安带来，我可以邀请他参加我们伯沙撒的宴会，你可以确信他一定会来。如果你成功完成那笔小交易，我会告诉你我爱你，我的胖弗雷德里克，用如此简单的语言让你不得不相信我。”

“你是一位女巫，”男爵一边说，一边亲吻埃丝特的手套。 “如果总能在辱骂声中得到一个吻的话，我应该愿意听一小时的辱骂声。”

“但是如果我不听话，我——”她用手指威胁男爵，就像我们威胁孩子一样。

男爵像一只被困的小鸟一样抬起头，恳求捕兽者的怜悯。

“亲爱的天堂！路西恩怎么了？”当她独自一人时，她自言自语地说，并没有试图阻止自己流下的泪水。 “我从来没见过他如此悲伤。”

这就是那天晚上吕西安所发生的事情。

九点钟，他像每天晚上一样，乘坐马车出去，前往格兰德利厄酒店。像所有年轻人一样，他只在早上使用他的鞍马和出租车，他在冬天的晚上租了一辆马车，并从最好的工作主人之一那里选择了一辆一流的马车和华丽的马匹。上个月他一切顺利。他曾与格兰德利厄斯夫妇共进过三次饭。公爵对他很满意。他在综合公司的股份以三十万法郎的价格出售，已经支付了土地价格的三分之一。克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利现在打扮得很漂亮，当他走进房间时，她的脸涨得通红，大声地宣称她对他的依恋。一些达官贵人认为他们的婚姻是一件大事。前驻西班牙大使、现任外交部长的肖利厄公爵曾向格朗德利厄公爵夫人承诺，他将为吕西安申请侯爵头衔。

那天晚上，吕西安在与塞里齐夫人共进晚餐后，驱车前往圣日耳曼郊区进行日常拜访。

他到了，车夫叫开门，他把车开进院子，停在台阶上。吕西安下车后，注意到还有四辆马车正在等待。看到德·鲁本普雷先生后，负责开关大厅门的一名仆人走上前，走到门前的台阶上，就像一名站岗的士兵。

“陛下不在家，”他说。

“公爵夫人正在接待客人。”吕西安对仆人说道。

“公爵夫人出去了。”男人严肃地回答道。

“克洛蒂尔德小姐——”

“先生，在公爵夫人不在的情况下，我认为克洛蒂尔德小姐不会见您。”

“可是这里还有人啊。”路西恩沮丧地回答道。

“我不知道，先生，”那人说道，试图显得很愚蠢并表现出尊重。

对于那些将礼仪视为社会法则最强大武器的人来说，没有什么比礼仪更致命的了。路西恩轻松解读了这一幕的含义，这对他来说是灾难性的。公爵和公爵夫人不肯接纳他。他感觉脊柱核心的骨髓都凝固了，额头上渗出了令人作呕的冷汗。谈话是在他自己的贴身仆人在场的情况下进行的，他拉着马车的门，犹豫着是否要关上它。吕西安向他示意，他又要走了。但当他踏上马车时，他听到楼下传来了人们的喧闹声，仆人先是喊道：“夏利厄公爵夫人夫人的人”，然后是“格兰德利厄子爵夫人的马车！”

吕西安只是说：“献给意大利歌剧”；尽管他很匆忙，但不幸的花花公子还是无法逃脱肖利厄公爵和他的儿子雷托雷公爵，他不得不向他们鞠躬，因为他们没有对他说一句话。宫廷里一场巨大的灾难，一位令人敬畏的宠儿的倒台，现在已经在皇家书房的门槛上宣布了，一句话来自一个脸色像石膏的引座员。

「我该如何让我的导师知道这场灾难——此时此刻——？」吕西安一边开车去歌剧院一边想。 “到底是怎么回事？”

他绞尽脑汁地猜测着。

这就是所发生的事情。那天早上，十一点钟，格兰德利厄公爵走进一家人一起吃早餐的小房间，吻了克洛蒂尔德后对她说：“在接到进一步命令之前，我的孩子，不要再想鲁本普雷。”

然后他拉着公爵夫人的手，把她领到窗缝里，低声说了几句话，这让可怜的克洛蒂尔德脸色发白。因为她看着母亲听公爵说话，看到她露出极度惊讶的表情。

“让，”公爵对他的一个仆人说，“把这张纸条带给肖利厄公爵先生，请他替你回答，是或不是。——我请他今天在这里吃饭，”他添加到他的妻子。

早餐是最令人忧郁的一餐。公爵夫人陷入沉思，公爵似乎对自己很恼火，克洛蒂尔德忍不住流下了眼泪。

“我的孩子，你父亲说得对；你必须服从他。”母亲非常激动地对女儿说。 “我不会像他那样说，‘别再想吕西安了。’”不——因为我理解你的痛苦”——克洛蒂尔德亲吻了母亲的手——“但我确实说，亲爱的，等等，不要采取任何行动，因为你爱他，所以要默默地受苦，并相信你父母的照顾。——太好了女士们，我的孩子，她们之所以伟大，是因为她们在任何场合都能尽到自己的职责，而且做得很高尚。”

“但是它是关于什么的呢？”克洛蒂尔德脸色苍白如百合问道。

“事情太严重了，无法与你讨论，我最亲爱的，”公爵夫人回答道。 “因为如果它们不真实，你的思想就会受到不必要的玷污；如果它们是真的，你就永远不会知道它们。”

六点钟，肖利厄公爵来与格朗德利厄公爵会合，后者正在他的书房里等他。

“告诉我，亨利”——因为公爵们使用的是最熟悉的用语，并用他们的教名互相称呼。这是一种为了标记亲密程度而发明的色调，是为了击退法国式的熟悉感，并羞辱自负——“告诉我，亨利，我陷入了如此绝望的困境，我只能向一位老朋友寻求建议，他懂业务，有实践，有经验。如你所知，我的女儿克洛蒂尔德爱上了那个小鲁本普雷，我几乎不得不接受他作为她许诺的丈夫。我一直反对这桩婚姻；然而，德·格兰德利厄夫人不忍心阻止克洛蒂尔德的热情。当小伙子买回了家产，并支付了四分之三的价款时，我也无法再反对了。

“但是昨晚我收到了一封匿名信——你知道这封信值多少钱——信中我得知，这个年轻人的财产来自一些不光彩的来源，当他说他的姐姐正在给他钱时，他在撒谎。购买所需的资金。为了我女儿的幸福，也为了我们一家人，恳请我去询问一下，并向我建议一下询问的方法。来，读一下。”

“亲爱的费迪南德，对于匿名信的价值，我完全同意你的看法，”肖利厄公爵读完这封信后说道。 “尽管如此，尽管我们可能会蔑视它们，但我们必须利用它们。我们必须像对待间谍一样对待这些信件。把年轻人赶出家门，让我们打听一下——

“我知道该怎么做。你的律师是德尔维尔，我们对他充满信心；他知道许多家庭的秘密，这一点当然值得信任。他是一个诚实的人，一个有分量的人，一个有荣誉的人；他狡猾狡猾；但他的狡猾只是在生意上，你只需雇用他来获取你可以信赖的证据。

“我们外交部有一名高级警察特工，他在发现国家机密方面具有独特的能力；我们经常派他执行此类任务。通知德尔维尔他将派一名中尉负责此案。我们的间谍是一位绅士，他会佩戴荣誉军团勋章，看起来像一位外交官。这个无赖会去打猎；德尔维尔只会袖手旁观。然后你的律师会告诉你山上是否会生出老鼠，或者你是否必须扔掉这个小鲁本普雷。一周之内你就会知道自己在做什么。”

“这位年轻人还没有成为侯爵，不会因为我‘不在家’一周而生气，”格朗德利厄公爵说道。

“最重要的是，如果你最终把你的女儿给了他，”部长回答道。 “如果匿名信说的是真话，那又怎样？你可以派克洛蒂尔德和我儿媳妇玛德琳一起去旅行，她想去意大利。”

“你让我大大放心了。我不知道我是否应该感谢你。”

“等到最后。”

“顺便问一下，”格兰德利厄公爵大声说道，“你的男人叫什么名字？我必须向德尔维尔提及此事。明天五点前把他送来给我；我会让德尔维尔来这里并让他们进行沟通。”

“我想，他的真名是科朗坦，”德肖利厄先生说，“这个名字你一定没听说过，因为我的先生会在票上印上他的正式名字。他称自己为圣某某先生——圣伊夫——圣瓦莱尔？——类似的东西。——你可以相信他；但他确实是这样。路易十八。对他充满信心。”

谈话结束后，管家奉命把德·鲁本普雷先生的门关上——事情已经办妥了。

吕西安像喝醉酒的人一样在歌剧院的候诊室里来回踱步。他幻想自己成为整个巴黎的话题。他的修辞者公爵是那些无情的敌人之一，一个人必须对他微笑，因为他永远不会被报复，因为他们的攻击符合社会规则。雷托雷公爵知道刚刚发生在格兰德利厄斯宅邸外台阶上的一幕。吕西安觉得有必要立即向他的高级枢密院议员报告这场灾难，但他又担心去埃丝特家可能会找到同伴，从而损害自己的利益。他实际上忘记了埃丝特在这里，他的思绪如此混乱，在如此混乱之中，他不得不与拉斯蒂涅闲聊，拉斯蒂涅对这个消息一无所知，却祝贺他即将结婚。

这时纽辛根微笑着出现，对路西恩说道：

“我很高兴你能来见蒙塔姆·德·尚皮，我会邀请你亲自去参加修屋聚会——”

“很荣幸，男爵。”吕西安回答道，对他来说，男爵就像一个拯救天使。

“离开我们吧，”当埃丝特看到德·纽辛根先生和吕西安一起进来时，她对他说道。 “去看看杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人，我在第三层的一个包厢里发现了她和她的富豪。——印度群岛上生长着很多富豪，”她补充道，心照不宣地看了一眼吕西安。

“而那个，”路西恩微笑着说道，“和你的非常相似。”

“还有他们，”艾丝特一边对着男爵说话，一边用另一种聪明的表情回答吕西安，“把她和她的领主带到这里来；他非常渴望结识你。他们说他非常富有。可怜的女人已经倾诉了不知多少挽歌；她抱怨她的老板不好；如果你解除他的压舱物，也许他会航行得更靠近风。”

“你以为我们都是领带！”男爵走开时说道。

“你怎么了，我的吕西安？”包厢门一关上，埃斯特就用嘴唇触碰了朋友的耳边问道。

“我搞不清楚了！我刚刚被从格兰德利厄酒店门口拒之门外，假装无人入内。公爵和公爵夫人在家，五对马在院子里赛跑。”

“什么！婚事不会成吗？”艾丝特惊呼道，她非常激动，因为她瞥见了天堂。

“我还不知道有什么阴谋针对我——”

“我的吕西安，”她用一种美妙的哄骗的声音说道，“为什么要担心呢？慢慢地你就可以更好地匹配——我给你两块地产的价格——”

“今晚请给我们吃晚饭，这样我就可以和卡洛斯秘密交谈，最重要的是，邀请那个假英国人和瓦尔·诺布尔。那个富翁就是我的毁灭；他是我们的敌人；我们会抓住他的，而且我们——”

但吕西安以绝望的姿态打断了他的话。

“嗯，那是什么？”可怜的女孩问道。

“哦！德塞里齐夫人看见我了！”吕西安喊道，“更糟糕的是，目睹我被解雇的德·雷托雷公爵也在她身边。”

事实上，就在那一刻，雷托雷公爵正在用塞里齐夫人的狼狈取笑。

“您允许在艾丝特小姐的包厢里看到路西恩吗？”年轻的公爵指着盒子和吕西安说道。 “对他感兴趣的你，真的应该告诉他，这样的事情是不允许的。他可能会在她家吃晚饭，他甚至可能——但是，事实上，我不再对格兰德利厄斯对这个年轻人的冷淡感到惊讶。我刚刚看到他们的门当着他的面关上了——在前面的台阶上——”

“这样的女人非常危险，”德塞里齐夫人一边说，一边把她的歌剧镜转向埃丝特的包厢。

“是的，”公爵说，“无论他们能做什么，只要他们愿意——”

“他们会毁了他！”德塞里齐夫人喊道，“因为有人告诉我，无论有没有报酬，它们的价格都是一样的。”

“不是对他！”年轻的公爵装出惊讶的样子说道。 “他们根本没有让他付出任何代价；他们在需要时给他钱，然后所有人都在追赶他。”

伯爵夫人的嘴唇露出一丝紧张的抽搐，这不属于任何类型的微笑。

“那么，”埃丝特说，“半夜来吃晚饭吧。带上金发女郎和拉斯蒂涅；无论如何，让我们有两个有趣的人吧；而且我们不会超过九岁。”

“你必须找个借口，派男爵以警告阿西为借口去接尤金妮，告诉她我发生了什么事，这样卡洛斯就可以在把富豪抓到手下之前知道了。”

“就这样吧，”以斯帖说。

因此，佩拉德可能会在不知不觉中发现自己与他的对手在同一屋檐下。老虎正在进入狮子的巢穴，狮子被它的守卫包围着。

当吕西安回到德·塞里齐夫人的包厢时，她并没有转向他，微笑着整理裙子让他坐在自己身边，而是假装对他没有丝毫注意，而是透过镜子环视着房子。然而，从伯爵夫人的手的颤抖中，吕西安可以看出，她正遭受着一种可怕的情绪的折磨，而这种情绪是为了非法的快乐而付出的。他还是走到了包厢的前面，在她对面的角落坐下，在他和伯爵夫人之间留下了一点空位。他用肘部靠在包厢的边缘上，戴着手套的手托着下巴。然后他半转过身，等待一句话。演出进行到一半时，伯爵夫人仍然没有跟他说话，也没有看他一眼。

“我不知道，”她最后说道，“你为什么在这里？你的位置在埃丝特小姐的包厢里——”

“我去那儿。”路西恩说着离开了包厢，看也不看伯爵夫人。

“亲爱的，”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人一边和佩拉德一起走进埃丝特的包厢，纽辛根男爵并没有认出佩拉德，“我很高兴向大家介绍塞缪尔·约翰逊先生。他非常欣赏德纽辛根先生的才华。”

“确实如此，先生，”埃丝特微笑着对佩拉德说道。

“哦，是的，博库，”佩拉德说。

“嘿，男爵，这是一种说法语的方式，它和你的法语很像，就像布列塔尼低地方言和勃艮第的方言一样。听你讨论金钱问题将会是最有趣的。——你知道吗，纳博先生，如果你要结识我的男爵，我会对你提出什么要求？艾丝特微笑着说道。

“噢！——非常感谢，您能把我介绍给从男爵爵士吗？”佩拉德带着浓重的英国口音说道。

“是的，”她说，“晚饭时你一定要让我感到有你的陪伴。没有什么比香槟更能将人们凝聚在一起了。它密封了各种业务，尤其是您涉足的业务。——今晚来吧；你会找到一些快乐的伙伴。——至于你，我的小弗雷德里克，”她在男爵耳边补充道，“你的马车在这里——只要开车到圣乔治街，把欧洲带到我这里来；关于晚餐，我有几句话要对她说。我抓住了吕西安；他会带来两个有趣的人。——我们会画那个英国人。”她低声对杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说道。

佩拉德和男爵把妇女们留在了一起。

“哦，亲爱的，如果你能成功地画出那只巨大的野兽，你就真的很聪明了，”苏珊娜说。

“如果不可能的话，你必须把他借给我一个星期。”埃丝特笑着回答。

“你只会让他呆半天，”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人回答道。 “我吃的面包太硬了；它打断了我的牙齿。直到我死去的那一天，我再也不会试图让一个英国人幸福了。他们都是冷酷自私的人，都是后腿上的猪。”

“什么，不考虑？”艾丝特微笑着说道。

“恰恰相反，亲爱的，这个怪物从来没有表现出丝毫的熟悉感。”

“在任何情况下都可以吗？”以斯帖问道。

“这个可怜虫总是称呼我为夫人，并且在每个男人都或多或少顺从的时刻保持着可以想象到的最完美的冷静。对他来说，做爱！——我保证，这无异于给自己刮胡子。他擦了擦剃须刀，把它放回盒子里，看着镜子，好像在说：“我没有割伤自己！”

“然后他对我的尊重足以让一个女人发疯。那个可恶的波特布瓦勒大人为了取乐，让可怜的西奥多躲在我的更衣室里，在那里站了半天。简而言之，他试图以各种方式惹恼我。而且还那么小气！——就像戈布塞克和吉贡内特合而为一一样吝啬。他带我出去吃饭，但如果我碰巧没有叫马车来接我，他就不付出租车费送我回家。”

“好吧，”埃丝特说，“但是他付给你多少钱作为你的服务呢？”

“哦，亲爱的，确实没什么。每月五百法郎，一分钱也不能多，还有一辆马车的租金。但它是什么？他们租用一台这样的机器来举行三流婚礼，将一场史诗般的婚礼运送到市政厅、教堂和蓝卡德兰。——哦，他的尊重让我恼火。

“如果我尝试歇斯底里并感觉不舒服，他绝不会生气；他只是说：“我希望我的女士有她自己的方式，因为没有什么比对一个好女人说‘你是一个棉包，一捆商品’更令人憎恶的了——没有一个绅士。”——哈，哈！您是禁酒协会和反奴隶制协会的成员吗？当他让我明白他对我的尊重就像他对黑人的尊重一样，这与他的感受无关，而是与他作为一个黑人的观点有关时，我的恐惧变得苍白、冰冷、坚硬。废奴主义者。”

“一个人再糟糕不过了，”埃丝特说。 “但我会打碎那个古怪的中国人。”

“把他打碎？”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人回答道。 “如果他不爱我就不会。你自己想向他要两个苏吗？他会庄严地听你说话，并以英国式的精确度告诉你，让打耳光显得很亲切，他为爱情对他可怜的生活带来的小事付出了足够的代价；”和以前一样，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人模仿了佩拉德蹩脚的法语。

“没想到在我们的生活中我们竟然遇到了这样的人！”艾丝特惊呼道。

“哦，亲爱的，你真是太幸运了。好好照顾你的纽辛根。”

“但你的富豪脑子里肯定有什么想法。”

“阿黛尔就是这么说的。”

“看这里，亲爱的；你可以相信，那个男人已经打赌，他会让一个女人讨厌他，并在某个时间把他带走。”

“要不然他想和纽辛根做生意，并且知道你和我是朋友就拉了我； “阿黛尔就是这么想的。”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人回答道。 “这就是为什么我今晚把他介绍给你。哦，如果我能确定他在做什么，我能和你和纽辛根玩什么把戏就好了！

“那你不生气吗？”以斯帖问道； “你偶尔不说出自己的想法吗？”

“试试吧——你很敏锐，圆滑。——好吧，尽管你很可爱，他还是会用他冰冷的微笑杀死你。 “我反对奴隶制，”他会说，“而你是自由的。”——如果你说最有趣的话，他只会看着你说，“很好！”你会发现他只是把你当作表演的一部分。”

“如果你生气了呢？”

“一样的东西;这仍然是一场表演。你可以把他的左胸下面切开，而不会伤害到他一丁点。我确信他的内部结构是镀锡铁的。我告诉他了。他回答说：“我对这个体质很满意。”

“而且总是很有礼貌。亲爱的，他的灵魂戴着手套……

“为了满足我的好奇心，我还要再忍受几天的殉难。要不是这样，我真该让菲利普打我主人的脸——而他在剑士方面没有对手。没有什么可以留给它的了——”

“我正要这么说，”埃丝特喊道。 “但你必须首先确定菲利普是一名拳击手；因为这些英国老家伙，亲爱的，心怀恶意——”

“这个人在地球上没有对手。不，如果你能看到他问我的命令，知道他什么时候会来——当然是为了让我措手不及——然后像所谓的绅士一样滔滔不绝地发表恭敬的讲话，你会说，“为什么，他很喜欢她！世界上没有一个女人不会说同样的话。”

“他们羡慕我们，亲爱的！”艾丝特惊呼道。

“呃，好吧！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人叹了口气； “在我们的一生中，我们或多或少了解到男人是多么不重视我们。但是，亲爱的，我从来没有像对这一大袋波特酒那样，对残酷行为如此残酷、如此深切、如此彻底地蔑视过。

“当他喝醉的时候，他就会离开——正如他告诉阿黛尔的那样，‘不要让自己不愉快’，也不要‘同时处于两种力量之下’，酒和女人。他占了我马车的便宜；他比我用得更多。——哦！要是我们今晚能在桌子底下看到他就好了！但他可以喝十瓶，也只能喝醉；当他的眼睛充满时，他仍然看得很清楚。”

“就像那些窗户外面很脏的人一样，”埃丝特说，“但他们能从里面看到街上发生的事情。——我知道人的这一属性。杜蒂莱的这一点达到了最高程度。”

“试着抓住杜蒂莱，如果他和纽辛根之间只能在他们的一些阴谋中抓住他，我至少应该得到报复。他们会带他去乞讨！

“哦！亲爱的，在那个可怜的法莱克斯之后，他又落入了一个虚伪的新教徒的手中，法莱克斯是如此有趣，如此善良，如此充满废话！我们以前多么笑啊！他们说所有的股票经纪人都是愚蠢的。好吧，他从来不缺乏智慧，但有一次——”

“他什么时候把你丢得一文不名？这就是让你了解快乐的不愉快的一面的原因。”

欧罗巴被德·纽辛根先生带进来，把蛇头伸进门口，听了情妇在她耳边低声说了几句话后，她就消失了。

当晚十一点半，圣乔治街那位名妓门前停着五辆马车。其中有吕西安的，他带来了拉斯蒂涅、比休和布隆戴。杜蒂莱的、纽辛根男爵的、纳博布的和弗洛琳的——她是受到杜蒂莱的邀请的。关闭的双百叶窗被华丽的中国丝绸窗帘遮住。晚饭是在一间餐厅供应的。蜡灯明亮，餐厅和小客厅尽显金碧辉煌。派对期待着这样一场狂欢，因为只有三个这样的女人和这样的男人才能生存。他们从打牌开始，因为他们要等大约两个小时。

“大人，你会玩吗？”杜蒂莱向佩拉德问道。

“我和奥康奈尔、皮特、福克斯、坎宁、布鲁厄姆勋爵、勋爵一起打过球——”

“请立刻说，诸位大人，”比修欧说道。

“菲茨威廉勋爵、埃伦伯勒勋爵、赫特福德勋爵、勋爵——”

比修欧看着佩拉德的鞋子，弯下腰。

“你要买什么？”布隆代特问。

“对于弹簧，人们必须触摸才能停止这台机器，”弗洛林说。

“你玩一分二十法郎吗？”

“你想输多少我就打多少。”

“他做得很好！”艾丝特对吕西安说。 “他们都认为他是英国人。”

杜蒂莱、纽辛根、佩拉德和拉斯蒂涅在惠斯特牌桌旁坐下。弗洛琳、杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人、埃丝特、布隆戴和比修坐在火边聊天。路西恩花了时间翻阅一本精美的版画书。

“晚饭准备好了，”帕卡德穿着华丽的制服宣布。

佩拉德坐在弗洛琳的左手边，另一边是比修欧，埃丝特吩咐他让英国人随意喝酒，并挑战他打败他。比休拥有无限量饮水的能力。

佩拉德一生中从未见过如此辉煌，从未尝过如此烹饪，也从未见过如此美丽的女人。

“今晚我的钱花得值了，因为到目前为止，我在瓦尔诺布尔已经花了一千克朗了，”他想。 “而且，我刚刚赢了一千法郎。”

“这是男人们学习的榜样！”坐在吕西安身边的苏珊娜看着餐厅的金碧辉煌，挥了挥手说道。

艾丝特把吕西安放在自己旁边，并在桌子底下把他的脚夹在自己的脚中间。

“你听到了吗？”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人对患有失明症的佩拉德说道。 “这才是你应该装修房子的样子！当一个人从印度带了数百万美元回家，并想与纽辛根人做生意时，他应该把自己放在同一水平上。”

“我属于禁酒协会！”

“那你就喝得像鱼一样！”比修欧说：“叔叔，印度的炎热程度是不寻常的！”

这是比修欧在晚餐时开玩笑说，把佩拉德当作他从印度回来的叔叔。

“蒙塔姆·杜·法尔·诺布尔告诉我，你应该喝点东西，”纽辛根一边说，一边审视着佩拉德。

“啊，这就是我想听的，”杜蒂莱对拉斯蒂涅说道。 “两个人在一起胡言乱语。”

“你会看到，他们最终会互相理解的，”比休说道，猜测着杜蒂莱对拉斯蒂涅说了什么。

“从男爵爵士，我想到了一个猜测——哦！很舒服的工作——博库赚钱，利润丰厚——”

“现在你会看到，”布隆代对杜蒂莱说，“他一分钟讲话都会把议会和英国政府拉进来。”

“是在中国，在鸦片贸易中——”

“哈，我知道，”纽辛根立即说道，他是一个非常熟悉商业地理的人。 “但是英国政府已经采取了鸦片贸易作为开放中国的手段，她不会允许这样——”

“纽辛根已将他排除在政府之外，”杜蒂莱对布隆代特说道。

“啊！你从事鸦片贸易！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人喊道。 “现在我明白你为什么如此麻醉了；有些已经深深地印在你的灵魂里了。”

“德雷！你看！”男爵对自封的鸦片商人喊道，并指着杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人。 “你就像我一样。百万富翁永远无法让女人爱上他。”

“我爱过很多次，女士，”佩拉德回答道。

“这是节制的结果，”比休说道。他刚刚看到佩拉德喝完第三瓶红葡萄酒，现在又打开了一瓶波特酒。

“哦！”佩拉德喊道：“英格兰的葡萄牙，太好了。”

布隆戴特、杜蒂莱和比休相视一笑。佩拉德有能力嘲笑一切，甚至包括他的智慧。很少有英国人不认为英国的黄金和白银比其他地方更好。从诺曼底出口到伦敦市场的家禽和鸡蛋，使英国人认为伦敦的家禽和鸡蛋比来自同一地区的巴黎的家禽和鸡蛋优越（非常好）。

艾丝特和吕西安对这种完美的服装、语言和大胆感到惊讶。

大家有说有笑，吃得又饱又喝，一直吃到凌晨四点。比休沾沾自喜，他取得了布里拉-萨瓦林如此愉快地讲述的胜利之一。但就在他给“叔叔”倒酒的同时，心里自言自语道：“我已经征服了英格兰！”佩拉德用流利的法语回答了这个恶毒的嘲笑者：“Toujours, mon garcon”（走吧，我的孩子），除了比休之外没有人听到。

“大家好，大家好，他和我一样是英国人！——我叔叔是加斯科尼人！我别无选择！”

比修欧和佩拉德两人单独在一起，所以没有人听到这一消息。佩拉德从椅子上滚到地板上。帕卡德立即抱起他，把他带到阁楼上，他在那里睡着了。

第二天晚上六点，纳博布被一块正在洗脸的湿布吵醒，醒来时发现自己躺在行军床上，与阿西面对面，戴着口罩，戴着口罩。黑色多米诺骨牌。

“好吧，佩拉德爸爸，你和我必须算账，”她说。

“我在哪里？”他环顾四周问道。

“听我说，”阿西说，“这会让你清醒过来。——虽然你不爱杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人，但我想你爱你的女儿吧？”

“我的女儿？”佩拉德发出一声怒吼。

“是的，莉迪小姐。”

“然后怎样呢？”

“然后怎样呢？她已经不在穆瓦诺街了；她已经被带走了。”

佩拉德像战场上受了致命伤的士兵一样叹了口气。

“当你假装是英国人时，有人假装是佩拉德。你的小莉迪以为她和她父亲在一起，而她现在在一个安全的地方。——哦！你永远找不到她！除非你消除你所造成的恶果。”

“什么恶作剧？”

“昨天，吕西安·德·鲁本普雷先生当面关上了格兰德利厄公爵家的门。这是由于你的阴谋，以及你向我们释放的那个人。别说话，听着！”阿西继续说道，看到佩拉德张开了嘴。 “你会再次拥有你的女儿，纯洁无暇，”她补充道，并用每一个字的重音强调她的陈述，“只有在吕西安·德鲁宾普雷先生作为克洛蒂尔德小姐的丈夫。如果十天之内吕西安·德·鲁本普雷没有像以前那样被接纳到格兰德利厄斯家，那么你首先就会惨死，没有什么可以把你从威胁你的命运中拯救出来。——那么，当你感觉自己快要死的时候，你在咽下最后一口气之前会有时间反思：“我的女儿一辈子都是妓女！”

“虽然你真是个傻瓜，竟然把这个掌握在我们手中，但你仍然有足够的理智来思考我们政府的最后通牒。不要吠叫，不要对任何人说话；去 Contenson 家换衣服，然后回家。卡特会告诉你，只要你一句话，你的小莉迪就下楼了，从此就再也没有人见过。如果你大惊小怪，如果你采取任何步骤，你的女儿将从我告诉你她将结束的地方开始——她被许诺给德·马赛。

“和老坎库埃尔在一起，我应该想，不用拐弯抹角，或者戴上手套，呵呵？——下楼去吧，注意不要再干涉我们的事情了。”

阿西让佩拉德处于一种可怜的状态。每一句话都像是一记棍棒。间谍眼里含着泪水，泪水从他的脸颊上挂着一条湿漉漉的皱纹。

“他们正在等约翰逊先生吃晚饭，”欧洲说，片刻后她把头伸了过来。

佩拉德没有回答。他下了楼，一直走到一个出租车站，然后匆匆去康坦森店脱衣服，没有对他说一句话。他又穿上了坎奎勒神父的服装，八点钟就到家了。他怀着一颗狂跳的心走上楼梯。当佛兰德女人听到她的主人的声音时，她问他：

“那么，小姐在哪儿呢？”如此简单，老间谍不得不靠在墙上。这个打击超出了他的承受能力。他走进女儿的房间，当他发现房间空无一人时，他悲伤地晕了过去，并听到了卡特的故事，这是一次精心策划的绑架事件，就好像他自己安排的一样。

“好吧，好吧，”他想，“我必须撞倒了。我以后一定会报仇的；现在我必须去科朗坦。——这是我们第一次遇到我们的敌人。如果那个英俊的男孩愿意的话，科朗坦会让他自由地嫁给皇后！——是的，我明白我的小女儿应该对他一见钟情。——哦！那位西班牙神父是一位知情者。勇气，佩拉德朋友！把你的猎物吐出来！”

这位可怜的父亲做梦也没想到等待着他的是可怕的打击。

到达科朗坦家后，认识佩拉德的贴身仆人布鲁诺说道：

“先生走了。”

“许久？”

“十天。”

“哪里？”

“我不知道。

“天哪，我快失去理智了！我问他在哪里——就好像我们曾经告诉过他们一样——”他想。

就在佩拉德在圣乔治街的阁楼里被叫醒的几个小时前，科朗坦从帕西的乡间住所回来，穿着一身侍从的服装，来到了格兰德利厄公爵家。一个优越的阶级。他的纽扣孔处佩戴着荣誉军团勋章的丝带。他化了一张枯萎的老脸，头发涂了粉，皱纹很深，皮肤毫无血色。他的眼睛被龟甲眼镜遮住了。他看起来像一位退休的办公室职员。在说出自己的名字为圣丹尼先生后，他被带到了公爵的私人房间，在那里他发现德尔维尔正在读一封信，这封信是他亲自口述给他的一位代理人的，这个“号码”的职责是撰写文件。公爵把科朗坦拉到一边，告诉他他已经知道的一切。德·圣但尼先生冷冷而恭敬地听着，通过研究这位伟大的绅士，通过穿透天鹅绒盖下的凝灰岩，通过审视这个存在，现在并且总是全神贯注于惠斯特和对格兰德利厄家族的尊重，自娱自乐。

“先生，如果您愿意接受我的建议，”在被正式介绍给律师后，科朗坦对德尔维尔说道，“我们今天下午就将乘坐波尔多长途汽车出发前往昂古莱姆，这趟车的速度与邮件一样快;我们不需要在那里呆六个小时来获取勒杜克先生所需的信息。如果我明白陛下的意思的话，只要确定德·鲁本普雷先生的妹妹和妹夫是否有能力给他一百二十万法郎就足够了？他转向公爵。

“你完全理解我的意思，”公爵说。

“我们可以在四天内再次回来，”科朗坦对德尔维尔继续说道，“我们都不会忽视他的生意太久，以至于让它受到影响。”

“这是我要向陛下提及的唯一困难，”德尔维尔说。 “现在已经四点了。我要回家跟我的主管说句话，然后收拾好我的旅行包，晚饭后，八点钟，我会——但是我们能找到座位吗？”他打断了自己的话，对圣但尼先生说道。

“我会回答这个问题，”科朗坦说。 “八点钟到信使总办公室的院子里。如果没有位置，他们就会腾出一些，因为这就是为格朗德公爵大人服务的方式。”

“先生们，”公爵非常客气地说，“我暂且不致谢——”

科朗坦和律师认为这是解雇，鞠了一躬，然后退了出去。

当佩拉德审问科朗坦的仆人时，德·圣但尼先生和德尔维尔坐在波尔多马车上，在驶出巴黎时默默地互相打量着。

第二天早上，在奥尔良和图尔之间，德尔维尔感到无聊，开始交谈，科朗坦屈尊逗乐他，但保持着距离。他让他相信他在外交部门工作，并希望在格兰德利厄公爵的斡旋下成为总领事。离开巴黎两天后，科朗坦和德尔维尔在曼塞尔下了车，这让律师大吃一惊，他以为他要去昂古莱姆。

“在这个小镇上，”科朗坦说，“我们可以获得有关塞查德夫人的最正面的信息。”

“那你认识她吗？”德尔维尔惊讶地发现科朗坦如此消息灵通，问道。

“我让售票员说话，发现他是安古莱姆人。他告诉我，塞查德夫人住在马尔萨克，而马尔萨克距离曼塞尔只有一里之遥。我认为我们在这里比在昂古莱姆更有利于核实事实。”

“此外，”德尔维尔想，“正如勒杜克先生所说，我只是作为这位机密特工进行询问的证人——”

曼塞尔的旅馆， 美丽星辰，其房东是一位又胖又壮的人，我们担心我们回来后可能再也找不到他了；但十年后，人们仍看到他们站在门口，和以前一样多余的肉，戴着同样的亚麻帽子，同样的围裙，拿着同样的刀，同样的油头发，同样的三下巴，所有的刻板印象从不朽的塞万提斯到不朽的沃尔特·斯科特等小说家。难道他们不都夸自己的厨艺吗？难道他们不都是“随便点什么”吗？最后不都是给你同样忙碌的鸡肉和用等级黄油烹制的蔬菜吗？都夸自己的美酒，都让你喝乡下的酒。

但科朗坦从他很小的时候起就懂得从旅店老板那里得到比可疑的菜肴和杜撰的葡萄酒更重要的东西的艺术。所以他表现得像个容易取悦的人，愿意把自己交给曼塞尔最好的厨师，正如他对胖子说的那样。

“成为最好的并不困难——我是唯一的，”主持人说。

“在侧室为我们服务，”科朗坦说道，对德尔维尔眨了眨眼。 “不要害怕点燃烟囱；我们想要融化手指上的霜。”

“车厢里不暖和，”德尔维尔说。

“到马尔萨克远吗？”客栈老板的妻子科朗坦问，她从上游地区赶来，听说有两个旅客因勤劳而睡在那里。

“先生，您要去马尔萨克吗？”女人回答道。

“我不知道，”他尖锐地说。 “从这里到马尔萨克还远吗？”在给女人时间注意他的红丝带后，他重复了一遍。

“坐马车，大约半个小时，”旅馆老板的妻子说。

“你认为塞查德先生和夫人冬天有可能在那儿吗？”

“为了确定;他们一年四季都住在那里。”

“现在已经五点了。九点钟我们还是能找到他们。”

“哦，是的，直到十点。他们每天晚上都有人陪伴——神父、马龙先生、医生——”

“那么好人吗？”德尔维尔说。

“哦，最善良的灵魂，”女人回答道，“直率、诚实——而且也没有野心。塞查德先生，虽然他很富裕——他们说，如果他没有让自己的一项造纸发明被抢走，他可能已经赚了数百万——而库瓦泰兄弟正在从这项发明中受益——”

“啊，当然是库安泰兄弟了！”科朗坦说。

“闭嘴，”店主说。 “对于这些先生们来说，塞查德先生是否有权为其造纸发明申请专利又有什么关系呢？——如果你打算在这里过夜——在 美女星辰——”他继续对旅客们说道，“这是书，请记下你们的名字。我们这个镇上有一个军官，无所事事，整天对我们喋喋不休——”

“恶魔！”当德尔维尔输入他们的名字和他作为塞纳河省下级法院律师的职业时，科朗坦说，“我认为塞查尔夫妇非常富有。”

“有人说他们是百万富翁。”旅馆老板回答道。 “但要阻止舌头摇摆，你还不如阻止河流流动。据说，老塞查德留下了价值二十万法郎的地产；对于一个出身工人的人来说，这并不是什么错。好吧，他可能又有了同样多的积蓄，因为他最后从他的土地上赚了十到一万二千法郎。因此，假设他足够愚蠢，十年内不投资自己的钱，那就可以了。但即使他以高息借出，正如他所怀疑的那样，也许也只有三十万法郎，仅此而已。五十万法郎与一百万法郎相差甚远。我应该对这种差异感到非常满意，并且不再有 美女星辰 为我！”

“真的吗！”科朗坦说。 “那么大卫·塞查德先生和他的妻子没有两三百万的财产吗？”

“哎呀，”旅馆老板的妻子惊呼道，“这就是库安泰夫妇的财产，他们抢走了他的发明，而他从他们那里得到的钱也不过两万法郎。你认为这些诚实的人到哪里才能找到数百万美元呢？父亲在世时，他们的生活非常拮据。要不是他们的经理科尔布和像她丈夫一样依恋他们的科尔布夫人，他们几乎无法生存。哎呀，他们在拉韦贝里有多少钱！——也许一年一千法郎。”

科朗坦把德尔维尔拉到一边说道：

“在葡萄酒真理中！真理存在于软木塞之下。就我而言，我认为客栈是乡村真正的登记处；对于一个小社区里发生的一切，公证人并不比旅店老板更了解。——你看！我们应该了解库安泰家族、科尔布家族以及其他家族的一切。

“你的旅店老板是每一件事的活生生的记录；他毫不怀疑地从事警察的工作。一个政府最多应该保留两百名间谍，因为在法国这样的国家，有数以千万计的头脑简单的告密者。——不过，我们不必相信这份报告；我们应该相信这份报告。尽管即使在这个小镇上，人们也会知道为购买鲁本普雷庄园而花费的 120 万法郎的情况。我们不会在这里停留太久——”

“我希望不是！”德尔维尔插了进来。

“这就是原因，”科朗坦补充道。 “我想出了一个最自然的方法，可以从Sechard夫妇的口中获取真相。我依靠你作为律师的权威来支持我将采取的小伎俩，使你能够听到关于他们事务的清晰而完整的叙述。——晚餐后，我们将出发去拜访塞查德先生。”科朗坦说道。给旅店老板的妻子。 “为我们准备好床位，我们想要单独的房间。 ‘星空下’不会有任何困难。”

“噢，先生，”女人说，“这个标志是我们发明的。”

“每个部门都可以找到双关语，”科朗坦说。 “这不是你的垄断。”

“先生们，晚餐已经准备好了。”店主说道。

“可是那个年轻人到底从哪里弄来的钱呢？匿名作者的说法准确吗？难道是一些漂亮包袱的收入？”当他们坐下来吃晚饭时，德尔维尔说道。

“啊，这将是另一次调查的主题，”科朗坦说。 “正如肖利厄公爵告诉我的那样，吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷与一位皈依犹太教的犹太女子住在一起，她被认为是一位荷兰妇女，名叫埃丝特·范·博格塞克。”

“真是奇怪的巧合啊！”律师说。 “我正在寻找一位名叫戈布塞克的荷兰人的女继承人——这是同一个名字，只不过是辅音的变位。”

“好吧，”科朗坦说，“等我回到巴黎，你就会知道她的出身。”

一小时后，格兰德利厄家族的两名特工出发前往拉韦尔贝里，塞查德先生和夫人居住的地方。

吕西安在拉韦尔贝里将自己的命运与姐夫的命运进行比较时，从未有过如此深刻的情感。这两个巴黎人即将目睹几天后让吕西安震惊的同一场景。一切都诉说着和平与富足。

当这两个陌生人到达的时候，拉韦尔贝里的客厅里正在招待一个四人聚会：马萨克神父，一位五岁和二十岁的年轻牧师，应塞查德夫人的要求，他成为她小儿子吕西安的家庭教师；乡村医生马龙先生；公社市长；还有一位老上校，他在马路对面拉韦尔贝里对面的一块土地上种植玫瑰。冬天的每个晚上，这些人都来玩一场简单的波士顿游戏，以赚取生分，借阅报纸，或归还他们已经完成的报纸。

当塞查德先生和夫人买下拉韦尔伯里（La Verberie）时，这是一栋用石头建造、屋顶是石板的精美房子，游乐场包括一个占地两英亩的花园。随着时间的推移，英俊的塞查德夫人将她的积蓄投入到了这个目的中，她砍掉了她购买的一些土地上的藤蔓，并用草地和灌木丛取而代之，将她的花园延伸到了一条小溪。目前，这座房子周围有一个约二十英亩的公园，周围有围墙，被认为是附近最气派的地方。

老塞查德的故居连外屋，现在被用作他留下的约二十英亩葡萄园、五个农庄的经理的住所，每年带来约六千法郎的收入，还有十英亩草地位于小溪的另一边，正对着小公园；事实上，塞查德夫人希望明年将他们纳入其中。拉韦尔贝里 (La Verberie) 在附近已被称为城堡，伊芙·塞查德 (Eve Sechard) 被称为马尔萨克夫人 (Lady of Marsac)。吕西安虽然满足了自己的虚荣心，但也只是效仿了农民和葡萄园种植者的做法。工厂的主人库尔图瓦（Courtois），风景如画，距离拉韦尔贝里（La Verberie）草地几百码，据说，他与塞查德夫人签订了出售他的财产的条约；此次收购将为该庄园和该部门“地方”的等级画上点睛之笔。

塞查德夫人做了很多善事，她的判断力和慷慨同样受到尊敬和爱戴。她的美丽，现在真的非常灿烂，正值绽放的巅峰。她大约六岁二十岁，但在宁静而丰富的乡村生活中仍保留着青春的新鲜感。她仍然深爱着她的丈夫，认为他是一个聪明的人，谦虚地放弃了名气的展示。简而言之，为了完成她的肖像，足以说，在她的一生中，她的内心从未有过一种不是受到她的丈夫或孩子的启发的悸动。

正如可以想象的那样，这个幸福的家庭为悲伤付出的代价是吕西安的职业生涯所引起的深深的焦虑，伊芙·塞查德在其中怀疑着神秘的事物，她更加害怕这一点，因为在他最后一次访问期间，吕西安粗暴地缩短了他的所有生活。他回答了姐姐的问题，说一个雄心勃勃的人除了他自己之外，不应该向任何人说明他的行为。

六年里，吕西安只见过妹妹三次，给她写的信也不超过六封。他第一次访问拉韦尔贝里是在他母亲去世之际。他最后的付出是为了请求谎言的帮助，这对他的晋升是非常必要的。这在塞查德先生和夫人以及他们的兄弟之间造成了一场非常严重的场面，使他们幸福而受人尊敬的生活受到了最可怕的怀疑的困扰。

房子的内部和周围的环境一样，都发生了很大的变化，但舒适而不奢华，这一点只要环顾一下这小群人现在聚集的房间就可以明白。漂亮的奥比松地毯，灰色棉质斜纹布挂饰，上面镶着绿色丝绸锦缎，木制品漆成仿斯帕木的颜色，雕刻的红木家具上覆盖着灰色羊毛材料和绿色粗麻布，还有花架，尽管时间已经过去了，但还是开满了鲜花。年，呈现出非常令人愉快和温馨的一面。绿色锦缎的窗帘、烟囱装饰品和镜框都没有受到外省一切破坏的不良品味的污染。最小的细节，优雅而恰当，给心灵和眼睛一种宁静和诗意的感觉，一个聪明而充满爱心的女人可以而且应该将这种感觉融入到她的家中。

塞查德夫人仍在为她的父亲哀悼，她坐在管家科尔布夫人的帮助下，坐在火边处理一块大挂毯，她把家里所有的小事都托付给了她。

“一辆马车停在门口了！”库尔图瓦听到外面车轮的声音说道。 “而且从金属的碰撞声判断，它属于这些部位——”

“毫无疑问，波斯特尔和他的妻子来看我们了，”医生说。

“不，”库尔图瓦说，“马车是从曼塞尔来的。”

“蒙塔姆，”科尔布说道，他是我们在前一本书中认识的魁梧阿尔萨斯犬（幻觉降临），“这是一位来自巴黎的律师，想与先生交谈。”

“律师！”塞查德喊道； “这个词让我感到肠绞痛！”

“谢谢你！”马尔萨克市长卡尚说道，他在昂古莱姆当了二十年的律师，曾经被要求起诉塞查德。

“我可怜的大卫永远不会进步；他永远都会心不在焉！”伊芙微笑着说道。

“一位来自巴黎的律师，”库尔图瓦说。 “你在巴黎有什么事吗？”

“不，”伊芙说。

“但你有一个兄弟，”库尔图瓦说道。

“小心点，免得他对老塞查德的遗产有什么话可说，”卡尚说。 “He 他介入了一些非常奇怪的事情，值得尊敬的人！”

科朗坦和德尔维尔进入房间后，向大家鞠了一躬并报出了自己的名字，请求与塞查德先生和夫人进行一次私人采访。

“无论如何，”塞查德说。 “但是这是生意问题吗？”

“这只是关于你父亲财产的问题，”科朗坦说。

“那么我请求您允许先生——市长，一位以前在昂古莱姆工作的律师——也出席。”

“您是德尔维尔先生吗？”卡尚对科朗坦说道。

“不，先生，这是德尔维尔先生，”科朗坦回答道，介绍了律师，并鞠了个躬。

“但是，”塞查德说，“可以说，我们是一个家庭聚会；我们对邻居没有秘密；没有必要回到我的书房，那里没有火——我们的生活在所有人的眼前——”

“但是你父亲的，”科朗坦说，“涉及某些你可能不愿意公开的谜团。”

“有什么需要我们脸红的吗？”伊芙惊慌地说道。

“不好了！ “这是他年轻时犯下的罪孽。”科朗坦一边冷冷地设置了一个捕鼠器，一边说道。 “先生，您的父亲留下了一个大儿子——”

“哎呀，这个老流氓！”库尔图瓦喊道。 “他从来都不太喜欢你，塞查德先生，他对你这个深藏不露的老狗保守了这个秘密！——现在我明白了他对我说的意思：‘当我我在草坪下面。’”

“不要惊慌，先生，”科朗坦对谢查德说，同时他用眼角的余光看着伊芙。

“一个兄弟！”医生惊呼道。 “那么你的传承就一分为二了！”

德尔维尔正装模作样地检查挂在客厅墙上的精美雕刻、字母前的校样。

“请不要惊慌，夫人，”科朗坦继续说道，看到塞查德夫人英俊的脸上写满了惊讶，“这只是一个亲生儿子。亲生儿子的权利与婚生子女的权利不同。这个人处于极度贫困之中，他有权获得根据遗产数额计算的一定数额。你父亲留下的几百万——”

当听到“百万”这个词时，在场所有人异口同声地喊道。现在德尔维尔不再研究这些印刷品了。

“老塞查德？——几百万？”库尔图瓦说。 “这到底是谁告诉你的？某个农民——”

“先生，”卡尚说，“您不隶属于财政部吗？你可能会被告知所有的事实——”

“放心吧，”科朗坦说，“我以名誉担保，我不是财政部的雇员。”

刚刚示意大家什么也不说的卡尚，露出了满意的表情。

“先生，”科朗坦继续说道，“如果整个庄园只有一百万，那么一个亲生子女的份额仍然是相当可观的。但我们并不是来威胁要提起诉讼；我们只是来威胁要提起诉讼。相反，我们的目的是建议你交出十万法郎，然后我们就出发——”

“十万法郎！”卡尚喊道，打断了他的话。 “但是，先生，老塞查德在这里留下了二十英亩的葡萄园、五个小农场、十英亩的草地，除此之外，没有一苏——”

“世界上没有什么能诱使我说谎，”大卫·塞查德喊道，“除了金钱问题，还有其他任何事情。——先生，”他转向科朗坦和德尔维尔说道，“我的父亲离开了我们，除了土地之外——”

库尔图瓦和卡尚向沙查德发出了徒劳的信号。他接着说：

“三十万法郎，这样整个庄园就增加到了五十万法郎左右。”

“卡尚先生，”伊芙·塞查德问道，“法律对亲生子女的比例是多少？”

“夫人，”科朗坦说，“我们不是土耳其人；我们是土耳其人。”我们只需要你们在这些先生面前发誓，你们从你们岳父那里继承的遗产不超过五十万法郎，我们就能达成谅解。”

“首先请以你的名誉向我保证，你确实是一名律师，”卡尚对德尔维尔说。

“这是我的护照，”德尔维尔回答道，递给他一张对折成四份的纸。 “先生并不像你想象的那样是财政部的检查员，所以放轻松，”他补充道。 “我们有一个重要原因想要了解有关塞查德庄园的真相，现在我们知道了。”

德尔维尔拉着塞查德夫人的手，很有礼貌地领她到房间的另一端。

“夫人，”他低声说道，“如果不是这件事情牵涉到格朗德利厄家族的荣誉和前途，我绝不会听信这位红色绅士的计谋。丝带。但你必须原谅他；有必要查明你的兄弟在那个古老家族的信仰上偷走了一步的谎言。现在要小心，不要让别人认为你已经给了你兄弟一百二十万法郎来回购鲁本普雷庄园——”

“一百二十万法郎！”西查德夫人脸色苍白地喊道。 “他从哪儿弄来的，可怜的孩子？”

“啊！这就是问题所在，”德尔维尔回答道。 “我担心他的财富来源远非纯粹。”

正如她的邻居们所看到的，夏娃的眼里涌出了泪水。

“也许，我们为您提供了一项伟大的服务，让您免于教唆谎言，而这种谎言的结果可能非常危险，”律师继续说道。

德尔维尔留下面色苍白、沮丧、泪流满面的塞查德夫人，向大家鞠了一躬。

“去曼塞尔！”科朗坦对驾驶马车的小男孩说道。

从波尔多到巴黎的勤奋中，只有一个空位。德尔维尔恳求科朗坦允许他接受它，并敦促进行商业宣传；但他内心深处并不信任他的旅伴，他的外交技巧和冷静让他印象深刻，认为这是练习的结果。科朗坦在曼塞尔又呆了三天，无法离开。他不得不写信给波尔多，以确保在巴黎教练的位置，直到离开家九天后才回来。

与此同时，佩拉德每天早上都会打电话到帕西或巴黎，询问科朗坦是否回来了。第八天，他在每户人家留下一张纸条，用他们特有的密码写下，向他的朋友解释死亡笼罩着他，并告诉他莉迪被绑架以及他的敌人为他们付出的可怕结局。佩拉德失去了科朗坦，但得到了康坦森的支持，他仍然继续伪装成富翁。尽管他的隐形敌人已经发现了他，但他非常明智地思考，留在比赛场上可能会收集到一些关于此事的线索。

康坦森在寻找莉迪的过程中运用了他所有的经验，并希望找出她藏在哪所房子里。但随着日子一天天过去，事实证明，追查最细微的线索是绝对不可能的，这一点一小时一小时地增加了佩拉德的绝望。这位老间谍身边有十二到十五名最有经验的侦探组成的守卫。他们监视着穆瓦诺街和泰特布特街的街区——他作为富豪与杜瓦尔·诺布尔夫人住在那里。在阿西授予吕西安恢复其在格兰德利酒店旧地位的任期的最后三天里，康滕森从未离开过这位老总警察局的老将。充满敌意和交战的部落的艺术在美国森林中散发出诗意的恐怖，库珀在他的小说中充分利用了这种恐怖，在这里与巴黎生活的琐碎细节联系在一起。步行旅客、商店、出租汽车、站在窗前的一个人影——一切都由人类密码组成，老佩拉德将他的安全托付给他们，库珀的浪漫故事中对海狸村、一块岩石的令人兴奋的兴趣，一件野牛长袍，一艘漂浮的独木舟，一根杂草散布在水面上。

“如果西班牙人走了，你就没什么好害怕的，”康滕森对佩拉德说道，并谈到他们生活在完美的和平之中。

“但如果他没走呢？”佩拉德观察到。

“他把我的一名手下带到了马车后面；但在布卢瓦，我的人不得不下车，无法再次抓住马车。”

德尔维尔回来五天后，吕西安的一天早上接到了拉斯蒂涅的电话。

“我亲爱的孩子，我感到绝望，”他的来访者说，“我发现自己被迫传递一条托付给我的信息，因为众所周知我们很亲密。你们的婚姻破裂了，没有任何和解的希望。再也不要踏进格兰德利厄酒店了。要娶克洛蒂尔德，你必须等到她父亲去世，而他太自私了，暂时不肯死。老牌惠斯特牌手坐在牌桌旁，直到很晚。

“克洛蒂尔德正与玛德琳·德·列农古-肖利厄一起出发前往意大利。这个可怜的女孩如此疯狂地爱着你，我亲爱的朋友，所以他们必须密切关注她；她一心想来看你，并密谋逃跑。这或许可以安慰你不幸的时候！”

路西恩没有回答。他坐在那儿凝视着拉斯蒂涅。

“这毕竟是一种不幸吗？”他的朋友继续说道。 “你很容易就能找到一个比克洛蒂尔德同样出身和漂亮的女孩！塞里齐夫人会出于恶意为你找一个妻子；她无法忍受格兰德利厄斯，因为他从来不会对她说什么。她有一个侄女，小克莱门丝·杜鲁弗尔——”

“我亲爱的孩子，”吕西安最后说道，“自从那次晚餐之后，我就和德·塞里齐夫人关系不好了——她在埃丝特的包厢里看到了我，大吵了一架——然后我就让她一个人呆着了。”

“四十岁的女人不会和像你这样英俊的男人吵架太久，”拉斯蒂涅说。 “我对这些日落有些了解。——它在天空持续十分钟，在女人心里持续十年。”

“我等了一周才收到她的消息。”

“去打电话吧。”

“是的，我现在必须这么做。”

“你到底要去瓦尔贵族家吗？她的老板正在归还纽辛根给的晚餐。”

“有人问我，我就去。”吕西安严肃地说。

卡洛斯立即从阿西那里得知了自己的灾难，第二天，吕西安就与拉斯蒂涅和纽辛根一起去了泰特布特街。

午夜时分，这部戏剧的几乎所有人物都聚集在以前属于埃丝特的餐厅里——这部戏剧的兴趣就隐藏在这些动荡的生活的床底下，只有埃丝特、吕西安、佩拉德、黑白混血儿康坦森和照顾他情妇的帕卡德。康坦森和佩拉德并不知道阿西是被杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人请来帮她做饭的。

当他们坐到餐桌旁时，佩拉德给了杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人五百法郎，以便把事情办好，他发现餐巾下有一张纸片，上面用铅笔写着这样的话：“十天是当你坐下来吃晚饭的时候就起床了。”

佩拉德把纸递给站在他身后的康滕森，用英语说道：

“你把我的名字写在这里了吗？”

康坦森在蜡烛的光下读了这首“梅内、特克尔、乌法辛”，然后把碎片塞进口袋里。但他知道验证铅笔笔迹是多么困难，尤其是验证用罗马大写字母写的句子，也就是说，用数学线条，因为大写字母完全由直线和曲线组成，其中不可能发现手上的任何技巧，就像所谓的跑手一样。

晚餐完全没有精神。佩拉德显然心不在焉。镇上那些为晚餐注入活力的人中，只有拉斯蒂涅和吕西安在场。路西恩脸色阴沉，陷入沉思。拉斯蒂涅在晚饭前就损失了两千法郎，他一边吃一边喝，希望以后能把钱追回来。三女都被这股寒意所袭，面面相觑。乏味使菜肴失去了所有的味道。晚餐就像戏剧和书籍一样，有好有坏。

用餐结束时，我们会提供冰块，这种冰块称为plombieres。众所周知，这种甜点是将精致的果脯放在冰块上，盛在一个小玻璃杯中，而不是堆在杯沿之上。这些冰是托尔托尼的杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人订购的，她的商店位于泰特布街和林荫大道的拐角处。

厨师把康滕森叫出房间去结账。

康坦森觉得店童的这个要求很奇怪，于是下楼说道：

“那你不是从托托尼家来的吗？”然后又直接上楼了。

与此同时，帕卡德在他不在的时候将冰块交给了公司。混血儿刚走到门口，一位在穆瓦诺街站岗的警察就向楼梯上喊道：

“二十七号。”

“这是怎么回事？”康滕森回答道，再次飞落下来。

“告诉爸爸他的女儿回来了；但是，上帝啊！处于什么状态。叫他立刻来；她快死了。”

当康坦森重新走进餐厅时，老佩拉德已经喝了很多酒，正在吞下冰块上的樱桃。他们为杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人的健康干杯。富翁在他的杯子里装满了康斯坦蒂亚，然后又倒空了。

尽管康滕森对必须向佩拉德透露的消息感到苦恼，但帕卡德注视着这位富翁的热切目光还是让康滕森感到震惊。他的眼睛闪烁着光芒，就像两团固定的火焰。虽然这看起来很重要，但这仍然无法耽误混血儿，当佩拉德放下酒杯时，混血儿靠在了他的主人身上。

“莉迪在家，”康滕森说，“状态非常糟糕。”

佩拉德用浓重的南方口音大声说出了所有法国人中最具法国特色的誓言，令所有客人惊讶地抬起头来。佩拉德发现了自己的错误，他用流利的法语对康坦森说：

“给我找个教练——我走了。”

每个人都站了起来。

“怎么，你是谁？”吕西安说。

“贾——谁？”男爵说。

“比休告诉我，你欺骗英国人比他能做得更好，但我不会相信他，”拉斯蒂涅说。

“一些破产者伪装起来，”杜蒂莱大声说道。 “我也这么怀疑！”

“巴黎是一个奇怪的地方！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说道。 “一个商人在自己所在的城镇破产后，却以富翁或花花公子的身份出现在香榭丽舍大街上而不受惩罚！——哦！我真倒霉！破产者是我的祸根。”

“每朵花都有它独特的枯萎！”艾丝特轻声说道。 “我的就像克利奥帕特拉的一样——一只毒蛇。”

“我是谁？”佩拉德在门口回应道。 “你很快就会知道；因为如果我死了，我会每天晚上从坟墓里站起来，抓住你的脚！”

他一边说着，一边看了看艾丝特和路西恩，然后趁着众人的沮丧以极快的速度消失了，意思是不等马车就跑回家了。在街上，当间谍跨过外门的门槛时，他的手臂被抓住了。那是阿西，戴着黑色兜帽，就像当时女士们离开舞会时所戴的那样。

“派人去领圣礼吧，佩拉德爸爸。”她的声音已经预示着不祥之兆。

一位教练正在等待。阿西跳了上去，马车就像被风吹走了一样消失了。已经有五辆马车等候着；佩拉德的手下什么也没发现。

科朗坦是一位热衷于园艺的退休商人，到达他位于帕西小镇最安静、最漂亮的角落之一维涅街的家时，发现了他朋友佩拉德的密文。他没有休息，而是坐上了载他到那儿的哈克尼长途汽车，开往穆瓦诺街，在那里他只找到了卡特。他从她那里听说了莉迪的失踪，并对佩拉德和他自己的缺乏远见感到震惊。

“但他们还不认识我，”他自言自语道。 “这支队伍无所不能；我必须查明他们是否正在杀害佩拉德；因为如果是这样的话，我就不能再被人看到——”

人的生命越卑鄙，他就越执着；它每时每刻都变成抗议和报复。

科朗坦回到出租车里，开车回到自己的房间，乔装成一个虚弱的老人，穿着一件浅绿色的大衣，戴着一顶假发。然后，出于与佩拉德的友谊，他步行返回。他打算向他最忠诚、最聪明的下属发出指示。

当他沿着圣奥诺雷街从旺多姆广场到达圣罗克街时，他身后出现了一个穿着拖鞋、穿着女装的女孩身后。她穿着白色的床单，戴着睡帽，不时发出抽泣声和不由自主的呻吟声。科朗廷比她快，转过身来，认出了莉迪。

“我是你父亲的朋友，坎库埃尔先生的朋友，”他用自然的声音说道。

“啊！那么这里就有一个我可以信任的人了！”她说。

“他们似乎没有认出我，”科朗坦继续说道，“因为我们被无情的敌人追赶，不得不伪装自己。但告诉我你发生了什么事？”

“哦，先生，”可怜的孩子说，“可以讲述事实，但不能讲述故事——我毁了，迷失了，我不知道如何——”

“你从哪里来？”

“我不知道，先生。我逃得如此仓促，走过了那么多街道，绕了那么多弯，以为自己被跟踪了。当我遇到任何看起来不错的人时，我都会询问如何返回林荫大道，以便找到和平街。最后，步行之后——现在几点了，先生？”

“十一点半，”科朗坦说。

“我是在黄昏时逃走的，”莉迪说。 “我已经走了五个小时了。”

“好吧，你也来吧；你现在可以休息了；你会找到你的好卡特的。”

“哦，先生，我没有休息！我只想在坟墓里安息，如果我有资格被录取的话，我会去修道院里等死——”

“可怜的小女孩！——但你挣扎过吗？”

“哦是的！哦！如果你能想象他们把我安置在那些卑鄙的生物身边就好了——！”

“毫无疑问，他们让你睡觉了？”

“啊！就是这样。”可怜的莉迪喊道。 “再多一点体力，我就应该在家了。我感觉自己在坠落，脑子不太清醒——刚才我好像在花园里——”

科朗廷把莉迪抱在怀里，她失去了知觉。他抱她上楼。

“凯特！”他称。

卡特带着喜悦的声音走了出来。

“别太着急，高兴不起来！”科朗坦严肃地说。 “这个女孩病得很重。”

当莉迪躺在床上，并通过卡特点燃的两根蜡烛认出自己的房间时，她变得神志不清。她唱着一些优美的旋律，时不时地喊出她听到的可怕句子。她漂亮的脸庞上布满了紫色的斑点。她把自己纯洁的童年的回忆和这十天的骂名混在一起了。卡特坐在那儿哭泣。科朗坦在房间里来回踱步，时不时地停下来凝视莉迪。

“她正在偿还她父亲的债务，”他说。 “上面有天意吗？哦，我没有组建家庭是明智的。以我的名誉担保，正如某些哲学家所说，孩子确实是不幸的人质。”

“哦！” “凯特，我不应该躺在这里，我应该躺在塞纳河底部的沙子上！”

“凯特，你不应该哭着看着你的孩子，这永远无法治愈她，你应该去看医生；首先是医务人员，然后是德斯普兰先生和比安雄先生——我们必须拯救这个无辜的生物。”

科朗坦记下了这两位著名医生的地址。

这时，楼梯上来了一个熟悉的人，门被打开了。佩拉德满头大汗，脸色发紫，眼睛几乎染血，像海豚一样喘着粗气，从外门冲到莉迪的房间，惊呼道：

“我的孩子在哪里？”

他从科朗坦身上看到了忧郁的神情，他的目光追随着朋友的手。莉迪的处境只能与园丁精心呵护的一朵花相比，现在它从茎上掉下来，被某个农民的铁夹鞋压碎了。把这个比喻比喻为一位父亲的心，你就会明白佩拉德受到的打击；他的眼里开始流泪。

“你哭了！——是我父亲！”女孩说。

她还能认出她的父亲；当老人坐进椅子时，她从床上起来，跪在老人身边。

“请原谅我，爸爸，”她的语气刺痛了佩拉德的心，与此同时，他意识到自己的头上受到了巨大的打击。

“我要死了！——恶棍们！”这是他的最后一句话。

科朗廷试图帮助他的朋友，并接受了他最新的呼吸。

“死的！中毒了！”他对自己说。 “啊！医生来了！”听到车轮的声音，他惊呼道。

康坦森卸下了黑白混血儿的伪装，像一座青铜雕像一样站着，听到莉迪说道：

“那你不原谅我吗，父亲？——但这不是我的错！”

她不明白她的父亲已经死了。

“哦，他多么盯着我看啊！”可怜的疯女孩叫道。

“我们必须闭上他的眼睛，”康滕森一边说，一边将佩拉德抱到床上。

“我们正在做一件愚蠢的事情，”科朗坦说。 “我们把他抱进他自己的房间吧。他的女儿是个半疯子，看到他死了，她一定会发疯的。她会认为她杀了他。”

莉蒂看到他们带走了她的父亲，看上去很震惊。

“那儿躺着我唯一的朋友！”科朗坦说，当佩拉德被放在自己房间的床上时，他似乎很感动。 “他一生中只有一次贪婪的冲动，那是为了他的女儿！——让他成为你的榜样，康坦森。生命的每一行都有其荣誉准则。佩拉德把自己与私人事务混为一谈，这是错误的。除了公共案件之外，我们无权干涉任何事情。

“但无论如何，我发誓，”他的声音、强调的语气和让康坦森感到惊恐的表情说道，“为我可怜的佩拉德报仇！我会找出那些对他的死和他女儿的毁灭负有责任的人。就我自己而言，我还剩下几天的生命，我将冒着完成复仇的风险，他们中的每个人都将在四点钟在这个地方被刮干净，健康状况良好地死去德格雷夫。”

“我会帮助你，”康滕森感慨地说。

事实上，没有什么比一个冷酷、自足、有条不紊的男人身上的激情景象更令人激动的了，二十年来，没有人在他身上察觉到哪怕是最微小的情感冲动。它就像一根熔化的铁条，它会熔化它所接触到的一切。康滕森被深深地感动了。

“可怜的老坎奎勒！”他看着科朗坦说道。 “他已经对我好多次了。——而且，我告诉你，只有你们这种坏人才知道怎么做这种事——但他常常给我十法郎让我去赌博……”

葬礼演说结束后，佩拉德的两名复仇者回到莉迪的房间，听到凯特和市政府医务人员在楼梯上的声音。

“去叫警察局长来。”科朗坦说。 “检察官不会找到对此案提出起诉的理由；不过，我们还是会向县政府报告；也许，它可能会有一些用处。

“先生，”他继续对医务人员说，“在这个房间里你会看到一个死人。我不相信他是死于自然原因；你可以在警察局长在场的情况下进行验尸，警察局长会应我的要求来的。尝试发现一些有毒的痕迹。几分钟后，您就会得到德斯普兰先生和比安雄先生的意见，我派他们去检查我最好朋友的女儿。尽管他已经死了，但她的处境比他更糟糕。”

“我在履行职责时不需要那些先生们的协助，”医务人员说。

“好吧，好吧，”科朗坦想。 “先生，我们不要发生冲突，”他说。 “我简单说一下我的看法——那些杀了父亲的人，也毁了女儿。”

到了白天，莉迪已经疲惫不堪。当伟大的外科医生和年轻的医生到达时，她已经睡着了。

负责签署死亡证明的医生现在已经打开了佩拉德的尸体，正在寻找死因。

“在等待你的病人醒来的时候，”科朗坦对两位著名的医生说，“你愿意和你的一位专业弟兄一起进行一项检查吗？这肯定会让你感兴趣，在进行询问时，你的意见将很有价值。”

“你的亲戚死于中风，”这位官员说。 “所有症状都是大脑剧烈充血的。”

“先生们，检查一下他，看看有没有能够产生类似症状的毒药。”

“事实上，胃里充满了食物；但由于缺乏化学分析，我没有发现有毒的证据。

“如果脑充血的特征得到很好的确定，考虑到患者的年龄，我们就可以得出一个充分的死亡原因，”德斯普林看着大量的材料说道。

“他在这里吃晚饭吗？”比安雄问道。

“不，”科朗坦说。 “他从林荫大道匆匆来到这里，发现他的女儿被毁了——”

“如果他爱他的女儿，那就是毒药，”比安雄说。

“什么已知的毒药可以产生类似的效果？”科朗坦坚持自己的想法问道。

“只有一个。”德斯普兰仔细检查后说道。 “这是一种在马来亚群岛发现的毒药，源自马钱子科的树木，但目前还鲜为人知；它被用来给马来短剑这种危险武器下毒。——至少，据报道是这样。”

警察局长很快就到了；科朗坦告诉了他自己的怀疑，并恳求他起草一份报告，告诉他佩拉德在哪里、和谁一起吃晚饭，以及他发现莉迪的原因。

然后科朗坦去了莉迪的房间。德普兰和比安雄一直在检查这个可怜的孩子。他在门口遇见了他们。

“怎么样，先生们？”科朗坦问道。

“让女孩接受医疗护理；除非她在孩子出生时恢复理智——如果她确实应该有一个孩子的话——她将以忧郁而疯狂的方式结束自己的一生。如果母性本能能够被唤起，那么就没有治愈的希望了。”

科朗坦付给每位医生四十法郎黄金，然后转向警察局长，警察局长拉住了他的袖子。

“医务人员坚持认为死亡是自然死亡，”这位工作人员说，“我很难报告这个病例，特别是死者是老坎库埃尔；他涉足的事情太多了，我们不应该确定我们可能会与谁发生冲突。像这样的人常常为命令而死——”

“我的名字叫科朗坦，”科朗坦在男人耳边说道。

专员一开始很惊讶。

“所以记下这一切，”科朗坦继续说道。 “它会逐渐变得非常有用；仅将其作为机密信息发送。犯罪行为无法得到证实，而且我知道任何调查都会从一开始就受到检查。——但总有一天我会抓住罪犯。我会监视他们并当场抓获他们。”

警察向科朗廷鞠了一躬，然后离开了。

“先生，”卡特说。 “小姐除了跳舞和唱歌什么都不做。我能做些什么？”

“那之后有什么变化吗？”

“她明白她的父亲刚刚去世。”

“让她坐上一辆出租马车，然后带她去查伦顿；我会写一封信给警察总长，以确保她得到适当的照顾。——夏朗顿的女儿，乞丐坟墓里的父亲！科朗坦说——“康坦森，去把教区的灵车叫来。现在，唐·卡洛斯·埃雷拉，你和我将一决胜负！”

“卡洛斯？”康滕森说，“他在西班牙。”

“他在巴黎。”科朗坦肯定地说。 “菲利普二世有一点西班牙天才的气质。输入所有这些；但我对每个人都有陷阱，甚至对国王也是如此。”

富翁失踪五天后，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人坐在埃丝特的床边哭泣，因为她感觉自己正在走向贫困。

“如果我每年至少有一百路易就好了！亲爱的，有了这笔钱，一个女人就可以退休到某个小镇去找个丈夫了——”

“我可以给你这么多，”埃丝特说。

“如何？”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人喊道。

“哦，以一种非常简单的方式。听。你必须计划自杀；好好发挥你的作用。派人去找阿西，出价一万法郎，买两颗黑色的极薄玻璃珠，里面含有一种能在一秒钟内杀死你的毒药。把它们带到我这里来，我给你五万法郎。”

“你为什么不亲自向她要这些东西呢？”她的朋友说。

“阿西不会把它们卖给我。”

“他们不是为了你自己？”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人问道。

“也许。”

“你！谁住在自己的房子里，享受快乐和奢华？就在一场将成为巴黎十年之久的娱乐活动的前夕——这将花费纽辛根两万法郎！他们说，二月中旬将会有草莓、芦笋、葡萄、甜瓜！——房间里还会有价值一千克朗的鲜花。”

“你在说什么？光是楼梯上就有价值一千克朗的玫瑰花。”

“据说你的礼服价值一万法郎？”

“是的，这是布鲁塞尔问题，他的妻子德尔菲娜非常愤怒。但我很想假扮成新娘。”

“那一万法郎呢？”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人问道。

“这是我所有的现钱了，”埃丝特微笑着说道。 “打开我的抽屉；它在卷曲纸下面。”

“谈论死亡的人永远不会自杀，”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说。 “如果它犯了——”

“犯罪？耻辱！”艾丝特一边犹豫，一边说完她朋友的想法。 “放心吧，我无意杀人。我有一个朋友——一个非常幸福的女人；她死了，我必须追随她——仅此而已。”

“真是愚蠢啊！”

“我能怎样帮助它呢？我答应过她我会的。”

“我应该让那张账单被兑现，”她的朋友微笑着说。

“照我说的做，立刻走。我听到一辆马车驶来。这是纽辛根，一个会高兴到发疯的男人！是的，他爱我！——为什么我们不爱那些爱我们的人，因为他们确实竭尽全力取悦我们呢？

“啊，就是这个问题！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人说道。 “这是关于鲱鱼的古老故事，鲱鱼是最令人费解的游泳鱼类。”

“为什么？”

“好吧，没人能发现。”

“走吧，亲爱的！——我必须要你五万法郎。”

“那么再见。”

三天过去了，埃丝特与纽辛根男爵的相处方式完全改变了。猴子变成了猫，猫变成了女人。艾丝特向老人倾注了浓浓的感情。她很迷人。她对他说话的方式完全没有恶作剧或苦毒，也没有各种温柔的暗示，这让这位银行家的迟钝才智深信不疑。她叫他弗里茨，他相信她爱他。

“我可怜的弗里茨，我已经让你很痛苦了，”她说。 “我无耻地取笑了你。你的耐心真是太棒了。我知道，你爱我，我会回报你。我现在喜欢你，我不知道是怎么回事，但我应该更喜欢你而不是一个年轻人。这也许是经验的结果。——从长远来看，我们最终发现快乐是灵魂的硬币；快乐是灵魂的财富。为了快乐而被爱，并不比为了金钱而被爱更讨人喜欢。

“再说了，年轻人太自私了，他们更多地考虑自己而不是我们；而你现在只想着我。对你而言，我就是你的全部。我不会再从你那里拿走任何东西。我想向你证明我是多么的无私。”

“维，我想你不会想到的，”男爵着迷地喊道。 “我提议明天给你一年30万法郎的政府债券。这是我的结婚礼物。”

艾丝特吻得男爵如此甜蜜，以至于他在没有服用任何药物的情况下脸色苍白。

“哦！”她喊道：“别以为我只是为了你的三万法郎才对你好！这是因为——现在——我爱你，我的好胖弗雷德里克。”

“啊，我的哥特！你让我久等了吗？我可能会在这些树山上感到非常高兴。”

“百分之三还是百分之五，我的宠物？”艾丝特一边说，一边用手指梳理纽辛根的头发，按照她自己的风格整理。

“在树上——我有一个数量。”

于是第二天早上，男爵带来了股票证书。他和他亲爱的小女儿一起吃早餐，并接受她第二天晚上的订单，著名的星期六，伟大的一天！

“在这里，我的小生命，我唯一的生命，”银行家高兴地说，他的脸上洋溢着幸福的光芒。 “这些钱足够你余生的生活费了。”

艾丝特毫不兴奋地接过那张纸，把它折叠起来，放进梳妆台的抽屉里。

“看来你现在很幸福啊，你这个邪恶的怪物！”她说着，轻轻地拍了一下纽辛根的脸颊，“既然我终于接受了你的礼物。我不能再告诉你们家庭真相，因为我分享你们所说的劳动成果。这不是一份礼物，我可怜的老男孩，这是补偿。——来吧，不要摆出你在交易所的表情。你知道，我爱你。”

“我亲爱的艾丝特，我的爱情天使，”银行家说，“别这样对我说话。我告诉你，如果你认为我是一个诚实的人，即使全世界都把我当作领带，我也不在乎。——我每天都越来越爱你。

“这就是我的意图，”埃丝特说。 “我再也不会说任何让你伤心的话，我的宠物大象，因为你已经像婴儿一样天真了。上帝保佑我，你这个老流氓，你从来不知道自己是无辜的；你来到世上时所得到的津贴，总有一天会达到顶峰；但它埋得太深了，直到六十六岁才重新出现。被爱的带刺鱼钩钓上来。——这种现象见于老年人。

“这就是为什么我学会了爱你，你还年轻——如此年轻！除了我，没有人会知道这一点，弗雷德里克——只有我一个人。因为你十五岁就已经是银行家了；即使在大学里，你也必须借给你的同学一颗弹珠，条件是他们归还两颗弹珠。”

看到他笑，她跳到他膝盖上。

“嗯，你就按你的意愿去做吧！保佑我（宗教！掠夺人类——尽管吧，我会帮忙的。男人不值得爱；拿破仑把他们像苍蝇一样消灭了。他们向你缴税还是向政府缴税，对他们来说有什么区别？以我的名誉来说，你的性爱不会超出预算！——继续吧，我已经考虑过了，你是对的。剪羊毛！根据贝朗格的说法，你会在福音书中找到它。

“现在，吻你的艾丝特吧。——我说，你会把泰特布街的所有家具都给那个可怜的瓦尔诺布尔吗？明天我希望你能给她五万法郎——这看起来很漂亮，我的鸭子。你看，你杀了法莱克斯；人们开始向你大声疾呼，这种慷慨会显得巴比伦式的——所有的女人都会谈论它！哦！在巴黎，没有人像你一样伟大、高贵。随着世界的形成，法莱克斯将被遗忘。所以，毕竟，这将是有利息的存款。”

“你是对的，我的安切尔；你了解这个世界，”他回答道。 “你将成为我的顾问。”

“好吧，你看，”埃丝特说，“我是如何研究我男人的利益、他的地位和荣誉的。——立刻去把那五万法郎带来。”

她想除掉德纽辛根先生，以便让股票经纪人在当天下午出售债券。

“但是现在呢？”他问道。

“上帝保佑我，我的甜心，你一定要把它装在一个小缎子盒子里，包裹着一把扇子，送给她。你必须说，‘这是一把扇子，女士，我希望它合你的口味。’——你应该是图尔卡雷特家族的人，而你将成为博容家族的人。”

“迷人，迷人！”男爵喊道。 “今后我会变得很聪明。——是的，我会重复你的话。”

正当埃斯特坐下来，厌倦了扮演自己的角色时，欧洲进来了。

“夫人，”她说，“这是吕西安先生的仆人塞莱斯廷从马拉奎码头派来的信使——”

“把他带进来——不，我要去接待室。”

“夫人，他有一封塞莱斯廷写给您的信。”

艾丝特冲进接待室，看了一眼使者，发现他看起来确实是货真价实的。

“告诉 他 下来吧，”埃丝特读完信后，用微弱的声音说道，然后跌坐在椅子上。 “吕西安想自杀，”她对欧洲小声补充道。 “不用了，把信拿给他吧。”

卡洛斯·埃雷拉仍然伪装成一名推销员，他立即下楼，在接待室里看到一个陌生人，他敏锐地打量着信使。

“你说过这里没有人，”他对欧洲低声说道。

他极其谨慎地看了使者一眼，径直走进了客厅。 特龙佩拉莫特 他不知道，一段时间以来，在伏盖宫逮捕他的著名侦探警官已经有了一个竞争对手，据说他会取代他。这个对手就是信使。

“他们是对的，”假信使对在街上等他的康滕森说。 “你所描述的那个人就在房子里；但他不是西班牙人，如果那位牧师的长袍下没有一只鸟可供我们网捕，我会烧掉我的手。”

“他既不是牧师，也不是西班牙人，”康滕森说。

“我确信这一点，”侦探说。

“噢，要是我们是对的就好了！”康滕森说。

吕西安已经离开两天了，趁他不在的机会布下了这个圈套，但他今天晚上回来了，这才缓解了妓女的焦虑。第二天早上，正当埃丝特洗完澡准备上床睡觉时，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人来了。

“两颗丹药我有！”她的朋友说。

“让我看看，”埃丝特说着，把漂亮的胳膊肘埋在镶着蕾丝的枕头里站了起来。

杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人递给她两个看起来像是黑醋栗的东西。

男爵送给埃丝特一对著名血统的灵缇犬，这些灵缇犬将永远以当代伟大诗人的名字为人所知，正是他使它们变得时尚。艾丝特为拥有它们而感到自豪，她用父母的名字来称呼它们：罗密欧和朱丽叶。这里无需描述这些野兽的洁白和优雅，为客厅训练，举止暗示着英国礼仪。以斯帖叫罗密欧；罗密欧跑上来，双腿如此柔软、纤细、有力、有力，就像钢弹簧一样，抬头看着他的情妇。艾丝特为了引起他的注意，假装扔了一颗药丸。

“他的本性注定会这样死去，”她一边说，一边扔出药丸，罗密欧用牙齿咬碎了药丸。

狗没有发出任何声音，翻了个身，死了。当埃丝特说出这些墓志铭时，一切都结束了。

“天啊！”杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人尖叫道。

“有一辆出租车在等你。把死去的罗密欧带走吧。”艾丝特说道。 “他的死会在这里引起骚动。我把他给了你，你却失去了他——为他做广告。赶快;今晚你就会得到五万法郎。”

她说话如此平静，完全带着交际花的冷漠，杜瓦尔诺布尔夫人惊呼道：

“你是我们所有人的女王！”

“早点来，看起来很好——”

五点钟，埃丝特打扮得像个新娘。她穿上白色缎子蕾丝连衣裙，系着白色腰带，穿着白色缎子鞋，漂亮的肩膀上披着一条英国点状蕾丝围巾。她的头发上插着白色的山茶花，这是一个天真少女的简单装饰品。她的胸前放着一条价值三万法郎的珍珠项链，是纽辛根送的礼物。

尽管她六点钟就穿好了衣服，但她拒绝见任何人，甚至是银行家。欧洲知道吕西安将被允许进入她的房间。吕西安大约七点钟左右来了，欧洲设法把他带到了她的情妇身边，而没有人知道他的到来。

吕西安看着她，自言自语道：“为什么不去鲁本普雷和她一起生活，远离尘世，再也见不到巴黎呢？我对她的生命有五年的认真，而这个可爱的生物是那些从不欺骗自己的人之一！到哪里才能找到另一件如此完美的杰作呢？”

“亲爱的，你是我的上帝，”艾丝特跪在吕西安面前的垫子上说道，“请给我你的祝福。”

路西恩试图扶起她并亲吻她，说道：“亲爱的，这是什么玩笑？”他本想用手臂搂住她，但她以一种既尊重又恐惧的姿态挣脱了束缚。

“我已经配不上你了，吕西安，”她说着，眼泪夺眶而出。 “我恳求你，给我你的祝福，并向我发誓，你会在主宫酒店找到两张床——因为，至于在教堂里的祈祷，除非我自己祈祷，否则上帝永远不会原谅我。

“我太爱你了，亲爱的。告诉我，我让你快乐，你有时会想起我。——告诉我！”

路西恩见艾丝特一脸严肃，便坐下来思考。

“你想自杀，”他最后说道，语气中流露出深深的沉思。

“不，”她说。 “但是今天，亲爱的，那个女人死了，那个曾经属于你的纯洁、贞洁、充满爱心的女人。——我非常担心我会因悲伤而死。”

“可怜的孩子，”吕西安说，“等等！这两天我辛苦了。我成功见到了克洛蒂尔德——”

“永远克洛蒂尔德！”艾丝特大声喊道，语气里充满了愤怒。

“是的，”他说，“我们已经写信给对方了。——周二早上，她要出发去意大利，但我会在去枫丹白露面试的路上遇见她。”

“保佑我（宗教！你们男人想要什么妻子？木板条？”可怜的埃丝特喊道。 “如果我有七八百万，你不会嫁给我吗——现在就来吧？”

“孩子！我想说的是，如果我一切都结束了，除了你我就没有妻子了。”

艾丝特低下头，掩饰自己突然变得苍白的脸色和擦掉的泪水。

“你爱我？”她说道，带着最深切的忧郁看着吕西安。 “好吧，这已经是我足够的祝福了。——不要妥协。从侧门出去，从前厅进入客厅。吻我的额头。”

她张开双臂搂住路西恩，疯狂地把他抱在怀里，又说道：

“走，只能走——否则我就必须活下去。”

当这个注定要失败的女人出现在客厅时，引起了一阵钦佩的叫喊。艾丝特的眼睛里流露出无限的光芒，看着它们，灵魂就会沉沦。蓝黑色的秀发衬托着山茶花。总之，这个精致的生物达到了她想要的所有效果。她没有对手。她看起来就像是以各种形式包围着她的那种肆无忌惮的奢华的至高无上的表达。然后她就非常机智了。她以哈贝内克在音乐学院指挥时所表现出的冷酷、平静的力量统治着狂欢，在那些音乐会上，欧洲第一批音乐家在诠释莫扎特和贝多芬方面达到了崇高的境界。

但她惊恐地发现纽辛根吃得很少，喝得很少，而且完全是这个房子的主人。

到了半夜，大家都疯了。眼镜碎了，可能再也不能用了；两扇中国窗帘被撕破了；比修一生中第二次喝醉了。没有人站稳脚跟，女人们都在沙发上睡着了，客人们也无法实施他们计划的恶作剧，护送埃丝特和纽辛根到卧室，手里拿着蜡烛，站成两排，唱着歌。 波那血清 来自 塞维利亚理发师.

纽辛根只是向埃丝特伸出了手。看到他们的比休，虽然喝得醉醺醺的，但仍然能够像里瓦罗尔一样，在黎塞留公爵最后一次婚姻之际说：“必须警告警察；必须警告警察。”这里正在酝酿恶作剧。”

小丑以为他是在开玩笑；他是一位先知。

德纽辛根先生直到周一中午才回家。但就在这时，他的经纪人通知他，埃丝特·范·博格塞克小姐已于上周五出售了那张三万法郎利息的债券，并且刚刚收到这笔钱。

“但是，男爵先生，正当我处理这笔转会事宜时，德尔维尔的首席职员来拜访了我；在看到埃丝特小姐的真实姓名后，他告诉我她已经拥有了七百万的财富。”

“呸！”

“是的，她是老纸币折扣商戈布塞克的唯一继承人。——德尔维尔会核实事实。如果你情妇的母亲是那个漂亮的荷兰女人 荷兰美女，正如他们这样称呼她的，她进来是为了——”

“我知道她就是这样，”银行家喊道。 “她一生都告诉我。我要写信给德尔维尔。”

男爵坐在办公桌前，给德尔维尔写了一封信，并由他的一名仆人寄出。然后，去交易所后，他在三点左右回到埃丝特家。

“夫人禁止我们以任何借口叫醒她。她在床上——睡着了——”

“Ach der Teufel！”男爵说。 “但是，欧洲，她不会因为别人说她非常富有而生气。她将继承七百万。老戈布塞克死了，你的小姐是他唯一的继承人，因为她的母亲是戈布塞克自己的侄女；此外，他还留下了一座别墅。我从来没有想过像那个男人这样的百万富翁会让艾丝特陷入痛苦之中！”

“啊哈！那么你的统治就结束了，老马裤！” “欧洲说，用一种无耻的眼神看着男爵，就像莫里哀笔下的侍女一样。 “嘘！你这个老阿尔萨斯乌鸦！她爱你，就像我们爱瘟疫一样！我们之上的天堂！数以百万计！——哎呀，她可能会嫁给她的情人；她会不高兴吗！”

普鲁登斯·塞维恩第一个向女主人宣布了这一伟大的幸运，让男爵大吃一惊。老人陶醉在超人的享受之中，自以为幸福，刚刚在激情达到最白热的时刻洗了个冷水澡。

“她在骗我！”他喊道，眼里含着泪水。 “是的，她在欺骗我。哦，埃​​丝特，我的生命！我真是个傻瓜！这样的花还能为老人们绽放吗！我可以买我想要的所有东西，除了你！——Ach Gott，ach Gott！我该做什么！我将遭受重创！——她是对的，残酷的欧洲。以斯帖，如果她很有钱，就不会嫁给我。我该去自责吗？我所知道的神圣欢乐火焰中的生命是什么？我的哥特，我的哥特！”

老爷子一把将三个月前与白发一起梳的假发扯了下来。

从欧洲传来的刺耳的尖叫声让纽辛根感到胆战心惊。可怜的银行家站起身来，迈着双腿走上楼，那双腿已经被他刚刚吞下的那碗幻灭之酒喝得醉醺醺的了，因为没有什么比灾难之酒更令人陶醉的了。

在她的房间门口，他看到埃丝特僵硬地躺在床上，全身中毒，死了！

他走到床边，跪下。

“你是对的！她是这么告诉我的！——她已经死了——我——”

帕卡德、阿西，每个人都匆匆赶了进来。这是一个奇观，一个震惊，但并不绝望。每个人都有自己的疑惑。男爵再次成为一名银行家。他心里生出一丝怀疑，他太不谨慎了，竟然去问那七十五万法郎，即债券的价格，现在怎么样了。帕卡德、阿西和欧洲面面相觑，德纽辛根先生以为发生了抢劫和谋杀，立即离开了屋子。欧洲在她情妇的枕头下发现了一包柔软的东西，里面装的是钞票，于是立即着手“把她放在地上”，正如她所说。

“去告诉阿西先生！——哦，在她知道自己有七百万之前就死了！戈布塞克是可怜夫人的叔叔！”她说。

帕卡德明白欧洲的策略。阿西一转身，欧罗巴就打开了包裹，上面写着倒霉的交际花：“交给吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷先生。”

七十五万法郎的钞票在普鲁登斯·瑟维恩眼中闪闪发光，她惊呼道：

“我们的余生岂不是幸福而诚实吗！”

帕卡德没有提出异议。他作为小偷的本能比他的执着更强烈。 特龙佩拉莫特.

“杜鲁特死了，”他最后说道。 “我的肩膀仍然是信件面前的证据。让我们一起出发吧；把钱分了，免得鸡蛋都放在一个篮子里，然后结婚。”

“但是我们能躲到哪里去呢？”普鲁登丝说。

“在巴黎，”帕卡德回答道。

普鲁登斯和帕卡德立即出发，两个诚实的人迅速变成了强盗。

“我的孩子，”卡洛斯一说完三个字，就对艾西说，“在我写一份正式遗嘱的时候，找到埃丝特的一封信，然后把副本和信交给吉拉德；但他必须快点。在律师在这里盖章之前，遗嘱必须放在埃丝特的枕头下。”

他写下了以下遗嘱：——

“除了吕西安·查东先生，世界上从来没有爱过任何人
de Rubempre，并决心结束我的生命而不是旧病复发
他把我从罪恶和耻辱的生活中拯救出来，我给予
并将我所能遗赠的一切遗赠给上述Lucien Chardon de Rubempre
在我去世时拥有，以他成立为条件
在圣罗克教区教堂举行永久弥撒
安息吧，她给了他一切，直到她最后的思念。

“埃丝特·高布塞克。”

“这很符合她的风格，”心想 特龙佩拉莫特.

晚上七点，这份写好并密封的文件被阿西放到了埃丝特的抱枕下。

“雅克，”她说着又飞上楼，“正当我走出房间时，正义就进来了——”

“你指的是治安正义吗？”

“不，我的儿子。治安法官在那里，但他身边还有宪兵。检察官和预审法官也在那里，门也有人把守。”

“这起死亡事件很快引起了轰动，”雅克·柯林说道。

“哎，帕卡德和欧洲都消失了；恐怕七十五万法郎都被他们吓跑了。”阿西说道。

“低等恶棍！”科林说。 “他们的诈骗游戏为我们带来了麻烦。”

人类正义和巴黎正义，也就是说，最可疑、最敏锐、最聪明、无所不知的正义类型——确实太聪明了，因为它坚持在每一个转折点上解释法律——最终到了要制定法律的地步。它对这一可怕阴谋的代理人下手了。

纽辛根男爵在认出投毒的证据后，却找不到他的七十五万法郎，他想象他非常不喜欢的两个人（帕卡德或欧罗巴）中的一个犯下了这起罪行。在他第一次愤怒的冲动中，他飞到了警察局。一声钟响，科朗坦的所有部下都被召集起来。县里的官员、法律界人士、警察局长、治安法官、预审法官——全都骚动起来。晚上九点，三名医务人员被叫来对可怜的埃丝特进行尸检，并开始进行调查。

特龙佩拉莫特，受到阿西的警告，惊呼道：

“没有人知道我在这里；我可能会播出。”他在阁楼的天窗旁站了起来，瞬间以惊人的敏捷站在了屋顶上，以瓦匠般的冷静审视着周围的环境。

“好的！”他在普罗旺斯街上看到五栋房子外的一个花园时说道，“这对我来说正好。”

“你得到了报酬， 特龙佩拉莫特”康滕森突然从一堆烟囱后面钻出来说道。 “你可以向卡缪索先生解释一下你在屋顶上举行的弥撒，神甫先生，最重要的是，你为什么要逃跑——”

“我在西班牙有敌人，”卡洛斯·埃雷拉说。

“我们可以从你的阁楼去那里，”康滕森说。

这个假西班牙人假装屈服；但是，当他的背和脚跨过天窗的开口时，他抓住了康坦森，用力把他甩了出去，以致间谍掉进了圣乔治街的阴沟里。

康坦森死在了他的荣誉场上；雅克·科林再次悄悄地走进房间，上床睡觉。

“给我一些东西，既能让我病得很重，又不会杀死我。”他对阿西说。 “因为我必须濒临死亡，才能避免回答好奇的人。我刚刚以最自然的方式摆脱了一个人，他可能会揭穿我的面具。”

前一天晚上七点钟，吕西安带着早上拿到的护照，坐着自己的马车出发去枫丹白露。他睡在内穆尔一侧最近的旅馆里。早上六点，他独自步行穿过森林，到达布隆。

“这里，”当他坐在俯瞰布隆美丽风景的一块岩石上时，他自言自语道，“这是拿破仑梦想在退位前夕做出最后巨大努力的致命地点。”

黎明时分，他听到驿马驶近的声音，看见一辆布里斯卡驶过，车里坐着列农古-肖利厄公爵夫人的仆人和克洛蒂尔德·德·格朗利厄的女仆。

“他们来了！”吕西安想。 “现在，把这出闹剧演好，我就会得救！——格朗德利厄公爵的女婿，不管他！”

一个小时后，他听到一辆高级旅行马车发出奇特的声音，柏林近了，车上坐着两位女士。他们已经下令，要拉上马车，驶向布隆的山坡，马车后面的男仆把车停下来。

就在这时，路西恩走了过来。

“克洛蒂尔德！”他一边说，一边敲着窗户。

“不，”年轻的公爵夫人对她的朋友说，“他不能上马车，我们也不会单独和他在一起，亲爱的。最后一次和他说话——我同意；但在路上，我们要走的地方，巴蒂斯特可以护送我们的地方。——早上天气很好，我们裹得严严实实的，不怕冷。马车可以跟上。”

两女便下了车。

“巴蒂斯特，”公爵夫人说，“邮递员可以慢慢跟上；我们想走一段路。你一定要靠近我们。”

玛德琳·德·莫尔索夫抓住克洛蒂尔德的手臂，让吕西安说话。他们就这样一直走到格雷兹村。现在已经八点了，克洛蒂尔德打发吕西安走了。

“好吧，我的朋友，”她带着尊严结束了这次漫长的采访，“除了你，我永远不会嫁给任何人。我宁愿相信你，也不愿相信其他男人，相信我的父亲和母亲——肯定没有女人比这更能证明我的依恋吧？——现在，试着消除那些对你不利的致命偏见。”

就在这时，传来了奔腾的马蹄声，令女士们大吃一惊的是，一队宪兵包围了这一小队。

“你想要什么？”吕西安带着花花公子般的傲慢说道。

“您是吕西安·德·鲁本普雷先生吗？”枫丹白露检察官问道。

“是的，先生。”

“今晚你将在拉福斯度过，”他说。 “我有拘留你的逮捕令。”

“这些女士是谁？”中士问道。

“当然。——对不起，女士们——你们的护照吗？因为吕西安先生，据我所知，在女性中有熟人，对他来说，这些人会——”

“你把列农古-肖利厄公爵夫人当成妓女了吗？”马德琳说道，向检察官猛地一闪。

“你长得很帅，可以原谅这个错误。”县令很聪明地反驳道。

“巴蒂斯特，出示护照。”年轻的公爵夫人微笑着说道。

“德·鲁本普雷先生被指控犯有什么罪？”克洛蒂尔德问道，公爵夫人希望她能安全地呆在马车里。

“参与抢劫和谋杀，”宪兵中士回答道。

巴蒂斯特昏倒了，把德·格兰德利厄小姐抱进马车里。

午夜时分，吕西安进入拉福斯监狱，这是一所位于帕耶纳街和芭蕾街之间的监狱，他在那里被单独监禁。

神父卡洛斯·埃雷拉也在场，他于当晚被捕。

邪恶之路的终结

第二天早上六点钟，两辆载有囚车的车辆，用民众热烈的语言喊道： 沙拉从拉福斯出来，驱车前往司法宫旁的古监狱。

在巴黎，很少有闲逛者会遇到这间带轮子的牢房。尽管如此，尽管大多数故事都是为巴黎读者写的，但陌生人无疑会满意地了解这台强大的机器。谁知道？俄罗斯、德国或奥地利的警察，这些国家的法律机构，对“沙拉篮子”来说是一个未知的机器，可能会从中获利；在一些外国国家，毫无疑问，仿制这种车辆将给囚犯带来福音。

这辆可耻的交通工具，黄色车身，高轮，内衬铁皮，分为两个隔间。前面是一个包厢座位，配有皮革坐垫和围裙。这是货车的空闲座位，可容纳一名治安官和一名宪兵。一个坚固的铁格子，一直延伸到顶部，将这种驾驶室的前部与后部分开，后部有两个侧向放置的木制座椅，就像公共汽车中的囚犯坐在上面一样。他们从后面一步进去，有一扇门，没有窗户。沙拉篮的昵称源自于该车辆最初完全由格子制成，囚犯在其中摇晃，就像摇晃沙拉以使其干燥一样。

为了进一步确保安全，万一发生事故，一名骑警宪兵会跟随机器，特别是当机器将死刑犯运送到行刑地点时。因此逃脱是不可能的。该车辆内衬有铁皮，不受任何工具的影响。囚犯在被捕或被关起来时会被仔细搜查，除了手表弹簧之外什么也没有，也许，可以穿过栅栏，在光滑的表面上毫无用处。

所以 帕尼尔沙拉巴黎警察的天才改进了它，成为监狱综合巴士（在伦敦被称为“黑玛丽亚”）的模型，其中囚犯被运送到绿巨人，而不是以前使文明蒙羞的可怕的翻车，尽管曼农·莱斯科（Manon Lescaut）使它出名。

首先，被告被用囚车从巴黎各个监狱送往司法宫，接受预审法官的讯问。用监狱俚语来说，这叫做“上楼接受检查”。然后，当被告的案件只是轻罪时，他们会再次从监狱转移到法院接受判决；或者，如果用法律术语来说，案件属于上级法院，则他们会从拘留所转移到塞纳河省的“新门”古监狱。

最后，囚车将被判处死刑的罪犯从比塞特尔运送到圣雅克巴里埃，在那里执行死刑，自七月革命以来一直如此。多亏了慈善机构的干预，这些可怜的人不再需要面对乘坐一辆与木材商人使用的一模一样的马车从古监狱到格雷夫广场的恐怖。这辆推车不再使用，而是用来将尸体从脚手架上运回来。

没有这样的解释，一位著名囚犯对他的同伙说的话是：“现在是马的事了！”当他进入货车时，他会变得难以理解。如今，没有比在巴黎更舒适的执行死刑的地方了。

此刻，两辆货车一大早就出发了，正在执行一项不寻常的任务，将两名被告囚犯从拉福斯监狱运送到古监狱，每个人都有一个属于自己的“沙拉篮”。

我的读者中有十分之九，嗯，剩下的十分之九，当然不知道“被定罪”、“被怀疑”、“被指控”和“交付审判”（监狱、拘留所和感化所）这些词的含义之间的巨大差异；他们可能会惊讶地发现，这涉及我们所有的刑事诉讼程序，目前将勾勒出一个清晰而简短的轮廓，既是为了他们的信息，也是为了阐明这段历史。然而，当据说第一辆货车载着雅克·科林和第二辆吕西安，他们在几个小时内从社会辉煌的顶峰跌落到牢房的深处时，好奇心暂时得到了满足。

两名同伙的行为很典型。吕西安·德·鲁本普雷向后退了一步，避开路人的目光，路人看着这辆阴郁而致命的车辆的铁窗，它沿着圣安托万街和马特罗伊街驶向码头和圣凯旋门。 -吉恩，当时，穿过市政厅广场。这座拱门现在成为塞纳河省长官邸在巨大的市政宫殿中的入口大门。相反，那个勇敢的罪犯把脸贴在警官和宪兵之间的栅栏上，他们确信他们的货车正在一起聊天。

1830 年 XNUMX 月的伟大日子，以及随后爆发的巨大风暴，已经完全抹去了之前所有事件的记忆，而在那一年的最后六个月里，政治完全吸引了法国人，以至于没有人记得——或者没有人记得。几乎没有人记得——各种各样的私人、司法和金融灾难，虽然很奇怪，但每年头六个月，巴黎人的好奇心却如潮水般涌来。因此，值得一提的是，巴黎当时因在一名妓女家里发现一名西班牙牧师以及与克洛蒂尔德小姐订婚的优雅的吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷被捕的消息而感到兴奋。 de Grandlieu，拍摄于前往意大利的高速公路上，靠近格雷兹小村庄。两人都被指控涉嫌一起谋杀案，据称该谋杀案的利润为七百万法郎；几天来，这次审判的丑闻压倒了查理十世领导下的上次选举的引人入胜的重要性。

首先，这项指控是根据纽辛根男爵的申请提出的；随后，正当吕西安即将被任命为首相私人秘书时，他的被捕在社会最高层引起了轰动。在巴黎的每一间客厅里，不止一个年轻人记得，当吕西安受到美丽的莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人的青睐时，他曾羡慕过他。每个女人都知道他是一位政府要人的妻子德塞里齐夫人最宠爱的随员。最后，他英俊的外表让他在巴黎的各个世界中声名狼藉——时尚界、金融界、妓女界、年轻人界、文学界。因此，两天来，整个巴黎都在谈论这两起逮捕事件。受理此案的预审法官认为这是一个晋升的机会；为了尽快开展工作，他下令一旦将吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷从枫丹白露带出，就将两名被告从拉福斯转移到古监狱。

由于卡洛斯神父在拉福斯只待了十二个小时，而吕西安只待了半个晚上，所以描述那座监狱已经毫无用处，因为它已经被彻底改建了。至于他们托运的细节，那只是古监狱的同一故事的重复。

但是，在阐述刑事调查的可怕戏剧性之前，正如我已经说过的，有必要对此类案件的普通诉讼程序进行说明。首先，它的各个阶段将在国内外得到更好的理解，此外，那些对拿破仑统治下的立法者所设想的刑法行为一无所知的人也会更好地理解它。这一点尤其重要，因为此时此刻，这个伟大而崇高的机构正面临着被监狱系统摧毁的危险。

犯罪行为已发生；如果是明目张胆的行为，涉案者（inculpes）就会被带到最近的看守所，并被关进俗称“维奥隆”的牢房——也许是因为他们在那里发出噪音、尖叫或哭泣。从那时起，嫌疑人（inculpes）被带到警察局长或治安法官面前，由警察局长或治安法官进行初步调查，如果有任何错误，可以驳回案件；最后，他们被送往县警察局，在那里警察将他们拘留，等待检察官和预审法官的方便。他们在收到适当通知后，根据案件的严重程度或多或少很快地前来检查仍被临时拘留的囚犯。预审法官在适当考虑推定证据后，发出监禁令，并将嫌疑人送入监狱。巴黎有三座这样的监狱（Maisons d'Arret）：Sainte-Pelagie、La Force 和 les Madelonettes。

请注意“inculpe”、“有罪”或“涉嫌犯罪”一词。法国法典规定了犯罪的三个基本等级——罪责，一级怀疑； prevenu，正在检查中；指控，完全接受审判。只要拘押令尚未签署，所谓的罪犯就被视为仅仅是有嫌疑、犯罪或重罪的罪魁祸首；当逮捕令发出后，他就成为“被告”（prevenu），并且只要调查仍在进行，就被视为“被告”；当调查结束，并且法院一旦决定将被告送交审判时，他在检察官的要求下，一旦上级法院就成为“律师的囚犯”（指控） ，已宣布该指控已被证明已提交巡回法庭。

因此，犯罪嫌疑人在接受高等法院法官（国家高级法官）的审判之前，要经历三个不同的阶段、三项筛选。

在第一阶段，无辜者有丰富的手段为自己开脱——公众、镇守卫、警察。在第二个州，他们与证人面对面出庭，并由巴黎的法庭或各省的集体法院进行审判。在第三阶段，他们被带到由十二名议员组成的法官席上，如果出现任何错误或非正式情况，在巡回法院接受审判的囚犯可以向最高法院上诉寻求保护。陪审团不知道当他们宣判一名囚犯无罪时，他们给了民众当局、行政和司法官员多大的一记耳光。因此，在我看来，一个无辜的人几乎不可能出现在巴黎巡回法院的法庭上——我更不用说其他司法机构了。

被拘留者是罪犯。法国刑法承认三级监禁，在法律上与怀疑、询问和定罪这三种程度相对应。单纯监禁是对轻罪的较轻处罚，但拘留是苦役监禁，是一种严厉的、有时甚至是有辱人格的惩罚。因此，现在那些支持监狱制度的人会破坏刑法的一个令人钦佩的计划，其中刑罚是明智分级的，他们最终将惩罚最轻的过失和最严重的罪行。

读者可以比较一下 政治生活场景 （例如，在《特内布鲁斯事件》中）第四年的雾月刑法和取代它的拿破仑法典之间存在着奇怪的差异。

在大多数试验中，就像本次试验一样，嫌疑人立即接受检查（并从犯罪者变成预防者）；司法部门立即对他们发出逮捕和监禁令。事实上，大多数此类案件的犯罪分子要么逃跑，要么立即被捕。确实，正如我们所看到的，警察这个工具而已，司法人员却以迅雷不及掩耳之势袭击了以斯帖的家。即使科朗坦没有向上级警察提出报仇的理由，纽辛根男爵的七十五万法郎抢劫案也有待调查。

就在第一辆载着雅克·柯林的囚车到达圣让拱门时——一条狭窄而黑暗的通道，前面有几个街区，迫使囚犯停在拱顶下。囚犯的眼睛透过栅栏像痈一样闪闪发光，尽管他的样子就像一个垂死的人，前一天，这让拉福斯州长相信必须请医生来。这些燃烧的眼睛，自由地此刻，警察和宪兵都没有回头看他们的“顾客”，他们说的语言是如此简单，以至于聪明的预审法官，例如波皮诺特先生，都会认出那个因亵渎罪而被定罪的人。

事实上，自从“沙拉篮子”走出拉福斯大门以来，雅克·柯林就研究了一路上的一切。尽管他们走得很快，他还是热切而全面地扫视了这些房子，从底层到阁楼。他看到并注意到每一个路人。在观察事物和人的混合体中最细微的差异方面，上帝本身对于他的创造物的手段和目的并不比这个人更清楚。怀着希望，正如霍拉蒂家族的最后一个成员手持剑一样，他期待着帮助。除了这位绿巨人中的马基雅维利之外，对任何人来说，这种希望似乎都是绝对不可能实现的，他会像所有有罪的人一样机械地继续下去。当司法部门和巴黎警方将嫌疑人，特别是那些像科林和吕西安这样被单独监禁的人时，他们中没有人梦想过反抗。

无法想象一名犯罪嫌疑人会突然被隔离。逮捕他的宪兵、审问他的专员、把他带进监狱的人、把他带到牢房的看守——牢房实际上被称为“cachot”、地牢或藏身之处，还有那些抓住他武器的人把他关进囚车——从他被捕那一刻起，所有靠近他的人要么说不出话来，要么记下他所说的一切，并向警察或法官重复。囚犯与世界之间如此简单地实现的完全隔离，导致他的能力完全被推翻，精神崩溃，特别是当这个人的前身不熟悉正义的程序时。法官和罪犯之间的决斗更加令人震惊，因为正义站在一面空白的墙壁上，而其代理人的冷酷无情。

但雅克·科林或卡洛斯·埃雷拉——有必要根据案件情况用其中一个或另一个名字来谈论他——长期以来熟悉警察、监狱和司法的方法。 。这个狡猾和腐败的巨人运用了他所有的智力和所有的模仿资源，来影响一个无辜者的惊讶和无知，同时让律师看到他遭受的痛苦。据传，阿西，那个熟练的蝗虫，给了他一剂毒药，足以产生可怕的疾病效果。

因此，卡缪索先生、警察局长和检察官在诉讼和调查中都对一场中风袭击造成的明显影响感到困惑。

“他中毒了！”卡缪索先生喊道，当这位自封的神父被从阁楼上抬下来时，他在抽搐中翻腾，他所受的痛苦让他感到震惊。

四名警察费了好大劲才把卡洛斯神父带到楼下埃丝特的房间，律师和宪兵都聚集在那里。

“如果他有罪的话，这是他能做的最好的事情，”检察官回答道。

“你相信他有病吗？”警察局长问道。

警察总是难以置信。

可以想像，三位律师是低声交谈的。但雅克·科林从他们的表情中猜出了正在讨论的话题，并利用这一机会使逮捕时进行的第一次简短检查变得绝对不可能和毫无用处；他结结巴巴地说出西班牙语和法语混杂在一起的句子，简直毫无意义。

在拉福斯，这场闹剧首先变得更加成功，因为“安全”部队的负责人——“公共安全卫士大队队长”头衔的缩写——比比-卢平，他长期以来自从雅克·柯林在沃盖尔夫人的寄宿处被拘留以来，他因特殊事务被派往该国，而他的副手是一个希望接替他的人，但对他来说，犯人不详。

比比-卢平本人曾是一名罪犯，也是雅克·科林在绿巨人队中的战友，也是他的私人敌人。这种敌意在争吵中加剧，雅克·柯林在争吵中总是占上风，而在他对狱友的至高无上的态度中， 特龙佩拉莫特 一直以为。然后，十年来，雅克·柯林一直是巴黎被释放的囚犯的主宰，他们的头目，他们的顾问，他们的银行家，因此也是比比卢平的对手。

因此，虽然被单独监禁，但他相信他的右手阿西的聪明和毫无保留的忠诚，或许也相信他的左手帕卡德，当他自以为是的时候，他可能会恢复效忠。节俭的下属已经安全地将他偷来的七十五万法郎给了出来。这也是他一路上注意力都异常警觉的原因。而且，说来也奇怪！他的希望即将实现。

拱门的两个坚固的侧壁覆盖着六英尺高，由排水沟溅起的泥浆形成了永久性的护墙板。因为，在那些日子里，步行乘客无法免受车辆不断行驶和所谓的推车的踢击的影响，而是每隔一段距离直立放置路缘石，并在车轮的中心处远离地面。一辆重型卡车不止一次地将粗心的行人压在拱门下。巴黎的许多地区确实如此，直到很久以后。从这种情况可以看出圣让门的狭窄程度以及它被封锁的容易程度。如果一辆出租车从格雷夫广场驶来，而一名女小贩正从马特罗伊路推着她那辆装苹果的小卡车进来，那么第三辆车就会造成麻烦。徒步乘客惊慌失措地逃跑，寻找一块基石来保护他们免受老式车轴的伤害，这种车轴已经变得如此重要，以至于最终通过了一项法律来缩短车轴的长度。

当囚车进来时，这条通道被一名推着小贩蔬菜车的市场妇女挡住了——这种蔬菜车的类型更加奇怪，因为尽管巴黎的蔬菜杂货店数量不断增加，但蔬菜仍然存在。她是一个彻头彻尾的街头小贩，以至于市警长（如果当时存在那种特殊级别的警察）会允许她在没有检查许可证的情况下从事她的生意，尽管她的面容险恶，散发着犯罪的味道。她的头上裹着一条廉价破烂的格子棉头巾，头上长满了叛逆的头发，就像野猪的鬃毛。她那又红又皱的脖子令人作呕，她的小披肩完全遮盖不了被阳光、灰尘和泥土晒成棕色的胸部。她的礼服是拼凑而成的；她的鞋子张开，仿佛在对着一张和礼服一样满是破洞的脸微笑。多么好的围裙啊！石膏就不会那么脏了。这块会动的、散发着恶臭的抹布一定让十码外的精致人的鼻孔里充满了臭味。那双手已经收获了一百块庄稼。这个女人要么是从德国女巫安息日回来，要么是从慈善机构出来。但这是怎样的一双眼睛啊！当她那迷人的目光和雅克·科林的目光相遇并交换思想时，这是多么大胆的智慧，多么压抑的活力啊！

“让开，你这个老害虫陷阱！”邮差用严厉的语气喊道。

“注意别压坏我，你这个刽子手的学徒！”她反驳道。 “你的那车不如我的值钱。”

小贩试图挤进两块基石之间让路，最终堵住了通道，达到了她的目的。

“哦！阿西！”雅克·柯林自言自语道，他立刻认出了他的同谋。 “那么一切都好办了。”

邮递员仍在与阿西交换便利设施，马特罗伊街上也有车辆聚集。

“小心，那里——Pecaire fermati。 “Souni la——Vedrem，”老阿西尖叫道，用的是这些女小贩特有的红印第安语调，她们把自己的话改写成一种象声词，除了巴黎人之外，任何人都无法理解。

巷子里一片混乱，在所有等待的司机的叫喊声中，没有人理会这声疯狂的叫喊，这可能是那个女人平常的叫声。但这句胡言乱语，雅克·科林听得懂，用他们自己的杂种语言——蹩脚的意大利语和普罗旺斯语的混合体——传到了他的耳朵里，这是一个重要的消息：

“你可怜的孩子被捕了。我来这里是为了监视你。我们还会再见面的。”

雅克·柯林在战胜警察的喜悦中，因为他希望能够保持联系，却遭到了可能会杀死任何其他人的打击。

“路西恩被拘留了！”他对自己说。

他差点晕过去。这个消息对他来说比他被判处死刑而上诉被驳回更可怕。

既然两辆囚车都在码头上行驶，为了这个故事的趣味性，我应该在他们驶向古监狱的同时，补充几句关于古监狱的事。巴黎古监狱，一个历史性的名字，一个可怕的名字，一个更可怕的东西，它与法国大革命，尤其是巴黎的革命密不可分。它认识我们大多数的大罪犯。但即使它是巴黎最有趣的建筑，它也是最不为人所知的——上流社会的人最不知道的。尽管这段历史题外话很有趣，但它应该像囚车的旅程一样短。

哪位巴黎人、哪位外国人、哪位外省人未能观察到月光码头的阴暗而神秘的特征——这是一座黑色的墙壁结构，两侧是三座圆锥形屋顶的圆塔，其中两座几乎互相接触？该码头始于兑换桥 (Pont du Change)，止于新桥 (Pont Neuf)。一座方形塔楼——钟楼或Tour de l'Horloge，从那里发出了屠杀圣巴塞洛缪的信号——这座塔几乎与圣雅克德拉布谢里的塔一样高，显示了司法宫所在的位置，并形成码头的拐角。

这四座塔楼和这些墙壁都笼罩在黑色的缠绕布中，在巴黎，这种缠绕布覆盖在北面的每个立面上。沿着码头大约一半的地方，在一个阴暗的拱门处，我们看到了私人住宅的开始，这些住宅是在亨利四世统治时期因修建新桥而建造的。皇家广场是王太子广场的复制品。建筑风格相同，都是用砖砌成的，并用凿石砌成。这座拱门和哈莱街是司法宫西边的界限。警察局以前是议会主席的官邸，现在是宫殿的属地。财政法院和补贴法院组成了最高法院，即主权法院。可以看出，在大革命之前，宫殿享有这种孤立，而现在又是为了这种孤立。

这个街区，这个住宅和官方建筑的岛屿，在它们中间的圣礼拜堂——圣路易花冠中的无价之宝——是巴黎的圣所，它的圣地，它的神圣方舟。

一方面，这个岛最初是整个城市，因为现在形成王太子广场的地块是皇家领地附属的一片草地，那里有一个用于铸币的冲压厂。 Rue de la Monnaie 的名字由此而来——通往新桥的街道。因此，其中一座圆塔（中间的一座）的名字也被称为“Tour d'Argent”，这似乎表明金钱最初是在那里铸造的。在巴黎的旧地图上可以看到这座著名的磨坊，很可能比在宫殿里铸造钱币的时代更晚，毫无疑问，这座磨坊的建立是为了改进铸造艺术的方法。 。

第一座塔是蒙哥马利塔，与银色塔几乎没有什么区别。第三个也是最小的，但也是三个中保存最完好的一个，因为它仍然有城垛，是图尔邦贝克 (Tour Bonbec)。

圣礼拜堂及其四座塔楼（将钟楼算作一个）明确界定了其区域；或者，正如测量员所说，宫殿的周长，从墨洛温王朝时期到第一个瓦卢瓦种族登基为止；但对我们来说，由于某些改造，这座宫殿更能代表圣路易时期。

查理五世是第一个将宫殿交给议会（当时是一个新机构）的人，并在巴士底狱的保护下居住在著名的圣波尔酒店。随后，图内勒宫 (Palais des Tournelles) 背靠圣波尔酒店 (Hotel Saint-Pol) 建成。因此，在后来的瓦卢瓦统治下，国王们从巴士底狱回到了卢浮宫，这是他们的第一个据点。

法国国王原来的住所圣路易宫保留了 Le Palais（宫殿中的宫殿）的名称，但完全埋在司法宫之下；它形成了地窖，因为它像塞纳河上的大教堂一样建造，并且经过精心设计，河中最高的洪水几乎没有淹没最低的台阶。钟楼码头 (Quai de l'Horloge) 位于地表以下二十英尺处，其地基已有一千多年的历史。马车在这些塔楼下的实心柱头的水平面上运行，以前它们的外观一定与宫殿的优雅相协调，并在水面上产生了如画的效果，因为直到今天，这些塔楼的高度与宫殿相媲美。巴黎最高的建筑。

当我们从万神殿的灯笼上俯瞰这座巨大的首都时，带有圣礼拜堂的宫殿仍然是众多纪念性建筑中最具纪念意义的一座。我们国王的住所，当你在被称为“王宫”的巨大大厅中踱步时，你会踩在上面 帕斯珀杜斯厅，堪称建筑奇迹；对于在参观巴黎古监狱时碰巧研究它的诗人的聪明的眼睛来说，它是如此静止。唉!因为古监狱已经侵入了国王的住所。看到牢房、橱柜、走廊、看守室和没有光线或空气的大厅是如何从这座美丽的建筑中凿出的方式，人们的心在​​流血，其中拜占庭式、哥特式和罗马式——古代艺术的三个阶段——通过十二世纪的建筑风格统一在一栋建筑中。

这座宫殿是法国最早的一段不朽的历史，就像布卢瓦的宫殿是后来的历史一样。就像在布卢瓦一样，您可以在一个庭院中欣赏布卢瓦伯爵的城堡、路易十二的城堡、弗朗西斯一世的城堡、加斯顿的城堡；因此，在古监狱的同一区域内，您会发现早期比赛的痕迹，而在圣礼拜堂，您会发现圣路易的建筑。

市议会（我对你说），如果你捐赠数百万美元，如果你想拯救巴黎的摇篮，国王的摇篮，同时努力为巴黎和最高法院提供一座宫殿，请找一两个诗人来协助你的建筑师对得起法国。在开始工作之前，这是需要学习几年的事情。再建一两座像拉罗盖特那样的新监狱，圣路易宫就会安全。

如今，许多不满情绪困扰着这座巨大的建筑群，它们被埋在司法宫和码头之下，就像蒙马特土地上的一些古老的生物一样；但最糟糕的是它是古监狱。这句警句是可以理解的。在君主政体的早期，贵族罪犯——对于“villeins”（法语和英语中的农民一词）和公民来说，都受到市政府或其领主——大小领主的管辖。封地被带到国王面前并在古监狱看守。由于这些高贵的罪犯数量很少，古监狱对于国王的囚犯来说足够大了。

现在很难确定古监狱原来的确切位置。然而，圣路易斯建造的厨房仍然存在，形成了现在所谓的捕鼠器；最初的古监狱很可能位于 1825 年之前仍在使用的议会古监狱监狱所在的地方，位于通向最高法院的宽阔外部台阶右侧的拱门下。从那时起，直到 1825 年，被判死刑的罪犯都被处决。所有的大罪犯、所有政治情感的受害者——安克元帅和法国王后、桑布兰凯和马勒舍布、达米安和丹东、德鲁埃和卡斯坦——从那扇门出来。富基尔-坦维尔的私人房间，就像现在检察官的房间一样，位置很好，他可以看到载着革命法庭判处死刑的人的马车队伍。这样，这个化为剑的人，就可以对每一批都看最后一眼。

1825年，佩罗内先生担任大臣后，皇宫发生了巨大的变化。古监狱的旧入口是进行罪犯登记和最后一次上厕所仪式的地方，现已关闭并移至现在的位置，在钟楼和蒙哥马利环之间的一个内院中。穿过一条拱形通道。左边是“捕鼠器”，右边是监狱大门。 “沙拉篮子”可以开进这个形状不规则的庭院，可以站在那里轻松转动，如果发生骚乱，可以在拱门下方坚固的栅栏后面找到一些保护；而以前，他们在将外部台阶与宫殿右翼分开的狭窄空间中没有移动的空间。

在我们这个时代，古监狱的规模几乎不足以容纳受审的囚犯——大约需要容纳三百名男女——不再接收嫌疑犯或还押罪犯，除了极少数情况，例如雅克的案件。科林和吕西安。所有被监禁在那里的人都将在法庭上接受审判。作为例外，高级别的罪犯被允许在那里逗留，因为他们已经因公开法庭的判决而蒙羞，如果他们在默伦或普瓦西服刑，惩罚将过于严厉。乌弗拉尔宁愿被关押在古监狱而不是圣佩拉吉监狱。在撰写本文时，公证员莱昂和贝尔格斯亲王正在那里服刑，他们采取了宽大处理，虽然是武断的，但却是人道的。

一般来说，犯罪嫌疑人，无论是要接受初步审查——用法院的俚语来说是“上去”——还是要接受下级法院法官的审讯，都会被囚车直接转移到监狱。 “捕鼠器。”

大门对面的“捕鼠器”由一定数量的旧牢房组成，这些牢房建在圣路易斯大楼的旧厨房里，尚未完全入狱的囚犯被带到那里等待法庭开庭的时间，或等待法庭到来的时间。预审法官。 “捕鼠器”的北端是码头，东端是市卫队总部，西端是古监狱的庭院，南端毗邻一个巨大的拱形大厅，毫无疑问，这里以前是宴会厅，但目前已废弃。

“捕鼠器”上方是一间内部警卫室，有一扇窗户可以俯瞰古监狱的法庭。这是该部门宪兵队使用的地方，楼梯通向那里。当审判时间到来时，治安官会点名囚犯，宪兵下去，每个囚犯一名，每个宪兵抓住一名罪犯的手臂；因此，他们成双成对地走上楼梯，穿过警卫室，沿着通道被带到与大厅相邻的一个房间，那里坐落着著名的第六法庭（其职能相当于英国郡法院的职能）。受审的囚犯往返古监狱和巡回法庭时也走同样的路。

在 帕斯珀杜斯厅，在进入下层第一层庭院的大门和通往第六层庭院的台阶之间，参观者第一次去那里时必须观察到一个没有门或任何建筑装饰的门口，一个最简陋的方孔。法官和大律师通过这个通道进入通道、警卫室、牢房和古监狱的入口。

所有预审法官的私人房间位于大楼这一部分的不同楼层。他们通过肮脏的楼梯到达，这是一个迷宫，那些不熟悉这个地方的人不可避免地会迷失方向。有些房间的窗户面向码头，有些则面向古监狱的院子。 1830 年，其中一些房间位于巴里里街 (Rue de la Barillerie)。

于是，当一辆囚车在这个院子里向左转弯时，它就把待审犯人带到了“捕鼠器”旁；当它向右转时，它会将受审的囚犯运送到古监狱。现在车辆向右转弯，载着雅克·科林把他放在监狱门口。没有什么比这更险恶的了。囚犯和访客会看到两扇铁栅栏的铁门，门之间的距离约为六英尺。这些门永远不会同时打开，并且通过它们，一切都经过如此仔细的审查，以至于持有参观票的人可以在钥匙磨进锁之前将许可证通过栅栏。预审法官，甚至最高法官，未经查明身份不得入场。那么，想象一下，沟通或逃跑的机会吧！——古监狱长会微笑，他的嘴唇上的表情会冻结最大胆的浪漫主义小说家的暗示。

在古监狱的所有编年史中，除了拉瓦莱特之外，没有人逃脱过。但是，威严纵容这一事实现在已得到充分证明，如果它不减损妻子的忠诚，肯定会降低失败的风险。

最热衷于奇妙事物的人，根据困难的性质来判断，必须承认，在任何时候，障碍都必须是不可克服的，而且现在仍然如此。任何言语都无法准确描述墙壁和拱顶的强度；他们必须被看到。

虽然院子里的路面比码头的路面低，但穿过这个瓮城时，你走下几步，就进入了一个巨大的拱形大厅，坚固的墙壁上有宏伟的柱子。这个大厅毗邻蒙哥马利塔（Tour de Montgomery）（现在是州长官邸的一部分）和银色塔（Tour d'Argent），作为看守、搬运工或看守（你可能更喜欢这样称呼他们）的宿舍。官员的数量比想象的要少；只有二​​十个；他们的睡眠区，就像他们的床一样，与其他人的没有什么不同。 皮斯托尔斯 或私人牢房。名字 枪炮 毫无疑问，这源于囚犯们以前每周支付一皮斯托尔（大约十法郎）的住宿费，它的空荡就像贫穷的伟人在巴黎开始他们的职业生涯的空阁楼一样。

左边，在宽敞的入口大厅里，古监狱长坐在一个用玻璃板建造的办公室里，他和他的职员在那里保存监狱登记册。在这里，接受检查或接受审判的囚犯的姓名和完整描述会被输入，然后接受搜查。他们的住宿问题也已解决，这取决于囚犯的经济能力。

这个大厅的入口对面有一扇玻璃门。这通向一间客厅，囚犯的亲属和他的律师可以隔着双层木栅栏与他交谈。客厅的窗户通向监狱的院子，这里是内院，供受审的囚犯在固定的时间呼吸和锻炼。

这个大厅，只有从大门射进来的令人怀疑的日光照亮——因为前院的一扇窗户被前面建的玻璃办公室遮住了——有一种完美的氛围和阴暗，让人眼前一亮。与强迫想象的图片和谐一致。它的外观更加险恶，因为与Tours d'Argent和de Montgomery平行，你会发现那些神秘的拱形和压倒性的地窖，通向女王和伊丽莎白夫人占据的牢房，以及那些被称为秘密牢房的地方。这座砖石迷宫过去曾是皇家庆祝活动的场所，现在是司法宫的地下室。

1825 年至 1832 年间，最后一个厕所的运行是在这座巨大的大厅中进行的，大厅位于一个加热厕所的大炉子和内门之间。即使是现在，走在铺好的地板上也不可能不颤抖，因为它已经受到了如此多的最后一瞥的震惊和信任。

这次显然垂死的受害者在没有两名宪兵的帮助下无法从可怕的车辆中出来，他们将他抱在腋下支撑他，并把他半昏迷地带进了办公室。就这样，垂死的人在被拖着的情况下，举目望天，仿佛与从十字架上取下来的救世主很像。当然，在任何一张照片中，耶稣的面容都比假西班牙人的面容更苍白、更痛苦。他看上去已经准备好咽下最后一口气了。一坐进办公室，他就用微弱的声音重复了他被捕后对大家说过的话：

“我向西班牙大使阁下发出呼吁。”

“你可以对预审法官这么说，”总督回答道。

“我的天！”雅克·科林叹了口气说道。 “但是我不能有一本祈祷书吗！难道我就永远不被允许去看医生吗？我的生命只剩下不到两个小时了。”

由于卡洛斯·埃雷拉将被关押在秘密牢房中，因此无需询问他是否享有手枪的好处（如上所述），即拥有其中一间房间的权利。囚犯享有法律允许的舒适感。这些房间位于监狱院子的另一侧，稍后将提到。治安官和办事员平静地办理了寄送到监狱的手续。

“先生，”雅克·柯林用蹩脚的法语对总督说，“如您所见，我是一个垂死的人。如果可以的话，请尽快告诉预审法官，我渴望一个罪犯最害怕的事情，那就是，一到他就被带到他面前；因为我的痛苦实在难以忍受，一见到他，错误就迎刃而解了——”

作为一条普遍规则，每个罪犯都会谈论自己的错误。去找那些废人，审问罪犯；他们几乎都是误判的受害者。因此，这段话让所有接触过犯罪嫌疑人、被告人、被判刑人的人都露出了淡淡的微笑。

“我会向预审法官提及你的请求，”州长回答道。

“我会祝福你，先生！”假神父抬起眼睛望向天空，回答道。

卡洛斯·埃雷拉（Carlos Herrera）的名字一被列入日历，他的双臂下就由一名市政警卫搀扶着，随后是总督指示的交钥匙人员，以确定囚犯将被安置在哪个牢房的号码。 ，被引导穿过古监狱的地下迷宫，进入一个完全健康的房间，不管某些慈善家可能会反对，但与外部世界的所有可能的联系都被切断了。

他一被带走，看守、总督和他的助手们面面相觑，仿佛在互相询问意见，每个人的脸上都露出了怀疑之色。但当第二个被拘留者出现时，旁观者又恢复了平常的怀疑心态，隐藏在冷漠的气氛之下。只有在非常特殊的情况下，古监狱的工作人员才会感到好奇。囚犯对他们来说就像理发师的顾客对他来说一样。因此，所有令人震惊的手续都比在银行家进行货币交易更省事，而且往往更有礼貌。

路西恩的表情就像一个垂头丧气的罪犯。他服从一切，像机器一样服从。从枫丹白露一路走来，诗人一直面临着自己的毁灭，并告诉自己赎罪的时刻已经敲响。他脸色苍白，疲惫不堪，对他不在期间在艾丝特家里发生的事情一无所知，只知道自己是一名逃犯的亲密盟友，这种情况让他猜测比死亡更糟糕的灾难。当他的大脑能够控制一个念头时，那就是自杀。他必须不惜一切代价，摆脱像噩梦般笼罩在他面前的耻辱。

雅克·科林是两个罪犯中更危险的一个，他被关在一间坚固的砖石牢房里，光线来自一个狭窄的院子，宫殿内部有几个院子，在检察官办公室所在的侧翼。钱姆斯群岛。这个小院子是女犯人的晾晒场。吕西安被带到大楼的同一部分，关在与轻罪犯房间相邻的牢房里；因为，根据预审法官的命令，总督对他给予了一定的照顾。

从未参与过法律行动的人通常对单独或秘密监禁的含义有着最黑暗的观念。关于罪犯待遇的想法还没有摆脱刑讯室的旧照片、监狱的不健康、石墙的寒冷流着泪水、狱卒的粗俗和食物——这些都是戏剧中不可避免的附属品。 ;但这里不必说明的是，这些夸张只存在于舞台上，只会让律师、法官、以及那些出于好奇而参观监狱或前来研究监狱的人微笑。

毫无疑问，在很长一段时间里，它们都是可怕的。在路易十三的旧议会时代。和路易十四，毫无疑问，被告被乱七八糟地扔进了旧大门下面的一个低矮房间里。监狱是 1789 年犯下的罪行之一，只要看到囚禁女王和伊丽莎白夫人的牢房就足以让人联想到旧式司法程序的恐怖。

在我们这个时代，虽然慈善事业给社会带来了难以估量的危害，但它也为个人带来了一些好处。我们的刑法典是拿破仑制定的；而这一点，甚至比《民法典》——在某些方面仍然迫切需要改革——仍将是他短暂统治期间最伟大的纪念碑之一。这种刑法的新观点结束了完美的痛苦深渊。确实，可以说，除了上层阶级的人发现自己处于法律权力之下时必须遭受可怕的道德折磨之外，法律的行动是简单而温和的，达到了难以想象的程度。 。犯罪嫌疑人或被告人的住宿肯定不像在家里一样；但巴黎的监狱里为他们提供了一切必需品。此外，压在他们身上的感情负担剥夺了日常生活细节的惯常价值。受苦的从来不是身体。心灵处于如此暴力的阶段，以至于任何形式的不适或残酷对待（如果有的话）在这种心态下都很容易忍受。必须承认，一个无辜的人很快就会被释放，尤其是在巴黎。

因此，吕西安一进入牢房，就看到了他在巴黎克鲁尼酒店住过的第一个房间的精确复制品。一张床（可与拉丁区装修最差的公寓里的床相比）、底部朝外的草椅、一张桌子和一些器皿组成了这样一个房间的家具，两个被告犯人在被关押时经常被放在一起。他们行事安静，他们的罪行不是暴力犯罪，而是伪造或破产等犯罪。

他的出发点（在他天真无邪的日子里）和他的目标（最深的堕落和虚假）之间的相似之处是如此直接地吸引了他最后的诗意情感，以至于这个不幸的家伙流下了眼泪。他哭了四个小时，外表僵硬如石像，但他忍受着所有希望的颠覆，所有社交虚荣心的粉碎，以及他骄傲的彻底推翻，每一次分离都痛苦不堪。 I 这种特质存在于一个雄心勃勃的男人身上——一个情人、一个成功者、一个花花公子、一个巴黎人、一个诗人、一个浪荡子和一个宠儿。他身上的一切都被伊卡洛斯的坠落所摧毁。

另一方面，卡洛斯·埃雷拉(Carlos Herrera)一被锁在牢房里，发现自己孤身一人，就开始像笼子里的北极熊一样来回踱步。他仔细地检查了门，确信除了猫眼之外，门上没有任何裂缝。他敲响了所有的墙壁，抬头看了看漏斗，漏斗里发出微弱的光，他对自己说：“我足够安全了！”

他坐在一个角落里，透过窥视孔的栅栏，看守的眼睛无法看到他。然后他摘下假发，匆匆把一张起到衬里作用的纸脱胶。靠近他头的那面纸很油腻，看起来就像假发的质地。如果比比-卢平想到要摘下假发来与雅克·柯林确定西班牙人的身份，他绝对不会再三考虑这张纸，它看起来和假发制造商的作品一模一样。另一面还算白，干净得可以写上几行字。解开它的棘手而令人厌烦的任务是在拉福斯开始的。两个小时还不够长；之前他花了半天的时间。囚犯首先把这张珍贵的纸片撕成一条四五行宽的条子，然后把它分成几段；然后，在弄湿涂有胶的一面以使其再次粘起来后，他将储存的纸张放回了同一个奇怪的藏身之处。他在自己的一绺头发里摸索着一根像粗针一样细的铅笔芯，这是苏塞最近发明的，他在其中放了一些口香糖。他折下一段足够长的碎片，可以用来写字，也足够小，可以藏在耳朵里。雅克·科林以老犯人特有的迅速和确定的方式做好了这些准备工作，他们的手指像猴子一样轻巧，雅克·科林坐在床边沉思他对阿西的指示，完全相信他应该来面对她，他完全依赖这个女人的天才。

“在初步审查期间，”他回忆道，“我假装是西班牙人，说着蹩脚的法语，向我的大使求助，并声称拥有外交特权，但我不明白我被问到的任何问题，整个表演因晕倒、停顿、叹息而变化——简而言之，就是一个垂死之人​​的所有变幻莫测。我必须坚持这一点。我的论文都是正规的。阿西和我可以吃掉卡缪索先生；他也没什么大惊小怪的！

“现在我必须想到吕西安；必须让他振作起来。我必须不惜一切代价抓住这个男孩，并向他展示一些行动计划，否则他就会自首，放弃我，失去一切！在接受检查之前，他必须接受教训。而且，我还得找一些见证人来宣誓我成为神父！”

这就是这两名囚犯的精神和身体状况，他们的命运目前取决于卡缪索先生，他是塞纳河下级法院的预审法官，也是法典授予他的最高统治者。他们存在的最小细节，因为只有他才能允许牧师、医生或世界上任何其他人探望他们。

任何人类权威——无论是国王、掌玺大臣还是首相，都不能侵犯预审法官的权力；没有人可以阻止他，没有人可以控制他。他是一位君主，只服从他的良心和法律。如今，当哲学家、慈善家和政治家不断地努力削弱一切社会权力时，赋予预审法官的权利却成为了更加严重的攻击对象，因为他们几乎以这些权利为正当理由。 ，它必须被拥有，是巨大的。然而，正如每个有理智的人都会承认的那样，这种力量应该保持不变。在某些情况下，可以通过高度谨慎来减轻其行使的影响；但社会已经受到陪审团无能和软弱的威胁——事实上，陪审团才是真正的最高法官，应该只由精选和当选的人组成——如果这个支柱被废除，它将面临毁灭的危险。现在维护我们的刑事诉讼程序已被打破。

因嫌疑而逮捕是可怕但必要的权力之一，其巨大的重要性抵消了其对社会的风险。此外，对行政当局的不信任通常是社会解体的开始。摧毁那个机构，然后在另一个基础上重建它；坚持——就像革命前的情况一样——法官应该提供大量的财富保证；但是，不惜一切代价，相信它！不要让社会形象受到侮辱！

如今，法官的薪水是公务员，而且一般都是穷人，他的旧有尊严被一种傲慢的举止所取代，而这种举止对于那些与他平起平坐的人来说似乎是令人厌恶的。因为傲慢是没有坚实基础的尊严。这就是现行制度中的恶性因素。如果法国被划分为十个行政区，行政长官的职位可能会通过将其尊严授予有钱人而得以恢复。但对于六环和二十环来说这是不可能的。

在行使预审法官的权力时，坚持要求的唯一真正的改进是改变初步监禁的条件。仅仅怀疑这一事实不应改变嫌疑人的生活习惯。应该在巴黎建造拘留所，其设施和安排应大大改变公众对嫌疑人的看法。法律是好的，也是必要的；它的适用是错误的，公众的感觉是根据法律的执行方式来判断法律的。法国的公众舆论谴责那些受到怀疑的人，同时又通过一种莫名其妙的反应，为那些被送交审判的人辩护。这或许是法国人本质上顽固性格的结果。

巴黎人的这种不合逻辑的脾气是促成这场戏剧高潮的因素之一；不仅如此，正如我们所看到的，它是最重要的之一。

进入预审法官办公室中上演的可怕场景的秘密；了解法律和考生这两个交战国家各自的立场，其竞争的对象是囚犯保守的某个秘密，以防止治安法官的调查——在监狱俚语中很好地称为“好奇的人”——它必须永远记住，因涉嫌入狱的人对组成的七八个公众所说的内容一无所知 公众警方、当局或报纸对犯罪情况所知甚少，一无所知。

因此，向一名在押人员提供雅克·科林刚刚从阿西那里收到的关于吕西安被捕的信息，无异于向溺水者扔绳子。正如我们将看到的，由于这种无知，如果没有这种警告，这种策略注定会失败，而这种策略对于罪犯来说肯定同样是致命的。

卡缪索先生是一位内阁职员的女婿，他的名气太大了，在这里没有必要说明他的地位和关系，此时此刻，鉴于这次审查，他几乎和卡洛斯·埃雷拉一样困惑。他要指挥。他曾任巴黎巡回法院院长；他是在著名的莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人的影响下从这个职位提拔出来的，并被任命为巴黎的一名法官——这是治安官中最令人垂涎​​的职位之一——她的丈夫是王太子的亲信，也是一名骑兵上校。她是近卫军的一员，她既受到国王的青睐，也受到夫人的青睐。作为回报，他在阿朗松的一位银行家对年轻的埃斯格里尼翁伯爵提出伪造指控时，为公爵夫人提供了一项非常小的服务——这对她来说是一件重要的事情（见 古董柜; 省内生活场景），他从省法官晋升为法院院长，并从院长晋升为巴黎预审法官。

十八个月以来，他一直坐在王国最重要的法官席上。曾经，应莫弗里纽斯公爵夫人的要求，有机会转达一位不亚于公爵夫人的影响力的女士，即德斯帕德侯爵夫人的目的，但他失败了。 （参见 疯狂的委员会.)

正如场景开始时所告诉的那样，吕西安要向德斯帕德夫人报仇，德斯帕德夫人的目的是剥夺她丈夫的行动自由，吕西安能够将真实的事实摆在检察官和塞里齐伯爵面前。这两位重要的权威就这样被德斯帕德侯爵的政党争取到了，他的妻子也因丈夫的慷慨干预而勉强逃脱了法官的谴责。

昨天，德斯帕德侯爵夫人听说吕西安被捕后，派她的姐夫德斯帕德骑士去见卡缪索夫人。卡缪索夫人立即出发去拜访臭名昭著的侯爵夫人。晚饭前，她回到家，把丈夫叫到卧室里。

“如果你能把那个小纨绔子吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷送去受审，并确保他受到定罪，”她在他耳边说道，“你将成为最高法院的议员——”

“怎么样？”

“德斯帕夫人渴望看到那个可怜的年轻人被送上断头台。当我听到美女的仇恨是多么大的时候，我不寒而栗！”

“不要干涉法律问题，”卡缪索说。

“我！插手！”她说。 “如果第三个人能听到我们的声音，他就不可能猜到我们在说什么。侯爵夫人和我彼此之间都极其虚伪，就像此时此刻你对我一样。她首先感谢我在她的诉讼中进行的斡旋，并说尽管失败了，但她很感激。她谈到法律赋予你的可怕职能，“将一个人送上断头台是很可怕的——但对于那个人来说，这只不过是正义，”等等。然后她感叹这样一个英俊的年轻人，被她的表弟夏特莱夫人带到巴黎，结果竟然如此糟糕。 “这就是科拉莉和埃丝特这样的坏女人在腐败到分享不光彩的利润时带给年轻人的下场！”接下来是一些关于慈善和宗教的精彩演讲！夏特莱夫人曾说过，吕西安应该被处死一千次，因为他一半杀了他的母亲和妹妹。

“然后她谈到最高法院的一个空缺——她认识封印守护者。 “夫人，您的丈夫有一个出人头地的好机会，”她最后说道——仅此而已。

卡缪索说：“当我们履行职责时，我们每天都在表现自己。”

“如果你始终是你妻子的律师，你就会走得更远，”卡缪索夫人喊道。 “嗯，我以前还以为你是一只鹅呢。现在我很佩服你。”

律师的嘴唇上挂着一种微笑，这种微笑对他们来说就像舞者的微笑对舞者来说一样独特。

“夫人，我可以进来吗？”女仆说。

“它是什么？”她的女主人说。

“夫人，您外出时，女主人的女仆从莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人那里来了，如果您能立即去卡迪尼昂旅馆，她将不胜感激。”

“把晚饭留着吧，”律师的妻子说道，她记得载她回家的出租马车的司机正在等待付钱。

她重新戴上帽子，上了马车，二十分钟后就到达了卡迪尼昂酒店。卡缪索夫人被领上私人楼梯，在公爵夫人卧室旁边的闺房里独自坐了十分钟。公爵夫人现在出现了，衣着华丽，因为她是应皇室邀请出发前往圣克劳德的。

“亲爱的，你我之间，几句话就够了。”

“是的，公爵夫人。”

“Lucien de Rubempre 已被拘留，你的丈夫正在进行调查；我将为这个可怜的男孩的清白负责；确保他在二十四小时内被释放。——这还不是全部。有人会要求明天去吕西安的牢房里私下会见他。如果你的丈夫愿意的话，他可以在场，只要他不被发现。国王希望他的官员能够在他即将面临的困境中表现出高度的勇气。我会把你的丈夫带上来，并推荐他为国王，即使冒着生命危险。我们的朋友卡缪索将首先被任命为议员，然后在某个地方担任法院院长。——再见。——我奉命行事，请原谅，我知道吗？

“你不仅要向检察官负责，因为他无法就这件事发表意见；你将拯救一位垂死的女人，塞里齐夫人的生命。所以你不会缺少支持。

“总之，你看，我信任你，不用说——你知道——”

她把一根手指放在嘴唇上，然后就消失了。

“而我却没有机会告诉她德斯帕德夫人想要看到吕西安上断头台！”法官的妻子回到她的出租马车时想道。

她回到家，心情十分焦急，丈夫看到她后问道：

“怎么了，艾米丽？”

“我们站在两场大火之间。”

她告诉丈夫她会见公爵夫人的事，并在他耳边说话，生怕女仆在门口偷听。

“那么，他们谁的实力最强呢？”她总结道。 “侯爵夫人在她丈夫的委托这件愚蠢的事情上差点让你陷入麻烦，我们把一切都归功于公爵夫人。

“一个人做出了含糊的承诺，而另一个人则告诉你，你将首先成为议员，然后成为总统。——但愿我不会给你建议；我绝不会插手生意上的事情；尽管如此，我还是必须准确地重复法庭上所说的话以及所​​发生的事情——”

“但是，艾米丽，你不知道警察局长今天早上给我发来了什么，又是由谁发来的？上级警察局最重要的特工之一，政治界的比比卢平，他告诉我政府对这次审判有秘密的兴趣。——现在让我们吃晚饭，然后去综艺节目吧。今晚我们将在我的私人房间里讨论这一切，因为我需要你的智慧；法官的能力也许还不够——”

在这种情况下，十分之九的地方法官会否认妻子对丈夫的影响。尽管这在社会上可能是一个显着的例外，但它可能会被坚持认为是真实的，即使不太可能。地方法官就像神父一样，尤其是在巴黎，那里有最优秀的职业。除了已解决的案件外，他很少在法庭上谈论自己的事情。县官夫人不仅装作什么都不知道，而且还装作什么都不知道。她们有足够的分寸感，明白如果她们被告知一些秘密，而让自己的知识受到怀疑，就会损害她们的丈夫。

然而，在一些重大场合，当晋升取决于所做出的决定时，许多妻子，像艾米丽一样，会帮助律师研究案件。毕竟，这些例外（当然很容易被否认，因为它们仍然未知）完全取决于家庭生活中两种本性之间的斗争的方式。现在，卡缪索夫人完全控制了她的丈夫。

当屋子里的人都睡着了，律师和他的妻子坐在办公桌前，法官已经把案子的文件摆在桌子上。

“这是警察局长应我的要求转交给我的笔记，”卡缪索说。

“卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父.

“这个人无疑就是那个名叫雅克·柯林的男人，
被称为 特龙佩拉莫特，最后一次被捕是在 1819 年，
某位伏盖夫人的住所，她保留着一个共同的
他居住的地方，Rue Nueve-Sainte-Genevieve 的寄宿处
以沃特林的化名隐藏起来。”

省长手写的旁注如下：

“命令已通过电报发送给比比卢平，
安全部门立即返回，面对
囚犯，因为他与雅克·柯林 (Jacques Collin) 私下相识，
事实上，他于 1819 年在一名
米琼诺小姐。

“当时住在 Vauquer 庄园的寄宿者仍然
活着，并且可能会被要求确定他的身份。

“自封的卡洛斯·埃雷拉 (Carlos Herrera) 是吕西安·德·鲁宾普雷 (Lucien de Rubempre) 先生的
亲密的朋友和顾问，过去三年来
向他提供了大量资金，显然是通过
不诚实的手段。

“这种伙伴关系，如果西班牙人与雅克的身份
科林能被证明，必然涉及吕西安德的谴责
鲁本普雷。

“警察特工佩拉德突然死亡的原因是
在雅克·柯林的怂恿下施毒，
Rubempre，或者他们的同伙。这起谋杀案的原因是
事实上，正义长期以来一直存在于这些人的踪迹中
聪明的罪犯。”

法官在空白处再次指着省长亲自写的这张纸条：

“据我个人所知，这是事实；我也知道
吕西安·德·鲁本普雷先生可耻地欺骗了伯爵
de Serizy 和检察官。”

“你对此有何看法，艾米莉？”

“太可怕了！”他的妻子回答道。 “继续。”

“罪犯雅克·柯林变成了一名西班牙牧师，这是某种比科尼亚尔自封为圣海伦伯爵的犯罪行为更聪明的结果。”

“吕西安·德鲁本普雷.

“Lucien Chardon，昂古莱姆一位药剂师的儿子——他的母亲是一名
Demoiselle de Rubempre——因一个名字而得名 Rubempre
皇家专利。这是应拉夫人的要求而批准的。
莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人和塞里齐伯爵先生。

“这个年轻人于 182 年来到巴黎……没有任何手段
继夏特莱伯爵夫人之后，
德·巴格顿夫人，德·埃斯帕德夫人的表弟。

“他对德·巴格东夫人忘恩负义，与一个
名叫 Coralie 的女孩，是 Gymnase 的一名女演员，现已去世，她离开了
卡缪索先生是布尔多内街的丝绸布商，
和鲁本普雷住在一起。

“不久之后，由于物资匮乏而陷入贫困。
这位女演员允许他的钱，他严重妥协了
他的妹夫是一位备受尊敬的昂古莱姆印刷商
提供伪造票据，大卫·塞查德 (David Sechard) 在此期间被捕
吕西安对昂古莱姆进行了短暂访问。由于这个
鲁本普雷（Rubempre）逃跑了，但突然与
卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父。

“虽然没有明显的谋生手段，但吕西安·德
Rubempre 期间平均花费三十万法郎
他在巴黎第二次居住的三年里，只能
从自封的阿贝·卡洛斯·埃雷拉 (Abbe Carlos Herrera) 那里获得了这笔钱
——但他是怎么得到的呢？

“他最近花费了超过一百万法郎来回购
Rubempre 庄园满足他所要满足的条件
被允许与克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄小姐结婚。这
经询问后，婚姻已被解除
格兰德利厄家族，据说吕西安告诉他们他已经
从他的姐夫和他的妹妹那里得到了钱；但是
获得的信息，尤其是德尔维尔先生获得的信息，
律师，证明这对夫妇不仅是有价值的
不知道他进行了这次购买，但他们相信
据说吕西安负债累累。

“此外，Sechard 家族继承的财产包括
房屋;根据他们的宣誓书，准备好的钱大约为
二十万法郎。

“吕西安与埃丝特·戈布塞克秘密同居；因此有
毫无疑问，男爵的所有奢华礼物
女孩的保护者努辛根被移交给了上述人员
吕西安。

“吕西安和他的同伴，即囚犯，成功地保住了
他们面对世界的立足时间比科尼亚德更长，
他们的收入来自上述以斯帖的卖淫，
以前在该镇的登记册上。”

尽管这些笔记在很大程度上是对已经讲述的故事的重复，但有必要复制它们以显示巴黎警察所扮演的角色。正如从佩拉德的纸条中已经看到的那样，警方对每一个生命受到怀疑或行为可疑的家庭或个人都有几乎总是正确的总结。它知道他们违法行为的每一个情况。这种普遍的登记册和良心账户与法国银行的登记册及其财富账户一样准确保存。正如银行注意到最轻微的付款延迟、衡量每笔信用、盘点每一个资本家并观察他们的行动一样，警察也会衡量和衡量每个公民的诚实度。有了它，就像在法庭上一样，无辜者无所畏惧；除了犯罪之外，它对任何事情都没有约束力。

无论一个家庭的地位有多高，都无法逃避这种社会命运。

它的自由裁量权等于它的权力范围。警方收集的大量书面证据——报告、笔记和摘要——信息的海洋，不受干扰地沉睡着，像大海一样深沉而平静。发生一些事故，一些犯罪或轻罪变得具有攻击性，然后法律会向警察求助，如果有任何文件涉及犯罪嫌疑人，就会立即通知法官。这些记录是对他的过往的分析，只是一些旁白，在司法宫的围墙之外并不为人所知。不能合法使用它们；正义是由他们告知的，并利用他们的；但仅此而已。这些文件可以说是犯罪组织的内层，也是犯罪的首要原因，但几乎从未公开过。没有陪审团会接受它；如果这些文件的摘录在巡回法庭的审判中公布出来，整个国家都会愤怒不已。事实上，真理注定要留在井里，因为它无处不在、无时不在。在巴黎工作了十二年之后，没有一个地方法官不完全意识到巡回法院和警察当局对这些肮脏暴行的一半保密，或者不承认所犯下的一半罪行从未发生过。受到法律的制裁。

如果公众能够知道如何保留 雇用 警察们——他们不会忘记——他们会像尊敬切弗勒斯一样尊敬这些诚实的人。警察应该是精明的、马基雅维利式的；事实上，这是最良性的。但它能听到每一种突发的激情，它倾听每一种背叛，并记录下一切。警察只在一方面很可怕。它为正义所做的事情，同样也是为了政治利益而做的。但在这些方面，它就像宗教裁判所的火焰一样残酷和片面。

“把这个放在一边，”律师说，把笔记放回封面上。 “这是警察和法律之间的秘密。法官会估价它的价值，但卡缪索先生和夫人一定对此一无所知。”

“好像我需要告诉你一样！”他的妻子说。

“吕西安有罪，”他继续说道。 “但是什么？”

“一个深受莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人、塞里齐伯爵夫人喜爱，并受到克洛蒂尔德·德·格兰德利厄喜爱的人是无罪的，”阿美丽说。 “另一个 必须 对一切事情负责。”

“但吕西安是他的同谋，”卡缪索喊道。

“听听我的建议吧，”艾米莉说。 “让这位神父恢复他如此崇敬的外交生涯，为这个小坏蛋开脱罪责，并找到其他一些罪犯——”

“你怎么跑啊！”县长微笑着说道。 “女性们直奔主题，像鸟儿在空中飞翔一样猛烈地违反法律，却发现没有什么可以阻止她们。”

“但是，”阿美丽说，“无论他是一名外交官还是一名罪犯，卡洛斯神父都会找到一个人来帮助他摆脱困境。”

“我只是一个考虑中的上限；你就是大脑，”卡缪索说。

“好了，会议结束了；给你的梅莉一个吻；现在是一点钟。”

卡缪索夫人上床睡觉，留下她​​的丈夫整理他的文件和想法，为第二天早上检查两名囚犯的任务做准备。

因此，当囚车将雅克·柯林和吕西安送往古监狱时，预审法官吃过早饭，按照巴黎地方法官朴实无华的风格，步行穿过巴黎，前往他的房间，那里所有的人都在那里。案件的文件已经为他准备好了。

事情是这样的：每一位预审法官都有一位书记员，一位宣誓就职的法律秘书——这种竞赛在没有任何奖金或鼓励的情况下得以延续，产生了许多优秀的灵魂，在他们身上，保密是自然而廉洁的。从最高法院成立至今，司法宫从未接到过调查法院书记官有任何流言蜚语或不检点行为的案例。 Gentil 将 Louise de Savoie 发布的版本卖给了 Semblancay；陆军部的一名职员将俄罗斯战役的计划卖给了切尔尼切夫；这些叛徒或多或少都很富有。在皇宫任职的前景和职业责任心足以使法官的书记员成为坟墓的成功竞争对手——因为自从化学取得如此进展以来，坟墓已经泄露了许多秘密。

这个官，其实就是知县的笔。许多读者会理解，一个人可能很乐意成为机器的轴，但他们想知道为什么他满足于仍然是一个螺栓；仍然有一个螺栓很满意——也许机器吓坏了他。

卡缪索的办事员是一个两岁半的年轻人，名叫科夸特，他早上来取所有的文件和法官的笔记，并把一切准备好放在他的房间里，而律师本人则沿着码头漫步，寻找看到商店里的好奇心，他心里纳闷：——

“假设是雅克·柯林这样一个聪明的流氓，我到底要如何与他合作呢？安全部的负责人会认识他的。我必须表现得好像我知道自己在做什么，哪怕只是为了警察！我看到了这么多无法克服的困难，所以最好的计划是向侯爵夫人和公爵夫人展示警察的记录，以启发他们，我应该为我的父亲报仇，吕西安从他那里偷走了科拉莉。——如果我能揭露这些恶棍， 「我的技术会被大肆宣扬，而路西恩很快就会被他的朋友们抛弃。——好了好了，考试就能解决这一切了。」

受到布勒钟的诱惑，他走进了一家古玩店。

“不辜负我的良心，又能满足两位伟大的女士——这将是技巧的胜利，”他想。 “什么，先生，您也收集硬币吗？”卡缪索对他在店里找到的检察官说道。

“这是所有正义执行者都喜爱的味道，”格朗维尔伯爵笑着说道。 “他们会看每枚奖牌的反面。”

在商店里看了几分钟之后，就像继续他的寻找一样，他陪着卡缪索沿着码头走下去，卡缪索从来没有想到除了偶然之外还有任何其他因素让他们走到了一起。

“你今天早上正在审查德鲁本普雷先生，”检察官说。 “可怜的家伙——我喜欢他。”

“他面临多项指控，”卡缪索说。

“是的，我看到了警方的文件；但有些信息来自一个独立于省长的特工，臭名昭著的科朗廷，他造成的无辜者死亡比你将有罪者送上断头台的还要多，而且——但是那个流氓不属于你。 ——在不试图影响像你这样的法官的良心的情况下，我可以向你指出，如果你能完全确定吕西安对那个女人遗嘱的内容一无所知，那么不言而喻的是，他对她的死没有兴趣，因为她给了他巨额金钱。”

“我们可以证明埃丝特中毒时他不在场，”卡缪索说道。 “他在枫丹白露，监视着德·格朗利厄小姐和列农古公爵夫人。”

“而且他仍然抱有与德·格朗德利厄小姐结婚的希望，”检察官说——“我从德·格朗德利厄公爵夫人那里得到的——如此聪明的年轻人竟然会因为毫无目的的犯罪而牺牲自己的机会，这是不可想象的。 ”

“是的，”卡缪索说，“特别是如果埃斯特把她所有的都给了他。”

格兰维尔补充道：“德尔维尔和纽辛根都说，她的死是因为对她早已继承的遗产一无所知。”

“那么你认为这一切的意义是什么？”卡缪索问道。 “因为它的底部有一些东西。”

“这是某个仆人犯下的罪行，”检察官说。

“不幸的是，”卡缪索说，“这就像雅克·科林一样——这位西班牙牧师肯定不是别人，正是那个逃犯——占有了出售股票所得的七十五万法郎。纽辛根送给埃丝特的。”

“小心权衡一切，亲爱的卡缪索。一定要谨慎。卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父拥有外交关系；然而，一个犯了罪的使节并不会受到他的职位的庇护。他是不是卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父？这是重要的问题。”

德·格朗维尔先生鞠了一躬，转身走开，表示不需要回答。

“原来他也想救路西恩啊！”卡缪索一边想，一边沿着月光码头走，而检察官则通过哈雷庭院进入皇宫。

到达古监狱的庭院后，卡缪索来到总督的房间，把他领到人行道中央，这样没人能偷听他们说话。

“亲爱的先生，请帮我去拉福斯一趟，问问你那里的同事，此刻那里是否有 1810 年至 1815 年间在土伦的废船里关押的囚犯；或者你有没有被囚禁在这里？我们会把拉福斯的人转移到这里几天，你让我知道这个所谓的西班牙神父是否被他们称为雅克·科林，否则的话 特龙佩拉莫特设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“很好，卡缪索先生。——但是比比卢平来了……”

“什么，已经？”法官说。

“他在默伦。他被告知 特龙佩拉莫特 必须被认出来，他高兴地笑了。他正在等待您的命令。”

“把他交给我。”

随后，总督满足了卡缪索·雅克·科林先生的请求，并描述了该男子的悲惨状况。

“我本来打算先检查一下他，”县令回答说，“但不是考虑到他的健康状况。今天早上我收到了拉福斯州长的一封信。好吧，这个恶棍，他向你描述自己在过去的二十四小时里已经快要死了，睡得太香了，以至于他们和总督派来的医生一起进入了他的牢房，而他没有听到他们的声音；医生甚至没有摸他的脉搏，就让他继续睡觉——这证明他的良心和他的健康一样坚强。我只会接受这种假装的疾病，因为它能让我研究我的男人。”卡缪索先生微笑着补充道。

“我们每天都在和这些不同级别的囚犯一起学习，”监狱长说。

警察局毗邻古监狱，治安法官就像总督一样，了解所有地下通道，可以以最快的速度进出。这解释了在法院开庭期间，信息能够如此轻松地传达给巡回法院的官员和院长的原因。当卡缪索先生到达通往他房间的楼梯顶时，比比卢平也在那里，他是从门来的。 帕斯珀杜斯厅.

“多么热心啊！”卡缪索微笑着说道。

“啊，好吧，你看看是不是 he”那人回答道，“如果碰巧这里有老戏子的话，你会在监狱的院子里看到很多乐趣。

“为什么？”

“特龙佩拉莫特 偷走了他们的筹码，我知道他们已经发誓要杀了他。”

他们 是那些被判有罪的人，他们的钱被委托给 特龙佩拉莫特，如前所述，他为了吕西安已经把一切都夺走了。

“你能把手伸向他之前被捕的证人吗？”

“给我两张证人传票，我今天就给你找一些。”

“考夸特，”律师一边说，一边脱下手套，把帽子和手杖放在角落里，“按照先生的指示填写两份传票。”

他从烟囱架上方的镜子里看着自己，那里放着一个脸盆和一个水壶，而不是一个钟。一侧是一瓶水和一个玻璃杯，另一侧是一盏灯。他按响了门铃；几分钟后，他的引座员进来了。

“有人来找我吗？”他请那个负责接待证人的人核实他们的传票，并按到达顺序排列。

“是的先生。”

“记下他们的名字，然后把名单拿来给我。”

为了节省时间，预审法官常常不得不同时进行多项询问。因此，证人要经历漫长的等待，他们坐在引座员大厅里，法官的铃声不断响起。

“然后，”卡缪索继续说道，“请来卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父。”

“啊哈！有人用西班牙语告诉我他是一名牧师。呸!这是新版的《科莱》，卡缪索先生。”安全部门负责人说道。

“没有什么新鲜事！”卡缪索回答道。

他签署了两份令人畏惧的文件，让所有人，甚至是最无辜的证人，都感到震惊，法律要求他们出庭，否则将受到严厉处罚。

大约半小时后，雅克·柯林此时已经完成了他的深度冥想，并武装起来准备战斗。没有什么比他在油腻的纸片上写下的几句话更能体现这类反抗法律的暴徒的特征了。

第一个的含义——因为它是用阿西和他自己一致同意的语言，即俚语中的俚语，一个词语的密码——写成的，其意义如下：

“去莫弗里涅斯公爵夫人或塞里齐夫人那里：其中之一
他们必须在吕西安接受检查之前见见他，并给他
附上文件供阅读。然后找到欧洲和帕卡德；那两个
盗贼必须听从我的命令，并准备好扮演我可能扮演的任何角色
设置它们。

“去拉斯蒂涅；告诉他，从他在歌剧舞会上遇到的那个人那里，
来发誓阿贝·卡洛斯·埃雷拉没有任何相似之处
致雅克·柯林 (Jacques Collin)，他在伏盖 (Vauquer) 家被捕。照着做
与 Bianchon 博士一起工作，并让 Lucien 的两个女人也从事同样的工作
结尾。”

随附的片段上用流利的法语写着这样的话：

“路西恩，不要承认任何关于我的事情。我是卡洛斯·埃雷拉神父。
这不仅是你的借口，也是你的借口。但是，如果你不输
你的脑袋，你将拥有七百万，你的名誉将得到洗清。”

这两片纸，在文字的一侧涂上胶，看起来像一张纸，然后用那些梦想摆脱废船的人所特有的灵巧程度，紧紧地卷起来。整个东西的形状和稠度就像一团肮脏的垃圾，大约和节俭的妇女在眼睛被打破时粘在大针头上的密封蜡头一样大。

“如果我先被检查，我们就得救；如果是那个男孩，一切就都完了。”他一边等待一边自言自语道。

他的处境如此痛苦，以至于壮汉的脸上都被白色的汗水浸湿了。事实上，这位了不起的人在犯罪领域的洞察力就像莫里哀在戏剧诗歌领域的洞察力，或者居维叶在灭绝生物领域的洞察力一样清晰。任何类型的天才都是直觉。在这一最高表现之下，其他非凡的成就可能要归功于天赋。这就是第一等级的人和第二等级的人的区别。

犯罪活动中也有天才。被赶到海湾的雅克·科林突然想到了与卡缪索夫人的野心和德·塞里齐夫人的热情相同的想法，突然被压倒吕西安的可怕灾难的震惊所恢复。这是人类智慧对抗正义钢铁盔甲的最高努力。

当雅克·科林听到门上沉重的门锁和门闩发出刺耳的声音时，他又戴上了垂死之人的面具。当他听到走廊里看守鞋子的声音时，他感到陶醉的喜悦，这对他有帮助。他不知道阿西会怎样接近他；但他依赖于在路上遇见她，尤其是在她在圣让门户做出承诺之后。

在那次幸运的成就之后，她继续前往格雷夫广场。

直到 1830 年，La Greve（河岸）这个名字的含义现已消失。当时，从阿尔科尔桥到路易菲利普桥，河岸的每一部分都像大自然一样，除了河岸顶部的铺砌道路之外。当河水泛滥时，小船可以从房屋下面和街道尽头驶过，一直流到河边。码头上的人行道大部分都抬高了几步。当河水漫过房屋时，车辆必须经过可怕的莫特莱里街（Rue de la Mortellerie），该路现已完全拆除，以便为扩建市政厅腾出空间。

因此，假冒的小贩可以轻松快速地将她的卡车开到码头底部，并将其藏在那里，直到真正的所有者（事实上，他正在喝她的商品的价格），在其中之一将其身体卖给阿西。莫泰里街那些可恶的小酒馆——应该回来认领它。当时佩尔蒂埃码头正在扩建，工程的入口由一名残废的士兵把守，手推车由他保管会很安全。

然后阿西跳进市政厅广场的一辆出租屋，对司机说：“去圣殿，小心点，我会给你丰厚的小费。”

一个穿得像阿西一样的女人可能会在没有任何问题的情况下消失在这个巨大的市场里，巴黎所有的破烂衣服都聚集在一起，一千个小贩四处游荡，两百个旧衣服小贩在讨价还价。

两名囚犯刚被关起来，她就在一家肮脏的商店里的一间低矮潮湿的中间房间里给自己穿衣服，那里出售裁缝和裁缝师偷来的裁缝品——这家店由一位名叫拉罗梅特的老女仆经营，来自她的教名杰罗梅特。拉罗梅特之于“衣柜购买者”，就像这些妇女之于所谓陷入困境的上等阶层的女士——资源夫人，也就是说，百分百放债者。

“现在，孩子，”艾西说，“我必须弄清楚。我至少必须是圣日耳曼郊区的男爵夫人。这个词很尖锐，因为我的脚在热油中。你知道我适合什么礼服。把胭脂壶递过来，给我找一些上等的蕾丝，还有你能挑出来的最招摇的珠宝。——派那个女孩去叫一辆马车，让人把它带到后门。”

“是的，夫人。”女人非常谦虚地回答，语气里带着女仆侍候女主人的热切。

如果有人亲眼目睹这一幕，他就知道那个叫阿茜的女人就在这里家里。

“有人向我提供了一些钻石，”拉罗梅特在给阿西梳头时说道。

“被偷了？”

“我应该是这样。”

“那么，不管它们有多便宜，我们都必须没有它们。我们必须在未来很长一段时间内与喙作斗争。”

现在可以理解阿西是如何设法成为 帕斯珀杜斯厅 她手里拿着一张传票，来到司法宫，沿着通往预审法官办公室的通道和楼梯打听，并询问卡缪索先生的情况，大约在卡缪索先生到达之前一刻钟左右。

阿西已经认不出来了。她像女演员一样，把老妇人的“妆”洗掉后，涂上胭脂和珍珠粉，头上戴上一顶做工精良的金色假发。她的穿着一模一样，就像一位圣日耳曼郊区的女士在寻找她丢失的狗时可能会穿的衣服，她看起来大约四十岁，因为她用华丽的黑色蕾丝面纱遮住了她的容貌。两条蕾丝花边严重掩盖了她厨师的身材。她带着很好的手套和相当大的裙撑，呼出一股元帅粉末的香味。她把玩着一个镶着金子的袋子，把注意力分散在建筑物的墙壁和她牵着一只精致的小西班牙猎犬的绳子之间，显然她是第一次在那里发现自己。这样的太后，不可能不引起黑袍人的注意。 帕斯珀杜斯厅.

除了那些身着长袍、没有内裤的律师在大厅里打扫、用他们的教名谈论主要律师的名字（就像绅士们互相称呼一样），以给人留下他们是法律贵族的印象之外，耐心的年轻人往往也会被可以看到，律师们的追随者，等待，等待，希望案件能在一天结束时结束，如果为早期案件保留的律师不来，他们可能很幸运，可以被叫去辩护及时出来。

一个非常好奇的研究是这些不同的黑色长袍之间的差异，他们三人一组，有时四人一组，在巨大的大厅里踱步，他们持续不断的谈话让这个地方充满了响亮的、回响的嗡嗡声——这个大厅确实名副其实，因为这个缓慢的大厅。步行和浪费言语一样让律师筋疲力尽。但这样的研究在揭示巴黎恳求者生活的卷册中占有一席之地。

阿西一直指望着这些年轻人的到来。她对无意中听到的一些客套话嗤之以鼻，最终成功地吸引了马索尔的注意，马索尔是一位年轻的律师，他的时间更多地被占用在 警察公报 比客户更重要的是，他笑着为一位气味优雅、衣着如此漂亮的女人服务。

阿西用微弱的声音向这位乐于助人的绅士解释说，她是应一位名叫卡缪索的法官的传唤而来的。

“哦！鲁本普雷案？”

所以这件事已经有了名字。

“哦，这不关我的事。这是我的女仆，一个名叫欧洲的女孩，她二十四小时陪伴着我，当她看到我的仆人带来一张盖章的纸时就逃跑了。”

然后，就像所有终生在烟囱角闲聊的老妇人一样，在马索尔的推动下，她倾诉了她与第一任丈夫（土地税收局三位局长之一）的不幸故事。她向年轻律师咨询是否应该与让她女儿过得很痛苦的女婿格罗斯-纳尔普伯爵打官司，以及法律是否允许她处置自己的财产。 。

尽管马索尔竭尽全力，但仍无法确定传票是发给情妇的还是女仆的。一开始他只是看了一眼这份最熟悉的法律文件，然后就没有再看下去了。因为，为了节省时间，它是打印出来的，治安法官的书记员只需填写证人姓名和地址、传唤时间等留下的空白。

阿西让他告诉她有关皇宫的一切，她比律师更了解皇宫。最后，她询问卡缪索先生什么时候到达。

“嗯，预审法官一般十点左右就到了。”

“现在是十点差一刻，”她看着一块漂亮的小手表说，这是金匠作品的完美宝石，这让马索尔对自己说：

“命运女神接下来会在哪里安家呢！”

这时，阿西来到了黑暗的大厅，眺望古监狱的院子，引座员正在那里等候。当她透过窗户看到大门时，她惊呼道：

“那些高墙是什么？”

“那是古监狱。”

“哦！这就是我们可怜的女王所在的古监狱——哦！我真想看看她的牢房！”

“不可能，男爵夫人，”年轻律师回答道，现在太后正靠在他的手臂上。 “许可证是必不可少的，而且很难获得。”

“有人告诉我，”她继续说道，“路易十八。他亲自撰写了玛丽·安托瓦内特牢房中的铭文。”

“是的，男爵夫人。”

“我多么想了解拉丁语，这样我才能研究那段铭文的文字！”她说。 “你认为卡缪索先生能给我许可证吗？”

“这不在他的权力范围内；但他可以带你去那里。”

“但是他的事——”她反对道。

“哦！”马索尔说，“有嫌疑的囚犯可以等待。”

“当然，”她天真地说道，“他们受到了怀疑。——但我认识德·格朗维尔先生，你们的检察官——”

这个暗示对引座员和年轻律师产生了神奇的效果。

“啊，你认识德·格兰维尔先生吗？”马索尔说道，他很想询问这位偶然发给他的客户的姓名和地址。

“我经常在我的朋友德塞里齐先生家里见到他。塞里齐夫人是我通过龙克罗勒家族认识的人。”

“好吧，如果夫人想去古监狱，”引座员说，“她——”

“是的，”马索尔说。

于是男爵夫人和律师被允许通过，他们很快就发现自己来到了通往“捕鼠器”的楼梯顶部的小警卫室，这是阿西熟悉的地方，正如所说的那样，形成了一个“捕鼠器”。这些牢房和第六庭法院之间有一个观察哨，每个人都必须通过该观察哨。

“请问卡缪索先生来了吗？”她说，看到一些宪兵正在打牌。

“是的，夫人，他刚刚从‘捕鼠器’里出来。”

“捕鼠器！”她说。 “那是什么？——哦！我真愚蠢，没有直接去见格兰维尔伯爵。——但我现在没有时间。请在卡缪索先生另有安排之前带我去见见他。”

“哦，你有足够的时间去见卡缪索先生，”马索尔说。 “如果你把你的名片寄给他，他会让你免去在接待室和证人一起等待的不舒服。——我们可以在这里对像你这样的女士客气一点。——你有一张关于你的名片吗？”

此时，阿西和她的律师正好站在警卫室的窗前，宪兵可以从那里观察古监狱的大门。宪兵们从小就尊重寡妇和孤儿的捍卫者，他们也意识到礼服的特权，并允许男爵夫人在恳求者的护送下留在那里几分钟。阿西听了一位年轻律师准备讲述的关于监狱大门的可怕故事。她不相信那些被判处死刑的人是在铁窗后面准备上绞刑架的。但中士向她保证确实如此。

“我多么希望看到它完成啊！”她喊道。

她留在那里，与律师和警官闲聊，直到她看到雅克·柯林在两名宪兵的搀扶下走了出来，前面是卡缪索先生的职员。

“啊，毫无疑问，有一个牧师要准备一个可怜的家伙——”

“一点也不，男爵夫人，”宪兵说。 “他是一名囚犯，要接受检查。”

“他被指控什么？”

“他对这起中毒案感到担忧。”

“Oh! I should like to see him.”

“You cannot stay here,” said the sergeant, “for he is under close arrest, and he must pass through here. You see, madame, that door leads to the stairs——”

“Oh! thank you!” cried the Baroness, making for the door, to rush down the stairs, where she at once shrieked out, “Oh! where am I?”

This cry reached the ear of Jacques Collin, who was thus prepared to see her. The sergeant flew after Madame la Baronne, seized her by the middle, and lifted her back like a feather into the midst of a group of five gendarmes, who started up as one man; for in that guardroom everything is regarded as suspicious. The proceeding was arbitrary, but the arbitrariness was necessary. The young lawyer himself had cried out twice, “Madame! madame!” in his horror, so much did he fear finding himself in the wrong.

The Abbe Carlos Herrera, half fainting, sank on a chair in the guardroom.

“Poor man!” said the Baroness. “Can he be a criminal?”

The words, though spoken low to the young advocate, could be heard by all, for the silence of death reigned in that terrible guardroom. Certain privileged persons are sometimes allowed to see famous criminals on their way through this room or through the passages, so that the clerk and the gendarmes who had charge of the Abbe Carlos made no remark. Also, in consequence of the devoted zeal of the sergeant who had snatched up the Baroness to hinder any communication between the prisoner and the visitors, there was a considerable space between them.

“Let us go on,” said Jacques Collin, making an effort to rise.

At the same moment the little ball rolled out of his sleeve, and the spot where it fell was noted by the Baroness, who could look about her freely from under her veil. The little pellet, being damp and sticky, did not roll; for such trivial details, apparently unimportant, had all been duly considered by Jacques Collin to insure success.

When the prisoner had been led up the higher part of the steps, Asie very unaffectedly dropped her bag and picked it up again; but in stooping she seized the pellet which had escaped notice, its color being exactly like that of the dust and mud on the floor.

“Oh dear!” cried she, “it goes to my heart.—He is dying——”

“Or seems to be,” replied the sergeant.

“Monsieur,” said Asie to the lawyer, “take me at once to Monsieur Camusot; I have come about this case; and he might be very glad to see me before examining that poor priest.”

The lawyer and the Baroness left the guardroom, with its greasy, fuliginous walls; but as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Asie exclaimed:

“Oh, and my dog! My poor little dog!” and she rushed off like a mad creature down the 帕斯珀杜斯厅, asking every one where her dog was. She got to the corridor beyond (la Galerie Marchande, or Merchant’s Hall, as it is called), and flew to the staircase, saying, “There he is!”

These stairs lead to the Cour de Harlay, through which Asie, having played out the farce, passed out and took a hackney cab on the Quai des Orfevres, where there is a stand; thus she vanished with the summons requiring “Europe” to appear, her real name being unknown to the police and the lawyers.

“Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc,” cried she to the driver.

Asie could depend on the absolute secrecy of an old-clothes purchaser, known as Madame Nourrisson, who also called herself Madame de Saint-Esteve; and who would lend Asie not merely her personality, but her shop at need, for it was there that Nucingen had bargained for the surrender of Esther. Asie was quite at home there, for she had a bedroom in Madame Nourrisson’s establishment.

She paid the driver, and went up to her room, nodding to Madame Nourrisson in a way to make her understand that she had not time to say two words to her.

As soon as she was safe from observation, Asie unwrapped the papers with the care of a savant unrolling a palimpsest. After reading the instructions, she thought it wise to copy the lines intended for Lucien on a sheet of letter-paper; then she went down to Madame Nourrisson, to whom she talked while a little shop-girl went to fetch a cab from the Boulevard des Italiens. She thus extracted the addresses of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and of Madame de Serizy, which were known to Madame Nourrisson by her dealings with their maids.

All this running about and elaborate business took up more than two hours. Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who lived at the top of the Faubourg Saint-Honore, kept Madame de Saint-Esteve waiting an hour, although the lady’s-maid, after knocking at the boudoir door, had handed in to her mistress a card with Madame de Saint-Esteve’s name, on which Asie had written, “Called about pressing business concerning Lucien.”

Her first glance at the Duchess’ face showed her how till-timed her visit must be; she apologized for disturbing Madame la Duchesse when she was resting, on the plea of the danger in which Lucien stood.

“Who are you?” asked the Duchess, without any pretence at politeness, as she looked at Asie from head to foot; for Asie, though she might be taken for a Baroness by Maitre Massol in the 帕斯珀杜斯厅, when she stood on the carpet in the boudoir of the Hotel de Cadignan, looked like a splash of mud on a white satin gown.

“I am a dealer in cast-off clothes, Madame la Duchesse; for in such matters every lady applies to women whose business rests on a basis of perfect secrecy. I have never betrayed anybody, though God knows how many great ladies have intrusted their diamonds to me by the month while wearing false jewels made to imitate them exactly.”

“You have some other name?” said the Duchess, smiling at a reminiscence recalled to her by this reply.

“Yes, Madame la Duchesse, I am Madame de Saint-Esteve on great occasions, but in the trade I am Madame Nourrisson.”

“Well, well,” said the Duchess in an altered tone.

“I am able to be of great service,” Asie went on, “for we hear the husbands’ secrets as well as the wives’. I have done many little jobs for Monsieur de Marsay, whom Madame la Duchesse——”

“That will do, that will do!” cried the Duchess. “What about Lucien?”

“If you wish to save him, madame, you must have courage enough to lose no time in dressing. But, indeed, Madame la Duchesse, you could not look more charming than you do at this moment. You are sweet enough to charm anybody, take an old woman’s word for it! In short, madame, do not wait for your carriage, but get into my hackney coach. Come to Madame de Serizy’s if you hope to avert worse misfortunes than the death of that cherub——”

“Go on, I will follow you,” said the Duchess after a moment’s hesitation. “Between us we may give Leontine some courage…”

Notwithstanding the really demoniacal activity of this Dorine of the hulks, the clock was striking two when she and the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse went into the Comtesse de Serizy’s house in the Rue de la Chaussee-d’Antin. Once there, thanks to the Duchess, not an instant was lost. The two women were at once shown up to the Countess, whom they found reclining on a couch in a miniature chalet, surrounded by a garden fragrant with the rarest flowers.

“That is well,” said Asie, looking about her. “No one can overhear us.”

“Oh! my dear, I am half dead! Tell me, Diane, what have you done?” cried the Duchess, starting up like a fawn, and, seizing the Duchess by the shoulders, she melted into tears.

“Come, come, Leontine; there are occasions when women like us must not cry, but act,” said the Duchess, forcing the Countess to sit down on the sofa by her side.

Asie studied the Countess’ face with the scrutiny peculiar to those old hands, which pierces to the soul of a woman as certainly as a surgeon’s instrument probes a wound!—the sorrow that engraves ineradicable lines on the heart and on the features. She was dressed without the least touch of vanity. She was now forty-five, and her printed muslin wrapper, tumbled and untidy, showed her bosom without any art or even stays! Her eyes were set in dark circles, and her mottled cheeks showed the traces of bitter tears. She wore no sash round her waist; the embroidery on her petticoat and shift was all crumpled. Her hair, knotted up under a lace cap, had not been combed for four-and-twenty hours, and showed as a thin, short plait and ragged little curls. Leontine had forgotten to put on her false hair.

“You are in love for the first time in your life?” said Asie sententiously.

Leontine then saw the woman and started with horror.

“Who is that, my dear Diane?” she asked of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse.

“Whom should I bring with me but a woman who is devoted to Lucien and willing to help us?”

Asie had hit the truth. Madame de Serizy, who was regarded as one of the most fickle of fashionable women, had had an attachment of ten years’ standing for the Marquis d’Aiglemont. Since the Marquis’ departure for the colonies, she had gone wild about Lucien, and had won him from the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, knowing nothing—like the Paris world generally—of Lucien’s passion for Esther. In the world of fashion a recognized attachment does more to ruin a woman’s reputation than ten unconfessed liaisons; how much more then two such attachments? However, as no one thought of Madame de Serizy as a responsible person, the historian cannot undertake to speak for her virtue thus doubly dog’s-eared.

She was fair, of medium height, and well preserved, as a fair woman can be who is well preserved at all; that is to say, she did not look more than thirty, being slender, but not lean, with a white skin and flaxen hair; she had hands, feet, and a shape of aristocratic elegance, and was as witty as all the Ronquerolles, spiteful, therefore, to women, and good-natured to men. Her large fortune, her husband’s fine position, and that of her brother, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, had protected her from the mortifications with which any other woman would have been overwhelmed. She had this great merit—that she was honest in her depravity, and confessed her worship of the manners and customs of the Regency.

Now, at forty-two this woman—who had hitherto regarded men as no more than pleasing playthings, to whom, indeed, she had, strange to say, granted much, regarding love as merely a matter of sacrifice to gain the upper hand,—this woman, on first seeing Lucien, had been seized with such a passion as the Baron de Nucingen’s for Esther. She had loved, as Asie had just told her, for the first time in her life.

This postponement of youth is more common with Parisian women than might be supposed, and causes the ruin of some virtuous souls just as they are reaching the haven of forty. The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse was the only person in the secret of the vehement and absorbing passion, of which the joys, from the girlish suspicion of first love to the preposterous follies of fulfilment, had made Leontine half crazy and insatiable.

True love, as we know, is merciless. The discovery of Esther’s existence had been followed by one of those outbursts of rage which in a woman rise even to the pitch of murder; then came the phase of meanness, to which a sincere affection humbles itself so gladly. Indeed, for the last month the Countess would have given ten years of her life to have Lucien again for one week. At last she had even resigned herself to accept Esther as her rival, just when the news of her lover’s arrest had come like the last trump on this paroxysm of devotion.

The Countess had nearly died of it. Her husband had himself nursed her in bed, fearing the betrayal of delirium, and for twenty-four hours she had been living with a knife in her heart. She said to her husband in her fever:

“Save Lucien, and I will live henceforth for you alone.”

“Indeed, as Madame la Duchesse tells you, it is of no use to make your eyes like boiled gooseberries,” cried the dreadful Asie, shaking the Countess by the arm. “If you want to save him, there is not a minute to lose. He is innocent—I swear it by my mother’s bones!”

“Yes, yes, of course he is!” cried the Countess, looking quite kindly at the dreadful old woman.

“But,” Asie went on, “if Monsieur Camusot questions him the wrong way, he can make a guilty man of him with two sentences; so, if it is in your power to get the Conciergerie opened to you, and to say a few words to him, go at once, and give him this paper.—He will be released to-morrow; I will answer for it. Now, get him out of the scrape, for you got him into it.”

“一世？”

“Yes, you!—You fine ladies never have a son even when you own millions. When I allowed myself the luxury of keeping boys, they always had their pockets full of gold! Their amusements amused me. It is delightful to be mother and mistress in one. Now, you—you let the men you love die of hunger without asking any questions. Esther, now, made no speeches; she gave, at the cost of perdition, soul and body, the million your Lucien was required to show, and that is what has brought him to this pass——”

“Poor girl! Did she do that! I love her!” said Leontine.

“Yes—now!” said Asie, with freezing irony.

“She was a real beauty; but now, my angel, you are better looking than she is.—And Lucien’s marriage is so effectually broken off, that nothing can mend it,” said the Duchess in a whisper to Leontine.

The effect of this revelation and forecast was so great on the Countess that she was well again. She passed her hand over her brow; she was young once more.

“Now, my lady, hot foot, and make haste!” said Asie, seeing the change, and guessing what had caused it.

“But,” said Madame de Maufrigneuse, “if the first thing is to prevent Lucien’s being examined by Monsieur Camusot, we can do that by writing two words to the judge and sending your man with it to the Palais, Leontine.”

“Then come into my room,” said Madame de Serizy.

This is what was taking place at the Palais while Lucien’s protectresses were obeying the orders issued by Jacques Collin. The gendarmes placed the moribund prisoner on a chair facing the window in Monsieur Camusot’s room; he was sitting in his place in front of his table. Coquart, pen in hand, had a little table to himself a few yards off.

The aspect of a magistrate’s chambers is not a matter of indifference; and if this room had not been chosen intentionally, it must be owned that chance had favored justice. An examining judge, like a painter, requires the clear equable light of a north window, for the criminal’s face is a picture which he must constantly study. Hence most magistrates place their table, as this of Camusot’s was arranged, so as to sit with their back to the window and leave the face of the examinee in broad daylight. Not one of them all but, by the end of six months, has assumed an absent-minded and indifferent expression, if he does not wear spectacles, and maintains it throughout the examination.

It was a sudden change of expression in the prisoner’s face, detected by these means, and caused by a sudden point-blank question, that led to the discovery of the crime committed by Castaing at the very moment when, after a long consultation with the public prosecutor, the magistrate was about to let the criminal loose on society for lack of evidence. This detail will show the least intelligent person how living, interesting, curious, and dramatically terrible is the conflict of an examination—a conflict without witnesses, but always recorded. God knows what remains on the paper of the scenes at white heat in which a look, a tone, a quiver of the features, the faintest touch of color lent by some emotion, has been fraught with danger, as though the adversaries were savages watching each other to plant a fatal stroke. A report is no more than the ashes of the fire.

“What is your real name?” Camusot asked Jacques Collin.

“Don Carlos Herrera, canon of the Royal Chapter of Toledo, and secret envoy of His Majesty Ferdinand VII.”

It must here be observed that Jacques Collin spoke French like a Spanish trollop, blundering over it in such a way as to make his answers almost unintelligible, and to require them to be repeated. But Monsieur de Nucingen’s German barbarisms have already weighted this Scene too much to allow of the introduction of other sentences no less difficult to read, and hindering the rapid progress of the tale.

“Then you have papers to prove your right to the dignities of which you speak?” asked Camusot.

“Yes, monsieur—my passport, a letter from his Catholic Majesty authorizing my mission.—In short, if you will but send at once to the Spanish Embassy two lines, which I will write in your presence, I shall be identified. Then, if you wish for further evidence, I will write to His Eminence the High Almoner of France, and he will immediately send his private secretary.”

“And do you still pretend that you are dying?” asked the magistrate. “If you have really gone through all the sufferings you have complained of since your arrest, you ought to be dead by this time,” said Camusot ironically.

“You are simply trying the courage of an innocent man and the strength of his constitution,” said the prisoner mildly.

“Coquart, ring. Send for the prison doctor and an infirmary attendant.—We shall be obliged to remove your coat and proceed to verify the marks on your shoulder,” Camusot went on.

“I am in your hands, monsieur.”

The prisoner then inquired whether the magistrate would be kind enough to explain to him what he meant by “the marks,” and why they should be sought on his shoulder. The judge was prepared for this question.

“You are suspected of being Jacques Collin, an escaped convict, whose daring shrinks at nothing, not even at sacrilege!” said Camusot promptly, his eyes fixed on those of the prisoner.

Jacques Collin gave no sign, and did not color; he remained quite calm, and assumed an air of guileless curiosity as he gazed at Camusot.

“I, monsieur? A convict? May the Order I belong to and God above forgive you for such an error. Tell me what I can do to prevent your continuing to offer such an insult to the rights of free men, to the Church, and to the King my master.”

The judge made no reply to this, but explained to the Abbe that if he had been branded, a penalty at that time inflicted by law on all convicts sent to the hulks, the letters could be made to show by giving him a slap on the shoulder.

“Oh, monsieur,” said Jacques Collin, “it would indeed be unfortunate if my devotion to the Royal cause should prove fatal to me.”

“Explain yourself,” said the judge, “that is what you are here for.”

“Well, monsieur, I must have a great many scars on my back, for I was shot in the back as a traitor to my country while I was faithful to my King, by constitutionalists who left me for dead.”

“You were shot, and you are alive!” said Camusot.

“I had made friends with some of the soldiers, to whom certain pious persons had sent money, so they placed me so far off that only spent balls reached me, and the men aimed at my back. This is a fact that His Excellency the Ambassador can bear witness to——”

“This devil of a man has an answer for everything! However, so much the better,” thought Camusot, who assumed so much severity only to satisfy the demands of justice and of the police. “How is it that a man of your character,” he went on, addressing the convict, “should have been found in the house of the Baron de Nucingen’s mistress—and such a mistress, a girl who had been a common prostitute!”

“This is why I was found in a courtesan’s house, monsieur,” replied Jacques Collin. “But before telling you the reasons for my being there, I ought to mention that at the moment when I was just going upstairs I was seized with the first attack of my illness, and I had no time to speak to the girl. I knew of Mademoiselle Esther’s intention of killing herself; and as young Lucien de Rubempre’s interests were involved, and I have a particular affection for him for sacredly secret reasons, I was going to try to persuade the poor creature to give up the idea, suggested to her by despair. I meant to tell her that Lucien must certainly fail in his last attempt to win Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu; and I hoped that by telling her she had inherited seven millions of francs, I might give her courage to live.

“I am convinced, Monsieur le Juge, that I am a martyr to the secrets confided to me. By the suddenness of my illness I believe that I had been poisoned that very morning, but my strong constitution has saved me. I know that a certain agent of the political police is dogging me, and trying to entangle me in some discreditable business.

“If, at my request, you had sent for a doctor on my arrival here, you would have had ample proof of what I am telling you as to the state of my health. Believe me, monsieur, some persons far above our heads have some strong interest in getting me mistaken for some villain, so as to have a right to get rid of me. It is not all profit to serve a king; they have their meannesses. The Church alone is faultless.”

It is impossible to do justice to the play of Jacques Collin’s countenance as he carefully spun out his speech, sentence by sentence, for ten minutes; and it was all so plausible, especially the mention of Corentin, that the lawyer was shaken.

“Will you confide to me the reasons of your affection for Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre?”

“Can you not guess them? I am sixty years of age, monsieur—I implore you do not write it.—It is because—must I say it?”

“It will be to your own advantage, and more particularly to Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre’s, if you tell everything,” replied the judge.

“Because he is—Oh, God! he is my son,” he gasped out with an effort.

And he fainted away.

“Do not write that down, Coquart,” said Camusot in an undertone.

Coquart rose to fetch a little phial of “Four thieves’ Vinegar.”

“If he is Jacques Collin, he is a splendid actor!” thought Camusot.

Coquart held the phial under the convict’s nose, while the judge examined him with the keen eye of a lynx—and a magistrate.

“Take his wig off,” said Camusot, after waiting till the man recovered consciousness.

Jacques Collin heard, and quaked with terror, for he knew how vile an expression his face would assume.

“If you have not strength enough to take your wig off yourself——Yes, Coquart, remove it,” said Camusot to his clerk.

Jacques Collin bent his head to the clerk with admirable resignation; but then his head, bereft of that adornment, was hideous to behold in its natural aspect.

The sight of it left Camusot in the greatest uncertainty. While waiting for the doctor and the man from the infirmary, he set to work to classify and examine the various papers and the objects seized in Lucien’s rooms. After carrying out their functions in the Rue Saint-Georges at Mademoiselle Esther’s house, the police had searched the rooms at the Quai Malaquais.

“You have your hand on some letters from the Comtesse de Serizy,” said Carlos Herrera. “But I cannot imagine why you should have almost all Lucien’s papers,” he added, with a smile of overwhelming irony at the judge.

Camusot, as he saw the smile, understood the bearing of the word “almost.”

“Lucien de Rubempre is in custody under suspicion of being your accomplice,” said he, watching to see the effect of this news on his examinee.

“You have brought about a great misfortune, for he is as innocent as I am,” replied the sham Spaniard, without betraying the smallest agitation.

“We shall see. We have not as yet established your identity,” Camusot observed, surprised at the prisoner’s indifference. “If you are really Don Carlos Herrera, the position of Lucien Chardon will at once be completely altered.”

“To be sure, she became Madame Chardon—Mademoiselle de Rubempre!” murmured Carlos. “Ah! that was one of the greatest sins of my life.”

He raised his eyes to heaven, and by the movement of his lips seemed to be uttering a fervent prayer.

“But if you are Jacques Collin, and if he was, and knew that he was, the companion of an escaped convict, a sacrilegious wretch, all the crimes of which he is suspected by the law are more than probably true.”

Carlos Herrera sat like bronze as he heard this speech, very cleverly delivered by the judge, and his only reply to the words “knew that he was“和”逃犯” was to lift his hands to heaven with a gesture of noble and dignified sorrow.

“Monsieur l’Abbe,” Camusot went on, with the greatest politeness, “if you are Don Carlos Herrera, you will forgive us for what we are obliged to do in the interests of justice and truth.”

Jacques Collin detected a snare in the lawyer’s very voice as he spoke the words “Monsieur l’Abbe.” The man’s face never changed; Camusot had looked for a gleam of joy, which might have been the first indication of his being a convict, betraying the exquisite satisfaction of a criminal deceiving his judge; but this hero of the hulks was strong in Machiavellian dissimulation.

“I am accustomed to diplomacy, and I belong to an Order of very austere discipline,” replied Jacques Collin, with apostolic mildness. “I understand everything, and am inured to suffering. I should be free by this time if you had discovered in my room the hiding-place where I keep my papers—for I see you have none but unimportant documents.”

This was a finishing stroke to Camusot: Jacques Collin by his air of ease and simplicity had counteracted all the suspicions to which his appearance, unwigged, had given rise.

“Where are these papers?”

“I will tell you exactly if you will get a secretary from the Spanish Embassy to accompany your messenger. He will take them and be answerable to you for the documents, for it is to me a matter of confidential duty—diplomatic secrets which would compromise his late Majesty Louis XVIII—Indeed, monsieur, it would be better——However, you are a magistrate—and, after all, the Ambassador, to whom I refer the whole question, must decide.”

At this juncture the usher announced the arrival of the doctor and the infirmary attendant, who came in.

“Good-morning, Monsieur Lebrun,” said Camusot to the doctor. “I have sent for you to examine the state of health of this prisoner under suspicion. He says he had been poisoned and at the point of death since the day before yesterday; see if there is any risk in undressing him to look for the brand.”

Doctor Lebrun took Jacques Collin’s hand, felt his pulse, asked to look at his tongue, and scrutinized him steadily. This inspection lasted about ten minutes.

“The prisoner has been suffering severely,” said the medical officer, “but at this moment he is amazingly strong——”

“That spurious energy, monsieur, is due to nervous excitement caused by my strange position,” said Jacques Collin, with the dignity of a bishop.

“That is possible,” said Monsieur Lebrun.

At a sign from Camusot the prisoner was stripped of everything but his trousers, even of his shirt, and the spectators might admire the hairy torso of a Cyclops. It was that of the Farnese Hercules at Naples in its colossal exaggeration.

“For what does nature intend a man of this build?” said Lebrun to the judge.

The usher brought in the ebony staff, which from time immemorial has been the insignia of his office, and is called his rod; he struck it several times over the place where the executioner had branded the fatal letters. Seventeen spots appeared, irregularly distributed, but the most careful scrutiny could not recognize the shape of any letters. The usher indeed pointed out that the top bar of the letter T was shown by two spots, with an interval between of the length of that bar between the two points at each end of it, and there was another spot where the bottom of the T should be.

“Still that is quite uncertain,” said Camusot, seeing doubt in the expression of the prison doctor’s countenance.

Carlos begged them to make the same experiment on the other shoulder and the middle of his back. About fifteen more such scars appeared, which, at the Spaniard’s request, the doctor made a note of; and he pronounced that the man’s back had been so extensively seamed by wounds that the brand would not show even if it had been made by the executioner.

An office-clerk now came in from the Prefecture, and handed a note to Monsieur Camusot, requesting an answer. After reading it the lawyer went to speak to Coquart, but in such a low voice that no one could catch a word. Only, by a glance from Camusot, Jacques Collin could guess that some information concerning him had been sent by the Prefet of Police.

“That friend of Peyrade’s is still at my heels,” thought Jacques Collin. “If only I knew him, I would get rid of him as I did of Contenson. If only I could see Asie once more!”

After signing a paper written by Coquart, the judge put it into an envelope and handed it to the clerk of the Delegate’s office.

This is an indispensable auxiliary to justice. It is under the direction of a police commissioner, and consists of peace-officers who, with the assistance of the police commissioners of each district, carry into effect orders for searching the houses or apprehending the persons of those who are suspected of complicity in crimes and felonies. These functionaries in authority save the examining magistrates a great deal of very precious time.

At a sign from the judge the prisoner was dressed by Monsieur Lebrun and the attendant, who then withdrew with the usher. Camusot sat down at his table and played with his pen.

“You have an aunt,” he suddenly said to Jacques Collin.

“An aunt?” echoed Don Carlos Herrera with amazement. “Why, monsieur, I have no relations. I am the unacknowledged son of the late Duke of Ossuna.”

But to himself he said, “They are burning”—an allusion to the game of hot cockles, which is indeed a childlike symbol of the dreadful struggle between justice and the criminal.

“Pooh!” said Camusot. “You still have an aunt living, Mademoiselle Jacqueline Collin, whom you placed in Esther’s service under the eccentric name of Asie.”

Jacques Collin shrugged his shoulders with an indifference that was in perfect harmony with the cool curiosity he gave throughout to the judge’s words, while Camusot studied him with cunning attention.

“Take care,” said Camusot; “listen to me.”

“I am listening, sir.”

“You aunt is a wardrobe dealer at the Temple; her business is managed by a demoiselle Paccard, the sister of a convict—herself a very good girl, known as la Romette. Justice is on the traces of your aunt, and in a few hours we shall have decisive evidence. The woman is wholly devoted to you——”

“Pray go on, Monsieur le Juge,” said Collin coolly, in answer to a pause; “I am listening to you.”

“Your aunt, who is about five years older than you are, was formerly Marat’s mistress—of odious memory. From that blood-stained source she derived the little fortune she possesses.

“From information I have received she must be a very clever receiver of stolen goods, for no proofs have yet been found to commit her on. After Marat’s death she seems, from the notes I have here, to have lived with a chemist who was condemned to death in the year XII. for issuing false coin. She was called as witness in the case. It was from this intimacy that she derived her knowledge of poisons.

“In 1812 and in 1816 she spent two years in prison for placing girls under age upon the streets.

“You were already convicted of forgery; you had left the banking house where your aunt had been able to place you as clerk, thanks to the education you had had, and the favor enjoyed by your aunt with certain persons for whose debaucheries she supplied victims.

“All this, prisoner, is not much like the dignity of the Dukes d’Ossuna.

“Do you persist in your denial?”

Jacques Collin sat listening to Monsieur Camusot, and thinking of his happy childhood at the College of the Oratorians, where he had been brought up, a meditation which lent him a truly amazed look. And in spite of his skill as a practised examiner, Camusot could bring no sort of expression to those placid features.

“If you have accurately recorded the account of myself I gave you at first,” said Jacques Collin, “you can read it through again. I cannot alter the facts. I never went to the woman’s house; how should I know who her cook was? The persons of whom you speak are utterly unknown to me.”

“Notwithstanding your denial, we shall proceed to confront you with persons who may succeed in diminishing your assurance”

“A man who has been three times shot is used to anything,” replied Jacques Collin meekly.

Camusot proceeded to examine the seized papers while awaiting the return of the famous Bibi-Lupin, whose expedition was amazing; for at half-past eleven, the inquiry having begun at ten o’clock, the usher came in to inform the judge in an undertone of Bibi-Lupin’s arrival.

“Show him in,” replied M. Camusot.

Bibi-Lupin, who had been expected to exclaim, “It is he,” as he came in, stood puzzled. He did not recognize his man in a face pitted with smallpox. This hesitancy startled the magistrate.

“It is his build, his height,” said the agent. “Oh! yes, it is you, Jacques Collin!” he went on, as he examined his eyes, forehead, and ears. “There are some things which no disguise can alter…. Certainly it is he, Monsieur Camusot. Jacques has the scar of a cut on his left arm. Take off his coat, and you will see…”

Jacques Collin was again obliged to take off his coat; Bibi-Lupin turned up his sleeve and showed the scar he had spoken of.

“It is the scar of a bullet,” replied Don Carlos Herrera. “Here are several more.”

“Ah! It is certainly his voice,” cried Bibi-Lupin.

“Your certainty,” said Camusot, “is merely an opinion; it is not proof.”

“I know that,” said Bibi-Lupin with deference. “But I will bring witnesses. One of the boarders from the Maison Vauquer is here already,” said he, with an eye on Collin.

But the prisoner’s set, calm face did not move a muscle.

“Show the person in,” said Camusot roughly, his dissatisfaction betraying itself in spite of his seeming indifference.

This irritation was not lost on Jacques Collin, who had not counted on the judge’s sympathy, and sat lost in apathy, produced by his deep meditations in the effort to guess what the cause could be.

The usher now showed in Madame Poiret. At this unexpected appearance the prisoner had a slight shiver, but his trepidation was not remarked by Camusot, who seemed to have made up his mind.

“What is your name?” asked he, proceeding to carry out the formalities introductory to all depositions and examinations.

Madame Poiret, a little old woman as white and wrinkled as a sweetbread, dressed in a dark-blue silk gown, gave her name as Christine Michelle Michonneau, wife of one Poiret, and her age as fifty-one years, said that she was born in Paris, lived in the Rue des Poules at the corner of the Rue des Postes, and that her business was that of lodging-house keeper.

“In 1818 and 1819,” said the judge, “you lived, madame, in a boarding-house kept by a Madame Vauquer?”

“Yes, monsieur; it was there that I met Monsieur Poiret, a retired official, who became my husband, and whom I have nursed in his bed this twelvemonth past. Poor man! he is very bad; and I cannot be long away from him.”

“There was a certain Vautrin in the house at the time?” asked Camusot.

“Oh, monsieur, that is quite a long story; he was a horrible man, from the galleys——”

“You helped to get him arrested?”

“That is not true sir.”

“You are in the presence of the Law; be careful,” said Monsieur Camusot severely.

Madame Poiret was silent.

“Try to remember,” Camusot went on. “Do you recollect the man? Would you know him again?”

“我认同。”

“Is this the man?”

Madame Poiret put on her “eye-preservers,” and looked at the Abbe Carlos Herrera.

“It is his build, his height; and yet—no—if—Monsieur le Juge,” she said, “if I could see his chest I should recognize him at once.”

The magistrate and his clerk could not help laughing, notwithstanding the gravity of their office; Jacques Collin joined in their hilarity, but discreetly. The prisoner had not put on his coat after Bibi-Lupin had removed it, and at a sign from the judge he obligingly opened his shirt.

“Yes, that is his fur trimming, sure enough!—But it has worn gray, Monsieur Vautrin,” cried Madame Poiret.

“What have you to say to that?” asked the judge of the prisoner.

“That she is mad,” replied Jacques Collin.

“Bless me! If I had a doubt—for his face is altered—that voice would be enough. He is the man who threatened me. Ah! and those are his eyes!”

“The police agent and this woman,” said Camusot, speaking to Jacques Collin, “cannot possibly have conspired to say the same thing, for neither of them had seen you till now. How do you account for that?”

“Justice has blundered more conspicuously even than it does now in accepting the evidence of a woman who recognizes a man by the hair on his chest and the suspicions of a police agent,” replied Jacques Collin. “I am said to resemble a great criminal in voice, eyes, and build; that seems a little vague. As to the memory which would prove certain relations between Madame and my Sosie—which she does not blush to own—you yourself laughed at. Allow me, monsieur, in the interests of truth, which I am far more anxious to establish for my own sake than you can be for the sake of justice, to ask this lady—Madame Foiret——”

“Poiret.”

“Poret—excuse me, I am a Spaniard—whether she remembers the other persons who lived in this—what did you call the house?”

“A boarding-house,” said Madame Poiret.

“I do not know what that is.”

“A house where you can dine and breakfast by subscription.”

“You are right,” said Camusot, with a favorable nod to Jacques Collin, whose apparent good faith in suggesting means to arrive at some conclusion struck him greatly. “Try to remember the boarders who were in the house when Jacques Collin was apprehended.”

“There were Monsieur de Rastignac, Doctor Bianchon, Pere Goriot, Mademoiselle Taillefer——”

“That will do,” said Camusot, steadily watching Jacques Collin, whose expression did not change. “Well, about this Pere Goriot?”

“He is dead,” said Madame Poiret.

“Monsieur,” said Jacques Collin, “I have several times met Monsieur de Rastignac, a friend, I believe, of Madame de Nucingen’s; and if it is the same, he certainly never supposed me to be the convict with whom these persons try to identify me.”

“Monsieur de Rastignac and Doctor Bianchon,” said the magistrate, “both hold such a social position that their evidence, if it is in your favor, will be enough to procure your release.—Coquart, fill up a summons for each of them.”

The formalities attending Madame Poiret’s examination were over in a few minutes; Coquart read aloud to her the notes he had made of the little scene, and she signed the paper; but the prisoner refused to sign, alleging his ignorance of the forms of French law.

“That is enough for to-day,” said Monsieur Camusot. “You must be wanting food. I will have you taken back to the Conciergerie.”

“Alas! I am suffering too much to be able to eat,” said Jacques Collin.

Camusot was anxious to time Jacques Collin’s return to coincide with the prisoners’ hour of exercise in the prison yard; but he needed a reply from the Governor of the Conciergerie to the order he had given him in the morning, and he rang for the usher. The usher appeared, and told him that the porter’s wife, from the house on the Quai Malaquais, had an important document to communicate with reference to Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre. This was so serious a matter that it put Camusot’s intentions out of his head.

“Show her in,” said he.

“Beg your pardon; pray excuse me, gentlemen all,” said the woman, courtesying to the judge and the Abbe Carlos by turns. “We were so worried by the Law—my husband and me—the twice when it has marched into our house, that we had forgotten a letter that was lying, for Monsieur Lucien, in our chest of drawers, which we paid ten sous for it, though it was posted in Paris, for it is very heavy, sir. Would you please to pay me back the postage? For God knows when we shall see our lodgers again!”

“Was this letter handed to you by the postman?” asked Camusot, after carefully examining the envelope.

“是的，先生。”

“Coquart, write full notes of this deposition.—Go on, my good woman; tell us your name and your business.” Camusot made the woman take the oath, and then he dictated the document.

While these formalities were being carried out, he was scrutinizing the postmark, which showed the hours of posting and delivery, as well at the date of the day. And this letter, left for Lucien the day after Esther’s death, had beyond a doubt been written and posted on the day of the catastrophe. Monsieur Camusot’s amazement may therefore be imagined when he read this letter written and signed by her whom the law believed to have been the victim of a crime:—

“Esther to Lucien.

“MONDAY, May 13th, 1830.

“My last day; ten in the morning.

“MY LUCIEN,—I have not an hour to live. At eleven o’clock I shall
be dead, and I shall die without a pang. I have paid fifty
thousand francs for a neat little black currant, containing a
poison that will kill me with the swiftness of lightning. And so,
my darling, you may tell yourself, ‘My little Esther had no
suffering.’—and yet I shall suffer in writing these pages.

“The monster who has paid so dear for me, knowing that the day
when I should know myself to be his would have no morrow—Nucingen
has just left me, as drunk as a bear with his skin full of wind.
For the first and last time in my life I have had the opportunity
of comparing my old trade as a street hussy with the life of true
love, of placing the tenderness which unfolds in the infinite
above the horrors of a duty which longs to destroy itself and
leave no room even for a kiss. Only such loathing could make death
愉快。

“I have taken a bath; I should have liked to send for the father
confessor of the convent where I was baptized, to have confessed
and washed my soul. But I have had enough of prostitution; it
would be profaning a sacrament; and besides, I feel myself
cleansed in the waters of sincere repentance. God must do what He
will with me.

“But enough of all this maudlin; for you I want to be your Esther
to the last moment, not to bore you with my death, or the future,
or God, who is good, and who would not be good if He were to
torture me in the next world when I have endured so much misery in
本。

“I have before me your beautiful portrait, painted by Madame de
Mirbel. That sheet of ivory used to comfort me in your absence, I
look at it with rapture as I write you my last thoughts, and tell
you of the last throbbing of my heart. I shall enclose the
miniature in this letter, for I cannot bear that it should be
stolen or sold. The mere thought that what has been my great joy
may lie behind a shop window, mixed up with the ladies and
officers of the Empire, or a parcel of Chinese absurdities, is a
small death to me. Destroy that picture, my sweetheart, wipe it
out, never give it to any one—unless, indeed, the gift might win
back the heart of that walking, well-dressed maypole, that
Clotilde de Grandlieu, who will make you black and blue in her
sleep, her bones are so sharp.—Yes, to that I consent, and then I
shall still be of some use to you, as when I was alive. Oh! to
give you pleasure, or only to make you laugh, I would have stood
over a brazier with an apple in my mouth to cook it for you.—So
my death even will be of service to you.—I should have marred
你家。

“Oh! that Clotilde! I cannot understand her.—She might have been
your wife, have borne your name, have never left you day or night,
have belonged to you—and she could make difficulties! Only the
Faubourg Saint-Germain can do that! and yet she has not ten pounds
of flesh on her bones!

“Poor Lucien! Dear ambitious failure! I am thinking of your future
life. Well, well! you will more than once regret your poor
faithful dog, the good girl who would fly to serve you, who would
have been dragged into a police court to secure your happiness,
whose only occupation was to think of your pleasures and invent
new ones, who was so full of love for you—in her hair, her feet,
her ears—your ballerina, in short, whose every look was a
benediction; who for six years has thought of nothing but you, who
was so entirely your chattel that I have never been anything but
an effluence of your soul, as light is that of the sun. However,
for lack of money and of honor, I can never be your wife. I have
at any rate provided for your future by giving you all I have.

“Come as soon as you get this letter and take what you find under
my pillow, for I do not trust the people about me. Understand that
I mean to look beautiful when I am dead. I shall go to bed, and
lay myself flat in an attitude—why not? Then I shall break the
little pill against the roof of my mouth, and shall not be
disfigured by any convulsion or by a ridiculous position.

“Madame de Serizy has quarreled with you, I know, because of me;
but when she hears that I am dead, you see, dear pet, she will
forgive. Make it up with her, and she will find you a suitable
wife if the Grandlieus persist in their refusal.

“My dear, I do not want you to grieve too much when you hear of my
death. To begin with, I must tell you that the hour of eleven on
Monday morning, the thirteenth of May, is only the end of a long
illness, which began on the day when, on the Terrace of
Saint-Germain, you threw me back on my former line of life. The soul
may be sick, as the body is. But the soul cannot submit stupidly to
suffering like the body; the body does not uphold the soul as the
soul upholds the body, and the soul sees a means of cure in the
reflection which leads to the needlewoman’s resource—the bushel
of charcoal. You gave me a whole life the day before yesterday,
when you said that if Clotilde still refused you, you would marry
me. It would have been a great misfortune for us both; I should
have been still more dead, so to speak—for there are more and
less bitter deaths. The world would never have recognized us.

“For two months past I have been thinking of many things, I can
tell you. A poor girl is in the mire, as I was before I went into
the convent; men think her handsome, they make her serve their
pleasure without thinking any consideration necessary; they pack
her off on foot after fetching her in a carriage; if they do not
spit in her face, it is only because her beauty preserves her from
such indignity; but, morally speaking they do worse. Well, and if
this despised creature were to inherit five or six millions of
francs, she would be courted by princes, bowed to with respect as
she went past in her carriage, and might choose among the oldest
names in France and Navarre. That world which would have cried
Raca to us, on seeing two handsome creatures united and happy,
always did honor to Madame de Stael, in spite of her ‘romances in
real life,’ because she had two hundred thousand francs a year.
The world, which grovels before money or glory, will not bow down
before happiness or virtue—for I could have done good. Oh! how
many tears I would have dried—as many as I have shed—I believe!
Yes, I would have lived only for you and for charity.

“These are the thoughts that make death beautiful. So do not
lament, my dear. Say often to yourself, ‘There were two good
creatures, two beautiful creatures, who both died for me
ungrudgingly, and who adored me.’ Keep a memory in your heart of
Coralie and Esther, and go your way and prosper. Do you recollect
the day when you pointed out to me a shriveled old woman, in a
melon-green bonnet and a puce wrapper, all over black
grease-spots, the mistress of a poet before the Revolution, hardly
thawed by the sun though she was sitting against the wall of the
Tuileries and fussing over a pug—the vilest of pugs? She had had
footmen and carriages, you know, and a fine house! And I said to
you then, ‘How much better to be dead at thirty!’—Well, you
thought I was melancholy, and you played all sorts of pranks to
amuse me, and between two kisses I said, ‘Every day some pretty
woman leaves the play before it is over!’—And I do not want to
see the last piece; that is all.

“You must think me a great chatterbox; but this is my last
effusion. I write as if I were talking to you, and I like to talk
cheerfully. I have always had a horror of a dressmaker pitying
herself. You know I knew how to die decently once before, on my
return from that fatal opera-ball where the men said I had been a
prostitute.

“No, no, my dear love, never give this portrait to any one! If you
could know with what a gush of love I have sat losing myself in
your eyes, looking at them with rapture during a pause I allowed
myself, you would feel as you gathered up the affection with which
I have tried to overlay the ivory, that the soul of your little
pet is indeed there.

“A dead woman craving alms! That is a funny idea.—Come, I must
learn to lie quiet in my grave.

“You have no idea how heroic my death would seem to some fools if
they could know Nucingen last night offered me two millions of
francs if I would love him as I love you. He will be handsomely
robbed when he hears that I have kept my word and died of him. I
tried all I could still to breathe the air you breathe. I said to
the fat scoundrel, ‘Do you want me to love you as you wish? To
promise even that I will never see Lucien again?’—‘What must I
do?’ he asked.—‘Give me the two millions for him.’—You should
have seen his face! I could have laughed, if it had not been so
tragical for me.

“‘Spare yourself the trouble of refusing,’ said I; ‘I see you
care more for your two millions than for me. A woman is always
glad to know at what she is valued!’ and I turned my back on him.

“In a few hours the old rascal will know that I was not in jest.

“Who will part your hair as nicely as I do? Pooh!—I will think no
more of anything in life; I have but five minutes, I give them to
God. Do not be jealous of Him, dear heart; I shall speak to Him of
you, beseeching Him for your happiness as the price of my death,
and my punishment in the next world. I am vexed enough at having
to go to hell. I should have liked to see the angels, to know if
they are like you.

“Good-bye, my darling, good-bye! I give you all the blessing of my
woes. Even in the grave I am your Esther.

“It is striking eleven. I have said my last prayers. I am going to
bed to die. Once more, farewell! I wish that the warmth of my hand
could leave my soul there where I press a last kiss—and once more
I must call you my dearest love, though you are the cause of the
death of your Esther.”

A vague feeling of jealousy tightened on the magistrate’s heart as he read this letter, the only letter from a suicide he had ever found written with such lightness, though it was a feverish lightness, and the last effort of a blind affection.

“What is there in the man that he should be loved so well?” thought he, saying what every man says who has not the gift of attracting women.

“If you can prove not merely that you are not Jacques Collin and an escaped convict, but that you are in fact Don Carlos Herrera, canon of Toledo, and secret envoy of this Majesty Ferdinand VII.,” said he, addressing the prisoner “you will be released; for the impartiality demanded by my office requires me to tell you that I have this moment received a letter, written by Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck, in which she declares her intention of killing herself, and expresses suspicions as to her servants, which would seem to point to them as the thieves who have made off with the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs.”

As he spoke Monsieur Camusot was comparing the writing of the letter with that of the will; and it seemed to him self-evident that the same person had written both.

“Monsieur, you were in too great a hurry to believe in a murder; do not be too hasty in believing in a theft.”

“Heh!” said Camusot, scrutinizing the prisoner with a piercing eye.

“Do not suppose that I am compromising myself by telling you that the sum may possibly be recovered,” said Jacques Collin, making the judge understand that he saw his suspicions. “That poor girl was much loved by those about her; and if I were free, I would undertake to search for this money, which no doubt belongs to the being I love best in the world—to Lucien!—Will you allow me to read that letter; it will not take long? It is evidence of my dear boy’s innocence—you cannot fear that I shall destroy it—nor that I shall talk about it; I am in solitary confinement.”

“In confinement! You will be so no longer,” cried the magistrate. “It is I who must beg you to get well as soon as possible. Refer to your ambassador if you choose——”

And he handed the letter to Jacques Collin. Camusot was glad to be out of a difficulty, to be able to satisfy the public prosecutor, Mesdames de Maufrigneuse and de Serizy. Nevertheless, he studied his prisoner’s face with cold curiosity while Collin read Esther’s letter; in spite of the apparent genuineness of the feelings it expressed, he said to himself:

“But it is a face worthy of the hulks, all the same!”

“That is the way to love!” said Jacques Collin, returning the letter. And he showed Camusot a face bathed in tears.

“If only you knew him,” he went on, “so youthful, so innocent a soul, so splendidly handsome, a child, a poet!—The impulse to sacrifice oneself to him is irresistible, to satisfy his lightest wish. That dear boy is so fascinating when he chooses——”

“And so,” said the magistrate, making a final effort to discover the truth, “you cannot possibly be Jacques Collin——”

“No, monsieur,” replied the convict.

And Jacques Collin was more entirely Don Carlos Herrera than ever. In his anxiety to complete his work he went up to the judge, led him to the window, and gave himself the airs of a prince of the Church, assuming a confidential tone:

“I am so fond of that boy, monsieur, that if it were needful, to spare that idol of my heart a mere discomfort even, that I should be the criminal you take me for, I would surrender,” said he in an undertone. “I would follow the example of the poor girl who has killed herself for his benefit. And I beg you, monsieur, to grant me a favor—namely, to set Lucien at liberty forthwith.”

“My duty forbids it,” said Camusot very good-naturedly; “but if a sinner may make a compromise with heaven, justice too has its softer side, and if you can give me sufficient reasons—speak; your words will not be taken down.”

“Well, then,” Jacques Collin went on, taken in by Camusot’s apparent goodwill, “I know what that poor boy is suffering at this moment; he is capable of trying to kill himself when he finds himself a prisoner——”

“Oh! as to that!” said Camusot with a shrug.

“You do not know whom you will oblige by obliging me,” added Jacques Collin, trying to harp on another string. “You will be doing a service to others more powerful than any Comtesse de Serizy or Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who will never forgive you for having had their letters in your chambers——” and he pointed to two packets of perfumed papers. “My Order has a good memory.”

“Monsieur,” said Camusot, “that is enough. You must find better reasons to give me. I am as much interested in the prisoner as in public vengeance.”

“Believe me, then, I know Lucien; he has a soul of a woman, of a poet, and a southerner, without persistency or will,” said Jacques Collin, who fancied that he saw that he had won the judge over. “You are convinced of the young man’s innocence, do not torture him, do not question him. Give him that letter, tell him that he is Esther’s heir, and restore him to freedom. If you act otherwise, you will bring despair on yourself; whereas, if you simply release him, I will explain to you—keep me still in solitary confinement—to-morrow or this evening, everything that may strike you as mysterious in the case, and the reasons for the persecution of which I am the object. But it will be at the risk of my life, a price has been set on my head these six years past…. Lucien free, rich, and married to Clotilde de Grandlieu, and my task on earth will be done; I shall no longer try to save my skin.—My persecutor was a spy under your late King.”

“What, Corentin?”

“Ah! Is his name Corentin? Thank you, monsieur. Well, will you promise to do as I ask you?”

“A magistrate can make no promises.—Coquart, tell the usher and the gendarmes to take the prisoner back to the Conciergerie.—I will give orders that you are to have a private room,” he added pleasantly, with a slight nod to the convict.

Struck by Jacques Collin’s request, and remembering how he had insisted that he wished to be examined first as a privilege to his state of health, Camusot’s suspicions were aroused once more. Allowing his vague doubts to make themselves heard, he noticed that the self-styled dying man was walking off with the strength of a Hercules, having abandoned all the tricks he had aped so well on appearing before the magistrate.

“先生！”

Jacques Collin turned round.

“Notwithstanding your refusal to sign the document, my clerk will read you the minutes of your examination.”

The prisoner was evidently in excellent health; the readiness with which he came back, and sat down by the clerk, was a fresh light to the magistrate’s mind.

“You have got well very suddenly!” said Camusot.

“Caught!” thought Jacques Collin; and he replied:

“Joy, monsieur, is the only panacea.—That letter, the proof of innocence of which I had no doubt—these are the grand remedy.”

The judge kept a meditative eye on the prisoner when the usher and the gendarmes again took him in charge. Then, with a start like a waking man, he tossed Esther’s letter across to the table where his clerk sat, saying:

“Coquart, copy that letter.”

If it is natural to man to be suspicious as to some favor required of him when it is antagonistic to his interests or his duty, and sometimes even when it is a matter of indifference, this feeling is law to an examining magistrate. The more this prisoner—whose identity was not yet ascertained—pointed to clouds on the horizon in the event of Lucien’s being examined, the more necessary did the interrogatory seem to Camusot. Even if this formality had not been required by the Code and by common practice, it was indispensable as bearing on the identification of the Abbe Carlos. There is in every walk of life the business conscience. In default of curiosity Camusot would have examined Lucien as he had examined Jacques Collin, with all the cunning which the most honest magistrate allows himself to use in such cases. The services he might render and his own promotion were secondary in Camusot’s mind to his anxiety to know or guess the truth, even if he should never tell it.

He stood drumming on the window-pane while following the river-like current of his conjectures, for in these moods thought is like a stream flowing through many countries. Magistrates, in love with truth, are like jealous women; they give way to a thousand hypotheses, and probe them with the dagger-point of suspicion, as the sacrificing priest of old eviscerated his victims; thus they arrive, not perhaps at truth, but at probability, and at last see the truth beyond. A woman cross-questions the man she loves as the judge cross-questions a criminal. In such a frame of mind, a glance, a word, a tone of voice, the slightest hesitation is enough to certify the hidden fact—treason or crime.

“The style in which he depicted his devotion to his son—if he is his son—is enough to make me think that he was in the girl’s house to keep an eye on the plunder; and never suspecting that the dead woman’s pillow covered a will, he no doubt annexed, for his son, the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs as a precaution. That is why he can promise to recover the money.

“M. de Rubempre owes it to himself and to justice to account for his father’s position in the world——

“And he offers me the protection of his Order—His Order!—if I do not examine Lucien——”

As has been seen, a magistrate conducts an examination exactly as he thinks proper. He is at liberty to display his acumen or be absolutely blunt. An examination may be everything or nothing. Therein lies the favor.

Camusot rang. The usher had returned. He was sent to fetch Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre with an injunction to prohibit his speaking to anybody on his way up. It was by this time two in the afternoon.

“There is some secret,” said the judge to himself, “and that secret must be very important. My amphibious friend—since he is neither priest, nor secular, nor convict, nor Spaniard, though he wants to hinder his protege from letting out something dreadful—argues thus: ‘The poet is weak and effeminate; he is not like me, a Hercules in diplomacy, and you will easily wring our secret from him.’—Well, we will get everything out of this innocent.”

And he sat tapping the edge of his table with the ivory paper-knife, while Coquart copied Esther’s letter.

How whimsical is the action of our faculties! Camusot conceived of every crime as possible, and overlooked the only one that the prisoner had now committed—the forgery of the will for Lucien’s advantage. Let those whose envy vents itself on magistrates think for a moment of their life spent in perpetual suspicion, of the torments these men must inflict on their minds, for civil cases are not less tortuous than criminal examinations, and it will occur to them perhaps that the priest and the lawyer wear an equally heavy coat of mail, equally furnished with spikes in the lining. However, every profession has its hair shirt and its Chinese puzzles.

It was about two o’clock when Monsieur Camusot saw Lucien de Rubempre come in, pale, worn, his eyes red and swollen, in short, in a state of dejection which enabled the magistrate to compare nature with art, the really dying man with the stage performance. His walk from the Conciergerie to the judge’s chambers, between two gendarmes, and preceded by the usher, had put the crowning touch to Lucien’s despair. It is the poet’s nature to prefer execution to condemnation.

As he saw this being, so completely bereft of the moral courage which is the essence of a judge, and which the last prisoner had so strongly manifested, Monsieur Camusot disdained the easy victory; and this scorn enabled him to strike a decisive blow, since it left him, on the ground, that horrible clearness of mind which the marksman feels when he is firing at a puppet.

“Collect yourself, Monsieur de Rubempre; you are in the presence of a magistrate who is eager to repair the mischief done involuntarily by the law when a man is taken into custody on suspicion that has no foundation. I believe you to be innocent, and you will soon be at liberty.—Here is the evidence of your innocence; it is a letter kept for you during your absence by your porter’s wife; she has just brought it here. In the commotion caused by the visitation of justice and the news of your arrest at Fontainebleau, the woman forgot the letter which was written by Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck.—Read it!”

Lucien took the letter, read it, and melted into tears. He sobbed, and could not say a single word. At the end of a quarter of an hour, during which Lucien with great difficulty recovered his self-command, the clerk laid before him the copy of the letter and begged him to sign a footnote certifying that the copy was faithful to the original, and might be used in its stead “on all occasions in the course of this preliminary inquiry,” giving him the option of comparing the two; but Lucien, of course, took Coquart’s word for its accuracy.

“Monsieur,” said the lawyer, with friendly good nature, “it is nevertheless impossible that I should release you without carrying out the legal formalities, and asking you some questions.—It is almost as a witness that I require you to answer. To such a man as you I think it is almost unnecessary to point out that the oath to tell the whole truth is not in this case a mere appeal to your conscience, but a necessity for your own sake, your position having been for a time somewhat ambiguous. The truth can do you no harm, be it what it may; falsehood will send you to trial, and compel me to send you back to the Conciergerie; whereas if you answer fully to my questions, you will sleep to-night in your own house, and be rehabilitated by this paragraph in the papers: ‘Monsieur de Rubempre, who was arrested yesterday at Fontainebleau, was set at liberty after a very brief examination.’”

This speech made a deep impression on Lucien; and the judge, seeing the temper of his prisoner, added:

“I may repeat to you that you were suspected of being accessory to the murder by poison of this Demoiselle Esther. Her suicide is clearly proved, and there is an end of that; but a sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs has been stolen, which she had disposed of by will, and you are the legatee. This is a felony. The crime was perpetrated before the discovery of the will.

“Now there is reason to suppose that a person who loves you as much as you loved Mademoiselle Esther committed the theft for your benefit.—Do not interrupt me,” Camusot went on, seeing that Lucien was about to speak, and commanding silence by a gesture; “I am asking you nothing so far. I am anxious to make you understand how deeply your honor is concerned in this question. Give up the false and contemptible notion of the honor binding two accomplices, and tell the whole truth.”

The reader must already have observed the extreme disproportion of the weapons in this conflict between the prisoner under suspicion and the examining judge. Absolute denial when skilfully used has in its favor its positive simplicity, and sufficiently defends the criminal; but it is, in a way, a coat of mail which becomes crushing as soon as the stiletto of cross-examination finds a joint to it. As soon as mere denial is ineffectual in face of certain proven facts, the examinee is entirely at the judge’s mercy.

Now, supposing that a sort of half-criminal, like Lucien, might, if he were saved from the first shipwreck of his honesty, amend his ways, and become a useful member of society, he will be lost in the pitfalls of his examination.

The judge has the driest possible record drawn up of the proceedings, a faithful analysis of the questions and answers; but no trace remains of his insidiously paternal addresses or his captious remonstrances, such as this speech. The judges of the superior courts see the results, but see nothing of the means. Hence, as some experienced persons have thought, it would be a good plan that, as in England, a jury should hear the examination. For a short while France enjoyed the benefit of this system. Under the Code of Brumaire of the year IV., this body was known as the examining jury, as distinguished from the trying jury. As to the final trial, if we should restore the examining jury, it would have to be the function of the superior courts without the aid of a jury.

“And now,” said Camusot, after a pause, “what is your name?—Attention, Monsieur Coquart!” said he to the clerk.

“Lucien Chardon de Rubempre.”

“And you were born——?”

“At Angouleme.” And Lucien named the day, month, and year.

“You inherited no fortune?”

“什么都没有。”

“And yet, during your first residence in Paris, you spent a great deal, as compared with your small income?”

“Yes, monsieur; but at that time I had a most devoted friend in Mademoiselle Coralie, and I was so unhappy as to lose her. It was my grief at her death that made me return to my country home.”

“That is right, monsieur,” said Camusot; “I commend your frankness; it will be thoroughly appreciated.”

Lucien, it will be seen, was prepared to make a clean breast of it.

“On your return to Paris you lived even more expensively than before,” Camusot went on. “You lived like a man who might have about sixty thousand francs a year.”

“是的，先生。”

“Who supplied you with the money?”

“My protector, the Abbe Carlos Herrera.”

“你在哪里与他见面的？”

“We met when traveling, just as I was about to be quit of life by committing suicide.”

“You never heard him spoken of by your family—by your mother?”

“决不。”

“Can you remember the year and the month when you first became connected with Mademoiselle Esther?”

“Towards the end of 1823, at a small theatre on the Boulevard.”

“At first she was an expense to you?”

“是的，先生。”

“Lately, in the hope of marrying Mademoiselle de Grandlieu, you purchased the ruins of the Chateau de Rubempre, you added land to the value of a million francs, and you told the family of Grandlieu that your sister and your brother-in-law had just come into a considerable fortune, and that their liberality had supplied you with the money.—Did you tell the Grandlieus this, monsieur?”

“是的，先生。”

“You do not know the reason why the marriage was broken off?”

“Not in the least, monsieur.”

“Well, the Grandlieus sent one of the most respectable attorneys in Paris to see your brother-in-law and inquire into the facts. At Angouleme this lawyer, from the statements of your sister and brother-in-law, learned that they not only had hardly lent you any money, but also that their inheritance consisted of land, of some extent no doubt, but that the whole amount of invested capital was not more than about two hundred thousand francs.—Now you cannot wonder that such people as the Grandlieus should reject a fortune of which the source is more than doubtful. This, monsieur, is what a lie has led to——”

Lucien was petrified by this revelation, and the little presence of mind he had preserved deserted him.

“Remember,” said Camusot, “that the police and the law know all they want to know.—And now,” he went on, recollecting Jacques Collin’s assumed paternity, “do you know who this pretended Carlos Herrera is?”

“Yes, monsieur; but I knew it too late.”

“Too late! How? Explain yourself.”

“He is not a priest, not a Spaniard, he is——”

“An escaped convict?” said the judge eagerly.

“Yes,” replied Lucien, “when he told me the fatal secret, I was already under obligations to him; I had fancied I was befriended by a respectable priest.”

“Jacques Collin——” said Monsieur Camusot, beginning a sentence.

“Yes,” said Lucien, “his name is Jacques Collin.”

“Very good. Jacques Collin has just now been identified by another person, and though he denies it, he does so, I believe, in your interest. But I asked whether you knew who the man is in order to prove another of Jacques Collin’s impostures.”

Lucien felt as though he had hot iron in his inside as he heard this alarming statement.

“Do you not know,” Camusot went on, “that in order to give color to the extraordinary affection he has for you, he declares that he is your father?”

“He! My father?—Oh, monsieur, did he tell you that?”

“Have you any suspicion of where the money came from that he used to give you? For, if I am to believe the evidence of the letter you have in your hand, that poor girl, Mademoiselle Esther, must have done you lately the same services as Coralie formerly rendered you. Still, for some years, as you have just admitted, you lived very handsomely without receiving anything from her.”

“It is I who should ask you, monsieur, whence convicts get their money! Jacques Collin my father!—Oh, my poor mother!” and Lucien burst into tears.

“Coquart, read out to the prisoner that part of Carlos Herrera’s examination in which he said that Lucien de Rubempre was his son.”

The poet listened in silence, and with a look that was terrible to behold.

“I am done for!” he cried.

“A man is not done for who is faithful to the path of honor and truth,” said the judge.

“But you will commit Jacques Collin for trial?” said Lucien.

“Undoubtedly,” said Camusot, who aimed at making Lucien talk. “Speak out.”

But in spite of all his persuasion and remonstrances, Lucien would say no more. Reflection had come too late, as it does to all men who are the slaves of impulse. There lies the difference between the poet and the man of action; one gives way to feeling to reproduce it in living images, his judgement comes in after; the other feels and judges both at once.

Lucien remained pale and gloomy; he saw himself at the bottom of the precipice, down which the examining judge had rolled him by the apparent candor which had entrapped his poet’s soul. He had betrayed, not his benefactor, but an accomplice who had defended their position with the courage of a lion, and a skill that showed no flaw. Where Jacques Collin had saved everything by his daring, Lucien, the man of brains, had lost all by his lack of intelligence and reflection. This infamous lie against which he revolted had screened a yet more infamous truth.

Utterly confounded by the judge’s skill, overpowered by his cruel dexterity, by the swiftness of the blows he had dealt him while making use of the errors of a life laid bare as probes to search his conscience, Lucien sat like an animal which the butcher’s pole-axe had failed to kill. Free and innocent when he came before the judge, in a moment his own avowal had made him feel criminal.

To crown all, as a final grave irony, Camusot, cold and calm, pointed out to Lucien that his self-betrayal was the result of a misapprehension. Camusot was thinking of Jacques Collin’s announcing himself as Lucien’s father; while Lucien, wholly absorbed by his fear of seeing his confederacy with an escaped convict made public, had imitated the famous inadvertency of the murderers of Ibycus.

One of Royer-Collard’s most famous achievements was proclaiming the constant triumph of natural feeling over engrafted sentiments, and defending the cause of anterior oaths by asserting that the law of hospitality, for instance, ought to be regarded as binding to the point of negativing the obligation of a judicial oath. He promulgated this theory, in the face of the world, from the French tribune; he boldly upheld conspirators, showing that it was human to be true to friendship rather than to the tyrannical laws brought out of the social arsenal to be adjusted to circumstances. And, indeed, natural rights have laws which have never been codified, but which are more effectual and better known than those laid down by society. Lucien had misapprehended, to his cost, the law of cohesion, which required him to be silent and leave Jacques Collin to protect himself; nay, more, he had accused him. In his own interests the man ought always to be, to him, Carlos Herrera.

Monsieur Camusot was rejoicing in his triumph; he had secured two criminals. He had crushed with the hand of justice one of the favorites of fashion, and he had found the undiscoverable Jacques Collin. He would be regarded as one of the cleverest of examining judges. So he left his prisoner in peace; but he was studying this speechless consternation, and he saw drops of sweat collect on the miserable face, swell and fall, mingled with two streams of tears.

“Why should you weep, Monsieur de Rubempre? You are, as I have told you, Mademoiselle Esther’s legatee, she having no heirs nor near relations, and her property amounts to nearly eight millions of francs if the lost seven hundred and fifty thousand francs are recovered.”

This was the last blow to the poor wretch. “If you do not lose your head for ten minutes,” Jacques Collin had said in his note, and Lucien by keeping cool would have gained all his desire. He might have paid his debt to Jacques Collin and have cut him adrift, have been rich, and have married Mademoiselle de Grandlieu. Nothing could more eloquently demonstrate the power with which the examining judge is armed, as a consequence of the isolation or separation of persons under suspicion, or the value of such a communication as Asie had conveyed to Jacques Collin.

“Ah, monsieur!” replied Lucien, with the satirical bitterness of a man who makes a pedestal of his utter overthrow, “how appropriate is the phrase in legal slang ‘to UNDERGO examination.’ For my part, if I had to choose between the physical torture of past ages and the moral torture of our day, I would not hesitate to prefer the sufferings inflicted of old by the executioner.—What more do you want of me?” he added haughtily.

“In this place, monsieur,” said the magistrate, answering the poet’s pride with mocking arrogance, “I alone have a right to ask questions.”

“I had the right to refuse to answer them,” muttered the hapless Lucien, whose wits had come back to him with perfect lucidity.

“Coquart, read the minutes to the prisoner.”

“I am the prisoner once more,” said Lucien to himself.

While the clerk was reading, Lucien came to a determination which compelled him to smooth down Monsieur Camusot. When Coquart’s drone ceased, the poet started like a man who has slept through a noise to which his ears are accustomed, and who is roused by its cessation.

“You have to sign the report of your examination,” said the judge.

“And am I at liberty?” asked Lucien, ironical in his turn.

“Not yet,” said Camusot; “but to-morrow, after being confronted with Jacques Collin, you will no doubt be free. Justice must now ascertain whether or no you are accessory to the crimes this man may have committed since his escape so long ago as 1820. However, you are no longer in the secret cells. I will write to the Governor to give you a better room.”

“Shall I find writing materials?”

“You can have anything supplied to you that you ask for; I will give orders to that effect by the usher who will take you back.”

Lucien mechanically signed the minutes and initialed the notes in obedience to Coquart’s indications with the meekness of a resigned victim. A single fact will show what a state he was in better than the minutest description. The announcement that he would be confronted with Jacques Collin had at once dried the drops of sweat from his brow, and his dry eyes glittered with a terrible light. In short, he became, in an instant as brief as a lightning flash, what Jacques Collin was—a man of iron.

In men whose nature is like Lucien’s, a nature which Jacques Collin had so thoroughly fathomed, these sudden transitions from a state of absolute demoralization to one that is, so to speak, metallic,—so extreme is the tension of every vital force,—are the most startling phenomena of mental vitality. The will surges up like the lost waters of a spring; it diffuses itself throughout the machinery that lies ready for the action of the unknown matter that constitutes it; and then the corpse is a man again, and the man rushes on full of energy for a supreme struggle.

Lucien laid Esther’s letter next his heart, with the miniature she had returned to him. Then he haughtily bowed to Monsieur Camusot, and went off with a firm step down the corridors, between two gendarmes.

“That is a deep scoundrel!” said the judge to his clerk, to avenge himself for the crushing scorn the poet had displayed. “He thought he might save himself by betraying his accomplice.”

“Of the two,” said Coquart timidly, “the convict is the most thorough-paced.”

“You are free for the rest of the day, Coquart,” said the lawyer. “We have done enough. Send away any case that is waiting, to be called to-morrow.—Ah! and you must go at once to the public prosecutor’s chambers and ask if he is still there; if so, ask him if he can give me a few minutes. Yes; he will not be gone,” he added, looking at a common clock in a wooden case painted green with gilt lines. “It is but a quarter-past three.”

These examinations, which are so quickly read, being written down at full length, questions and answers alike, take up an enormous amount of time. This is one of the reasons of the slowness of these preliminaries to a trial and of these imprisonments “on suspicion.” To the poor this is ruin, to the rich it is disgrace; to them only immediate release can in any degree repair, so far as possible, the disaster of an arrest.

This is why the two scenes here related had taken up the whole of the time spent by Asie in deciphering her master’s orders, in getting a Duchess out of her boudoir, and putting some energy into Madame de Serizy.

At this moment Camusot, who was anxious to get the full benefit of his cleverness, took the two documents, read them through, and promised himself that he would show them to the public prosecutor and take his opinion on them. During this meditation, his usher came back to tell him that Madame la Comtesse de Serizy’s man-servant insisted on speaking with him. At a nod from Camusot, a servant out of livery came in, looked first at the usher, and then at the magistrate, and said, “I have the honor of speaking to Monsieur Camusot?”

“Yes,” replied the lawyer and his clerk.

Camusot took a note which the servant offered him, and read as follows:—

“For the sake of many interests which will be obvious to you, my
dear Camusot, do not examine Monsieur de Rubempre. We have brought
ample proofs of his innocence that he may be released forthwith.

“D. DE MAUFRIGNEUSE.
“L. DE SERIZY.

“PS—Burn this note.”

Camusot understood at once that he had blundered preposterously in laying snares for Lucien, and he began by obeying the two fine ladies—he lighted a taper, and burned the letter written by the Duchess. The man bowed respectfully.

“Then Madame de Serizy is coming here?” asked Camusot.

“The carriage is being brought round.”

At this moment Coquart came in to tell Monsieur Camusot that the public prosecutor expected him.

Oppressed by the blunder he had committed, in view of his ambitions, though to the better ends of justice, the lawyer, in whom seven years’ experience had perfected the sharpness that comes to a man who in his practice has had to measure his wits against the grisettes of Paris, was anxious to have some shield against the resentment of two women of fashion. The taper in which he had burned the note was still alight, and he used it to seal up the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse’s notes to Lucien—about thirty in all—and Madame de Serizy’s somewhat voluminous correspondence.

Then he waited on the public prosecutor.

The Palais de Justice is a perplexing maze of buildings piled one above another, some fine and dignified, others very mean, the whole disfigured by its lack of unity. The 帕斯珀杜斯厅 is the largest known hall, but its nakedness is hideous, and distresses the eye. This vast Cathedral of the Law crushes the Supreme Court. The Galerie Marchande ends in two drain-like passages. From this corridor there is a double staircase, a little larger than that of the Criminal Courts, and under it a large double door. The stairs lead down to one of the Assize Courts, and the doors open into another. In some years the number of crimes committed in the circuit of the Seine is great enough to necessitate the sitting of two Benches.

Close by are the public prosecutor’s offices, the attorney’s room and library, the chambers of the attorney-general, and those of the public prosecutor’s deputies. All these purlieus, to use a generic term, communicate by narrow spiral stairs and the dark passages, which are a disgrace to the architecture not of Paris only, but of all France. The interior arrangement of the sovereign court of justice outdoes our prisons in all that is most hideous. The writer describing our manners and customs would shrink from the necessity of depicting the squalid corridor of about a metre in width, in which the witnesses wait in the Superior Criminal Court. As to the stove which warms the court itself, it would disgrace a cafe on the Boulevard Mont-Parnasse.

The public prosecutor’s private room forms part of an octagon wing flanking the Galerie Marchande, built out recently in regard to the age of the structure, over the prison yard, outside the women’s quarters. All this part of the Palais is overshadowed by the lofty and noble edifice of the Sainte-Chapelle. And all is solemn and silent.

Monsieur de Granville, a worthy successor of the great magistrates of the ancient Parlement, would not leave Paris without coming to some conclusion in the matter of Lucien. He expected to hear from Camusot, and the judge’s message had plunged him into the involuntary suspense which waiting produces on even the strongest minds. He had been sitting in the window-bay of his private room; he rose, and walked up and down, for having lingered in the morning to intercept Camusot, he had found him dull of apprehension; he was vaguely uneasy and worried.

And this was why.

The dignity of his high functions forbade his attempting to fetter the perfect independence of the inferior judge, and yet this trial nearly touched the honor and good name of his best friend and warmest supporter, the Comte de Serizy, Minister of State, member of the Privy Council, Vice-President of the State Council, and prospective Chancellor of the Realm, in the event of the death of the noble old man who held that august office. It was Monsieur de Serizy’s misfortune to adore his wife “through fire and water,” and he always shielded her with his protection. Now the public prosecutor fully understood the terrible fuss that would be made in the world and at court if a crime should be proved against a man whose name had been so often and so malignantly linked with that of the Countess.

“Ah!” he sighed, folding his arms, “formerly the supreme authority could take refuge in an appeal. Nowadays our mania for equality”—he dared not say for Legality, as a poetic orator in the Chamber courageously admitted a short while since—“is the death of us.”

This noble magistrate knew all the fascination and the miseries of an illicit attachment. Esther and Lucien, as we have seen, had taken the rooms where the Comte de Granville had lived secretly on connubial terms with Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille, and whence she had fled one day, lured away by a villain. (See A Double Marriage.)

At the very moment when the public prosecutor was saying to himself, “Camusot is sure to have done something silly,” the examining magistrate knocked twice at the door of his room.

“Well, my dear Camusot, how is that case going on that I spoke of this morning?”

“Badly, Monsieur le Comte; read and judge for yourself.”

He held out the minutes of the two examinations to Monsieur de Granville, who took up his eyeglass and went to the window to read them. He had soon run through them.

“You have done your duty,” said the Count in an agitated voice. “It is all over. The law must take its course. You have shown so much skill, that you need never fear being deprived of your appointment as examining judge—-”

If Monsieur de Granville had said to Camusot, “You will remain an examining judge to your dying day,” he could not have been more explicit than in making this polite speech. Camusot was cold in the very marrow.

“Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, to whom I owe much, had desired me…”

“Oh yes, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse is Madame de Serizy’s friend,” said Granville, interrupting him. “To be sure.—You have allowed nothing to influence you, I perceive. And you did well, sir; you will be a great magistrate.”

At this instant the Comte Octave de Bauvan opened the door without knocking, and said to the Comte de Granville:

“I have brought you a fair lady, my dear fellow, who did not know which way to turn; she was on the point of losing herself in our labyrinth——”

And Comte Octave led in by the hand the Comtesse de Serizy, who had been wandering about the place for the last quarter of an hour.

“What, you here, madame!” exclaimed the public prosecutor, pushing forward his own armchair, “and at this moment! This, madame, is Monsieur Camusot,” he added, introducing the judge.—“Bauvan,” said he to the distinguished ministerial orator of the Restoration, “wait for me in the president’s chambers; he is still there, and I will join you.”

Comte Octave de Bauvan understood that not merely was he in the way, but that Monsieur de Granville wanted an excuse for leaving his room.

Madame de Serizy had not made the mistake of coming to the Palais de Justice in her handsome carriage with a blue hammer-cloth and coats-of-arms, her coachman in gold lace, and two footmen in breeches and silk stockings. Just as they were starting Asie impressed on the two great ladies the need for taking the hackney coach in which she and the Duchess had arrived, and she had likewise insisted on Lucien’s mistress adopting the costume which is to women what a gray cloak was of yore to men. The Countess wore a plain brown dress, an old black shawl, and a velvet bonnet from which the flowers had been removed, and the whole covered up under a thick lace veil.

“You received our note?” said she to Camusot, whose dismay she mistook for respectful admiration.

“Alas! but too late, Madame la Comtesse,” replied the lawyer, whose tact and wit failed him excepting in his chambers and in presence of a prisoner.

“Too late! How?”

She looked at Monsieur de Granville, and saw consternation written in his face. “It cannot be, it must not be too late!” she added, in the tone of a despot.

Women, pretty women, in the position of Madame de Serizy, are the spoiled children of French civilization. If the women of other countries knew what a woman of fashion is in Paris, a woman of wealth and rank, they would all want to come and enjoy that splendid royalty. The women who recognize no bonds but those of propriety, no law but the petty charter which has been more than once alluded to in this 喜剧人 as the ladies’ Code, laugh at the statutes framed by men. They say everything, they do not shrink from any blunder or hesitate at any folly, for they all accept the fact that they are irresponsible beings, answerable for nothing on earth but their good repute and their children. They say the most preposterous things with a laugh, and are ready on every occasion to repeat the speech made in the early days of her married life by pretty Madame de Bauvan to her husband, whom she came to fetch away from the Palais: “Make haste and pass sentence, and come away.”

“Madame,” said the public prosecutor, “Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre is not guilty either of robbery or of poisoning; but Monsieur Camusot has led him to confess a still greater crime.”

“那是什么？” 她问。

“He acknowledged,” said Monsieur Camusot in her ear, “that he is the friend and pupil of an escaped convict. The Abbe Carlos Herrera, the Spaniard with whom he has been living for the last seven years, is the notorious Jacques Collin.”

Madame de Serizy felt as if it were a blow from an iron rod at each word spoken by the judge, but this name was the finishing stroke.

“And the upshot of all this?” she said, in a voice that was no more than a breath.

“Is,” Monsieur de Granville went on, finishing the Countess’ sentence in an undertone, “that the convict will be committed for trial, and that if Lucien is not committed with him as having profited as an accessory to the man’s crimes, he must appear as a witness very seriously compromised.”

“Oh! never, never!” she cried aloud, with amazing firmness. “For my part, I should not hesitate between death and the disaster of seeing a man whom the world has known to be my dearest friend declared by the bench to be the accomplice of a convict.—The King has a great regard for my husband——”

“Madame,” said the public prosecutor, also aloud, and with a smile, “the King has not the smallest power over the humblest examining judge in his kingdom, nor over the proceedings in any court of justice. That is the grand feature of our new code of laws. I myself have just congratulated M. Camusot on his skill——”

“On his clumsiness,” said the Countess sharply, though Lucien’s intimacy with a scoundrel really disturbed her far less than his attachment to Esther.

“If you will read the minutes of the examination of the two prisoners by Monsieur Camusot, you will see that everything is in his hands——”

After this speech, the only thing the public prosecutor could venture to say, and a flash of feminine—or, if you will, lawyer-like—cunning, he went to the door; then, turning round on the threshold, he added:

“Excuse me, madame; I have two words to say to Bauvan.” Which, translated by the worldly wise, conveyed to the Countess: “I do not want to witness the scene between you and Camusot.”

“What is this examination business?” said Leontine very blandly to Camusot, who stood downcast in the presence of the wife of one of the most important personages in the realm.

“Madame,” said Camusot, “a clerk writes down all the magistrate’s questions and the prisoner’s replies. This document is signed by the clerk, by the judge, and by the prisoner. This evidence is the raw material of the subsequent proceedings; on it the accused are committed for trial, and remanded to appear before the Criminal Court.”

“Well, then,” said she, “if the evidence were suppressed——?”

“Oh, madame, that is a crime which no magistrate could possibly commit—a crime against society.”

“It is a far worse crime against me to have ever allowed it to be recorded; still, at this moment it is the only evidence against Lucien. Come, read me the minutes of his examination that I may see if there is still a way of salvation for us all, monsieur. I do not speak for myself alone—I should quite calmly kill myself—but Monsieur de Serizy’s happiness is also at stake.”

“Pray, madame, do not suppose that I have forgotten the respect due you,” said Camusot. “If Monsieur Popinot, for instance, had undertaken this case, you would have had worse luck than you have found with me; for he would not have come to consult Monsieur de Granville; no one would have heard anything about it. I tell you, madame, everything has been seized in Monsieur Lucien’s lodging, even your letters——”

“What! my letters!”

“Here they are, madame, in a sealed packet.”

The Countess in her agitation rang as if she had been at home, and the office-boy came in.

“A light,” said she.

The boy lighted a taper and placed it on the chimney-piece, while the Countess looked through the letters, counted them, crushed them in her hand, and flung them on the hearth. In a few minutes she set the whole mass in a blaze, twisting up the last note to serve as a torch.

Camusot stood, looking rather foolish as he watched the papers burn, holding the legal documents in his hand. The Countess, who seemed absorbed in the work of destroying the proofs of her passion, studied him out of the corner of her eye. She took her time, she calculated her distance; with the spring of a cat she seized the two documents and threw them on the flames. But Camusot saved them; the Countess rushed on him and snatched back the burning papers. A struggle ensued, Camusot calling out: “Madame, but madame! This is contempt—madame!”

A man hurried into the room, and the Countess could not repress a scream as she beheld the Comte de Serizy, followed by Monsieur de Granville and the Comte de Bauvan. Leontine, however, determined to save Lucien at any cost, would not let go of the terrible stamped documents, which she clutched with the tenacity of a vise, though the flame had already burnt her delicate skin like a moxa.

At last Camusot, whose fingers also were smarting from the fire, seemed to be ashamed of the position; he let the papers go; there was nothing left of them but the portions so tightly held by the antagonists that the flame could not touch them. The whole scene had taken less time than is needed to read this account of it.

“What discussion can have arisen between you and Madame de Serizy?” the husband asked of Camusot.

Before the lawyer could reply, the Countess held the fragments in the candle and threw them on the remains of her letters, which were not entirely consumed.

“I shall be compelled,” said Camusot, “to lay a complaint against Madame la Comtesse——”

“Heh! What has she done?” asked the public prosecutor, looking alternately at the lady and the magistrate.

“I have burned the record of the examinations,” said the lady of fashion with a laugh, so pleased at her high-handed conduct that she did not yet feel the pain of the burns, “If that is a crime—well, monsieur must get his odious scrawl written out again.”

“Very true,” said Camusot, trying to recover his dignity.

“Well, well, ‘All’s well that ends well,’” said Monsieur de Granville. “But, my dear Countess, you must not often take such liberties with the Law; it might fail to discern who and what you are.”

“Monsieur Camusot valiantly resisted a woman whom none can resist; the Honor of the Robe is safe!” said the Comte de Bauvan, laughing.

“Indeed! Monsieur Camusot was resisting?” said the public prosecutor, laughing too. “He is a brave man indeed; I should not dare resist the Countess.”

And thus for the moment this serious affair was no more than a pretty woman’s jest, at which Camusot himself must laugh.

But Monsieur de Granville saw one man who was not amused. Not a little alarmed by the Comte de Serizy’s attitude and expression, his friend led him aside.

“My dear fellow,” said he in a whisper, “your distress persuades me for the first and only time in my life to compromise with my duty.”

The public prosecutor rang, and the office-boy appeared.

“Desire Monsieur de Chargeboeuf to come here.”

Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, a sucking barrister, was his private secretary.

“My good friend,” said the Comte de Granville to Camusot, whom he took to the window, “go back to your chambers, get your clerk to reconstruct the report of the Abbe Carlos Herrera’s depositions; as he had not signed the first copy, there will be no difficulty about that. To-morrow you must confront your Spanish diplomate with Rastignac and Bianchon, who will not recognize him as Jacques Collin. Then, being sure of his release, the man will sign the document.

“As to Lucien de Rubempre, set him free this evening; he is not likely to talk about an examination of which the evidence is destroyed, especially after such a lecture as I shall give him.

“Now you will see how little justice suffers by these proceedings. If the Spaniard really is the convict, we have fifty ways of recapturing him and committing him for trial—for we will have his conduct in Spain thoroughly investigated. Corentin, the police agent, will take care of him for us, and we ourselves will keep an eye on him. So treat him decently; do not send him down to the cells again.

“Can we be the death of the Comte and Comtesse de Serizy, as well as of Lucien, for the theft of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs as yet unproven, and to Lucien’s personal loss? Will it not be better for him to lose the money than to lose his character? Above all, if he is to drag with him in his fall a Minister of State, and his wife, and the Duchesse du Maufrigneuse.

“This young man is a speckled orange; do not leave it to rot.

“All this will take you about half an hour; go and get it done; we will wait for you. It is half-past three; you will find some judges about. Let me know if you can get a rule of insufficient evidence—or Lucien must wait till to-morrow morning.”

Camusot bowed to the company and went; but Madame de Serizy, who was suffering a good deal from her burns, did not return his bow.

Monsieur de Serizy, who had suddenly rushed away while the public prosecutor and the magistrate were talking together, presently returned, having fetched a small jar of virgin wax. With this he dressed his wife’s fingers, saying in an undertone:

“Leontine, why did you come here without letting me know?”

“My dear,” replied she in a whisper, “forgive me. I seem mad, but indeed your interests were as much involved as mine.”

“Love this young fellow if fatality requires it, but do not display your passion to all the world,” said the luckless husband.

“Well, my dear Countess,” said Monsieur de Granville, who had been engaged in conversation with Comte Octave, “I hope you may take Monsieur de Rubempre home to dine with you this evening.”

This half promise produced a reaction; Madame de Serizy melted into tears.

“I thought I had no tears left,” said she with a smile. “But could you not bring Monsieur de Rubempre to wait here?”

“I will try if I can find the ushers to fetch him, so that he may not be seen under the escort of the gendarmes,” said Monsieur de Granville.

“You are as good as God!” cried she, with a gush of feeling that made her voice sound like heavenly music.

“These are the women,” said Comte Octave, “who are fascinating, irresistible!”

And he became melancholy as he thought of his own wife. (See 诺琳.)

As he left the room, Monsieur de Granville was stopped by young Chargeboeuf, to whom he spoke to give him instructions as to what he was to say to Massol, one of the editors of the Tribunaux公报.

While beauties, ministers, and magistrates were conspiring to save Lucien, this was what he was doing at the Conciergerie. As he passed the gate the poet told the keeper that Monsieur Camusot had granted him leave to write, and he begged to have pens, ink, and paper. At a whispered word to the Governor from Camusot’s usher a warder was instructed to take them to him at once. During the short time that it took for the warder to fetch these things and carry them up to Lucien, the hapless young man, to whom the idea of facing Jacques Collin had become intolerable, sank into one of those fatal moods in which the idea of suicide—to which he had yielded before now, but without succeeding in carrying it out—rises to the pitch of mania. According to certain mad-doctors, suicide is in some temperaments the closing phase of mental aberration; and since his arrest Lucien had been possessed by that single idea. Esther’s letter, read and reread many times, increased the vehemence of his desire to die by reminding him of the catastrophe of Romeo dying to be with Juliet.

This is what he wrote:—

“This is my Last Will and Testament.

“AT THE CONCIERGERIE, May 15th, 1830.

“I, the undersigned, give and bequeath to the children of my
sister, Madame Eve Chardon, wife of David Sechard, formerly a
printer at Angouleme, and of Monsieur David Sechard, all the
property, real and personal, of which I may be possessed at the
time of my decease, due deduction being made for the payments and
legacies, which I desire my executor to provide for.

“And I earnestly beg Monsieur de Serizy to undertake the charge of
being the executor of this my will.

“First, to Monsieur l’Abbe Carlos Herrera I direct the payment of
the sum of three hundred thousand francs. Secondly, to Monsieur le
Baron de Nucingen the sum of fourteen hundred thousand francs,
less seven hundred and fifty thousand if the sum stolen from
Mademoiselle Esther should be recovered.

“As universal legatee to Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck, I give and
bequeath the sum of seven hundred and sixty thousand francs to the
Board of Asylums of Paris for the foundation of a refuge
especially dedicated to the use of public prostitutes who may wish
to forsake their life of vice and ruin.

“I also bequeath to the Asylums of Paris the sum of money
necessary for the purchase of a certificate for dividends to the
amount of thirty thousand francs per annum in five per cents, the
annual income to be devoted every six months to the release of
prisoners for debts not exceeding two thousand francs. The Board
of Asylums to select the most respectable of such persons
imprisoned for debt.

“I beg Monsieur de Serizy to devote the sum of forty thousand
francs to erecting a monument to Mademoiselle Esther in the
Eastern cemetery, and I desire to be buried by her side. The tomb
is to be like an antique tomb—square, our two effigies lying
thereon, in white marble, the heads on pillows, the hands folded
and raised to heaven. There is to be no inscription whatever.

“I beg Monsieur de Serizy to give to Monsieur de Rastignac a gold
toilet-set that is in my room as a remembrance.

“And as a remembrance, I beg my executor to accept my library of
books as a gift from me.

“LUCIEN CHARDON DE RUBEMPRE.”

This Will was enclosed in a letter addressed to Monsieur le Comte de Granville, Public Prosecutor in the Supreme Court at Paris, as follows:

“MONSIEUR LE COMTE,—

“I place my Will in your hands. When you open this letter I shall
be no more. In my desire to be free, I made such cowardly replies
to Monsieur Camusot’s insidious questions, that, in spite of my
innocence, I may find myself entangled in a disgraceful trial.
Even if I were acquitted, a blameless life would henceforth be
impossible to me in view of the opinions of the world.

“I beg you to transmit the enclosed letter to the Abbe Carlos
Herrera without opening it, and deliver to Monsieur Camusot the
formal retraction I also enclose.

“I suppose no one will dare to break the seal of a packet
addressed to you. In this belief I bid you adieu, offering you my
best respects for the last time, and begging you to believe that
in writing to you I am giving you a token of my gratitude for all
the kindness you have shown to your deceased humble servant,

“LUCIEN DE R.”

“To the Abbe Carlos Herrera.

“MY DEAR ABBE,—I have had only benefits from you, and I have
betrayed you. This involuntary ingratitude is killing me, and when
you read these lines I shall have ceased to exist. You are not
here now to save me.

“You had given me full liberty, if I should find it advantageous,
to destroy you by flinging you on the ground like a cigar-end; but
I have ruined you by a blunder. To escape from a difficulty,
deluded by a clever question from the examining judge, your son by
adoption and grace went over to the side of those who aim at
killing you at any cost, and insist on proving an identity, which
I know to be impossible, between you and a French villain. All is
说过。

“Between a man of your calibre and me—me of whom you tried to
make a greater man than I am capable of being—no foolish
sentiment can come at the moment of final parting. You hoped to
make me powerful and famous, and you have thrown me into the gulf
of suicide, that is all. I have long heard the broad pinions of
that vertigo beating over my head.

“As you have sometimes said, there is the posterity of Cain and
the posterity of Abel. In the great human drama Cain is in
opposition. You are descended from Adam through that line, in
which the devil still fans the fire of which the first spark was
flung on Eve. Among the demons of that pedigree, from time to time
we see one of stupendous power, summing up every form of human
energy, and resembling the fevered beasts of the desert, whose
vitality demands the vast spaces they find there. Such men are as
dangerous as lions would be in the heart of Normandy; they must
have their prey, and they devour common men and crop the money of
fools. Their sport is so dangerous that at last they kill the
humble dog whom they have taken for a companion and made an idol
的。

“When it is God’s will, these mysterious beings may be a Moses, an
Attila, Charlemagne, Mahomet, or Napoleon; but when He leaves a
generation of these stupendous tools to rust at the bottom of the
ocean, they are no more than a Pugatschef, a Fouche, a Louvel, or
the Abbe Carlos Herrera. Gifted with immense power over tenderer
souls, they entrap them and mangle them. It is grand, it is fine
—in its way. It is the poisonous plant with gorgeous coloring that
fascinates children in the woods. It is the poetry of evil. Men
like you ought to dwell in caves and never come out of them. You
have made me live that vast life, and I have had all my share of
existence; so I may very well take my head out of the Gordian knot
of your policy and slip it into the running knot of my cravat.

“To repair the mischief I have done, I am forwarding to the public
prosecutor a retraction of my deposition. You will know how to
take advantage of this document.

“In virtue of a will formally drawn up, restitution will be made,
Monsieur l’Abbe, of the moneys belonging to your Order which you
so imprudently devoted to my use, as a result of your paternal
affection for me.

“And so, farewell. Farewell, colossal image of Evil and
Corruption; farewell—to you who, if started on the right road,
might have been greater than Ximenes, greater than Richelieu! You
have kept your promises. I find myself once more just as I was on
the banks of the Charente, after enjoying, by your help, the
enchantments of a dream. But, unfortunately, it is not now in the
waters of my native place that I shall drown the errors of a boy;
but in the Seine, and my hole is a cell in the Conciergerie.

“Do not regret me: my contempt for you is as great as my
钦佩。

“LUCIEN.”

“悔改.

“I, the undersigned, hereby declare that I retract, without
reservation, all that I deposed at my examination to-day before
Monsieur Camusot.

“The Abbe Carlos Herrera always called himself my spiritual
father, and I was misled by the word father used in another sense
by the judge, no doubt under a misapprehension.

“I am aware that, for political ends, and to quash certain secrets
concerning the Cabinets of Spain and of the Tuileries, some
obscure diplomatic agents tried to show that the Abbe Carlos
Herrera was a forger named Jacques Collin; but the Abbe Carlos
Herrera never told me anything about the matter excepting that he
was doing his best to obtain evidence of the death or of the
continued existence of Jacques Collin.

“LUCIEN DE RUBEMPRE.

“AT THE CONCIERGERIE, May 15th, 1830.”

The fever for suicide had given Lucien immense clearness of mind, and the swiftness of hand familiar to authors in the fever of composition. The impetus was so strong within him that these four documents were all written within half an hour; he folded them in a wrapper, fastened with wafers, on which he impressed with the strength of delirium the coat-of-arms engraved on a seal-ring he wore, and he then laid the packet very conspicuously in the middle of the floor.

Certainly it would have been impossible to conduct himself with greater dignity, in the false position to which all this infamy had led him; he was rescuing his memory from opprobrium, and repairing the injury done to his accomplice, so far as the wit of a man of the world could nullify the result of the poet’s trustfulness.

If Lucien had been taken back to one of the lower cells, he would have been wrecked on the impossibility of carrying out his intentions, for those boxes of masonry have no furniture but a sort of camp-bed and a pail for necessary uses. There is not a nail, not a chair, not even a stool. The camp-bed is so firmly fixed that it is impossible to move it without an amount of labor that the warder would not fail to detect, for the iron-barred peephole is always open. Indeed, if a prisoner under suspicion gives reason for uneasiness, he is watched by a gendarme or a constable.

In the private rooms for which prisoners pay, and in that whither Lucien had been conveyed by the judge’s courtesy to a young man belonging to the upper ranks of society, the movable bed, table, and chair might serve to carry out his purpose of suicide, though they hardly made it easy. Lucien wore a long blue silk necktie, and on his way back from examination he was already meditating on the means by which Pichegru, more or less voluntarily, ended his days. Still, to hang himself, a man must find a purchase, and have a sufficient space between it and the ground for his feet to find no support. Now the window of his room, looking out on the prison-yard, had no handle to the fastening; and the bars, being fixed outside, were divided from his reach by the thickness of the wall, and could not be used for a support.

This, then, was the plan hit upon by Lucien to put himself out of the world. The boarding of the lower part of the opening, which prevented his seeing out into the yard, also hindered the warders outside from seeing what was done in the room; but while the lower portion of the window was replaced by two thick planks, the upper part of both halves still was filled with small panes, held in place by the cross pieces in which they were set. By standing on his table Lucien could reach the glazed part of the window, and take or break out two panes, so as to have a firm point of attachment in the angle of the lower bar. Round this he would tie his cravat, turn round once to tighten it round his neck after securing it firmly, and kick the table from under his feet.

He drew the table up under the window without making any noise, took off his coat and waistcoat, and got on the table unhesitatingly to break a pane above and one below the iron cross-bar. Standing on the table, he could look out across the yard on a magical view, which he then beheld for the first time. The Governor of the prison, in deference to Monsieur Camusot’s request that he should deal as leniently as possible with Lucien, had led him, as we have seen, through the dark passages of the Conciergerie, entered from the dark vault opposite the Tour d’Argent, thus avoiding the exhibition of a young man of fashion to the crowd of prisoners airing themselves in the yard. It will be for the reader to judge whether the aspect of the promenade was not such as to appeal deeply to a poet’s soul.

The yard of the Conciergerie ends at the quai between the Tour d’Argent and the Tour Bonbec; thus the distance between them exactly shows from the outside the width of the plot of ground. The corridor called the Galerie de Saint-Louis, which extends from the Galerie Marchande to the Courts of Appeals and the Tour Bonbec—in which, it is said, Saint-Louis’ room still exists—may enable the curious to estimate the depths of the yard, as it is of the same length. Thus the dark cells and the private rooms are under the Galerie Marchande. And Queen Marie Antoinette, whose dungeon was under the present cells, was conducted to the presence of the Revolutionary Tribunal, which held its sittings in the place where the Court of Appeals now performs its solemn functions, up a horrible flight of steps, now never used, in the very thickness of the wall on which the Galerie Marchande is built.

One side of the prison-yard—that on which the Hall of Saint-Louis forms the first floor—displays a long row of Gothic columns, between which the architects of I know not what period have built up two floors of cells to accommodate as many prisoners as possible, by choking the capitals, the arches, and the vaults of this magnificent cloister with plaster, barred loopholes, and partitions. Under the room known as the Cabinet de Saint-Louis, in the Tour Bonbec, there is a spiral stair leading to these dens. This degradation of one of the immemorial buildings of France is hideous to behold.

From the height at which Lucien was standing he saw this cloister, and the details of the building that joins the two towers, in sharp perspective; before him were the pointed caps of the towers. He stood amazed; his suicide was postponed to his admiration. The phenomena of hallucination are in these days so fully recognized by the medical faculty that this mirage of the senses, this strange illusion of the mind is beyond dispute. A man under the stress of a feeling which by its intensity has become a monomania, often finds himself in the frame of mind to which opium, hasheesh, or the protoxyde of azote might have brought him. Spectres appear, phantoms and dreams take shape, things of the past live again as they once were. What was but an image of the brain becomes a moving or a living object. Science is now beginning to believe that under the action of a paroxysm of passion the blood rushes to the brain, and that such congestion has the terrible effects of a dream in a waking state, so averse are we to regard thought as a physical and generative force. (See 路易斯·兰伯特.)

Lucien saw the building in all its pristine beauty; the columns were new, slender and bright; Saint-Louis’ Palace rose before him as it had once appeared; he admired its Babylonian proportions and Oriental fancy. He took this exquisite vision as a poetic farewell from civilized creation. While making his arrangements to die, he wondered how this marvel of architecture could exist in Paris so utterly unknown. He was two Luciens—one Lucien the poet, wandering through the Middle Ages under the vaults and the turrets of Saint-Louis, the other Lucien ready for suicide.

Just as Monsieur de Granville had ended giving his instructions to the young secretary, the Governor of the Conciergerie came in, and the expression of his face was such as to give the public prosecutor a presentiment of disaster.

“Have you met Monsieur Camusot?” he asked.

“No, monsieur,” said the Governor; “his clerk Coquart instructed me to give the Abbe Carlos a private room and to liberate Monsieur de Rubempre—but it is too late.”

“Good God! what has happened?”

“Here, monsieur, is a letter for you which will explain the catastrophe. The warder on duty in the prison-yard heard a noise of breaking glass in the upper room, and Monsieur Lucien’s next neighbor shrieking wildly, for he heard the young man’s dying struggles. The warder came to me pale from the sight that met his eyes. He found the prisoner hanged from the window bar by his necktie.”

Though the Governor spoke in a low voice, a fearful scream from Madame de Serizy showed that under stress of feeling our faculties are incalculably keen. The Countess heard, or guessed. Before Monsieur de Granville could turn round, or Monsieur de Bauvan or her husband could stop her, she fled like a flash out of the door, and reached the Galerie Marchande, where she ran on to the stairs leading out to the Rue de la Barillerie.

A pleader was taking off his gown at the door of one of the shops which from time immemorial have choked up this arcade, where shoes are sold, and gowns and caps kept for hire.

The Countess asked the way to the Conciergerie.

“Go down the steps and turn to the left. The entrance is from the Quai de l’Horloge, the first archway.”

“That woman is crazy,” said the shop-woman; “some one ought to follow her.”

But no one could have kept up with Leontine; she flew.

A physician may explain how it is that these ladies of fashion, whose strength never finds employment, reveal such powers in the critical moments of life.

The Countess rushed so swiftly through the archway to the wicket-gate that the gendarme on sentry did not see her pass. She flew at the barred gate like a feather driven by the wind, and shook the iron bars with such fury that she broke the one she grasped. The bent ends were thrust into her breast, making the blood flow, and she dropped on the ground, shrieking, “Open it, open it!” in a tone that struck terror into the warders.

The gatekeepers hurried out.

“Open the gate—the public prosecutor sent me—to save the dead man!——”

While the Countess was going round by the Rue de la Barillerie and the Quai de l’Horloge, Monsieur de Granville and Monsieur de Serizy went down to the Conciergerie through the inner passages, suspecting Leontine’s purpose; but notwithstanding their haste, they only arrived in time to see her fall fainting at the outer gate, where she was picked up by two gendarmes who had come down from the guardroom.

On seeing the Governor of the prison, the gate was opened, and the Countess was carried into the office, but she stood up and fell on her knees, clasping her hands.

“Only to see him—to see him! Oh! I will do no wrong! But if you do not want to see me die on the spot, let me look at Lucien dead or living.—Ah, my dear, are you here? Choose between my death and——”

She sank in a heap.

“You are kind,” she said; “I will always love you——”

“Carry her away,” said Monsieur de Bauvan.

“No, we will go to Lucien’s cell,” said Monsieur de Granville, reading a purpose in Monsieur de Serizy’s wild looks.

And he lifted up the Countess, and took her under one arm, while Monsieur de Bauvan supported her on the other side.

“Monsieur,” said the Comte de Serizy to the Governor, “silence as of the grave about all this.”

“Be easy,” replied the Governor; “you have done the wisest thing.—If this lady——”

“她是我的妻子。”

“Oh! I beg your pardon. Well, she will certainly faint away when she sees the poor man, and while she is unconscious she can be taken home in a carriage.

“That is what I thought,” replied the Count. “Pray send one of your men to tell my servants in the Cour de Harlay to come round to the gate. Mine is the only carriage there.”

“We can save him yet,” said the Countess, walking on with a degree of strength and spirit that surprised her friends. “There are ways of restoring life——”

And she dragged the gentlemen along, crying to the warder:

“Come on, come faster—one second may cost three lives!”

When the cell door was opened, and the Countess saw Lucien hanging as though his clothes had been hung on a peg, she made a spring towards him as if to embrace him and cling to him; but she fell on her face on the floor with smothered shrieks and a sort of rattle in her throat.

Five minutes later she was being taken home stretched on the seat in the Count’s carriage, her husband kneeling by her side. Monsieur de Bauvan went off to fetch a doctor to give her the care she needed.

The Governor of the Conciergerie meanwhile was examining the outer gate, and saying to his clerk:

“No expense was spared; the bars are of wrought iron, they were properly tested, and cost a large sum; and yet there was a flaw in that bar.”

Monsieur de Granville on returning to his room had other instructions to give to his private secretary. Massol, happily had not yet arrived.

Soon after Monsieur de Granville had left, anxious to go to see Monsieur de Serizy, Massol came and found his ally Chargeboeuf in the public prosecutor’s Court.

“My dear fellow,” said the young secretary, “if you will do me a great favor, you will put what I dictate to you in your 公报 to-morrow under the heading of Law Reports; you can compose the heading. Write now.”

And he dictated as follows:—

“It has been ascertained that the Demoiselle Esther Gobseck killed
herself of her own free will.

“Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre satisfactorily proved an alibi, and
his innocence leaves his arrest to be regretted, all the more
because just as the examining judge had given the order for his
release the young gentleman died suddenly.”

“I need not point out to you,” said the young lawyer to Massol, “how necessary it is to preserve absolute silence as to the little service requested of you.”

“Since it is you who do me the honor of so much confidence,” replied Massol, “allow me to make one observation. This paragraph will give rise to odious comments on the course of justice——”

“Justice is strong enough to bear them,” said the young attache to the Courts, with the pride of a coming magistrate trained by Monsieur de Granville.

“Allow me, my dear sir; with two sentences this difficulty may be avoided.”

And the journalist-lawyer wrote as follows:—

“The forms of the law have nothing to do with this sad event. The
post-mortem examination, which was at once made, proved that
sudden death was due to the rupture of an aneurism in its last
stage. If Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre had been upset by his
arrest, death must have ensued sooner. But we are in a position to
state that, far from being distressed at being taken into custody,
the young man, whom all must lament, only laughed at it, and told
those who escorted him from Fontainebleau to Paris that as soon as
he was brought before a magistrate his innocence would be
acknowledged.”

“That saves it, I think?” said Massol.

“你完全正确。”

“The public prosecutor will thank you for it to-morrow,” said Massol slyly.

Now to the great majority, as to the more choice reader, it will perhaps seem that this Study is not completed by the death of Esther and of Lucien; Jacques Collin and Asie, Europe and Paccard, in spite of their villainous lives, may have been interesting enough to make their fate a matter of curiosity.

The last act of the drama will also complete the picture of life which this Study is intended to present, and give the issue of various interests which Lucien’s career had strangely tangled by bringing some ignoble personages from the hulks into contact with those of the highest rank.

Thus, as may be seen, the greatest events of life find their expression in the more or less veracious gossip of the Paris papers. And this is the case with many things of greater importance than are here recorded.

VAUTRIN’S LAST AVATAR

“What is it, Madeleine?” asked Madame Camusot, seeing her maid come into the room with the particular air that servants assume in critical moments.

“Madame,” said Madeleine, “monsieur has just come in from Court; but he looks so upset, and is in such a state, that I think perhaps it would be well for you to go to his room.”

“Did he say anything?” asked Madame Camusot.

“No, madame; but we never have seen monsieur look like that; he looks as if he were going to be ill, his face is yellow—he seems all to pieces——”

Madame Camusot waited for no more; she rushed out of her room and flew to her husband’s study. She found the lawyer sitting in an armchair, pale and dazed, his legs stretched out, his head against the back of it, his hands hanging limp, exactly as if he were sinking into idiotcy.

“What is the matter, my dear?” said the young woman in alarm.

“Oh! my poor Amelie, the most dreadful thing has happened—I am still trembling. Imagine, the public prosecutor—no, Madame de Serizy—that is—I do not know where to begin.”

“Begin at the end,” said Madame Camusot.

“Well, just as Monsieur Popinot, in the council room of the first Court, had put the last signature to the ruling of ‘insufficient cause’ for the apprehension of Lucien de Rubempre on the ground of my report, setting him at liberty—in fact, the whole thing was done, the clerk was going off with the minute book, and I was quit of the whole business—the President of the Court came in and took up the papers. ‘You are releasing a dead man,’ said he, with chilly irony; ‘the young man is gone, as Monsieur de Bonald says, to appear before his natural Judge. He died of apoplexy——’

“I breathed again, thinking it was sudden illness.

“‘As I understand you, Monsieur le President,’ said Monsieur Popinot, ‘it is a case of apoplexy like Pichegru’s.’

“‘Gentlemen,’ said the President then, very gravely, ‘you must please to understand that for the outside world Lucien de Rubempre died of an aneurism.’

“We all looked at each other. ‘Very great people are concerned in this deplorable business,’ said the President. ‘God grant for your sake, Monsieur Camusot, though you did no less than your duty, that Madame de Serizy may not go mad from the shock she has had. She was carried away almost dead. I have just met our public prosecutor in a painful state of despair.’—‘You have made a mess of it, my dear Camusot,’ he added in my ear.—I assure you, my dear, as I came away I could hardly stand. My legs shook so that I dared not venture into the street. I went back to my room to rest. Then Coquart, who was putting away the papers of this wretched case, told me that a very handsome woman had taken the Conciergerie by storm, wanting to save Lucien, whom she was quite crazy about, and that she fainted away on seeing him hanging by his necktie to the window-bar of his room. The idea that the way in which I questioned that unhappy young fellow—who, between ourselves, was guilty in many ways—can have led to his committing suicide has haunted me ever since I left the Palais, and I feel constantly on the point of fainting——”

“What next? Are you going to think yourself a murderer because a suspected criminal hangs himself in prison just as you were about to release him?” cried Madame Camusot. “Why, an examining judge in such a case is like a general whose horse is killed under him!—That is all.”

“Such a comparison, my dear, is at best but a jest, and jesting is out of place now. In this case the dead man clutches the living. All our hopes are buried in Lucien’s coffin.”

“Indeed?” said Madame Camusot, with deep irony.

“Yes, my career is closed. I shall be no more than an examining judge all my life. Before this fatal termination Monsieur de Granville was annoyed at the turn the preliminaries had taken; his speech to our President makes me quite certain that so long as Monsieur de Granville is public prosecutor I shall get no promotion.”

Promotion! The terrible thought, which in these days makes a judge a mere functionary.

Formerly a magistrate was made at once what he was to remain. The three or four presidents’ caps satisfied the ambitions of lawyers in each Parlement. An appointment as councillor was enough for a de Brosses or a Mole, at Dijon as much as in Paris. This office, in itself a fortune, required a fortune brought to it to keep it up.

In Paris, outside the Parlement, men of the long robe could hope only for three supreme appointments: those of Controller-General, Keeper of the Seals, or Chancellor. Below the Parlement, in the lower grades, the president of a lower Court thought himself quite of sufficient importance to be content to fill his chair to the end of his days.

Compare the position of a councillor in the High Court of Justice in Paris, in 1829, who has nothing but his salary, with that of a councillor to the Parlement in 1729. How great is the difference! In these days, when money is the universal social guarantee, magistrates are not required to have—as they used to have—fine private fortunes: hence we see deputies and peers of France heaping office on office, at once magistrates and legislators, borrowing dignity from other positions than those which ought to give them all their importance.

In short, a magistrate tries to distinguish himself for promotion as men do in the army, or in a Government office.

This prevailing thought, even if it does not affect his independence, is so well known and so natural, and its effects are so evident, that the law inevitably loses some of its majesty in the eyes of the public. And, in fact, the salaries paid by the State makes priests and magistrates mere 雇用. Steps to be gained foster ambition, ambition engenders subservience to power, and modern equality places the judge and the person to be judged in the same category at the bar of society. And so the two pillars of social order, Religion and Justice, are lowered in this nineteenth century, which asserts itself as progressive in all things.

“And why should you never be promoted?” said Amelie Camusot.

She looked half-jestingly at her husband, feeling the necessity of reviving the energies of the man who embodied her ambitions, and on whom she could play as on an instrument.

“Why despair?” she went on, with a shrug that sufficiently expressed her indifference as to the prisoner’s end. “This suicide will delight Lucien’s two enemies, Madame d’Espard and her cousin, the Comtesse du Chatelet. Madame d’Espard is on the best terms with the Keeper of the Seals; through her you can get an audience of His Excellency and tell him all the secrets of this business. Then, if the head of the law is on your side, what have you to fear from the president of your Court or the public prosecutor?”

“But, Monsieur and Madame de Serizy?” cried the poor man. “Madame de Serizy is gone mad, I tell you, and her madness is my doing, they say.”

“Well, if she is out of her mind, O judge devoid of judgment,” said Madame Camusot, laughing, “she can do you no harm.—Come, tell me all the incidents of the day.”

“Bless me!” said Camusot, “just as I had cross-questioned the unhappy youth, and he had deposed that the self-styled Spanish priest is really Jacques Collin, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and Madame de Serizy sent me a note by a servant begging me not to examine him. It was all over!——”

“But you must have lost your head!” said Amelie. “What was to prevent you, being so sure as you are of your clerk’s fidelity, from calling Lucien back, reassuring him cleverly, and revising the examination?”

“Why, you are as bad as Madame de Serizy; you laugh justice to scorn,” said Camusot, who was incapable of flouting his profession. “Madame de Serizy seized the minutes and threw them into the fire.”

“That is the right sort of woman! Bravo!” cried Madame Camusot.

“Madame de Serizy declared she would sooner see the Palais blown up than leave a young man who had enjoyed the favors of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and her own to stand at the bar of a Criminal court by the side of a convict!”

“But, Camusot,” said Amelie, unable to suppress a superior smile, “your position is splendid——”

“Ah! yes, splendid!”

“You did your duty.”

“But all wrong; and in spite of the jesuitical advice of Monsieur de Granville, who met me on the Quai Malaquais.”

“This morning!”

“今天早上。”

“什么时候？”

“At nine o’clock.”

“Oh, Camusot!” cried Amelie, clasping and wringing her hands, “and I am always imploring you to be constantly on the alert.—Good heavens! it is not a man, but a barrow-load of stones that I have to drag on!—Why, Camusot, your public prosecutor was waiting for you.—He must have given you some warning.”

“Yes, indeed——”

“And you failed to understand him! If you are so deaf, you will indeed be an examining judge all your life without any knowledge whatever of the question.—At any rate, have sense enough to listen to me,” she went on, silencing her husband, who was about to speak. “You think the matter is done for?” she asked.

Camusot looked at his wife as a country bumpkin looks at a conjurer.

“If the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and Madame de Serizy are compromised, you will find them both ready to patronize you,” said Amelie. “Madame de Serizy will get you admission to the Keeper of the Seals, and you will tell him the secret history of the affair; then he will amuse the King with the story, for sovereigns always wish to see the wrong side of the tapestry and to know the real meaning of the events the public stare at open-mouthed. Henceforth there will be no cause to fear either the public prosecutor or Monsieur de Serizy.”

“What a treasure such a wife is!” cried the lawyer, plucking up courage. “After all, I have unearthed Jacques Collin; I shall send him to his account at the Assize Court and unmask his crimes. Such a trial is a triumph in the career of an examining judge!”

“Camusot,” Amelie began, pleased to see her husband rally from the moral and physical prostration into which he had been thrown by Lucien’s suicide, “the President told you that you had blundered to the wrong side. Now you are blundering as much to the other—you are losing your way again, my dear.”

The magistrate stood up, looking at his wife with a stupid stare.

“The King and the Keeper of the Seals will be glad, no doubt, to know the truth of this business, and at the same time much annoyed at seeing the lawyers on the Liberal side dragging important persons to the bar of opinion and of the Assize Court by their special pleading—such people as the Maufrigneuses, the Serizys, and the Grandlieus, in short, all who are directly or indirectly mixed up with this case.”

“They are all in it; I have them all!” cried Camusot.

And Camusot walked up and down the room like Sganarelle on the stage when he is trying to get out of a scrape.

“Listen, Amelie,” said he, standing in front of his wife. “An incident recurs to my mind, a trifle in itself, but, in my position, of vital importance.

“Realize, my dear, that this Jacques Collin is a giant of cunning, of dissimulation, of deceit.—He is—what shall I say?—the Cromwell of the hulks!—I never met such a scoundrel; he almost took me in.—But in examining a criminal, a little end of thread leads you to find a ball, is a clue to the investigation of the darkest consciences and obscurest facts.—When Jacques Collin saw me turning over the letters seized in Lucien de Rubempre’s lodgings, the villain glanced at them with the evident intention of seeing whether some particular packet were among them, and he allowed himself to give a visible expression of satisfaction. This look, as of a thief valuing his booty, this movement, as of a man in danger saying to himself, ‘My weapons are safe,’ betrayed a world of things.

“Only you women, besides us and our examinees, can in a single flash epitomize a whole scene, revealing trickery as complicated as safety-locks. Volumes of suspicion may thus be communicated in a second. It is terrifying—life or death lies in a wink.

“Said I to myself, ‘The rascal has more letters in his hands than these!’—Then the other details of the case filled my mind; I overlooked the incident, for I thought I should have my men face to face, and clear up this point afterwards. But it may be considered as quite certain that Jacques Collin, after the fashion of such wretches, has hidden in some safe place the most compromising of the young fellow’s letters, adored as he was by——”

“And yet you are afraid, Camusot? Why, you will be President of the Supreme Court much sooner than I expected!” cried Madame Camusot, her face beaming. “Now, then, you must proceed so as to give satisfaction to everybody, for the matter is looking so serious that it might quite possibly be snatched from us.—Did they not take the proceedings out of Popinot’s hands to place them in yours when Madame d’Espard tried to get a Commission in Lunacy to incapacitate her husband?” she added, in reply to her husband’s gesture of astonishment. “Well, then, might not the public prosecutor, who takes such keen interest in the honor of Monsieur and Madame de Serizy, carry the case to the Upper Court and get a councillor in his interest to open a fresh inquiry?”

“Bless me, my dear, where did you study criminal law?” cried Camusot. “You know everything; you can give me points.”

“Why, do you believe that, by to-morrow morning, Monsieur de Granville will not have taken fright at the possible line of defence that might be adopted by some liberal advocate whom Jacques Collin would manage to secure; for lawyers will be ready to pay him to place the case in their hands!—And those ladies know their danger quite as well as you do—not to say better; they will put themselves under the protection of the public prosecutor, who already sees their families unpleasantly close to the prisoner’s bench, as a consequence of the coalition between this convict and Lucien de Rubempre, betrothed to Mademoiselle de Grandlieu—Lucien, Esther’s lover, Madame de Maufrigneuse’s former lover, Madame de Serizy’s darling. So you must conduct the affair in such a way as to conciliate the favor of your public prosecutor, the gratitude of Monsieur de Serizy, and that of the Marquise d’Espard and the Comtesse du Chatelet, to reinforce Madame de Maufrigneuse’s influence by that of the Grandlieus, and to gain the complimentary approval of your President.

“I will undertake to deal with the ladies—d’Espard, de Maufrigneuse, and de Grandlieu.

“You must go to-morrow morning to see the public prosecutor. Monsieur de Granville is a man who does not live with his wife; for ten years he had for his mistress a Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille, who bore him illegitimate children—didn’t she? Well, such a magistrate is no saint; he is a man like any other; he can be won over; he must give a hold somewhere; you must discover the weak spot and flatter him; ask his advice, point out the dangers of attending the case; in short, try to get him into the same boat, and you will be——”

“I ought to kiss your footprints!” exclaimed Camusot, interrupting his wife, putting his arm round her, and pressing her to his heart. “Amelie, you have saved me!”

“I brought you in tow from Alencon to Mantes, and from Mantes to the Metropolitan Court,” replied Amelie. “Well, well, be quite easy!—I intend to be called Madame la Presidente within five years’ time. But, my dear, pray always think over everything a long time before you come to any determination. A judge’s business is not that of a fireman; your papers are never in a blaze, you have plenty of time to think; so in your place blunders are inexcusable.”

“The whole strength of my position lies in identifying the sham Spanish priest with Jacques Collin,” the judge said, after a long pause. “When once that identity is established, even if the Bench should take the credit of the whole affair, that will still be an ascertained fact which no magistrate, judge, or councillor can get rid of. I shall do like the boys who tie a tin kettle to a cat’s tail; the inquiry, whoever carries it on, will make Jacques Collin’s tin kettle clank.”

“Bravo!” said Amelie.

“And the public prosecutor would rather come to an understanding with me than with any one else, since I am the only man who can remove the Damocles’ sword that hangs over the heart of the Faubourg Saint-Germain.

“Only you have no idea how hard it will be to achieve that magnificent result. Just now, when I was with Monsieur de Granville in his private office, we agreed, he and I, to take Jacques Collin at his own valuation—a canon of the Chapter of Toledo, Carlos Herrera. We consented to recognize his position as a diplomatic envoy, and allow him to be claimed by the Spanish Embassy. It was in consequence of this plan that I made out the papers by which Lucien de Rubempre was released, and revised the minutes of the examinations, washing the prisoners as white as snow.

“To-morrow, Rastignac, Bianchon, and some others are to be confronted with the self-styled Canon of Toledo; they will not recognize him as Jacques Collin who was arrested in their presence ten years ago in a cheap boarding-house, where they knew him under the name of Vautrin.”

There was a short silence, while Madame Camusot sat thinking.

“Are you sure your man is Jacques Collin?” she asked.

“Positive,” said the lawyer, “and so is the public prosecutor.”

“Well, then, try to make some exposure at the Palais de Justice without showing your claws too much under your furred cat’s paws. If your man is still in the secret cells, go straight to the Governor of the Conciergerie and contrive to have the convict publicly identified. Instead of behaving like a child, act like the ministers of police under despotic governments, who invent conspiracies against the monarch to have the credit of discovering them and making themselves indispensable. Put three families in danger to have the glory of rescuing them.”

“That luckily reminds me!” cried Camusot. “My brain is so bewildered that I had quite forgotten an important point. The instructions to place Jacques Collin in a private room were taken by Coquart to Monsieur Gault, the Governor of the prison. Now, Bibi-Lupin, Jacques Collin’s great enemy, has taken steps to have three criminals, who know the man, transferred from La Force to the Conciergerie; if he appears in the prison-yard to-morrow, a terrific scene is expected——”

“为什么？”

“Jacques Collin, my dear, was treasurer of the money owned by the prisoners in the hulks, amounting to considerable sums; now, he is supposed to have spent it all to maintain the deceased Lucien in luxury, and he will be called to account. There will be such a battle, Bibi-Lupin tells me, as will require the intervention of the warders, and the secret will be out. Jacques Collin’s life is in danger.

“Now, if I get to the Palais early enough I may record the evidence of identity.”

“Oh, if only his creditors should take him off your hands! You would be thought such a clever fellow!—Do not go to Monsieur de Granville’s room; wait for him in his Court with that formidable great gun. It is a loaded cannon turned on the three most important families of the Court and Peerage. Be bold: propose to Monsieur de Granville that he should relieve you of Jacques Collin by transferring him to La Force, where the convicts know how to deal with those who betray them.

“I will go to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who will take me to the Grandlieus. Possibly I may see Monsieur de Serizy. Trust me to sound the alarm everywhere. Above all, send me a word we will agree upon to let me know if the Spanish priest is officially recognized as Jacques Collin. Get your business at the Palais over by two o’clock, and I will have arranged for you to have an interview with the Keeper of the Seals; perhaps I may find him with the Marquise d’Espard.”

Camusot stood squarely with a look of admiration that made his knowing wife smile.

“Now, come to dinner and be cheerful,” said she in conclusion. “Why, you see! We have been only two years in Paris, and here you are on the highroad to be made Councillor before the end of the year. From that to the Presidency of a court, my dear, there is no gulf but what some political service may bridge.”

This conjugal sitting shows how greatly the deeds and the lightest words of Jacques Collin, the lowest personage in this drama, involved the honor of the families among whom he had planted his now dead protege.

At the Conciergerie Lucien’s death and Madame de Serizy’s incursion had produced such a block in the wheels of the machinery that the Governor had forgotten to remove the sham priest from his dungeon-cell.

Though more than one instance is on record of the death of a prisoner during his preliminary examination, it was a sufficiently rare event to disturb the warders, the clerk, and the Governor, and hinder their working with their usual serenity. At the same time, to them the important fact was not the handsome young fellow so suddenly become a corpse, but the breakage of the wrought-iron bar of the outer prison gate by the frail hands of a fine lady. And indeed, as soon as the public prosecutor and Comte Octave de Bauvan had gone off with Monsieur de Serizy and his unconscious wife, the Governor, clerk, and turnkeys gathered round the gate, after letting out Monsieur Lebrun, the prison doctor, who had been called in to certify to Lucien’s death, in concert with the “death doctor” of the district in which the unfortunate youth had been lodging.

In Paris, the “death doctor” is the medical officer whose duty it is in each district to register deaths and certify to their causes.

With the rapid insight for which he was known, Monsieur de Granville had judged it necessary, for the honor of the families concerned, to have the certificate of Lucien’s death deposited at the Mairie of the district in which the Quai Malaquais lies, as the deceased had resided there, and to have the body carried from his lodgings to the Church of Saint-Germain des Pres, where the service was to be held. Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, Monsieur de Granville’s private secretary, had orders to this effect. The body was to be transferred from the prison during the night. The secretary was desired to go at once and settle matters at the Mairie with the parish authorities and with the official undertakers. Thus, to the world in general, Lucien would have died at liberty in his own lodgings, the funeral would start from thence, and his friends would be invited there for the ceremony.

So, when Camusot, his mind at ease, was sitting down to dinner with his ambitious better-half, the Governor of the Conciergerie and Monsieur Lebrun, the prison doctor, were standing outside the gate bewailing the fragility of iron bars and the strength of ladies in love.

“No one knows,” said the doctor to Monsieur Gault, “what an amount of nervous force there is in a man wound up to the highest pitch of passion. Dynamics and mathematics have no formulas or symbols to express that power. Why, only yesterday, I witnessed an experiment which gave me a shudder, and which accounts for the terrible strength put forth just now by that little woman.”

“Tell me about it,” said Monsieur Gault, “for I am so foolish as to take an interest in magnetism; I do not believe in it, but it mystifies me.”

“A physician who magnetizes—for there are men among us who believe in magnetism,” Lebrun went on, “offered to experiment on me in proof of a phenomenon that he described and I doubted. Curious to see with my own eyes one of the strange states of nervous tension by which the existence of magnetism is demonstrated, I consented.

“These are the facts.—I should very much like to know what our College of Medicine would say if each of its members in turn were subjected to this influence, which leaves no loophole for incredulity.

“My old friend—this doctor,” said Doctor Lebrun parenthetically, “is an old man persecuted for his opinions since Mesmer’s time by all the faculty; he is seventy or seventy-two years of age, and his name is Bouvard. At the present day he is the patriarchal representative of the theory of animal magnetism. This good man regards me as a son; I owe my training to him.—Well, this worthy old Bouvard it was who proposed to prove to me that nerve-force put in motion by the magnetizer was, not indeed infinite, for man is under immutable laws, but a power acting like other powers of nature whose elemental essence escapes our observation.

“‘For instance,’ said he, ‘if you place your hand in that of a somnambulist who, when awake, can press it only up to a certain average of tightness, you will see that in the somnambulistic state—as it is stupidly termed—his fingers can clutch like a vise screwed up by a blacksmith.’—Well, monsieur, I placed my hand in that of a woman, not asleep, for Bouvard rejects the word, but isolated, and when the old man bid her squeeze my wrist as long and as tightly as she could, I begged him to stop when the blood was almost bursting from my finger tips. Look, you can see the marks of her clutch, which I shall not lose for these three months.”

“The deuce!” exclaimed Monsieur Gault, as he saw a band of bruised flesh, looking like the scar of a burn.

“My dear Gault,” the doctor went on, “if my wrist had been gripped in an iron manacle screwed tight by a locksmith, I should not have felt the bracelet of metal so hard as that woman’s fingers; her hand was of unyielding steel, and I am convinced that she could have crushed my bones and broken my hand from the wrist. The pressure, beginning almost insensibly, increased without relaxing, fresh force being constantly added to the former grip; a tourniquet could not have been more effectual than that hand used as an instrument of torture.—To me, therefore, it seems proven that under the influence of passion, which is the will concentrated on one point and raised to an incalculable power of animal force, as the different varieties of electric force are also, man may direct his whole vitality, whether for attack or resistance, to one of his organs.—Now, this little lady, under the stress of her despair, had concentrated her vital force in her hands.”

“She must have a good deal too, to break a wrought-iron bar,” said the chief warder, with a shake of the head.

“There was a flaw in it,” Monsieur Gault observed.

“For my part,” said the doctor, “I dare assign no limits to nervous force. And indeed it is by this that mothers, to save their children, can magnetize lions, climb, in a fire, along a parapet where a cat would not venture, and endure the torments that sometimes attend childbirth. In this lies the secret of the attempts made by convicts and prisoners to regain their liberty. The extent of our vital energies is as yet unknown; they are part of the energy of nature itself, and we draw them from unknown reservoirs.”

“Monsieur,” said the warder in an undertone to the Governor, coming close to him as he was escorting Doctor Lebrun as far as the outer gates of the Conciergerie, “Number 2 in the secret cells says he is ill, and needs the doctor; he declares he is dying,” added the turnkey.

“Indeed,” said the Governor.

“His breath rattles in his throat,” replied the man.

“It is five o’clock,” said the doctor; “I have had no dinner. But, after all, I am at hand. Come, let us see.”

“Number 2, as it happens, is the Spanish priest suspected of being Jacques Collin,” said Monsieur Gault to the doctor, “and one of the persons suspected of the crime in which that poor young man was implicated.”

“I saw him this morning,” replied the doctor. “Monsieur Camusot sent for me to give evidence as to the state of the rascal’s health, and I may assure you that he is perfectly well, and could make a fortune by playing the part of Hercules in a troupe of athletes.”

“Perhaps he wants to kill himself too,” said Monsieur Gault. “Let us both go down to the cells together, for I ought to go there if only to transfer him to an upper room. Monsieur Camusot has given orders to mitigate this anonymous gentleman’s confinement.”

雅克·柯林，被称为 特龙佩拉莫特 in the world of the hulks, who must henceforth be called only by his real name, had gone through terrible distress of mind since, after hearing Camusot’s order, he had been taken back to the underground cell—an anguish such as he had never before known in the course of a life diversified by many crimes, by three escapes, and two sentences at the Assizes. And is there not something monstrously fine in the dog-like attachment shown to the man he had made his friend by this wretch in whom were concentrated all the life, the powers, the spirit, and the passions of the hulks, who was, so to speak, their highest expression?

Wicked, infamous, and in so many ways horrible, this absolute worship of his idol makes him so truly interesting that this Study, long as it is already, would seem incomplete and cut short if the close of this criminal career did not come as a sequel to Lucien de Rubempre’s end. The little spaniel being dead, we want to know whether his terrible playfellow the lion will live on.

In real life, in society, every event is so inevitably linked to other events, that one cannot occur without the rest. The water of the great river forms a sort of fluid floor; not a wave, however rebellious, however high it may toss itself, but its powerful crest must sink to the level of the mass of waters, stronger by the momentum of its course than the revolt of the surges it bears with it.

And just as you watch the current flow, seeing in it a confused sheet of images, so perhaps you would like to measure the pressure exerted by social energy on the vortex called Vautrin; to see how far away the rebellious eddy will be carried ere it is lost, and what the end will be of this really diabolical man, human still by the power of loving—so hardly can that heavenly grace perish, even in the most cankered heart.

This wretched convict, embodying the poem that has smiled on many a poet’s fancy—on Moore, on Lord Byron, on Mathurin, on Canalis—the demon who has drawn an angel down to hell to refresh him with dews stolen from heaven,—this Jacques Collin will be seen, by the reader who has understood that iron soul, to have sacrificed his own life for seven years past. His vast powers, absorbed in Lucien, acted solely for Lucien; he lived for his progress, his loves, his ambitions. To him, Lucien was his own soul made visible.

它是 特龙佩拉莫特 who dined with the Grandlieus, stole into ladies’ boudoirs, and loved Esther by proxy. In fact, in Lucien he saw Jacques Collin, young, handsome, noble, and rising to the dignity of an ambassador.

特龙佩拉莫特 had realized the German superstition of a doppelganger by means of a spiritual paternity, a phenomenon which will be quite intelligible to those women who have ever truly loved, who have felt their soul merge in that of the man they adore, who have lived his life, whether noble or infamous, happy or unhappy, obscure or brilliant; who, in defiance of distance, have felt a pain in their leg if he were wounded in his; who if he fought a duel would have been aware of it; and who, to put the matter in a nutshell, did not need to be told he was unfaithful to know it.

As he went back to his cell Jacques Collin said to himself, “The boy is being examined.”

And he shivered—he who thought no more of killing a man than a laborer does of drinking.

“Has he been able to see his mistresses?” he wondered. “Has my aunt succeeded in catching those damned females? Have the Duchesses and Countesses bestirred themselves and prevented his being examined? Has Lucien had my instructions? And if ill-luck will have it that he is cross-questioned, how will he carry it off? Poor boy, and I have brought him to this! It is that rascal Paccard and that sneak Europe who have caused all this rumpus by collaring the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs for the certificate Nucingen gave Esther. That precious pair tripped us up at the last step; but I will make them pay dear for their pranks.

“One day more and Lucien would have been a rich man; he might have married his Clotilde de Grandlieu.—Then the boy would have been all my own!—And to think that our fate depends on a look, on a blush of Lucien’s under Camusot’s eye, who sees everything, and has all a judge’s wits about him! For when he showed me the letters we tipped each other a wink in which we took each other’s measure, and he guessed that I can make Lucien’s lady-loves fork out.”

This soliloquy lasted for three hours. His torments were so great that they were too much for that frame of iron and vitriol; Jacques Collin, whose brain felt on fire with insanity, suffered such fearful thirst that he unconsciously drank up all the water contained in one of the pails with which the cell was supplied, forming, with the bed, all its furniture.

“If he loses his head, what will become of him?—for the poor child has not Theodore’s tenacity,” said he to himself, as he lay down on the camp-bed—like a bed in a guard-room.

A word must here be said about this Theodore, remembered by Jacques Collin at such a critical moment. Theodore Calvi, a young Corsican, imprisoned for life at the age of eighteen for eleven murders, thanks to the influential interference paid for with vast sums, had been made the fellow convict of Jacques Collin, to whom he was chained, in 1819 and 1820. Jacques Collin’s last escape, one of his finest inventions—for he had got out disguised as a gendarme leading Theodore Calvi as he was, a convict called before the commissary of police—had been effected in the seaport of Rochefort, where the convicts die by dozens, and where, it was hoped, these two dangerous rascals would have ended their days. Though they escaped together, the difficulties of their flight had forced them to separate. Theodore was caught and restored to the hulks.

Indeed, a life with Lucien, a youth innocent of all crime, who had only minor sins on his conscience, dawned on him as bright and glorious as a summer sun; while with Theodore, Jacques Collin could look forward to no end but the scaffold after a career of indispensable crimes.

The thought of disaster as a result of Lucien’s weakness—for his experience of an underground cell would certainly have turned his brain—took vast proportions in Jacques Collin’s mind; and, contemplating the probabilities of such a misfortune, the unhappy man felt his eyes fill with tears, a phenomenon that had been utterly unknown to him since his earliest childhood.

“I must be in a furious fever,” said he to himself; “and perhaps if I send for the doctor and offer him a handsome sum, he will put me in communication with Lucien.”

At this moment the turnkey brought in his dinner.

“It is quite useless my boy; I cannot eat. Tell the governor of this prison to send the doctor to see me. I am very bad, and I believe my last hour has come.”

Hearing the guttural rattle that accompanied these words, the warder bowed and went. Jacques Collin clung wildly to this hope; but when he saw the doctor and the governor come in together, he perceived that the attempt was abortive, and coolly awaited the upshot of the visit, holding out his wrist for the doctor to feel his pulse.

“The Abbe is feverish,” said the doctor to Monsieur Gault, “but it is the type of fever we always find in inculpated prisoners—and to me,” he added, in the governor’s ear, “it is always a sign of some degree of guilt.”

Just then the governor, to whom the public prosecutor had intrusted Lucien’s letter to be given to Jacques Collin, left the doctor and the prisoner together under the guard of the warder, and went to fetch the letter.

“Monsieur,” said Jacques Collin, seeing the warder outside the door, and not understanding why the governor had left them, “I should think nothing of thirty thousand francs if I might send five lines to Lucien de Rubempre.”

“I will not rob you of your money,” said Doctor Lebrun; “no one in this world can ever communicate with him again——”

“No one?” said the prisoner in amazement. “Why?”

“He has hanged himself——”

No tigress robbed of her whelps ever startled an Indian jungle with a yell so fearful as that of Jacques Collin, who rose to his feet as a tiger rears to spring, and fired a glance at the doctor as scorching as the flash of a falling thunderbolt. Then he fell back on the bed, exclaiming:

“哦，我的儿子！”

“Poor man!” said the doctor, moved by this terrific convulsion of nature.

In fact, the first explosion gave way to such utter collapse, that the words, “Oh, my son,” were but a murmur.

“Is this one going to die in our hands too?” said the turnkey.

“No; it is impossible!” Jacques Collin went on, raising himself and looking at the two witnesses of the scene with a dead, cold eye. “You are mistaken; it is not Lucien; you did not see. A man cannot hang himself in one of these cells. Look—how could I hang myself here? All Paris shall answer to me for that boy’s life! God owes it to me.”

The warder and the doctor were amazed in their turn—they, whom nothing had astonished for many a long day.

On seeing the governor, Jacques Collin, crushed by the very violence of this outburst of grief, seemed somewhat calmer.

“Here is a letter which the public prosecutor placed in my hands for you, with permission to give it to you sealed,” said Monsieur Gault.

“From Lucien?” said Jacques Collin.

“是的，先生。”

“Is not that young man——”

“He is dead,” said the governor. “Even if the doctor had been on the spot, he would, unfortunately, have been too late. The young man died—there—in one of the rooms——”

“May I see him with my own eyes?” asked Jacques Collin timidly. “Will you allow a father to weep over the body of his son?”

“You can, if you like, take his room, for I have orders to remove you from these cells; you are no longer in such close confinement, monsieur.”

The prisoner’s eyes, from which all light and warmth had fled, turned slowly from the governor to the doctor; Jacques Collin was examining them, fearing some trap, and he was afraid to go out of the cell.

“If you wish to see the body,” said Lebrun, “you have no time to lose; it is to be carried away to-night.”

“If you have children, gentlemen,” said Jacques Collin, “you will understand my state of mind; I hardly know what I am doing. This blow is worse to me than death; but you cannot know what I am saying. Even if you are fathers, it is only after a fashion—I am a mother too—I—I am going mad—I feel it!”

By going through certain passages which open only to the governor, it is possible to get very quickly from the cells to the private rooms. The two sets of rooms are divided by an underground corridor formed of two massive walls supporting the vault over which Galerie Marchande, as it is called, is built. So Jacques Collin, escorted by the warder, who took his arm, preceded by the governor, and followed by the doctor, in a few minutes reached the cell where Lucien was lying stretched on the bed.

On seeing the body, he threw himself upon it, seizing it in a desperate embrace with a passion and impulse that made these spectators shudder.

“There,” said the doctor to Monsieur Gault, “that is an instance of what I was telling you. You see that man clutching the body, and you do not know what a corpse is; it is stone——”

“Leave me alone!” said Jacques Collin in a smothered voice; “I have not long to look at him. They will take him away to——”

He paused at the word “bury him.”

“You will allow me to have some relic of my dear boy! Will you be so kind as to cut off a lock of his hair for me, monsieur,” he said to the doctor, “for I cannot——”

“He was certainly his son,” said Lebrun.

“Do you think so?” replied the governor in a meaning tone, which made the doctor thoughtful for a few minutes.

The governor gave orders that the prisoner should be left in this cell, and that some locks of hair should be cut for the self-styled father before the body should be removed.

At half-past five in the month of May it is easy to read a letter in the Conciergerie in spite of the iron bars and the close wire trellis that guard the windows. So Jacques Collin read the dreadful letter while he still held Lucien’s hand.

The man is not known who can hold a lump of ice for ten minutes tightly clutched in the hollow of his hand. The cold penetrates to the very life-springs with mortal rapidity. But the effect of that cruel chill, acting like a poison, is as nothing to that which strikes to the soul from the cold, rigid hand of the dead thus held. Thus Death speaks to Life; it tells many dark secrets which kill many feelings; for in matters of feeling is not change death?

As we read through once more, with Jacques Collin, Lucien’s last letter, it will strike us as being what it was to this man—a cup of poison:—

“To the Abbe Carlos Herrera.

“MY DEAR ABBE,—I have had only benefits from you, and I have
betrayed you. This involuntary ingratitude is killing me, and when
you read these lines I shall have ceased to exist. You are not
here now to save me.

“You had given me full liberty, if I should find it advantageous,
to destroy you by flinging you on the ground like a cigar-end; but
I have ruined you by a blunder. To escape from a difficulty,
deluded by a clever question from the examining judge, your son by
adoption and grace went over to the side of those who aim at
killing you at any cost, and insist on proving an identity, which
I know to be impossible, between you and a French villain. All is
说过。

“Between a man of your calibre and me—me of whom you tried to
make a greater man than I am capable of being—no foolish
sentiment can come at the moment of final parting. You hoped to
make me powerful and famous, and you have thrown me into the gulf
of suicide, that is all. I have long heard the broad pinions of
that vertigo beating over my head.

“As you have sometimes said, there is the posterity of Cain and
the posterity of Abel. In the great human drama Cain is in
opposition. You are descended from Adam through that line, in
which the devil still fans the fire of which the first spark was
flung on Eve. Among the demons of that pedigree, from time to time
we see one of stupendous power, summing up every form of human
energy, and resembling the fevered beasts of the desert, whose
vitality demands the vast spaces they find there. Such men are as
dangerous as lions would be in the heart of Normandy; they must
have their prey, and they devour common men and crop the money of
fools. Their sport is so dangerous that at last they kill the
humble dog whom they have taken for a companion and made an idol
的。

“When it is God’s will, these mysterious beings may be a Moses, an
Attila, Charlemagne, Mahomet, or Napoleon; but when He leaves a
generation of these stupendous tools to rust at the bottom of the
ocean, they are no more than a Pugatschef, a Fouche, a Louvel, or
the Abbe Carlos Herrera. Gifted with immense power over tenderer
souls, they entrap them and mangle them. It is grand, it is fine
—in its way. It is the poisonous plant with gorgeous coloring that
fascinates children in the woods. It is the poetry of evil. Men
like you ought to dwell in caves and never come out of them. You
have made me live that vast life, and I have had all my share of
existence; so I may very well take my head out of the Gordian knot
of your policy and slip it into the running knot of my cravat.

“To repair the mischief I have done, I am forwarding to the public
prosecutor a retraction of my deposition. You will know how to
take advantage of this document.

“In virtue of a will formally drawn up, restitution will be made,
Monsieur l’Abbe, of the moneys belonging to your Order which you
so imprudently devoted to my use, as a result of your paternal
affection for me.

“And so, farewell. Farewell, colossal image of Evil and
Corruption; farewell—to you who, if started on the right road,
might have been greater than Ximenes, greater than Richelieu! You
have kept your promises. I find myself once more just as I was on
the banks of the Charente, after enjoying, by your help, the
enchantments of a dream. But, unfortunately, it is not now in the
waters of my native place that I shall drown the errors of a boy;
but in the Seine, and my hole is a cell in the Conciergerie.

“Do not regret me: my contempt for you is as great as my
钦佩。

“LUCIEN.”

A little before one in the morning, when the men came to fetch away the body, they found Jacques Collin kneeling by the bed, the letter on the floor, dropped, no doubt, as a suicide drops the pistol that has shot him; but the unhappy man still held Lucien’s hand between his own, and was praying to God.

On seeing this man, the porters paused for a moment, for he looked like one of those stone images, kneeling to all eternity on a mediaeval tomb, the work of some stone-carver’s genius. The sham priest, with eyes as bright as a tiger’s, but stiffened into supernatural rigidity, so impressed the men that they gently bid him rise.

“Why?” he asked mildly. The audacious 特龙佩拉莫特 was as meek as a child.

The governor pointed him out to Monsieur de Chargeboeuf; and he, respecting such grief, and believing that Jacques Collin was indeed the priest he called himself, explained the orders given by Monsieur de Granville with regard to the funeral service and arrangements, showing that it was absolutely necessary that the body should be transferred to Lucien’s lodgings, Quai Malaquais, where the priests were waiting to watch by it for the rest of the night.

“It is worthy of that gentleman’s well-known magnanimity,” said Jacques Collin sadly. “Tell him, monsieur, that he may rely on my gratitude. Yes, I am in a position to do him great service. Do not forget these words; they are of the utmost importance to him.

“Oh, monsieur! strange changes come over a man’s spirit when for seven hours he has wept over such a son as he——And I shall see him no more!”

After gazing once more at Lucien with an expression of a mother bereft of her child’s remains, Jacques Collin sank in a heap. As he saw Lucien’s body carried away, he uttered a groan that made the men hurry off. The public prosecutor’s private secretary and the governor of the prison had already made their escape from the scene.

What had become of that iron spirit; of the decision which was a match in swiftness for the eye; of the nature in which thought and action flashed forth together like one flame; of the sinews hardened by three spells of labor on the hulks, and by three escapes, the muscles which had acquired the metallic temper of a savage’s limbs? Iron will yield to a certain amount of hammering or persistent pressure; its impenetrable molecules, purified and made homogeneous by man, may become disintegrated, and without being in a state of fusion the metal had lost its power of resistance. Blacksmiths, locksmiths, tool-makers sometimes express this state by saying the iron is retting, appropriating a word applied exclusively to hemp, which is reduced to pulp and fibre by maceration. Well, the human soul, or, if you will, the threefold powers of body, heart, and intellect, under certain repeated shocks, get into such a condition as fibrous iron. They too are disintegrated. Science and law and the public seek a thousand causes for the terrible catastrophes on railways caused by the rupture of an iron rail, that of Bellevue being a famous instance; but no one has asked the evidence of real experts in such matters, the blacksmiths, who all say the same thing, “The iron was stringy!” The danger cannot be foreseen. Metal that has gone soft, and metal that has preserved its tenacity, both look exactly alike.

Priests and examining judges often find great criminals in this state. The awful experiences of the Assize Court and the “last toilet” commonly produce this dissolution of the nervous system, even in the strongest natures. Then confessions are blurted by the most firmly set lips; then the toughest hearts break; and, strange to say, always at the moment when these confessions are useless, when this weakness as of death snatches from the man the mask of innocence which made Justice uneasy—for it always is uneasy when the criminal dies without confessing his crime.

Napoleon went through this collapse of every human power on the field of Waterloo.

At eight in the morning, when the warder of the better cells entered the room where Jacques Collin was confined, he found him pale and calm, like a man who has collected all his strength by sheer determination.

“It is the hour for airing in the prison-yard,” said the turnkey; “you have not been out for three days; if you choose to take air and exercise, you may.”

Jacques Collin, lost in his absorbing thoughts, and taking no interest in himself, regarding himself as a garment with no body in it, a perfect rag, never suspected the trap laid for him by Bibi-Lupin, nor the importance attaching to his walk in the prison-yard.

The unhappy man went out mechanically, along the corridor, by the cells built into the magnificent cloisters of the Palace of the Kings, over which is the corridor Saint-Louis, as it is called, leading to the various purlieus of the Court of Appeals. This passage joins that of the better cells; and it is worth noting that the cell in which Louvel was imprisoned, one of the most famous of the regicides, is the room at the right angle formed by the junction of the two corridors. Under the pretty room in the Tour Bonbec there is a spiral staircase leading from the dark passage, and serving the prisoners who are lodged in these cells to go up and down on their way from or to the yard.

Every prisoner, whether committed for trial or already sentenced, and the prisoners under suspicion who have been reprieved from the closest cells—in short, every one in confinement in the Conciergerie takes exercise in this narrow paved courtyard for some hours every day, especially the early hours of summer mornings. This recreation ground, the ante-room to the scaffold or the hulks on one side, on the other still clings to the world through the gendarme, the examining judge, and the Assize Court. It strikes a greater chill perhaps than even the scaffold. The scaffold may be a pedestal to soar to heaven from; but the prison-yard is every infamy on earth concentrated and unavoidable.

Whether at La Force or at Poissy, at Melun or at Sainte-Pelagie, a prison-yard is a prison-yard. The same details are exactly repeated, all but the color of the walls, their height, and the space enclosed. So this Study of Manners would be false to its name if it did not include an exact description of this Pandemonium of Paris.

Under the mighty vaulting which supports the lower courts and the Court of Appeals there is, close to the fourth arch, a stone slab, used by Saint-Louis, it is said, for the distribution of alms, and doing duty in our day as a counter for the sale of eatables to the prisoners. So as soon as the prison-yard is open to the prisoners, they gather round this stone table, which displays such dainties as jail-birds desire—brandy, rum, and the like.

The first two archways on that side of the yard, facing the fine Byzantine corridor—the only vestige now of Saint-Louis’ elegant palace—form a parlor, where the prisoners and their counsel may meet, to which the prisoners have access through a formidable gateway—a double passage, railed off by enormous bars, within the width of the third archway. This double way is like the temporary passages arranged at the door of a theatre to keep a line on occasions when a great success brings a crowd. This parlor, at the very end of the vast entrance-hall of the Conciergerie, and lighted by loop-holes on the yard side, has lately been opened out towards the back, and the opening filled with glass, so that the interviews of the lawyers with their clients are under supervision. This innovation was made necessary by the too great fascinations brought to bear by pretty women on their counsel. Where will morality stop short? Such precautions are like the ready-made sets of questions for self-examination, where pure imaginations are defiled by meditating on unknown and monstrous depravity. In this parlor, too, parents and friends may be allowed by the authorities to meet the prisoners, whether on remand or awaiting their sentence.

The reader may now understand what the prison-yard is to the two hundred prisoners in the Conciergerie: their garden—a garden without trees, beds, or flowers—in short, a prison-yard. The parlor, and the stone of Saint-Louis, where such food and liquor as are allowed are dispensed, are the only possible means of communication with the outer world.

The hour spent in the yard is the only time when the prisoner is in the open air or the society of his kind; in other prisons those who are sentenced for a term are brought together in workshops; but in the Conciergerie no occupation is allowed, excepting in the privileged cells. There the absorbing idea in every mind is the drama of the Assize Court, since the culprit comes only to be examined or to be sentenced.

This yard is indeed terrible to behold; it cannot be imagined, it must be seen.

In the first place, the assemblage, in a space forty metres long by thirty wide, of a hundred condemned or suspected criminals, does not constitute the cream of society. These creatures, belonging for the most part to the lowest ranks, are poorly clad; their countenances are base or horrible, for a criminal from the upper sphere of society is happily, a rare exception. Peculation, forgery, or fraudulent bankruptcy, the only crimes that can bring decent folks so low, enjoy the privilege of the better cells, and then the prisoner scarcely ever quits it.

This promenade, bounded by fine but formidable blackened walls, by a cloister divided up into cells, by fortifications on the side towards the quay, by the barred cells of the better class on the north, watched by vigilant warders, and filled with a herd of criminals, all meanly suspicious of each other, is depressing enough in itself; and it becomes terrifying when you find yourself the centre of all those eyes full of hatred, curiosity, and despair, face to face with that degraded crew. Not a gleam of gladness! all is gloom—the place and the men. All is speechless—the walls and men’s consciences. To these hapless creatures danger lies everywhere; excepting in the case of an alliance as ominous as the prison where it was formed, they dare not trust each other.

The police, all-pervading, poisons the atmosphere and taints everything, even the hand-grasp of two criminals who have been intimate. A convict who meets his most familiar comrade does not know that he may not have repented and have made a confession to save his life. This absence of confidence, this dread of the nark, marks the liberty, already so illusory, of the prison-yard. The “nark” (in French, le Mouton or le coqueur) is a spy who affects to be sentenced for some serious offence, and whose skill consists in pretending to be a chum. The “chum,” in thieves’ slang, is a skilled thief, a professional who has cut himself adrift from society, and means to remain a thief all his days, and continues faithful through thick and thin to the laws of the swell-mob.

Crime and madness have a certain resemblance. To see the prisoners of the Conciergerie in the yard, or the madmen in the garden of an asylum, is much the same thing. Prisoners and lunatics walk to and fro, avoiding each other, looking up with more or less strange or vicious glances, according to the mood of the moment, but never cheerful, never grave; they know each other, or they dread each other. The anticipation of their sentence, remorse, and apprehension give all these men exercising, the anxious, furtive look of the insane. Only the most consummate criminals have the audacity that apes the quietude of respectability, the sincerity of a clear conscience.

As men of the better class are few, and shame keeps the few whose crimes have brought them within doors, the frequenters of the prison-yard are for the most part dressed as workmen. Blouses, long and short, and velveteen jackets preponderate. These coarse or dirty garments, harmonizing with the coarse and sinister faces and brutal manner—somewhat subdued, indeed, by the gloomy reflections that weigh on men in prison—everything, to the silence that reigns, contributes to strike terror or disgust into the rare visitor who, by high influence, has obtained the privilege, seldom granted, of going over the Conciergerie.

Just as the sight of an anatomical museum, where foul diseases are represented by wax models, makes the youth who may be taken there more chaste and apt for nobler and purer love, so the sight of the Conciergerie and of the prison-yard, filled with men marked for the hulks or the scaffold or some disgraceful punishment, inspires many, who might not fear that Divine Justice whose voice speaks so loudly to the conscience, with a fear of human justice; and they come out honest men for a long time after.

As the men who were exercising in the prison-yard, when 特龙佩拉莫特 appeared there, were to be the actors in a scene of crowning importance in the life of Jacques Collin, it will be well to depict a few of the principal personages of this sinister crowd.

Here, as everywhere when men are thrown together, here, as at school even, force, physical and moral, wins the day. Here, then, as on the hulks, crime stamps the man’s rank. Those whose head is doomed are the aristocracy. The prison-yard, as may be supposed, is a school of criminal law, which is far better learned there than at the Hall on the Place du Pantheon.

A never-failing pleasantry is to rehearse the drama of the Assize Court; to elect a president, a jury, a public prosecutor, a counsel, and to go through the whole trial. This hideous farce is played before almost every great trial. At this time a famous case was proceeding in the Criminal Court, that of the dreadful murder committed on the persons of Monsieur and Madame Crottat, the notary’s father and mother, retired farmers who, as this horrible business showed, kept eight hundred thousand francs in gold in their house.

One of the men concerned in this double murder was the notorious Dannepont, known as la Pouraille, a released convict, who for five years had eluded the most active search on the part of the police, under the protection of seven or eight different names. This villain’s disguises were so perfect, that he had served two years of imprisonment under the name of Delsouq, who was one of his own disciples, and a famous thief, though he never, in any of his achievements, went beyond the jurisdiction of the lower Courts. La Pouraille had committed no less than three murders since his dismissal from the hulks. The certainty that he would be executed, not less than the large fortune he was supposed to have, made this man an object of terror and admiration to his fellow-prisoners; for not a farthing of the stolen money had ever been recovered. Even after the events of July 1830, some persons may remember the terror caused in Paris by this daring crime, worthy to compare in importance with the robbery of medals from the Public Library; for the unhappy tendency of our age is to make a murder the more interesting in proportion to the greater sum of money secured by it.

La Pouraille, a small, lean, dry man, with a face like a ferret, forty-five years old, and one of the celebrities of the prisons he had successively lived in since the age of nineteen, knew Jacques Collin well, how and why will be seen.

Two other convicts, brought with la Pouraille from La Force within these twenty-four hours, had at once acknowledged and made the whole prison-yard acknowledge the supremacy of this past-master sealed to the scaffold. One of these convicts, a ticket-of-leave man, named Selerier, alias l’Avuergnat, Pere Ralleau, and le Rouleur, who in the sphere known to the hulks as the swell-mob was called Fil-de-Soie (or silken thread)—a nickname he owed to the skill with which he slipped through the various perils of the business—was an old ally of Jacques Collin’s.

特龙佩拉莫特 so keenly suspected Fil-de-Soie of playing a double part, of being at once in the secrets of the swell-mob and a spy laid by the police, that he had supposed him to be the prime mover of his arrest in the Maison Vauquer in 1819 (高老头). Selerier, whom we must call Fil-de-Soie, as we shall also call Dannepont la Pouraille, already guilty of evading surveillance, was concerned in certain well-known robberies without bloodshed, which would certainly take him back to the hulks for at least twenty years.

The other convict, named Riganson, and his kept woman, known as la Biffe, were a most formidable couple, members of the swell-mob. Riganson, on very distant terms with the police from his earliest years, was nicknamed le Biffon. Biffon was the male of la Biffe—for nothing is sacred to the swell-mob. These fiends respect nothing, neither the law nor religions, not even natural history, whose solemn nomenclature, it is seen, is parodied by them.

Here a digression is necessary; for Jacques Collin’s appearance in the prison-yard in the midst of his foes, as had been so cleverly contrived by Bibi-Lupin and the examining judge, and the strange scenes to ensue, would be incomprehensible and impossible without some explanation as to the world of thieves and of the hulks, its laws, its manners, and above all, its language, its hideous figures of speech being indispensable in this portion of my tale.

So, first of all, a few words must be said as to the vocabulary of sharpers, pickpockets, thieves, and murderers, known as Argot, or thieves’ cant, which has of late been introduced into literature with so much success that more than one word of that strange lingo is familiar on the rosy lips of ladies, has been heard in gilded boudoirs, and become the delight of princes, who have often proclaimed themselves “done brown” (floue)! And it must be owned, to the surprise no doubt of many persons, that no language is more vigorous or more vivid than that of this underground world which, from the beginnings of countries with capitals, has dwelt in cellars and slums, in the third limbo of society everywhere (le troisieme dessous, as the expressive and vivid slang of the theatres has it). For is not the world a stage? Le troisieme dessous is the lowest cellar under the stage at the Opera where the machinery is kept and men stay who work it, whence the footlights are raised, the ghosts, the blue-devils shot up from hell, and so forth.

Every word of this language is a bold metaphor, ingenious or horrible. A man’s breeches are his kicks or trucks (montante, a word that need not be explained). In this language you do not sleep, you snooze, or doze (pioncer—and note how vigorously expressive the word is of the sleep of the hunted, weary, distrustful animal called a thief, which as soon as it is in safety drops—rolls—into the gulf of deep slumber so necessary under the mighty wings of suspicion always hovering over it; a fearful sleep, like that of a wild beast that can sleep, nay, and snore, and yet its ears are alert with caution).

In this idiom everything is savage. The syllables which begin or end the words are harsh and curiously startling. A woman is a trip or a moll (une largue). And it is poetical too: straw is la plume de Beauce, a farmyard feather bed. The word midnight is paraphrased by twelve leads striking—it makes one shiver! Rincer une cambriole is to “screw the shop,” to rifle a room. What a feeble expression is to go to bed in comparison with “to doss” (piausser, make a new skin). What picturesque imagery! Work your dominoes (jouer des dominos) is to eat; how can men eat with the police at their heels?

And this language is always growing; it keeps pace with civilization, and is enriched with some new expression by every fresh invention. The potato, discovered and introduced by Louis XVI. and Parmentier, was at once dubbed in French slang as the pig’s orange (Orange a Cochons)[the Irish have called them bog oranges]. Banknotes are invented; the “mob” at once call them Flimsies (fafiots garotes, from “Garot,” the name of the cashier whose signature they bear). Flimsy! (fafiot.) Cannot you hear the rustle of the thin paper? The thousand franc-note is male flimsy (in French), the five hundred franc-note is the female; and convicts will, you may be sure, find some whimsical name for the hundred and two hundred franc-notes.

In 1790 Guillotin invented, with humane intent, the expeditious machine which solved all the difficulties involved in the problem of capital punishment. Convicts and prisoners from the hulks forthwith investigated this contrivance, standing as it did on the monarchical borderland of the old system and the frontier of modern legislation; they instantly gave it the name of l’Abbaye de Monte-a-Regret. They looked at the angle formed by the steel blade, and described its action as repeating (faucher); and when it is remembered that the hulks are called the meadow (le pre), philologists must admire the inventiveness of these horrible vocables, as Charles Nodier would have said.

The high antiquity of this kind of slang is also noteworthy. A tenth of the words are of old Romanesque origin, another tenth are the old Gaulish French of Rabelais. Effondrer, to thrash a man, to give him what for; otolondrer, to annoy or to “spur” him; cambrioler, doing anything in a room; aubert, money; Gironde, a beauty (the name of a river of Languedoc); fouillousse, a pocket—a “cly”—are all French of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The word affe, meaning life, is of the highest antiquity. From affe anything that disturbs life is called affres (a rowing or scolding), hence affreux, anything that troubles life.

About a hundred words are derived from the language of Panurge, a name symbolizing the people, for it is derived from two Greek words signifying All-working.

Science is changing the face of the world by constructing railroads. In Argot the train is le roulant Vif, the Rattler.

The name given to the head while still on the shoulders—la Sorbonne—shows the antiquity of this dialect which is mentioned by very early romance-writers, as Cervantes, the Italian story-tellers, and Aretino. In all ages the moll, the prostitute, the heroine of so many old-world romances, has been the protectress, companion, and comfort of the sharper, the thief, the pickpocket, the area-sneak, and the burglar.

Prostitution and robbery are the male and female forms of protest made by the natural state against the social state. Even philosophers, the innovators of to-day, the humanitarians with the communists and Fourierists in their train, come at last, without knowing it, to the same conclusion—prostitution and theft. The thief does not argue out questions of property, of inheritance, and social responsibility, in sophistical books; he absolutely ignores them. To him theft is appropriating his own. He does not discuss marriage; he does not complain of it; he does not insist, in printed Utopian dreams, on the mutual consent and bond of souls which can never become general; he pairs with a vehemence of which the bonds are constantly riveted by the hammer of necessity. Modern innovators write unctuous theories, long drawn, and nebulous or philanthropical romances; but the thief acts. He is as clear as a fact, as logical as a blow; and then his style!

Another thing worth noting: the world of prostitutes, thieves, and murders of the galleys and the prisons forms a population of about sixty to eighty thousand souls, men and women. Such a world is not to be disdained in a picture of modern manners and a literary reproduction of the social body. The law, the gendarmerie, and the police constitute a body almost equal in number; is not that strange? This antagonism of persons perpetually seeking and avoiding each other, and fighting a vast and highly dramatic duel, are what are sketched in this Study. It has been the same thing with thieving and public harlotry as with the stage, the police, the priesthood, and the gendarmerie. In these six walks of life the individual contracts an indelible character. He can no longer be himself. The stigmata of ordination are as immutable as those of the soldier are. And it is the same in other callings which are strongly in opposition, strong contrasts with civilization. These violent, eccentric, singular signs—sui generis—are what make the harlot, the robber, the murderer, the ticket-of-leave man, so easily recognizable by their foes, the spy and the police, to whom they are as game to the sportsman: they have a gait, a manner, a complexion, a look, a color, a smell—in short, infallible marks about them. Hence the highly-developed art of disguise which the heroes of the hulks acquire.

One word yet as to the constitution of this world apart, which the abolition of branding, the mitigation of penalties, and the silly leniency of furies are making a threatening evil. In about twenty years Paris will be beleaguered by an army of forty thousand reprieved criminals; the department of the Seine and its fifteen hundred thousand inhabitants being the only place in France where these poor wretches can be hidden. To them Paris is what the virgin forest is to beasts of prey.

The swell-mob, or more exactly, the upper class of thieves, which is the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the aristocracy of the tribe, had, in 1816, after the peace which made life hard for so many men, formed an association called les grands fanandels—the Great Pals—consisting of the most noted master-thieves and certain bold spirits at that time bereft of any means of living. This word pal means brother, friend, and comrade all in one. And these “Great Pals,” the cream of the thieving fraternity, for more than twenty years were the Court of Appeal, the Institute of Learning, and the Chamber of Peers of this community. These men all had their private means, with funds in common, and a code of their own. They knew each other, and were pledged to help and succor each other in difficulties. And they were all superior to the tricks or snares of the police, had a charter of their own, passwords and signs of recognition.

From 1815 to 1819 these dukes and peers of the prison world had formed the famous association of the Ten-thousand (see le Pere Goriot), so styled by reason of an agreement in virtue of which no job was to be undertaken by which less than ten thousand francs could be got.

At that very time, in 1829-30, some memoirs were brought out in which the collective force of this association and the names of the leaders were published by a famous member of the police-force. It was terrifying to find there an army of skilled rogues, male and female; so numerous, so clever, so constantly lucky, that such thieves as Pastourel, Collonge, or Chimaux, men of fifty and sixty, were described as outlaws from society from their earliest years! What a confession of the ineptitude of justice that rogues so old should be at large!

Jacques Collin had been the cashier, not only of the “Ten-thousand,” but also of the “Great Pals,” the heroes of the hulks. Competent authorities admit that the hulks have always owned large sums. This curious fact is quite conceivable. Stolen goods are never recovered but in very singular cases. The condemned criminal, who can take nothing with him, is obliged to trust somebody’s honesty and capacity, and to deposit his money; as in the world of honest folks, money is placed in a bank.

Long ago Bibi-Lupin, now for ten years a chief of the department of Public Safety, had been a member of the aristocracy of “Pals.” His treason had resulted from offended pride; he had been constantly set aside in favor of 特龙佩拉莫特 superior intelligence and prodigious strength. Hence his persistent vindictiveness against Jacques Collin. Hence, also, certain compromises between Bibi-Lupin and his old companions, which the magistrates were beginning to take seriously.

So in his desire for vengeance, to which the examining judge had given play under the necessity of identifying Jacques Collin, the chief of the “Safety” had very skilfully chosen his allies by setting la Pouraille, Fil-de-Soie, and le Biffon on the sham Spaniard—for la Pouraille and Fil-de-Soie both belonged to the “Ten-thousand,” and le Biffon was a “Great Pal.”

La Biffe, le Biffon’s formidable trip, who to this day evades all the pursuit of the police by her skill in disguising herself as a lady, was at liberty. This woman, who successfully apes a marquise, a countess, a baroness, keeps a carriage and men-servants. This Jacques Collin in petticoats is the only woman who can compare with Asie, Jacques Collin’s right hand. And, in fact, every hero of the hulks is backed up by a devoted woman. Prison records and the secret papers of the law courts will tell you this; no honest woman’s love, not even that of the bigot for her spiritual director, has ever been greater than the attachment of a mistress who shares the dangers of a great criminal.

With these men a passion is almost always the first cause of their daring enterprises and murders. The excessive love which—constitutionally, as the doctors say—makes woman irresistible to them, calls every moral and physical force of these powerful natures into action. Hence the idleness which consumes their days, for excesses of passion necessitate sleep and restorative food. Hence their loathing of all work, driving these creatures to have recourse to rapid ways of getting money. And yet, the need of a living, and of high living, violent as it is, is but a trifle in comparison with the extravagance to which these generous Medors are prompted by the mistress to whom they want to give jewels and dress, and who—always greedy—love rich food. The baggage wants a shawl, the lover steals it, and the woman sees in this a proof of love.

This is how robbery begins; and robbery, if we examine the human soul through a lens, will be seen to be an almost natural instinct in man.

Robbery leads to murder, and murder leads the lover step by step to the scaffold.

Ill-regulated physical desire is therefore, in these men, if we may believe the medical faculty, at the root of seven-tenths of the crimes committed. And, indeed, the proof is always found, evident, palpable at the post-mortem examination of the criminal after his execution. And these monstrous lovers, the scarecrows of society, are adored by their mistresses. It is this female devotion, squatting faithfully at the prison gate, always eagerly balking the cunning of the examiner, and incorruptibly keeping the darkest secrets which make so many trials impenetrable mysteries.

In this, again, lies the strength as well as the weakness of the accused. In the vocabulary of a prostitute, to be honest means to break none of the laws of this attachment, to give all her money to the man who is nabbed, to look after his comforts, to be faithful to him in every way, to undertake anything for his sake. The bitterest insult one of these women can fling in the teeth of another wretched creature is to accuse her of infidelity to a lover in quod (in prison). In that case such a woman is considered to have no heart.

La Pouraille was passionately in love with a woman, as will be seen.

Fil-de-Soie, an egotistical philosopher, who thieved to provide for the future, was a good deal like Paccard, Jacques Collin’s satellite, who had fled with Prudence Servien and the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs between them. He had no attachment, he condemned women, and loved no one but Fil-de-Soie.

As to le Biffon, he derived his nickname from his connection with la Biffe. (La Biffe is scavenging, rag-picking.) And these three distinguished members of la haute pegre, the aristocracy of roguery, had a reckoning to demand of Jacques Collin, accounts that were somewhat hard to bring to book.

No one but the cashier could know how many of his clients were still alive, and what each man’s share would be. The mortality to which the depositors were peculiarly liable had formed a basis for 特龙佩拉莫特 calculations when he resolved to embezzle the funds for Lucien’s benefit. By keeping himself out of the way of the police and of his pals for nine years, Jacques Collin was almost certain to have fallen heir, by the terms of the agreement among the associates, to two-thirds of the depositors. Besides, could he not plead that he had repaid the pals who had been scragged? In fact, no one had any hold over these Great Pals. His comrades trusted him by compulsion, for the hunted life led by convicts necessitates the most delicate confidence between the gentry of this crew of savages. So Jacques Collin, a defaulter for a hundred thousand crowns, might now possibly be quit for a hundred thousand francs. At this moment, as we see, la Pouraille, one of Jacques Collin’s creditors, had but ninety days to live. And la Pouraille, the possessor of a sum vastly greater, no doubt, than that placed in his pal’s keeping, would probably prove easy to deal with.

One of the infallible signs by which prison governors and their agents, the police and warders, recognize old stagers (chevaux de retour), that is to say, men who have already eaten beans (les gourganes, a kind of haricots provided for prison fare), is their familiarity with prison ways; those who have been in before, of course, know the manners and customs; they are at home, and nothing surprises them.

And Jacques Collin, thoroughly on his guard, had, until now, played his part to admiration as an innocent man and stranger, both at La Force and at the Conciergerie. But now, broken by grief, and by two deaths—for he had died twice over during that dreadful night—he was Jacques Collin once more. The warder was astounded to find that the Spanish priest needed no telling as to the way to the prison-yard. The perfect actor forgot his part; he went down the corkscrew stairs in the Tour Bonbec as one who knew the Conciergerie.

“Bibi-Lupin is right,” said the turnkey to himself; “he is an old stager; he is Jacques Collin.”

At the moment when 特龙佩拉莫特 appeared in the sort of frame to his figure made by the door into the tower, the prisoners, having made their purchases at the stone table called after Saint-Louis, were scattered about the yard, always too small for their number. So the newcomer was seen by all of them at once, and all the more promptly, because nothing can compare for keenness with the eye of a prisoner, who in a prison-yard feels like a spider watching in its web. And this comparison is mathematically exact; for the range of vision being limited on all sides by high dark walls, the prisoners can always see, even without looking at them, the doors through which the warders come and go, the windows of the parlor, and the stairs of the Tour Bonbec—the only exits from the yard. In this utter isolation every trivial incident is an event, everything is interesting; the tedium—a tedium like that of a tiger in a cage—increases their alertness tenfold.

It is necessary to note that Jacques Collin, dressed like a priest who is not strict as to costume, wore black knee breeches, black stockings, shoes with silver buckles, a black waistcoat, and a long coat of dark-brown cloth of a certain cut that betrays the priest whatever he may do, especially when these details are completed by a characteristic style of haircutting. Jacques Collin’s wig was eminently ecclesiastical, and wonderfully natural.

“Hallo!” said la Pouraille to le Biffon, “that’s a bad sign! A rook! (sanglier, a priest). How did he come here?”

“He is one of their ‘narks’” (trucs, spies) “of a new make,” replied Fil-de-Soie, “some runner with the bracelets” (marchand de lacets—equivalent to a Bow Street runner) “looking out for his man.”

The gendarme boasts of many names in French slang; when he is after a thief, he is “the man with the bracelets” (marchand de lacets); when he has him in charge, he is a bird of ill-omen (hirondelle de la Greve); when he escorts him to the scaffold, he is “groom to the guillotine” (hussard de la guillotine).

To complete our study of the prison-yard, two more of the prisoners must be hastily sketched in. Selerier, alias l’Auvergnat, alias le Pere Ralleau, called le Rouleur, alias Fil-de-Soie—he had thirty names, and as many passports—will henceforth be spoken of by this name only, as he was called by no other among the swell-mob. This profound philosopher, who saw a spy in the sham priest, was a brawny fellow of about five feet eight, whose muscles were all marked by strange bosses. He had an enormous head in which a pair of half-closed eyes sparkled like fire—the eyes of a bird of prey, with gray, dull, skinny eyelids. At first glance his face resembled that of a wolf, his jaws were so broad, powerful, and prominent; but the cruelty and even ferocity suggested by this likeness were counterbalanced by the cunning and eagerness of his face, though it was scarred by the smallpox. The margin of each scar being sharply cut, gave a sort of wit to his expression; it was seamed with ironies. The life of a criminal—a life of danger and thirst, of nights spent bivouacking on the quays and river banks, on bridges and streets, and the orgies of strong drink by which successes are celebrated—had laid, as it were, a varnish over these features. Fil-de-Soie, if seen in his undisguised person, would have been marked by any constable or gendarme as his prey; but he was a match for Jacques Collin in the arts of make-up and dress. Just now Fil-de-Soie, in undress, like a great actor who is well got up only on the stage, wore a sort of shooting jacket bereft of buttons, and whose ripped button-holes showed the white lining, squalid green slippers, nankin trousers now a dingy gray, and on his head a cap without a peak, under which an old bandana was tied, streaky with rents, and washed out.

Le Biffon was a complete contrast to Fil-de-Soie. This famous robber, short, burly, and fat, but active, with a livid complexion, and deep-set black eyes, dressed like a cook, standing squarely on very bandy legs, was alarming to behold, for in his countenance all the features predominated that are most typical of the carnivorous beast.

Fil-de-Soie and le Biffon were always wheedling la Pouraille, who had lost all hope. The murderer knew that he would be tried, sentenced, and executed within four months. Indeed, Fil-de-Soie and le Biffon, la Pouraille’s chums, never called him anything but le Chanoine de l’Abbaye de Monte-a-Regret (a grim paraphrase for a man condemned to the guillotine). It is easy to understand why Fil-de-Soie and le Biffon should fawn on la Pouraille. The man had somewhere hidden two hundred and fifty thousand francs in gold, his share of the spoil found in the house of the Crottats, the “victims,” in newspaper phrase. What a splendid fortune to leave to two pals, though the two old stagers would be sent back to the galleys within a few days! Le Biffon and Fil-de-Soie would be sentenced for a term of fifteen years for robbery with violence, without prejudice to the ten years’ penal servitude on a former sentence, which they had taken the liberty of cutting short. So, though one had twenty-two and the other twenty-six years of imprisonment to look forward to, they both hoped to escape, and come back to find la Pouraille’s mine of gold.

But the “Ten-thousand man” kept his secret; he did not see the use of telling it before he was sentenced. He belonged to the “upper ten” of the hulks, and had never betrayed his accomplices. His temper was well known; Monsieur Popinot, who had examined him, had not been able to get anything out of him.

This terrible trio were at the further end of the prison-yard, that is to say, near the better class of cells. Fil-de-Soie was giving a lecture to a young man who was IN for his first offence, and who, being certain of ten years’ penal servitude, was gaining information as to the various convict establishments.

“Well, my boy,” Fil-de-Soie was saying sententiously as Jacques Collin appeared on the scene, “the difference between Brest, Toulon, and Rochefort is——”

“Well, old cock?” said the lad, with the curiosity of a novice.

This prisoner, a man of good family, accused of forgery, had come down from the cell next to that where Lucien had been.

“My son,” Fil-de-Soie went on, “at Brest you are sure to get some beans at the third turn if you dip your spoon in the bowl; at Toulon you never get any till the fifth; and at Rochefort you get none at all, unless you are an old hand.”

Having spoken, the philosopher joined le Biffon and la Pouraille, and all three, greatly puzzled by the priest, walked down the yard, while Jacques Collin, lost in grief, came up it. 特龙佩拉莫特, absorbed in terrible meditations, the meditations of a fallen emperor, did not think of himself as the centre of observation, the object of general attention, and he walked slowly, gazing at the fatal window where Lucien had hanged himself. None of the prisoners knew of this catastrophe, since, for reasons to be presently explained, the young forger had not mentioned the subject. The three pals agreed to cross the priest’s path.

“He is no priest,” said Fil-de-Soie; “he is an old stager. Look how he drags his right foot.”

It is needful to explain here—for not every reader has had a fancy to visit the galleys—that each convict is chained to another, an old one and a young one always as a couple; the weight of this chain riveted to a ring above the ankle is so great as to induce a limp, which the convict never loses. Being obliged to exert one leg much more than the other to drag this fetter (manicle is the slang name for such irons), the prisoner inevitably gets into the habit of making the effort. Afterwards, though he no longer wears the chain, it acts upon him still; as a man still feels an amputated leg, the convict is always conscious of the anklet, and can never get over that trick of walking. In police slang, he “drags his right.” And this sign, as well known to convicts among themselves as it is to the police, even if it does not help to identify a comrade, at any rate confirms recognition.

In Trompe-la Mort, who had escaped eight years since, this trick had to a great extent worn off; but just now, lost in reflections, he walked at such a slow and solemn pace that, slight as the limp was, it was strikingly evident to so practiced an eye as la Pouraille’s. And it is quite intelligible that convicts, always thrown together, as they must be, and never having any one else to study, will so thoroughly have watched each other’s faces and appearance, that certain tricks will have impressed them which may escape their systematic foes—spies, gendarmes, and police-inspectors.

Thus it was a peculiar twitch of the maxillary muscles of the left cheek, recognized by a convict who was sent to a review of the Legion of the Seine, which led to the arrest of the lieutenant-colonel of that corps, the famous Coignard; for, in spite of Bibi-Lupin’s confidence, the police could not dare believe that the Comte Pontis de Sainte-Helene and Coignard were one and the same man.

“He is our boss” (dab or master) said Fil-de-Soie, seeing in Jacques Collin’s eyes the vague glance a man sunk in despair casts on all his surroundings.

“By Jingo! Yes, it is 特龙佩拉莫特,” said le Biffon, rubbing his hands. “Yes, it is his cut, his build; but what has he done to himself? He looks quite different.”

“I know what he is up to!” cried Fil-de-Soie; “he has some plan in his head. He wants to see the boy” (sa tante) “who is to be executed before long.”

The persons known in prison as tantes or aunts may be best described in the ingenious words of the governor of one of the great prisons to the late Lord Durham, who, during his stay in Paris, visited every prison. So curious was he to see every detail of French justice, that he even persuaded Sanson, at that time the executioner, to erect the scaffold and decapitate a living calf, that he might thoroughly understand the working of the machine made famous by the Revolution. The governor having shown him everything—the yards, the workshops, and the underground cells—pointed to a part of the building, and said, “I need not take your Lordship there; it is the quartier des tantes.”—“Oh,” said Lord Durham, “what are they!”—“The third sex, my Lord.”

“And they are going to scrag Theodore!” said la Pouraille, “such a pretty boy! And such a light hand! such cheek! What a loss to society!”

“Yes, Theodore Calvi is yamming his last meal,” said le Biffon. “His trips will pipe their eyes, for the little beggar was a great pet.”

“So you’re here, old chap?” said la Pouraille to Jacques Collin. And, arm-in-arm with his two acolytes, he barred the way to the new arrival. “Why, Boss, have you got yourself japanned?” he went on.

“I hear you have nobbled our pile” (stolen our money), le Biffon added, in a threatening tone.

“You have just got to stump up the tin!” said Fil-de-Soie.

The three questions were fired at him like three pistol-shots.

“Do not make game of an unhappy priest sent here by mistake,” Jacques Collin replied mechanically, recognizing his three comrades.

“That is the sound of his pipe, if it is not quite the cut of his mug,” said la Pouraille, laying his hand on Jacques Collin’s shoulder.

This action, and the sight of his three chums, startled the “Boss” out of his dejection, and brought him back to a consciousness of reality; for during that dreadful night he had lost himself in the infinite spiritual world of feeling, seeking some new road.

“Do not blow the gaff on your Boss!” said Jacques Collin in a hollow threatening tone, not unlike the low growl of a lion. “The reelers are here; let them make fools of themselves. I am faking to help a pal who is awfully down on his luck.”

He spoke with the unction of a priest trying to convert the wretched, and a look which flashed round the yard, took in the warders under the archways, and pointed them out with a wink to his three companions.

“Are there not narks about? Keep your peepers open and a sharp lookout. Don’t know me, Nanty parnarly, and soap me down for a priest, or I will do for you all, you and your molls and your blunt.”

“What, do you funk our blabbing?” said Fil-de-Soie. “Have you come to help your boy to guy?”

“Madeleine is getting ready to be turned off in the Square” (the Place de Greve), said la Pouraille.

“Theodore!” said Jacques Collin, repressing a start and a cry.

“They will have his nut off,” la Pouraille went on; “he was booked for the scaffold two months ago.”

Jacques Collin felt sick, his knees almost failed him; but his three comrades held him up, and he had the presence of mind to clasp his hands with an expression of contrition. La Pouraille and le Biffon respectfully supported the sacrilegious 特龙佩拉莫特, while Fil-de-Soie ran to a warder on guard at the gate leading to the parlor.

“That venerable priest wants to sit down; send out a chair for him,” said he.

And so Bibi-Lupin’s plot had failed.

特龙佩拉莫特, like a Napoleon recognized by his soldiers, had won the submission and respect of the three felons. Two words had done it. Your molls and your blunt—your women and your money—epitomizing every true affection of man. This threat was to the three convicts an indication of supreme power. The Boss still had their fortune in his hands. Still omnipotent outside the prison, their Boss had not betrayed them, as the false pals said.

Their chief’s immense reputation for skill and inventiveness stimulated their curiosity; for, in prison, curiosity is the only goad of these blighted spirits. And Jacques Collin’s daring disguise, kept up even under the bolts and locks of the Conciergerie, dazzled the three felons.

“I have been in close confinement for four days and did not know that Theodore was so near the Abbaye,” said Jacques Collin. “I came in to save a poor little chap who scragged himself here yesterday at four o’clock, and now here is another misfortune. I have not an ace in my hand——”

“Poor old boy!” said Fil-de-Soie.

“Old Scratch has cut me!” cried Jacques Collin, tearing himself free from his supporters, and drawing himself up with a fierce look. “There comes a time when the world is too many for us! The beaks gobble us up at last.”

The governor of the Conciergerie, informed of the Spanish priest’s weak state, came himself to the prison-yard to observe him; he made him sit down on a chair in the sun, studying him with the keen acumen which increases day by day in the practise of such functions, though hidden under an appearance of indifference.

“Oh! Heaven!” cried Jacques Collin. “To be mixed up with such creatures, the dregs of society—felons and murders!—But God will not desert His servant! My dear sir, my stay here shall be marked by deeds of charity which shall live in men’s memories. I will convert these unhappy creatures, they shall learn they have souls, that life eternal awaits them, and that though they have lost all on earth, they still may win heaven—Heaven which they may purchase by true and genuine repentance.”

Twenty or thirty prisoners had gathered in a group behind the three terrible convicts, whose ferocious looks had kept a space of three feet between them and their inquisitive companions, and they heard this address, spoken with evangelical unction.

“Ay, Monsieur Gault,” said the formidable la Pouraille, “we will listen to what this one may say——”

“I have been told,” Jacques Collin went on, “that there is in this prison a man condemned to death.”

“The rejection of his appeal is at this moment being read to him,” said Monsieur Gault.

“I do not know what that means,” said Jacques Collin, artlessly looking about him.

“Golly, what a flat!” said the young fellow, who, a few minutes since, had asked Fil-de-Soie about the beans on the hulks.

“Why, it means that he is to be scragged to-day or to-morrow.”

“Scragged?” asked Jacques Collin, whose air of innocence and ignorance filled his three pals with admiration.

“In their slang,” said the governor, “that means that he will suffer the penalty of death. If the clerk is reading the appeal, the executioner will no doubt have orders for the execution. The unhappy man has persistently refused the offices of the chaplain.”

“Ah! Monsieur le Directeaur, this is a soul to save!” cried Jacques Collin, and the sacrilegious wretch clasped his hands with the expression of a despairing lover, which to the watchful governor seemed nothing less than divine fervor. “Ah, monsieur,” 特龙佩拉莫特 went on, “let me prove to you what I am, and how much I can do, by allowing me to incite that hardened heart to repentance. God has given me a power of speech which produces great changes. I crush men’s hearts; I open them.—What are you afraid of? Send me with an escort of gendarmes, of turnkeys—whom you will.”

“I will inquire whether the prison chaplain will allow you to take his place,” said Monsieur Gault.

And the governor withdrew, struck by the expression, perfectly indifferent, though inquisitive, with which the convicts and the prisoners on remand stared at this priest, whose unctuous tones lent a charm to his half-French, half-Spanish lingo.

“How did you come in here, Monsieur l’Abbe?” asked the youth who had questioned Fil-de-Soie.

“Oh, by a mistake!” replied Jacques Collin, eyeing the young gentleman from head to foot. “I was found in the house of a courtesan who had died, and was immediately robbed. It was proved that she had killed herself, and the thieves—probably the servants—have not yet been caught.”

“And it was for that theft that your young man hanged himself?”

“The poor boy, no doubt, could not endure the thought of being blighted by his unjust imprisonment,” said 特龙佩拉莫特, raising his eyes to heaven.

“Ay,” said the young man; “they were coming to set him free just when he had killed himself. What bad luck!”

“Only innocent souls can be thus worked on by their imagination,” said Jacques Collin. “For, observe, he was the loser by the theft.”

“How much money was it?” asked Fil-de-Soie, the deep and cunning.

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand francs,” said Jacques Collin blandly.

The three convicts looked at each other and withdrew from the group that had gathered round the sham priest.

“He screwed the moll’s place himself!” said Fil-de-Soie in a whisper to le Biffon, “and they want to put us in a blue funk for our cartwheels” (thunes de balles, five-franc pieces).

“He will always be the boss of the swells,” replied la Pouraille. “Our pieces are safe enough.”

La Pouraille, wishing to find some man he could trust, had an interest in considering Jacques Collin an honest man. And in prison, of all places, a man believes what he hopes.

“I lay you anything, he will come round the big Boss and save his chum!” said Fil-de-Soie.

“If he does that,” said le Biffon, “though I don’t believe he is really God, he must certainly have smoked a pipe with old Scratch, as they say.”

“Didn’t you hear him say, ‘Old Scratch has cut me’?” said Fil-de-Soie.

“Oh!” cried la Pouraille, “if only he would save my nut, what a time I would have with my whack of the shiners and the yellow boys I have stowed.”

“Do what he bids you!” said Fil-de Soie.

“You don’t say so?” retorted la Pouraille, looking at his pal.

“What a flat you are! You will be booked for the Abbaye!” said le Biffon. “You have no other door to budge, if you want to keep on your pins, to yam, wet your whistle, and fake to the end; you must take his orders.”

“That’s all right,” said la Pouraille. “There is not one of us that will blow the gaff, or if he does, I will take him where I am going——”

“And he’ll do it too,” cried Fil-de-Soie.

The least sympathetic reader, who has no pity for this strange race, may conceive of the state of mind of Jacques Collin, finding himself between the dead body of the idol whom he had been bewailing during five hours that night, and the imminent end of his former comrade—the dead body of Theodore, the young Corsican. Only to see the boy would demand extraordinary cleverness; to save him would need a miracle; but he was thinking of it.

For the better comprehension of what Jacques Collin proposed to attempt, it must be remarked that murderers and thieves, all the men who people the galleys, are not so formidable as is generally supposed. With a few rare exceptions these creatures are all cowards, in consequence no doubt, of the constant alarms which weigh on their spirit. The faculties being perpetually on the stretch in thieving, and the success of a stroke of business depending on the exertion of every vital force, with a readiness of wit to match their dexterity of hand, and an alertness which exhausts the nervous system; these violent exertions of will once over, they become stupid, just as a singer or a dancer drops quite exhausted after a fatiguing pas seul, or one of those tremendous duets which modern composers inflict on the public.

Malefactors are, in fact, so entirely bereft of common sense, or so much oppressed by fear, that they become absolutely childish. Credulous to the last degree, they are caught by the bird-lime of the simplest snare. When they have done a successful 工作, they are in such a state of prostration that they immediately rush into the debaucheries they crave for; they get drunk on wine and spirits, and throw themselves madly into the arms of their women to recover composure by dint of exhausting their strength, and to forget their crime by forgetting their reason.

Then they are at the mercy of the police. When once they are in custody they lose their head, and long for hope so blindly that they believe anything; indeed, there is nothing too absurd for them to accept it. An instance will suffice to show how far the simplicity of a criminal who has been 抓获 will carry him. Bibi-Lupin, not long before, had extracted a confession from a murderer of nineteen by making him believe that no one under age was ever executed. When this lad was transferred to the Conciergerie to be sentenced after the rejection of his appeal, this terrible man came to see him.

“Are you sure you are not yet twenty?” said he.

“Yes, I am only nineteen and a half.”

“Well, then,” replied Bibi-Lupin, “you may be quite sure of one thing—you will never see twenty.”

“为什么？”

“Because you will be scragged within three days,” replied the police agent.

The murderer, who had believed, even after sentence was passed, that a minor would never be executed, collapsed like an omelette soufflee.

Such men, cruel only from the necessity for suppressive evidence, for they murder only to get rid of witnesses (and this is one of the arguments adduced by those who desire the abrogation of capital punishment),—these giants of dexterity and skill, whose sleight of hand, whose rapid sight, whose every sense is as alert as that of a savage, are heroes of evil only on the stage of their exploits. Not only do their difficulties begin as soon as the crime is committed, for they are as much bewildered by the need for concealing the stolen goods as they were depressed by necessity—but they are as weak as a woman in childbed. The vehemence of their schemes is terrific; in success they become like children. In a word, their nature is that of the wild beast—easy to kill when it is full fed. In prison these strange beings are men in dissimulation and in secretiveness, which never yields till the last moment, when they are crushed and broken by the tedium of imprisonment.

It may hence be understood how it was that the three convicts, instead of betraying their chief, were eager to serve him; and as they suspected he was now the owner of the stolen seven hundred and fifty thousand francs, they admired him for his calm resignation, under bolt and bar of the Conciergerie, believing him capable of protecting them all.

When Monsieur Gault left the sham priest, he returned through the parlor to his office, and went in search of Bibi-Lupin, who for twenty minutes, since Jacques Collin had gone downstairs, had been on the watch with his eye at a peephole in a window looking out on the prison-yard.

“Not one of them recognized him,” said Monsieur Gault, “and Napolitas, who is on duty, did not hear a word. The poor priest all through the night, in his deep distress, did not say a word which could imply that his gown covers Jacques Collin.”

“That shows that he is used to prison life,” said the police agent.

Napolitas, Bibi-Lupin’s secretary, being unknown to the criminals then in the Conciergerie, was playing the part of the young gentlemen imprisoned for forgery.

“Well, but he wishes to be allowed to hear the confession of the young fellow who is sentenced to death,” said the governor.

“To be sure! That is our last chance,” cried Bibi-Lupin. “I had forgotten that. Theodore Calvi, the young Corsican, was the man chained to Jacques Collin; they say that on the hulks Jacques Collin made him famous pads——”

The convicts on the galleys contrive a kind of pad to slip between their skin and the fetters to deaden the pressure of the iron ring on their ankles and instep; these pads, made of tow and rags, are known as patarasses.

“Who is warder over the man?” asked Bibi-Lupin.

“Coeur la Virole.”

“Very well, I will go and make up as a gendarme, and be on the watch; I shall hear what they say. I will be even with them.”

“But if it should be Jacques Collin are you not afraid of his recognizing you and throttling you?” said the governor to Bibi-Lupin.

“As a gendarme I shall have my sword,” replied the other; “and, besides, if he is Jacques Collin, he will never do anything that will risk his neck; and if he is a priest, I shall be safe.”

“Then you have no time to lose,” said Monsieur Gault; “it is half-past eight. Father Sauteloup has just read the reply to his appeal, and Monsieur Sanson is waiting in the order room.”

“Yes, it is to-day’s job, the ‘widow’s huzzars’” (les hussards de la veuve, another horrible name for the functionaries of the guillotine) “are ordered out,” replied Bibi-Lupin. “Still, I cannot wonder that the prosecutor-general should hesitate; the boy has always declared that he is innocent, and there is, in my opinion, no conclusive evidence against him.”

“He is a thorough Corsican,” said Monsieur Gault; “he has not said a word, and has held firm all through.”

The last words of the governor of the prison summed up the dismal tale of a man condemned to die. A man cut off from among the living by law belongs to the Bench. The Bench is paramount; it is answerable to nobody, it obeys its own conscience. The prison belongs to the Bench, which controls it absolutely. Poetry has taken possession of this social theme, “the man condemned to death”—a subject truly apt to strike the imagination! And poetry has been sublime on it. Prose has no resource but fact; still, the fact is appalling enough to hold its own against verse. The existence of a condemned man who has not confessed his crime, or betrayed his accomplices, is one of fearful torment. This is no case of iron boots, of water poured into the stomach, or of limbs racked by hideous machinery; it is hidden and, so to speak, negative torture. The condemned wretch is given over to himself with a companion whom he cannot but trust.

The amiability of modern philanthropy fancies it has understood the dreadful torment of isolation, but this is a mistake. Since the abolition of torture, the Bench, in a natural anxiety to reassure the too sensitive consciences of the jury, had guessed what a terrible auxiliary isolation would prove to justice in seconding remorse.

Solitude is void; and nature has as great a horror of a moral void as she has of a physical vacuum. Solitude is habitable only to a man of genius who can people it with ideas, the children of the spiritual world; or to one who contemplates the works of the Creator, to whom it is bright with the light of heaven, alive with the breath and voice of God. Excepting for these two beings—so near to Paradise—solitude is to the mind what torture is to the body. Between solitude and the torture-chamber there is all the difference that there is between a nervous malady and a surgical disease. It is suffering multiplied by infinitude. The body borders on the infinite through its nerves, as the spirit does through thought. And, in fact, in the annals of the Paris law courts the criminals who do not confess can be easily counted.

This terrible situation, which in some cases assumes appalling importance—in politics, for instance, when a dynasty or a state is involved—will find a place in the HUMAN COMEDY. But here a description of the stone box in which after the Restoration, the law shut up a man condemned to death in Paris, may serve to give an idea of the terrors of a felon’s last day on earth.

Before the Revolution of July there was in the Conciergerie, and indeed there still is, a condemned cell. This room, backing on the governor’s office, is divided from it by a thick wall in strong masonry, and the other side of it is formed by a wall seven or eight feet thick, which supports one end of the immense 帕斯珀杜斯厅. It is entered through the first door in the long dark passage in which the eye loses itself when looking from the middle of the vaulted gateway. This ill-omened room is lighted by a funnel, barred by a formidable grating, and hardly perceptible on going into the Conciergerie yard, for it has been pierced in the narrow space between the office window close to the railing of the gateway, and the place where the office clerk sits—a den like a cupboard contrived by the architect at the end of the entrance court.

This position accounts for the fact that the room thus enclosed between four immensely thick walls should have been devoted, when the Conciergerie was reconstituted, to this terrible and funereal service. Escape is impossible. The passage, leading to the cells for solitary confinement and to the women’s quarters, faces the stove where gendarmes and warders are always collected together. The air-hole, the only outlet to the open air, is nine feet above the floor, and looks out on the first court, which is guarded by sentries at the outer gate. No human power can make any impression on the walls. Besides, a man sentenced to death is at once secured in a straitwaistcoat, a garment which precludes all use of the hands; he is chained by one foot to his camp bed, and he has a fellow prisoner to watch and attend on him. The room is paved with thick flags, and the light is so dim that it is hard to see anything.

It is impossible not to feel chilled to the marrow on going in, even now, though for sixteen years the cell has never been used, in consequence of the changes effected in Paris in the treatment of criminals under sentence. Imagine the guilty man there with his remorse for company, in silence and darkness, two elements of horror, and you will wonder how he ever failed to go mad. What a nature must that be whose temper can resist such treatment, with the added misery of enforced idleness and inaction.

And yet Theodore Calvi, a Corsican, now twenty-seven years of age, muffled, as it were, in a shroud of absolute reserve, had for two months held out against the effects of this dungeon and the insidious chatter of the prisoner placed to entrap him.

These were the strange circumstances under which the Corsican had been condemned to death. Though the case is a very curious one, our account of it must be brief. It is impossible to introduce a long digression at the climax of a narrative already so much prolonged, since its only interest is in so far as it concerns Jacques Collin, the vertebral column, so to speak, which, by its sinister persistency, connects 高老头 和 幻觉降临及 幻觉降临 with this Study. And, indeed, the reader’s imagination will be able to work out the obscure case which at this moment was causing great uneasiness to the jury of the sessions, before whom Theodore Calvi had been tried. For a whole week, since the criminal’s appeal had been rejected by the Supreme Court, Monsieur de Granville had been worrying himself over the case, and postponing from day to day the order for carrying out the sentence, so anxious was he to reassure the jury by announcing that on the threshold of death the accused had confessed the crime.

A poor widow of Nanterre, whose dwelling stood apart from the township, which is situated in the midst of the infertile plain lying between Mount-Valerian, Saint-Germain, the hills of Sartrouville, and Argenteuil, had been murdered and robbed a few days after coming into her share of an unexpected inheritance. This windfall amounted to three thousand francs, a dozen silver spoons and forks, a gold watch and chain and some linen. Instead of depositing the three thousand francs in Paris, as she was advised by the notary of the wine-merchant who had left it her, the old woman insisted on keeping it by her. In the first place, she had never seen so much money of her own, and then she distrusted everybody in every kind of affairs, as most common and country folk do. After long discussion with a wine-merchant of Nanterre, a relation of her own and of the wine-merchant who had left her the money, the widow decided on buying an annuity, on selling her house at Nanterre, and living in the town of Saint-Germain.

The house she was living in, with a good-sized garden enclosed by a slight wooden fence, was the poor sort of dwelling usually built by small landowners in the neighborhood of Paris. It had been hastily constructed, with no architectural design, of cement and rubble, the materials commonly used near Paris, where, as at Nanterre, they are extremely abundant, the ground being everywhere broken by quarries open to the sky. This is the ordinary hut of the civilized savage. The house consisted of a ground floor and one floor above, with garrets in the roof.

The quarryman, her deceased husband, and the builder of this dwelling, had put strong iron bars to all the windows; the front door was remarkably thick. The man knew that he was alone there in the open country—and what a country! His customers were the principal master-masons in Paris, so the more important materials for his house, which stood within five hundred yards of his quarry, had been brought out in his own carts returning empty. He could choose such as suited him where houses were pulled down, and got them very cheap. Thus the window frames, the iron-work, the doors, shutters, and wooden fittings were all derived from sanctioned pilfering, presents from his customers, and good ones, carefully chosen. Of two window-frames, he could take the better.

The house, entered from a large stable-yard, was screened from the road by a wall; the gate was of strong iron-railing. Watch-dogs were kept in the stables, and a little dog indoors at night. There was a garden of more than two acres behind.

His widow, without children, lived here with only a woman servant. The sale of the quarry had paid off the owner’s debts; he had been dead about two years. This isolated house was the widow’s sole possession, and she kept fowls and cows, selling the eggs and milk at Nanterre. Having no stableboy or carter or quarryman—her husband had made them do every kind of work—she no longer kept up the garden; she only gathered the few greens and roots that the stony ground allowed to grow self-sown.

The price of the house, with the money she had inherited, would amount to seven or eight thousand francs, and she could fancy herself living very happily at Saint-Germain on seven or eight hundred francs a year, which she thought she could buy with her eight thousand francs. She had had many discussions over this with the notary at Saint-Germain, for she refused to hand her money over for an annuity to the wine-merchant at Nanterre, who was anxious to have it.

Under these circumstances, then, after a certain day the widow Pigeau and her servant were seen no more. The front gate, the house door, the shutters, all were closed. At the end of three days, the police, being informed, made inquisition. Monsieur Popinot, the examining judge, and the public prosecutor arrived from Paris, and this was what they reported:—

Neither the outer gate nor the front door showed any marks of violence. The key was in the lock of the door, inside. Not a single bar had been wretched; the locks, shutters, and bolts were all untampered with. The walls showed no traces that could betray the passage of the criminals. The chimney-posts, of red clay, afforded no opportunity for ingress or escape, and the roofing was sound and unbroken, showing no damage by violence.

On entering the first-floor rooms, the magistrates, the gendarmes, and Bibi-Lupin found the widow Pigeau strangled in her bed and the woman strangled in hers, each by means of the bandana she wore as a nightcap. The three thousand francs were gone, with the silver-plate and the trinkets. The two bodies were decomposing, as were those of the little dog and of a large yard-dog.

The wooden palings of the garden were examined; none were broken. The garden paths showed no trace of footsteps. The magistrate thought it probable that the robber had walked on the grass to leave no foot-prints if he had come that way; but how could he have got into the house? The back door to the garden had an outer guard of three iron bars, uninjured; and there, too, the key was in the lock inside, as in the front door.

All these impossibilities having been duly noted by Monsieur Popinot, by Bibi-Lupin, who stayed there a day to examine every detail, by the public prosecutor himself, and by the sergeant of the gendarmerie at Nanterre, this murder became an agitating mystery, in which the Law and the Police were nonplussed.

This drama, published in the Tribunaux公报, took place in the winter of 1828-29. God alone knows what excitement this puzzling crime occasioned in Paris! But Paris has a new drama to watch every morning, and forgets everything. The police, on the contrary, forgets nothing.

Three months after this fruitless inquiry, a girl of the town, whose extravagance had invited the attention of Bibi-Lupin’s agents, who watched her as being the ally of several thieves, tried to persuade a woman she knew to pledge twelve silver spoons and forks and a gold watch and chain. The friend refused. This came to Bibi-Lupin’s ears, and he remembered the plate and the watch and chain stolen at Nanterre. The commissioners of the Mont-de-Piete, and all the receivers of stolen goods, were warned, while Manon la Blonde was subjected to unremitting scrutiny.

It was very soon discovered that Manon la Blonde was madly in love with a young man who was never to be seen, and was supposed to be deaf to all the fair Manon’s proofs of devotion. Mystery on mystery. However, this youth, under the diligent attentions of police spies, was soon seen and identified as an escaped convict, the famous hero of the Corsican vendetta, the handsome Theodore Calvi, known as Madeleine.

A man was turned on to entrap Calvi, one of those double-dealing buyers of stolen goods who serve the thieves and the police both at once; he promised to purchase the silver and the watch and chain. At the moment when the dealer of the Cour Saint-Guillaume was counting out the cash to Theodore, dressed as a woman, at half-past six in the evening, the police came in and seized Theodore and the property.

The inquiry was at once begun. On such thin evidence it was impossible to pass a sentence of death. Calvi never swerved, he never contradicted himself. He said that a country woman had sold him these objects at Argenteuil; that after buying them, the excitement over the murder committed at Nanterre had shown him the danger of keeping this plate and watch and chain in his possession, since, in fact, they were proved by the inventory made after the death of the wine merchant, the widow Pigeau’s uncle, to be those that were stolen from her. Compelled at last by poverty to sell them, he said he wished to dispose of them by the intervention of a person to whom no suspicion could attach.

And nothing else could be extracted from the convict, who, by his taciturnity and firmness, contrived to insinuate that the wine-merchant at Nanterre had committed the crime, and that the woman of whom he, Theodore, had bought them was the wine-merchant’s wife. The unhappy man and his wife were both taken into custody; but, after a week’s imprisonment, it was amply proved that neither the husband nor the wife had been out of their house at the time. Also, Calvi failed to recognize in the wife the woman who, as he declared, had sold him the things.

As it was shown that Calvi’s mistress, implicated in the case, had spent about a thousand francs since the date of the crime and the day when Calvi tried to pledge the plate and trinkets, the evidence seemed strong enough to commit Calvi and the girl for trial. This murder being the eighteenth which Theodore had committed, he was condemned to death for he seemed certainly to be guilty of this skilfully contrived crime. Though he did not recognize the wine-merchant’s wife, both she and her husband recognized him. The inquiry had proved, by the evidence of several witnesses, that Theodore had been living at Nanterre for about a month; he had worked at a mason’s, his face whitened with plaster, and his clothes very shabby. At Nanterre the lad was supposed to be about eighteen years old, for the whole month he must have been nursing that brat (nourri ce poupon, i.e. hatching the crime).

The lawyers thought he must have had accomplices. The chimney-pots were measured and compared with the size of Manon la Blonde’s body to see if she could have got in that way; but a child of six could not have passed up or down those red-clay pipes, which, in modern buildings, take the place of the vast chimneys of old-fashioned houses. But for this singular and annoying difficulty, Theodore would have been executed within a week. The prison chaplain, it has been seen, could make nothing of him.

All this business, and the name of Calvi, must have escaped the notice of Jacques Collin, who, at the time, was absorbed in his single-handed struggle with Contenson, Corentin, and Peyrade. It had indeed been a point with 特龙佩拉莫特 to forget as far as possible his chums and all that had to do with the law courts; he dreaded a meeting which should bring him face to face with a pal who might demand an account of his boss which Collin could not possibly render.

The governor of the prison went forthwith to the public prosecutor’s court, where he found the Attorney-General in conversation with Monsieur de Granville, who had spent the whole night at the Hotel de Serizy, was, in consequence of this important case, obliged to give a few hours to his duties, though overwhelmed with fatigue and grief; for the physicians could not yet promise that the Countess would recover her sanity.

After speaking a few words to the governor, Monsieur de Granville took the warrant from the attorney and placed it in Gault’s hands.

“Let the matter proceed,” said he, “unless some extraordinary circumstances should arise. Of this you must judge. I trust to your judgment. The scaffold need not be erected till half-past ten, so you still have an hour. On such an occasion hours are centuries, and many things may happen in a century. Do not allow him to think he is reprieved; prepare the man for execution if necessary; and if nothing comes of that, give Sanson the warrant at half-past nine. Let him wait!”

As the governor of the prison left the public prosecutor’s room, under the archway of the passage into the hall he met Monsieur Camusot, who was going there. He exchanged a few hurried words with the examining judge; and after telling him what had been done at the Conciergerie with regard to Jacques Collin, he went on to witness the meeting of 特龙佩拉莫特 and Madeleine; and he did not allow the so-called priest to see the condemned criminal till Bibi-Lupin, admirably disguised as a gendarme, had taken the place of the prisoner left in charge of the young Corsican.

No words can describe the amazement of the three convicts when a warder came to fetch Jacques Collin and led him to the condemned cell! With one consent they rushed up to the chair on which Jacques Collin was sitting.

“To-day, isn’t it, monsieur?” asked Fil-de-Soie of the warder.

“Yes, Jack Ketch is waiting,” said the man with perfect indifference.

Charlot is the name by which the executioner is known to the populace and the prison world in Paris. The nickname dates from the Revolution of 1789.

The words produced a great sensation. The prisoners looked at each other.

“It is all over with him,” the warder went on; “the warrant has been delivered to Monsieur Gault, and the sentence has just been read to him.”

“And so the fair Madeleine has received the last sacraments?” said la Pouraille, and he swallowed a deep mouthful of air.

“Poor little Theodore!” cried le Biffon; “he is a pretty chap too. What a pity to drop your nut” (eternuer dans le son) “so young.”

The warder went towards the gate, thinking that Jacques Collin was at his heels. But the Spaniard walked very slowly, and when he was getting near to Julien he tottered and signed to la Pouraille to give him his arm.

“He is a murderer,” said Napolitas to the priest, pointing to la Pouraille, and offering his own arm.

“No, to me he is an unhappy wretch!” replied Jacques Collin, with the presence of mind and the unction of the Archbishop of Cambrai. And he drew away from Napolitas, of whom he had been very suspicious from the first. Then he said to his pals in an undertone:

“He is on the bottom step of the Abbaye de Monte-a-Regret, but I am the Prior! I will show you how well I know how to come round the beaks. I mean to snatch this boy’s nut from their jaws.”

“For the sake of his breeches!” said Fil-de-Soie with a smile.

“I mean to win his soul to heaven!” replied Jacques Collin fervently, seeing some other prisoners about him. And he joined the warder at the gate.

“He got in to save Madeleine,” said Fil-de-Soie. “We guessed rightly. What a boss he is!”

“But how can he? Jack Ketch’s men are waiting. He will not even see the kid,” objected le Biffon.

“The devil is on his side!” cried la Pouraille. “He claim our blunt! Never! He is too fond of his old chums! We are too useful to him! They wanted to make us blow the gaff, but we are not such flats! If he saves his Madeleine, I will tell him all my secrets.”

The effect of this speech was to increase the devotion of the three convicts to their boss; for at this moment he was all their hope.

Jacques Collin, in spite of Madeleine’s peril, did not forget to play his part. Though he knew the Conciergerie as well as he knew the hulks in the three ports, he blundered so naturally that the warder had to tell him, “This way, that way,” till they reached the office. There, at a glance, Jacques Collin recognized a tall, stout man leaning on the stove, with a long, red face not without distinction: it was Sanson.

“Monsieur is the chaplain?” said he, going towards him with simple cordiality.

The mistake was so shocking that it froze the bystanders.

“No, monsieur,” said Sanson; “I have other functions.”

Sanson, the father of the last executioner of that name—for he has recently been dismissed—was the son of the man who beheaded Louis XVI. After four centuries of hereditary office, this descendant of so many executioners had tried to repudiate the traditional burden. The Sansons were for two hundred years executioners at Rouen before being promoted to the first rank in the kingdom, and had carried out the decrees of justice from father to son since the thirteenth century. Few families can boast of an office or of nobility handed down in a direct line during six centuries.

This young man had been captain in a cavalry regiment, and was looking forward to a brilliant military career, when his father insisted on his help in decapitating the king. Then he made his son his deputy when, in 1793, two guillotines were in constant work—one at the Barriere du Trone, and the other in the Place de Greve. This terrible functionary, now a man of about sixty, was remarkable for his dignified air, his gentle and deliberate manners, and his entire contempt for Bibi-Lupin and his acolytes who fed the machine. The only detail which betrayed the blood of the mediaeval executioner was the formidable breadth and thickness of his hands. Well informed too, caring greatly for his position as a citizen and an elector, and an enthusiastic florist, this tall, brawny man with his low voice, his calm reserve, his few words, and a high bald forehead, was like an English nobleman rather than an executioner. And a Spanish priest would certainly have fallen into the mistake which Jacques Collin had intentionally made.

“He is no convict!” said the head warder to the governor.

“I begin to think so too,” replied Monsieur Gault, with a nod to that official.

Jacques Collin was led to the cellar-like room where Theodore Calvi, in a straitwaistcoat, was sitting on the edge of the wretched camp bed. 特龙佩拉莫特, under a transient gleam of light from the passage, at once recognized Bibi-Lupin in the gendarme who stood leaning on his sword.

“Io sono Gaba-Morto. Parla nostro Italiano,” said Jacques Collin very rapidly. “Vengo ti salvar.”

“我是 特龙佩拉莫特. Talk our Italian. I have come to save you.”

All the two chums wanted to say had, of course, to be incomprehensible to the pretended gendarme; and as Bibi-Lupin was left in charge of the prisoner, he could not leave his post. The man’s fury was quite indescribable.

Theodore Calvi, a young man with a pale olive complexion, light hair, and hollow, dull, blue eyes, well built, hiding prodigious strength under the lymphatic appearance that is not uncommon in Southerners, would have had a charming face but for the strongly-arched eyebrows and low forehead that gave him a sinister expression, scarlet lips of savage cruelty, and a twitching of the muscles peculiar to Corsicans, denoting that excessive irritability which makes them so prompt to kill in any sudden squabble.

Theodore, startled at the sound of that voice, raised his head, and at first thought himself the victim of a delusion; but as the experience of two months had accustomed him to the darkness of this stone box, he looked at the sham priest, and sighed deeply. He did not recognize Jacques Collin, whose face, scarred by the application of sulphuric acid, was not that of his old boss.

“It is really your Jacques; I am your confessor, and have come to get you off. Do not be such a ninny as to know me; and speak as if you were making a confession.” He spoke with the utmost rapidity. “This young fellow is very much depressed; he is afraid to die, he will confess everything,” said Jacques Collin, addressing the gendarme.

Bibi-Lupin dared not say a word for fear of being recognized.

“Say something to show me that you are he; you have nothing but his voice,” said Theodore.

“You see, poor boy, he assures me that he is innocent,” said Jacques Collin to Bibi-Lupin, who dared not speak for fear of being recognized.

“Sempre mi,” said Jacques, returning close to Theodore, and speaking the word in his ear.

“Sempre ti,” replied Theodore, giving the countersign. “Yes, you are the boss——”

“Did you do the trick?”

“是的。”

“Tell me the whole story, that I may see what can be done to save you; make haste, Jack Ketch is waiting.”

The Corsican at once knelt down and pretended to be about to confess.

Bibi-Lupin did not know what to do, for the conversation was so rapid that it hardly took as much time as it does to read it. Theodore hastily told all the details of the crime, of which Jacques Collin knew nothing.

“The jury gave their verdict without proof,” he said finally.

“Child! you want to argue when they are waiting to cut off your hair——”

“But I might have been sent to spout the wedge.—And that is the way they judge you!—and in Paris too!”

“But how did you do the job?” asked 特龙佩拉莫特.

“Ah! there you are.—Since I saw you I made acquaintance with a girl, a Corsican, I met when I came to Paris.”

“Men who are such fools as to love a woman,” cried Jacques Collin, “always come to grief that way. They are tigers on the loose, tigers who blab and look at themselves in the glass.—You were a gaby.”

“但 - ”

“Well, what good did she do you—that curse of a moll?”

“That duck of a girl—no taller than a bundle of firewood, as slippery as an eel, and as nimble as a monkey—got in at the top of the oven, and opened the front door. The dogs were well crammed with balls, and as dead as herrings. I settled the two women. Then when I got the swag, Ginetta locked the door and got out again by the oven.”

“Such a clever dodge deserves life,” said Jacques Collin, admiring the execution of the crime as a sculptor admires the modeling of a figure.

“And I was fool enough to waste all that cleverness for a thousand crowns!”

“No, for a woman,” replied Jacques Collin. “I tell you, they deprive us of all our wits,” and Jacques Collin eyed Theodore with a flashing glance of contempt.

“But you were not there!” said the Corsican; “I was all alone——”

“And do you love the slut?” asked Jacques Collin, feeling that the reproach was a just one.

“Oh! I want to live, but it is for you now rather than for her.”

“Be quite easy, I am not called 特龙佩拉莫特 for nothing. I undertake the case.”

“What! life?” cried the lad, lifting his swaddled hands towards the damp vault of the cell.

“My little Madeleine, prepare to be lagged for life (penal servitude),” replied Jacques Collin. “You can expect no less; they won’t crown you with roses like a fatted ox. When they first set us down for Rochefort, it was because they wanted to be rid of us! But if I can get you ticketed for Toulon, you can get out and come back to Pantin (Paris), where I will find you a tidy way of living.”

A sigh such as had rarely been heard under that inexorable roof struck the stones, which sent back the sound that has no fellow in music, to the ear of the astounded Bibi-Lupin.

“It is the effect of the absolution I promised him in return for his revelations,” said Jacques Collin to the gendarme. “These Corsicans, monsieur, are full of faith! But he is as innocent as the Immaculate Babe, and I mean to try to save him.”

“God bless you, Monsieur l’Abbe!” said Theodore in French.

特龙佩拉莫特, more Carlos Herrera, more the canon than ever, left the condemned cell, rushed back to the hall, and appeared before Monsieur Gault in affected horror.

“Indeed, sir, the young man is innocent; he has told me who the guilty person is! He was ready to die for a false point of honor—he is a Corsican! Go and beg the public prosecutor to grant me five minutes’ interview. Monsieur de Granville cannot refuse to listen at once to a Spanish priest who is suffering so cruelly from the blunders of the French police.”

“I will go,” said Monsieur Gault, to the extreme astonishment of all the witnesses of this extraordinary scene.

“And meanwhile,” said Jacques, “send me back to the prison-yard where I may finish the conversion of a criminal whose heart I have touched already—they have hearts, these people!”

This speech produced a sensation in all who heard it. The gendarmes, the registry clerk, Sanson, the warders, the executioner’s assistant—all awaiting orders to go and get the scaffold ready—to rig up the machine, in prison slang—all these people, usually so indifferent, were agitated by very natural curiosity.

Just then the rattle of a carriage with high-stepping horses was heard; it stopped very suggestively at the gate of the Conciergerie on the quay. The door was opened, and the step let down in such haste, that every one supposed that some great personage had arrived. Presently a lady waving a sheet of blue paper came forward to the outer gate of the prison, followed by a footman and a chasseur. Dressed very handsomely, and all in black, with a veil over her bonnet, she was wiping her eyes with a floridly embroidered handkerchief.

Jacques Collin at once recognized Asie, or, to give the woman her true name, Jacqueline Collin, his aunt. This horrible old woman—worthy of her nephew—whose thoughts were all centered in the prisoner, and who was defending him with intelligence and mother-wit that were a match for the powers of the law, had a permit made out the evening before in the name of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse’s waiting-maid by the request of Monsieur de Serizy, allowing her to see Lucien de Rubempre, and the Abbe Carlos Herrera so soon as he should be brought out of the secret cells. On this the Colonel, who was the Governor-in-Chief of all the prisons had written a few words, and the mere color of the paper revealed powerful influences; for these permits, like theatre-tickets, differ in shape and appearance.

So the turnkey hastened to open the gate, especially when he saw the chasseur with his plumes and an uniform of green and gold as dazzling as a Russian General’s, proclaiming a lady of aristocratic rank and almost royal birth.

“Oh, my dear Abbe!” exclaimed this fine lady, shedding a torrent of tears at the sight of the priest, “how could any one ever think of putting such a saintly man in here, even by mistake?”

The Governor took the permit and read, “Introduced by His Excellency the Comte de Serizy.”

“Ah! Madame de San-Esteban, Madame la Marquise,” cried Carlos Herrera, “what admirable devotion!”

“But, madame, such interviews are against the rules,” said the good old Governor. And he intercepted the advance of this bale of black watered-silk and lace.

“But at such a distance!” said Jacques Collin, “and in your presence——” and he looked round at the group.

His aunt, whose dress might well dazzle the clerk, the Governor, the warders, and the gendarmes, stank of musk. She had on, besides a thousand crowns of lace, a black India cashmere shawl, worth six thousand francs. And her chasseur was marching up and down outside with the insolence of a lackey who knows that he is essential to an exacting princess. He spoke never a word to the footman, who stood by the gate on the quay, which is always open by day.

“What do you wish? What can I do?” said Madame de San-Esteban in the lingo agreed upon by this aunt and nephew.

This dialect consisted in adding terminations in ar or in or, or in al or in i to every word, whether French or slang, so as to disguise it by lengthening it. It was a diplomatic cipher adapted to speech.

“Put all the letters in some safe place; take out those that are most likely to compromise the ladies; come back, dressed very poorly, to the 帕斯珀杜斯厅, and wait for my orders.”

Asie, otherwise Jacqueline, knelt as if to receive his blessing, and the sham priest blessed his aunt with evengelical unction.

“Addio, Marchesa,” said he aloud. “And,” he added in their private language, “find Europe and Paccard with the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs they bagged. We must have them.”

“Paccard is out there,” said the pious Marquise, pointing to the chasseur, her eyes full of tears.

This intuitive comprehension brought not merely a smile to the man’s lips, but a gesture of surprise; no one could astonish him but his aunt. The sham Marquise turned to the bystanders with the air of a woman accustomed to give herself airs.

“He is in despair at being unable to attend his son’s funeral,” said she in broken French, “for this monstrous miscarriage of justice has betrayed the saintly man’s secret.—I am going to the funeral mass.—Here, monsieur,” she added to the Governor, handing him a purse of gold, “this is to give your poor prisoners some comforts.”

“What slap-up style!” her nephew whispered in approval.

Jacques Collin then followed the warder, who led him back to the yard.

Bibi-Lupin, quite desperate, had at last caught the eye of a real gendarme, to whom, since Jacques Collin had gone, he had been addressing significant “Ahems,” and who took his place on guard in the condemned cell. But 特龙佩拉莫特 sworn foe was released too late to see the great lady, who drove off in her dashing turn-out, and whose voice, though disguised, fell on his ear with a vicious twang.

“Three hundred shiners for the boarders,” said the head warder, showing Bibi-Lupin the purse, which Monsieur Gault had handed over to his clerk.

“Let’s see, Monsieur Jacomety,” said Bibi-Lupin.

The police agent took the purse, poured out the money into his hand, and examined it curiously.

“Yes, it is gold, sure enough!” said he, “and a coat-of-arms on the purse! The scoundrel! How clever he is! What an all-round villain! He does us all brown——and all the time! He ought to be shot down like a dog!”

“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the clerk, taking back the money.

“The matter! Why, the hussy stole it!” cried Bibi-Lupin, stamping with rage on the flags of the gateway.

The words produced a great sensation among the spectators, who were standing at a little distance from Monsieur Sanson. He, too, was still standing, his back against the large stove in the middle of the vaulted hall, awaiting the order to crop the felon’s hair and erect the scaffold on the Place de Greve.

On re-entering the yard, Jacques Collin went towards his chums at a pace suited to a frequenter of the galleys.

“What have you on your mind?” said he to la Pouraille.

“My game is up,” said the man, whom Jacques Collin led into a corner. “What I want now is a pal I can trust.”

“做什么的？”

La Pouraille, after telling the tale of all his crimes, but in thieves’ slang, gave an account of the murder and robbery of the two Crottats.

“You have my respect,” said Jacques Collin. “The job was well done; but you seem to me to have blundered afterwards.”

“以什么方式？”

“Well, having done the trick, you ought to have had a Russian passport, have made up as a Russian prince, bought a fine coach with a coat-of-arms on it, have boldly deposited your money in a bank, have got a letter of credit on Hamburg, and then have set out posting to Hamburg with a valet, a ladies’ maid, and your mistress disguised as a Russian princess. At Hamburg you should have sailed for Mexico. A chap of spirit, with two hundred and eighty thousand francs in gold, ought to be able to do what he pleases and go where he pleases, flathead!”

“Oh yes, you have such notions because you are the boss. Your nut is always square on your shoulders—but I——”

“In short, a word of good advice in your position is like broth to a dead man,” said Jacques Collin, with a serpentlike gaze at his old pal.

“True enough!” said la Pouraille, looking dubious. “But give me the broth, all the same. If it does not suit my stomach, I can warm my feet in it——”

“Here you are nabbed by the Justice, with five robberies and three murders, the latest of them those of two rich and respectable folks…. Now, juries do not like to see respectable folks killed. You will be put through the machine, and there is not a chance for you.”

“I have heard all that,” said la Pouraille lamentably.

“My aunt Jacqueline, with whom I have just exchanged a few words in the office, and who is, as you know, a mother to the pals, told me that the authorities mean to be quit of you; they are so much afraid of you.”

“But I am rich now,” said La Pouraille, with a simplicity which showed how convinced a thief is of his natural right to steal. “What are they afraid of?”

“We have no time for philosophizing,” said Jacques Collin. “To come back to you——”

“What do you want with me?” said la Pouraille, interrupting his boss.

“You shall see. A dead dog is still worth something.”

“To other people,” said la Pouraille.

“I take you into my game!” said Jacques Collin.

“Well, that is something,” said the murderer. “What next?”

“I do not ask you where your money is, but what you mean to do with it?”

La Pouraille looked into the convict’s impenetrable eye, and Jacques coldly went on: “Have you a trip you are sweet upon, or a child, or a pal to be helped? I shall be outside within an hour, and I can do much for any one you want to be good-natured to.”

La Pouraille still hesitated; he was delaying with indecision. Jacques Collin produced a clinching argument.

“Your whack of our money would be thirty thousand francs. Do you leave it to the pals? Do you bequeath it to anybody? Your share is safe; I can give it this evening to any one you leave it to.”

The murderer gave a little start of satisfaction.

“I have him!” said Jacques Collin to himself. “But we have no time to play. Consider,” he went on in la Pouraille’s ear, “we have not ten minutes to spare, old chap; the public prosecutor is to send for me, and I am to have a talk with him. I have him safe, and can ring the old boss’ neck. I am certain I shall save Madeleine.”

“If you save Madeleine, my good boss, you can just as easily——”

“Don’t waste your spittle,” said Jacques Collin shortly. “Make your will.”

“Well, then—I want to leave the money to la Gonore,” replied la Pouraille piteously.

“What! Are you living with Moses’ widow—the Jew who led the swindling gang in the South?” asked Jacques Collin.

针对 特龙佩拉莫特, like a great general, knew the person of every one of his army.

“That’s the woman,” said la Pouraille, much flattered.

“A pretty woman,” said Jacques Collin, who knew exactly how to manage his dreadful tools. “The moll is a beauty; she is well informed, and stands by her mates, and a first-rate hand. Yes, la Gonore has made a new man of you! What a flat you must be to risk your nut when you have a trip like her at home! You noodle; you should have set up some respectable little shop and lived quietly.—And what does she do?”

“She is settled in the Rue Sainte-Barbe, managing a house——”

“And she is to be your legatee? Ah, my dear boy, this is what such sluts bring us to when we are such fools as to love them.”

“Yes, but don’t you give her anything till I am done for.”

“It is a sacred trust,” said Jacques Collin very seriously.

“And nothing to the pals?”

“Nothing! They blowed the gaff for me,” answered la Pouraille vindictively.

“Who did? Shall I serve ‘em out?” asked Jacques Collin eagerly, trying to rouse the last sentiment that survives in these souls till the last hour. “Who knows, old pal, but I might at the same time do them a bad turn and serve you with the public prosecutor?”

The murderer looked at his boss with amazed satisfaction.

“At this moment,” the boss replied to this expressive look, “I am playing the game only for Theodore. When this farce is played out, old boy, I might do wonders for a chum—for you are a chum of mine.”

“If I see that you really can put off the engagement for that poor little Theodore, I will do anything you choose—there!”

“But the trick is done. I am sure to save his head. If you want to get out of the scrape, you see, la Pouraille, you must be ready to do a good turn—we can do nothing single-handed——”

“That’s true,” said the felon.

His confidence was so strong, and his faith in the boss so fanatical, that he no longer hesitated. La Pouraille revealed the names of his accomplices, a secret hitherto well kept. This was all Jacques needed to know.

“That is the whole story. Ruffard was the third in the job with me and Godet——”

“Arrache-Laine?” cried Jacques Collin, giving Ruffard his nickname among the gang.

“That’s the man.—And the blackguards peached because I knew where they had hidden their whack, and they did not know where mine was.”

“You are making it all easy, my cherub!” said Jacques Collin.

“什么？”

“Well,” replied the master, “you see how wise it is to trust me entirely. Your revenge is now part of the hand I am playing.—I do not ask you to tell me where the dibs are, you can tell me at the last moment; but tell me all about Ruffard and Godet.”

“You are, and you always will be, our boss; I have no secrets from you,” replied la Pouraille. “My money is in the cellar at la Gonore’s.”

“And you are not afraid of her telling?”

“Why, get along! She knows nothing about my little game!” replied la Pouraille. “I make her drunk, though she is of the sort that would never blab even with her head under the knife.—But such a lot of gold——!”

“Yes, that turns the milk of the purest conscience,” replied Jacques Collin.

“So I could do the job with no peepers to spy me. All the chickens were gone to roost. The shiners are three feet underground behind some wine-bottles. And I spread some stones and mortar over them.”

“Good,” said Jacques Collin. “And the others?”

“Ruffard’s pieces are with la Gonore in the poor woman’s bedroom, and he has her tight by that, for she might be nabbed as accessory after the fact, and end her days in Saint-Lazare.”

“The villain! The reelers teach a thief what’s what,” said Jacques.

“Godet left his pieces at his sister’s, a washerwoman; honest girl, she may be caught for five years in La Force without dreaming of it. The pal raised the tiles of the floor, put them back again, and guyed.”

“Now do you know what I want you to do?” said Jacques Collin, with a magnetizing gaze at la Pouraille.

“什么？”

“I want you to take Madeleine’s job on your shoulders.”

La Pouraille started queerly; but he at once recovered himself and stood at attention under the boss’ eye.

“So you shy at that? You dare to spoil my game? Come, now! Four murders or three. Does it not come to the same thing?”

“也许。”

“By the God of good-fellowship, there is no blood in your veins! And I was thinking of saving you!”

“怎么样？”

“Idiot, if we promise to give the money back to the family, you will only be lagged for life. I would not give a piece for your nut if we keep the blunt, but at this moment you are worth seven hundred thousand francs, you flat.”

“Good for you, boss!” cried la Pouraille in great glee.

“And then,” said Jacques Collin, “besides casting all the murders on Ruffard—Bibi-Lupin will be finely cold. I have him this time.”

La Pouraille was speechless at this suggestion; his eyes grew round, and he stood like an image.

He had been three months in custody, and was committed for trial, and his chums at La Force, to whom he had never mentioned his accomplices, had given him such small comfort, that he was entirely hopeless after his examination, and this simple expedient had been quite overlooked by these prison-ridden minds. This semblance of a hope almost stupefied his brain.

“Have Ruffard and Godet had their spree yet? Have they forked out any of the yellow boys?” asked Jacques Collin.

“They dare not,” replied la Pouraille. “The wretches are waiting till I am turned off. That is what my moll sent me word by la Biffe when she came to see le Biffon.”

“Very well; we will have their whack of money in twenty-four hours,” said Jacques Collin. “Then the blackguards cannot pay up, as you will; you will come out as white as snow, and they will be red with all that blood! By my kind offices you will seem a good sort of fellow led away by them. I shall have money enough of yours to prove alibis on the other counts, and when you are back on the hulks—for you are bound to go there—you must see about escaping. It is a dog’s life, still it is life!”

La Pouraille’s eyes glittered with suppressed delirium.

“With seven hundred thousand francs you can get a good many drinks,” said Jacques Collin, making his pal quite drunk with hope.

“Ay, ay, boss!”

“I can bamboozle the Minister of Justice.—Ah, ha! Ruffard will shell out to do for a reeler. Bibi-Lupin is fairly gulled!”

“Very good, it is a bargain,” said la Pouraille with savage glee. “You order, and I obey.”

And he hugged Jacques Collin in his arms, while tears of joy stood in his eyes, so hopeful did he feel of saving his head.

“That is not all,” said Jacques Collin; “the public prosecutor does not swallow everything, you know, especially when a new count is entered against you. The next thing is to bring a moll into the case by blowing the gaff.”

“But how, and what for?”

“Do as I bid you; you will see.” And 特龙佩拉莫特 briefly told the secret of the Nanterre murders, showing him how necessary it was to find a woman who would pretend to be Ginetta. Then he and la Pouraille, now in good spirits, went across to le Biffon.

“I know how sweet you are on la Biffe,” said Jacques Collin to this man.

The expression in le Biffon’s eyes was a horrible poem.

“What will she do while you are on the hulks?”

A tear sparkled in le Biffon’s fierce eyes.

“Well, suppose I were to get her lodgings in the Lorcefe des Largues” (the women’s La Force, i. e. les Madelonnettes or Saint-Lazare) “for a stretch, allowing that time for you to be sentenced and sent there, to arrive and to escape?”

“Even you cannot work such a miracle. She took no part in the job,” replied la Biffe’s partner.

“Oh, my good Biffon,” said la Pouraille, “our boss is more powerful than God Almighty.”

“What is your password for her?” asked Jacques Collin, with the assurance of a master to whom nothing can be refused.

“Sorgue a Pantin (night in Paris). If you say that she knows you have come from me, and if you want her to do as you bid her, show her a five-franc piece and say Tondif.”

“She will be involved in the sentence on la Pouraille, and let off with a year in quod for snitching,” said Jacques Collin, looking at la Pouraille.

La Pouraille understood his boss’ scheme, and by a single look promised to persuade le Biffon to promote it by inducing la Biffe to take upon herself this complicity in the crime la Pouraille was prepared to confess.

“Farewell, my children. You will presently hear that I have saved my boy from Jack Ketch,” said 特龙佩拉莫特. “Yes, Jack Ketch and his hairdresser were waiting in the office to get Madeleine ready.—There,” he added, “they have come to fetch me to go to the public prosecutor.”

And, in fact, a warder came out of the gate and beckoned to this extraordinary man, who, in face of the young Corsican’s danger, had recovered his own against his own society.

It is worthy of note that at the moment when Lucien’s body was taken away from him, Jacques Collin had, with a crowning effort, made up his mind to attempt a last incarnation, not as a human being, but as a 事. He had at last taken the fateful step that Napoleon took on board the boat which conveyed him to the Bellerophon. And a strange concurrence of events aided this genius of evil and corruption in his undertaking.

But though the unlooked-for conclusion of this life of crime may perhaps be deprived of some of the marvelous effect which, in our day, can be given to a narrative only by incredible improbabilities, it is necessary, before we accompany Jacques Collin to the public prosecutor’s room, that we should follow Madame Camusot in her visits during the time we have spent in the Conciergerie.

One of the obligations which the historian of manners must unfailingly observe is that of never marring the truth for the sake of dramatic arrangement, especially when the truth is so kind as to be in itself romantic. Social nature, particularly in Paris, allows of such freaks of chance, such complications of whimsical entanglements, that it constantly outdoes the most inventive imagination. The audacity of facts, by sheer improbability or indecorum, rises to heights of “situation” forbidden to art, unless they are softened, cleansed, and purified by the writer.

Madame Camusot did her utmost to dress herself for the morning almost in good taste—a difficult task for the wife of a judge who for six years has lived in a provincial town. Her object was to give no hold for criticism to the Marquise d’Espard or the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, in a call so early as between eight and nine in the morning. Amelie Cecile Camusot, nee Thirion, it must be said, only half succeeded; and in a matter of dress is this not a twofold blunder?

Few people can imagine how useful the women of Paris are to ambitious men of every class; they are equally necessary in the world of fashion and the world of thieves, where, as we have seen, they fill a most important part. For instance, suppose that a man, not to find himself left in the lurch, must absolutely get speech within a given time with the high functionary who was of such immense importance under the Restoration, and who is to this day called the Keeper of the Seals—a man, let us say, in the most favorable position, a judge, that is to say, a man familiar with the way of things. He is compelled to seek out the presiding judge of a circuit, or some private or official secretary, and prove to him his need of an immediate interview. But is a Keeper of the Seals ever visible “that very minute”? In the middle of the day, if he is not at the Chamber, he is at the Privy Council, or signing papers, or hearing a case. In the early morning he is out, no one knows where. In the evening he has public and private engagements. If every magistrate could claim a moment’s interview under any pretext that might occur to him, the Supreme Judge would be besieged.

The purpose of a private and immediate interview is therefore submitted to the judgment of one of those mediatory potentates who are but an obstacle to be removed, a door that can be unlocked, so long as it is not held by a rival. A woman at once goes to another woman; she can get straight into her bedroom if she can arouse the curiosity of mistress or maid, especially if the mistress is under the stress of a strong interest or pressing necessity.

Call this female potentate Madame la Marquise d’Espard, with whom a Minister has to come to terms; this woman writes a little scented note, which her man-servant carries to the Minister’s man-servant. The note greets the Minister on his waking, and he reads it at once. Though the Minister has business to attend to, the man is enchanted to have a reason for calling on one of the Queens of Paris, one of the Powers of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, one of the favorites of the Dauphiness, of MADAME, or of the King. Casimir Perier, the only real statesman of the Revolution of July, would leave anything to call on a retired Gentleman of the bed-chamber to King Charles X.

This theory accounts for the magical effect of the words:

“Madame,—Madame Camusot, on very important business, which she says you know of,” spoken in Madame d’Espard’s ear by her maid, who thought she was awake.

And the Marquise desired that Amelie should be shown in at once.

The magistrate’s wife was attentively heard when she began with these words:

“Madame la Marquise, we have ruined ourselves by trying to avenge you——”

“How is that, my dear?” replied the Marquise, looking at Madame Camusot in the dim light that fell through the half-open door. “You are vastly sweet this morning in that little bonnet. Where do you get that shape?”

“You are very kind, madame.—Well, you know that Camusot’s way of examining Lucien de Rubempre drove the young man to despair, and he hanged himself in prison.”

“Oh, what will become of Madame de Serizy?” cried the Marquise, affecting ignorance, that she might hear the whole story once more.

“Alas! they say she is quite mad,” said Amelie. “If you could persuade the Lord Keeper to send for my husband this minute, by special messenger, to meet him at the Palais, the Minister would hear some strange mysteries, and report them, no doubt, to the King…. Then Camusot’s enemies would be reduced to silence.”

“But who are Camusot’s enemies?” asked Madame d’Espard.

“The public prosecutor, and now Monsieur de Serizy.”

“Very good, my dear,” replied Madame d’Espard, who owed to Monsieur de Granville and the Comte de Serizy her defeat in the disgraceful proceedings by which she had tried to have her husband treated as a lunatic, “I will protect you; I never forget either my foes or my friends.”

She rang; the maid drew open the curtains, and daylight flooded the room; she asked for her desk, and the maid brought it in. The Marquise hastily scrawled a few lines.

“Tell Godard to go on horseback, and carry this note to the Chancellor’s office.—There is no reply,” said she to the maid.

The woman went out of the room quickly, but, in spite of the order, remained at the door for some minutes.

“There are great mysteries going forward then?” asked Madame d’Espard. “Tell me all about it, dear child. Has Clotilde de Grandlieu put a finger in the pie?”

“You will know everything from the Lord Keeper, for my husband has told me nothing. He only told me he was in danger. It would be better for us that Madame de Serizy should die than that she should remain mad.”

“Poor woman!” said the Marquise. “But was she not mad already?”

Women of the world, by a hundred ways of pronouncing the same phrase, illustrate to attentive hearers the infinite variety of musical modes. The soul goes out into the voice as it does into the eyes; it vibrates in light and in air—the elements acted on by the eyes and the voice. By the tone she gave to the two words, “Poor woman!” the Marquise betrayed the joy of satisfied hatred, the pleasure of triumph. Oh! what woes did she not wish to befall Lucien’s protectress. Revenge, which nothing can assuage, which can survive the person hated, fills us with dark terrors. And Madame Camusot, though harsh herself, vindictive, and quarrelsome, was overwhelmed. She could find nothing to say, and was silent.

“Diane told me that Leontine went to the prison,” Madame d’Espard went on. “The dear Duchess is in despair at such a scandal, for she is so foolish as to be very fond of Madame de Serizy; however, it is comprehensible: they both adored that little fool Lucien at about the same time, and nothing so effectually binds or severs two women as worshiping at the same altar. And our dear friend spent two hours yesterday in Leontine’s room. The poor Countess, it seems, says dreadful things! I heard that it was disgusting! A woman of rank ought not to give way to such attacks.—Bah! A purely physical passion.—The Duchess came to see me as pale as death; she really was very brave. There are monstrous things connected with this business.”

“My husband will tell the Keeper of the Seals all he knows for his own justification, for they wanted to save Lucien, and he, Madame la Marquise, did his duty. An examining judge always has to question people in private at the time fixed by law! He had to ask the poor little wretch something, if only for form’s sake, and the young fellow did not understand, and confessed things——”

“He was an impertinent fool!” said Madame d’Espard in a hard tone.

The judge’s wife kept silence on hearing this sentence.

“Though we failed in the matter of the Commission in Lunacy, it was not Camusot’s fault, I shall never forget that,” said the Marquise after a pause. “It was Lucien, Monsieur de Serizy, Monsieur de Bauvan, and Monsieur de Granville who overthrew us. With time God will be on my side; all those people will come to grief.—Be quite easy, I will send the Chevalier d’Espard to the Keeper of the Seals that he may desire your husbands’s presence immediately, if that is of any use.”

“Oh! madame——”

“Listen,” said the Marquise. “I promise you the ribbon of the Legion of Honor at once—to-morrow. It will be a conspicuous testimonial of satisfaction with your conduct in this affair. Yes, it implies further blame on Lucien; it will prove him guilty. Men do not commonly hang themselves for the pleasure of it.—Now, good-bye, my pretty dear——”

Ten minutes later Madame Camusot was in the bedroom of the beautiful Diane de Maufrigneuse, who had not gone to bed till one, and at nine o’clock had not yet slept.

However insensible duchesses may be, even these women, whose hearts are of stone, cannot see a friend a victim to madness without being painfully impressed by it.

And besides, the connection between Diane and Lucien, though at an end now eighteen months since, had left such memories with the Duchess that the poor boy’s disastrous end had been to her also a fearful blow. All night Diane had seen visions of the beautiful youth, so charming, so poetical, who had been so delightful a lover—painted as Leontine depicted him, with the vividness of wild delirium. She had letters from Lucien that she had kept, intoxicating letters worthy to compare with Mirabeau’s to Sophie, but more literary, more elaborate, for Lucien’s letters had been dictated by the most powerful of passions—Vanity. Having the most bewitching of duchesses for his mistress, and seeing her commit any folly for him—secret follies, of course—had turned Lucien’s head with happiness. The lover’s pride had inspired the poet. And the Duchess had treasured these touching letters, as some old men keep indecent prints, for the sake of their extravagant praise of all that was least duchess-like in her nature.

“And he died in a squalid prison!” cried she to herself, putting the letters away in a panic when she heard her maid knocking gently at her door.

“Madame Camusot,” said the woman, “on business of the greatest importance to you, Madame la Duchesse.”

Diane sprang to her feet in terror.

“Oh!” cried she, looking at Amelie, who had assumed a duly condoling air, “I guess it all—my letters! It is about my letters. Oh, my letters, my letters!”

She sank on to a couch. She remembered now how, in the extravagance of her passion, she had answered Lucien in the same vein, had lauded the man’s poetry as he has sung the charms of the woman, and in what a strain!

“Alas, yes, madame, I have come to save what is dearer to you than life—your honor. Compose yourself and get dressed, we must go to the Duchesse de Grandlieu; happily for you, you are not the only person compromised.”

“But at the Palais, yesterday, Leontine burned, I am told, all the letters found at poor Lucien’s.”

“But, madame, behind Lucien there was Jacques Collin!” cried the magistrate’s wife. “You always forget that horrible companionship which beyond question led to that charming and lamented young man’s end. That Machiavelli of the galleys never loses his head! Monsieur Camusot is convinced that the wretch has in some safe hiding-place all the most compromising letters written by you ladies to his——”

“His friend,” the Duchess hastily put in. “You are right, my child. We must hold council at the Grandlieus’. We are all concerned in this matter, and Serizy happily will lend us his aid.”

Extreme peril—as we have observed in the scenes in the Conciergerie—has a hold over the soul not less terrible than that of powerful reagents over the body. It is a mental Voltaic battery. The day, perhaps, is not far off when the process shall be discovered by which feeling is chemically converted into a fluid not unlike the electric fluid.

The phenomena were the same in the convict and the Duchess. This crushed, half-dying woman, who had not slept, who was so particular over her dressing, had recovered the strength of a lioness at bay, and the presence of mind of a general under fire. Diane chose her gown and got through her dressing with the alacrity of a grisette who is her own waiting-woman. It was so astounding, that the lady’s-maid stood for a moment stock-still, so greatly was she surprised to see her mistress in her shift, not ill pleased perhaps to let the judge’s wife discern through the thin cloud of lawn a form as white and as perfect as that of Canova’s Venus. It was like a gem in a fold of tissue paper. Diane suddenly remembered where a pair of stays had been put that fastened in front, sparing a woman in a hurry the ill-spent time and fatigue of being laced. She had arranged the lace trimming of her shift and the fulness of the bosom by the time the maid had fetched her petticoat, and crowned the work by putting on her gown. While Amelie, at a sign from the maid, hooked the bodice behind, the woman brought out a pair of thread stockings, velvet boots, a shawl, and a bonnet. Amelie and the maid each drew on a stocking.

“You are the loveliest creature I ever saw!” said Amelie, insidiously kissing Diane’s elegant and polished knee with an eager impulse.

“Madame has not her match!” cried the maid.

“There, there, Josette, hold your tongue,” replied the Duchess.—“Have you a carriage?” she went on, to Madame Camusot. “Then come along, my dear, we can talk on the road.”

And the Duchess ran down the great stairs of the Hotel de Cadignan, putting on her gloves as she went—a thing she had never been known to do.

“To the Hotel de Grandlieu, and drive fast,” said she to one of her men, signing to him to get up behind.

The footman hesitated—it was a hackney coach.

“Ah! Madame la Duchesse, you never told me that the young man had letters of yours. Otherwise Camusot would have proceeded differently…”

“Leontine’s state so occupied my thoughts that I forgot myself entirely. The poor woman was almost crazy the day before yesterday; imagine the effect on her of this tragical termination. If you could only know, child, what a morning we went through yesterday! It is enough to make one forswear love!—Yesterday Leontine and I were dragged across Paris by a horrible old woman, an old-clothes buyer, a domineering creature, to that stinking and blood-stained sty they call the Palace of Justice, and I said to her as I took her there: ‘Is not this enough to make us fall on our knees and cry out like Madame de Nucingen, when she went through one of those awful Mediterranean storms on her way to Naples, “Dear God, save me this time, and never again——!”’

“These two days will certainly have shortened my life.—What fools we are ever to write!—But love prompts us; we receive pages that fire the heart through the eyes, and everything is in a blaze! Prudence deserts us—we reply——”

“But why reply when you can act?” said Madame Camusot.

“It is grand to lose oneself utterly!” cried the Duchess with pride. “It is the luxury of the soul.”

“Beautiful women are excusable,” said Madame Camusot modestly. “They have more opportunities of falling than we have.”

公爵夫人笑了。

“We are always too generous,” said Diane de Maufrigneuse. “I shall do just like that odious Madame d’Espard.”

“And what does she do?” asked the judge’s wife, very curious.

“She has written a thousand love-notes——”

“So many!” exclaimed Amelie, interrupting the Duchess.

“Well, my dear, and not a word that could compromise her is to be found in any one of them.”

“You would be incapable of maintaining such coldness, such caution,” said Madame Camusot. “You are a woman; you are one of those angels who cannot stand out against the devil——”

“I have made a vow to write no more letters. I never in my life wrote to anybody but that unhappy Lucien.—I will keep his letters to my dying day! My dear child, they are fire, and sometimes we want——”

“But if they were found!” said Amelie, with a little shocked expression.

“Oh! I should say they were part of a romance I was writing; for I have copied them all, my dear, and burned the originals.”

“Oh, madame, as a reward allow me to read them.”

“Perhaps, child,” said the Duchess. “And then you will see that he did not write such letters as those to Leontine.”

This speech was woman all the world over, of every age and every land.

Madame Camusot, like the frog in la Fontaine’s fable, was ready to burst her skin with the joy of going to the Grandlieus’ in the society of the beautiful Diane de Maufrigneuse. This morning she would forge one of the links that are so needful to ambition. She could already hear herself addressed as Madame la Presidente. She felt the ineffable gladness of triumphing over stupendous obstacles, of which the greatest was her husband’s ineptitude, as yet unrevealed, but to her well known. To win success for a second-rate man! that is to a woman—as to a king—the delight which tempts great actors when they act a bad play a hundred times over. It is the very drunkenness of egoism. It is in a way the Saturnalia of power.

Power can prove itself to itself only by the strange misapplication which leads it to crown some absurd person with the laurels of success while insulting genius—the only strong-hold which power cannot touch. The knighting of Caligula’s horse, an imperial farce, has been, and always will be, a favorite performance.

In a few minutes Diane and Amelie had exchanged the elegant disorder of the fair Diane’s bedroom for the severe but dignified and splendid austerity of the Duchesse de Grandlieu’s rooms.

She, a Portuguese, and very pious, always rose at eight to attend mass at the little church of Sainte-Valere, a chapelry to Saint-Thomas d’Aquin, standing at that time on the esplanade of the Invalides. This chapel, now destroyed, was rebuilt in the Rue de Bourgogne, pending the building of a Gothic church to be dedicated to Sainte-Clotilde.

On hearing the first words spoken in her ear by Diane de Maufrigneuse, this saintly lady went to find Monsieur de Grandlieu, and brought him back at once. The Duke threw a flashing look at Madame Camusot, one of those rapid glances with which a man of the world can guess at a whole existence, or often read a soul. Amelie’s dress greatly helped the Duke to decipher the story of a middle-class life, from Alencon to Mantes, and from Mantes to Paris.

Oh! if only the lawyer’s wife could have understood this gift in dukes, she could never have endured that politely ironical look; she saw the politeness only. Ignorance shares the privileges of fine breeding.

“This is Madame Camusot, a daughter of Thirion’s—one of the Cabinet ushers,” said the Duchess to her husband.

The Duke bowed with extreme politeness to the wife of a legal official, and his face became a little less grave.

The Duke had rung for his valet, who now came in.

“Go to the Rue Saint-Honore: take a coach. Ring at a side door, No. 10. Tell the man who opens the door that I beg his master will come here, and if the gentleman is at home, bring him back with you.—Mention my name, that will remove all difficulties.

“And do not be gone more than a quarter of an hour in all.”

Another footman, the Duchess’ servant, came in as soon as the other was gone.

“Go from me to the Duc de Chaulieu, and send up this card.”

The Duke gave him a card folded down in a particular way. When the two friends wanted to meet at once, on any urgent or confidential business which would not allow of note-writing, they used this means of communication.

Thus we see that similar customs prevail in every rank of society, and differ only in manner, civility, and small details. The world of fashion, too, has its argot, its slang; but that slang is called style.

“Are you quite sure, madame, of the existence of the letters you say were written by Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu to this young man?” said the Duc de Grandlieu.

And he cast a look at Madame Camusot as a sailor casts a sounding line.

“I have not seen them, but there is reason to fear it,” replied Madame Camusot, quaking.

“My daughter can have written nothing we would not own to!” said the Duchess.

“Poor Duchess!” thought Diane, with a glance at the Duke that terrified him.

“What do you think, my dear little Diane?” said the Duke in a whisper, as he led her away into a recess.

“Clotilde is so crazy about Lucien, my dear friend, that she had made an assignation with him before leaving. If it had not been for little Lenoncourt, she would perhaps have gone off with him into the forest of Fontainebleau. I know that Lucien used to write letters to her which were enough to turn the brain of a saint.—We are three daughters of Eve in the coils of the serpent of letter-writing.”

The Duke and Diane came back to the Duchess and Madame Camusot, who were talking in undertones. Amelie, following the advice of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, affected piety to win the proud lady’s favor.

“We are at the mercy of a dreadful escaped convict!” said the Duke, with a peculiar shrug. “This is what comes of opening one’s house to people one is not absolutely sure of. Before admitting an acquaintance, one ought to know all about his fortune, his relations, all his previous history——”

This speech is the moral of my story—from the aristocratic point of view.

“That is past and over,” said the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. “Now we must think of saving that poor Madame de Serizy, Clotilde, and me——”

“We can but wait for Henri; I have sent to him. But everything really depends on the man Gentil is gone to fetch. God grant that man may be in Paris!—Madame,” he added to Madame Camusot, “thank you so much for having thought of us——”

This was Madame Camusot’s dismissal. The daughter of the court usher had wit enough to understand the Duke; she rose. But the Duchess de Maufrigneuse, with the enchanting grace which had won her so much friendship and discretion, took Amelie by the hand as if to show her, in a way, to the Duke and Duchess.

“On my own account,” said she, “to say nothing of her having been up before daybreak to save us all, I may ask for more than a remembrance for my little Madame Camusot. In the first place, she has already done me such a service as I cannot forget; and then she is wholly devoted to our side, she and her husband. I have promised that her Camusot shall have advancement, and I beg you above everything to help him on, for my sake.”

“You need no such recommendation,” said the Duke to Madame Camusot. “The Grandlieus always remember a service done them. The King’s adherents will ere long have a chance of distinguishing themselves; they will be called upon to prove their devotion; your husband will be placed in the front——”

Madame Camusot withdrew, proud, happy, puffed up to suffocation. She reached home triumphant; she admired herself, she made light of the public prosecutor’s hostility. She said to herself:

“Supposing we were to send Monsieur de Granville flying——”

It was high time for Madame Camusot to vanish. The Duc de Chaulieu, one of the King’s prime favorites, met the bourgeoise on the outer steps.

“Henri,” said the Duc de Grandlieu when he heard his friend announced, “make haste, I beg of you, to get to the Chateau, try to see the King—the business of this;” and he led the Duke into the window-recess, where he had been talking to the airy and charming Diane.

Now and then the Duc de Chaulieu glanced in the direction of the flighty Duchess, who, while talking to the pious Duchess and submitting to be lectured, answered the Duc de Chaulieu’s expressive looks.

“My dear child,” said the Duc de Grandlieu to her at last, the 旁白 being ended, “do be good! Come, now,” and he took Diane’s hands, “observe the proprieties of life, do not compromise yourself any more, write no letters. Letters, my dear, have caused as much private woe as public mischief. What might be excusable in a girl like Clotilde, in love for the first time, had no excuse in——”

“An old soldier who has been under fire,” said Diane with a pout.

This grimace and the Duchess’ jest brought a smile to the face of the two much-troubled Dukes, and of the pious Duchess herself.

“But for four years I have never written a billet-doux.—Are we saved?” asked Diane, who hid her curiosity under this childishness.

“Not yet,” said the Duc de Chaulieu. “You have no notion how difficult it is to do an arbitrary thing. In a constitutional king it is what infidelity is in a wife: it is adultery.”

“The fascinating sin,” said the Duc de Grandlieu.

“Forbidden fruit!” said Diane, smiling. “Oh! how I wish I were the Government, for I have none of that fruit left—I have eaten it all.”

“Oh! my dear, my dear!” said the elder Duchess, “you really go too far.”

The two Dukes, hearing a coach stop at the door with the clatter of horses checked in full gallop, bowed to the ladies and left them, going into the Duc de Grandlieu’s study, whither came the gentleman from the Rue Honore-Chevalier—no less a man than the chief of the King’s private police, the obscure but puissant Corentin.

“Go on,” said the Duc de Grandlieu; “go first, Monsieur de Saint-Denis.”

Corentin, surprised that the Duke should have remembered him, went forward after bowing low to the two noblemen.

“Always about the same individual, or about his concerns, my dear sir,” said the Duc de Grandlieu.

“But he is dead,” said Corentin.

“He has left a partner,” said the Duc de Chaulieu, “a very tough customer.”

“The convict Jacques Collin,” replied Corentin.

“Will you speak, Ferdinand?” said the Duke de Chaulieu to his friend.

“That wretch is an object of fear,” said the Duc de Grandlieu, “for he has possessed himself, so as to be able to levy blackmail, of the letters written by Madame de Serizy and Madame de Maufrigneuse to Lucien Chardon, that man’s tool. It would seem that it was a matter of system in the young man to extract passionate letters in return for his own, for I am told that Mademoiselle de Grandlieu had written some—at least, so we fear—and we cannot find out from her—she is gone abroad.”

“That little young man,” replied Corentin, “was incapable of so much foresight. That was a precaution due to the Abbe Carlos Herrera.”

Corentin rested his elbow on the arm of the chair on which he was sitting, and his head on his hand, meditating.

“Money!—The man has more than we have,” said he. “Esther Gobseck served him as a bait to extract nearly two million francs from that well of gold called Nucingen.—Gentlemen, get me full legal powers, and I will rid you of the fellow.”

“And—the letters?” asked the Duc de Grandlieu.

“Listen to me, gentlemen,” said Corentin, standing up, his weasel-face betraying his excitement.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black doeskin trousers, shaped over the shoes. This great actor in the historical drama of the day had only stopped to put on a waistcoat and frock-coat, and had not changed his morning trousers, so well he knew how grateful men can be for immediate action in certain cases. He walked up and down the room quite at his ease, haranguing loudly, as if he had been alone.

“He is a convict. He could be sent off to Bicetre without trial, and put in solitary confinement, without a soul to speak to, and left there to die.—But he may have given instructions to his adherents, foreseeing this possibility.”

“But he was put into the secret cells,” said the Duc de Grandlieu, “the moment he was taken into custody at that woman’s house.”

“Is there such a thing as a secret cell for such a fellow as he is?” said Corentin. “He is a match for—for me!”

“What is to be done?” said the Dukes to each other by a glance.

“We can send the scoundrel back to the hulks at once—to Rochefort; he will be dead in six months! Oh! without committing any crime,” he added, in reply to a gesture on the part of the Duc de Grandlieu. “What do you expect? A convict cannot hold out more than six months of a hot summer if he is made to work really hard among the marshes of the Charente. But this is of no use if our man has taken precautions with regard to the letters. If the villain has been suspicious of his foes, and that is probable, we must find out what steps he has taken. Then, if the present holder of the letters is poor, he is open to bribery. So, no, we must make Jacques Collin speak. What a duel! He will beat me. The better plan would be to purchase those letters by exchange for another document—a letter of reprieve—and to place the man in my gang. Jacques Collin is the only man alive who is clever enough to come after me, poor Contenson and dear old Peyrade both being dead! Jacques Collin killed those two unrivaled spies on purpose, as it were, to make a place for himself. So, you see, gentlemen, you must give me a free hand. Jacques Collin is in the Conciergerie. I will go to see Monsieur de Granville in his Court. Send some one you can trust to meet me there, for I must have a letter to show to Monsieur de Granville, who knows nothing of me. I will hand the letter to the President of the Council, a very impressive sponsor. You have half an hour before you, for I need half an hour to dress, that is to say, to make myself presentable to the eyes of the public prosecutor.”

“Monsieur,” said the Duc de Chaulieu, “I know your wonderful skill. I only ask you to say Yes or No. Will you be bound to succeed?”

“Yes, if I have full powers, and your word that I shall never be questioned about the matter.—My plan is laid.”

This sinister reply made the two fine gentlemen shiver. “Go on, then, monsieur,” said the Duc de Chaulieu. “You can set down the charges of the case among those you are in the habit of undertaking.”

Corentin bowed and went away.

Henri de Lenoncourt, for whom Ferdinand de Grandlieu had a carriage brought out, went off forthwith to the King, whom he was privileged to see at all times in right of his office.

Thus all the various interests that had got entangled from the highest to the lowest ranks of society were to meet presently in Monsieur de Granville’s room at the Palais, all brought together by necessity embodied in three men—Justice in Monsieur de Granville, and the family in Corentin, face to face with Jacques Collin, the terrible foe who represented social crime in its fiercest energy.

What a duel is that between justice and arbitrary wills on one side and the hulks and cunning on the other! The hulks—symbolical of that daring which throws off calculation and reflection, which avails itself of any means, which has none of the hyprocrisy of high-handed justice, but is the hideous outcome of the starving stomach—the swift and bloodthirsty pretext of hunger. Is it not attack as against self-protection, theft as against property? The terrible quarrel between the social state and the natural man, fought out on the narrowest possible ground! In short, it is a terrible and vivid image of those compromises, hostile to social interests, which the representatives of authority, when they lack power, submit to with the fiercest rebels.

When Monsieur Camusot was announced, the public prosecutor signed that he should be admitted. Monsieur de Granville had foreseen this visit, and wished to come to an understanding with the examining judge as to how to wind up this business of Lucien’s death. The end could no longer be that on which he had decided the day before in agreement with Camusot, before the suicide of the hapless poet.

“Sit down, Monsieur Camusot,” said Monsieur de Granville, dropping into his armchair. The public prosecutor, alone with the inferior judge, made no secret of his depressed state. Camusot looked at Monsieur de Granville and observed his almost livid pallor, and such utter fatigue, such complete prostration, as betrayed greater suffering perhaps than that of the condemned man to whom the clerk had announced the rejection of his appeal. And yet that announcement, in the forms of justice, is a much as to say, “Prepare to die; your last hour has come.”

“I will return later, Monsieur le Comte,” said Camusot. “Though business is pressing——”

“No, stay,” replied the public prosecutor with dignity. “A magistrate, monsieur, must accept his anxieties and know how to hide them. I was in fault if you saw any traces of agitation in me——”

Camusot bowed apologetically.

“God grant you may never know these crucial perplexities of our life. A man might sink under less! I have just spent the night with one of my most intimate friends.—I have but two friends, the Comte Octave de Bauvan and the Comte de Serizy.—We sat together, Monsieur de Serizy, the Count, and I, from six in the evening till six this morning, taking it in turns to go from the drawing-room to Madame de Serizy’s bedside, fearing each time that we might find her dead or irremediably insane. Desplein, Bianchon, and Sinard never left the room, and she has two nurses. The Count worships his wife. Imagine the night I have spent, between a woman crazy with love and a man crazy with despair. And a statesman’s despair is not like that of an idiot. Serizy, as calm as if he were sitting in his place in council, clutched his chair to force himself to show us an unmoved countenance, while sweat stood over the brows bent by so much hard thought.—Worn out by want of sleep, I dozed from five till half-past seven, and I had to be here by half-past eight to warrant an execution. Take my word for it, Monsieur Camusot, when a judge has been toiling all night in such gulfs of sorrow, feeling the heavy hand of God on all human concerns, and heaviest on noble souls, it is hard to sit down here, in front of a desk, and say in cold blood, ‘Cut off a head at four o’clock! Destroy one of God’s creatures full of life, health, and strength!’—And yet this is my duty! Sunk in grief myself, I must order the scaffold——

“The condemned wretch cannot know that his judge suffers anguish equal to his own. At this moment he and I, linked by a sheet of paper—I, society avenging itself; he, the crime to be avenged—embody the same duty seen from two sides; we are two lives joined for the moment by the sword of the law.

“Who pities the judge’s deep sorrow? Who can soothe it? Our glory is to bury it in the depth of our heart. The priest with his life given to God, the soldier with a thousand deaths for his country’s sake, seem to me far happier than the magistrate with his doubts and fears and appalling responsibility.

“You know who the condemned man is?” Monsieur de Granville went on. “A young man of seven-and-twenty—as handsome as he who killed himself yesterday, and as fair; condemned against all our anticipations, for the only proof against him was his concealment of the stolen goods. Though sentenced, the lad will confess nothing! For seventy days he has held out against every test, constantly declaring that he is innocent. For two months I have felt two heads on my shoulders! I would give a year of my life if he would confess, for juries need encouragement; and imagine what a blow it would be to justice if some day it should be discovered that the crime for which he is punished was committed by another.

“In Paris everything is so terribly important; the most trivial incidents in the law courts have political consequences.

“The jury, an institution regarded by the legislators of the Revolution as a source of strength, is, in fact, an instrument of social ruin, for it fails in action; it does not sufficiently protect society. The jury trifles with its functions. The class of jurymen is divided into two parties, one averse to capital punishment; the result is a total upheaval of true equality in administration of the law. Parricide, a most horrible crime, is in some departments treated with leniency, while in others a common murder, so to speak, is punished with death. [There are in penal servitude twenty-three parricides who have been allowed the benefit of 情有可原.] And what would happen if here in Paris, in our home district, an innocent man should be executed!”

“He is an escaped convict,” said Monsieur Camusot, diffidently.

“The Opposition and the Press would make him a paschal lamb!” cried Monsieur de Granville; “and the Opposition would enjoy white-washing him, for he is a fanatical Corsican, full of his native notions, and his murders were a 深仇. In that island you may kill your enemy, and think yourself, and be thought, a very good man.

“A thorough-paced magistrate, I tell you, is an unhappy man. They ought to live apart from all society, like the pontiffs of old. The world should never see them but at fixed hours, leaving their cells, grave, and old, and venerable, passing sentence like the high priests of antiquity, who combined in their person the functions of judicial and sacerdotal authority. We should be accessible only in our high seat.—As it is, we are to be seen every day, amused or unhappy, like other men. We are to be found in drawing-rooms and at home, as ordinary citizens, moved by our passions; and we seem, perhaps, more grotesque than terrible.”

This bitter cry, broken by pauses and interjections, and emphasized by gestures which gave it an eloquence impossible to reduce to writing, made Camusot’s blood run chill.

“And I, monsieur,” said he, “began yesterday my apprenticeship to the sufferings of our calling.—I could have died of that young fellow’s death. He misunderstood my wish to be lenient, and the poor wretch committed himself.”

“Ah, you ought never to have examined him!” cried Monsieur de Granville; “it is so easy to oblige by doing nothing.”

“And the law, monsieur?” replied Camusot. “He had been in custody two days.”

“The mischief is done,” said the public prosecutor. “I have done my best to remedy what is indeed irremediable. My carriage and servants are following the poor weak poet to the grave. Serizy has sent his too; nay, more, he accepts the duty imposed on him by the unfortunate boy, and will act as his executor. By promising this to his wife he won from her a gleam of returning sanity. And Count Octave is attending the funeral in person.”

“Well, then, Monsieur le Comte,” said Camusot, “let us complete our work. We have a very dangerous man on our hands. He is Jacques Collin—and you know it as well as I do. The ruffian will be recognized——”

“Then we are lost!” cried Monsieur de Granville.

“He is at this moment shut up with your condemned murderer, who, on the hulks, was to him what Lucien has been in Paris—a favorite protege. Bibi-Lupin, disguised as a gendarme, is watching the interview.”

“What business has the superior police to interfere?” said the public prosecutor. “He has no business to act without my orders!”

“All the Conciergerie must know that we have caught Jacques Collin.—Well, I have come on purpose to tell you that this daring felon has in his possession the most compromising letters of Lucien’s correspondence with Madame de Serizy, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, and Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Monsieur de Granville, his face full of pained surprise.

“You shall hear, Monsieur le Comte, what reason I have to fear such a misfortune. When I untied the papers found in the young man’s rooms, Jacques Collin gave a keen look at the parcel, and smiled with satisfaction in a way that no examining judge could misunderstand. So deep a villain as Jacques Collin takes good care not to let such a weapon slip through his fingers. What is to be said if these documents should be placed in the hands of counsel chosen by that rascal from among the foes of the government and the aristocracy!—My wife, to whom the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse has shown so much kindness, is gone to warn her, and by this time they must be with the Grandlieus holding council.”

“But we cannot possibly try the man!” cried the public prosecutor, rising and striding up and down the room. “He must have put the papers in some safe place——”

“I know where,” said Camusot.

These words finally effaced every prejudice the public prosecutor had felt against him.

“Well, then——” said Monsieur de Granville, sitting down again.

“On my way here this morning I reflected deeply on this miserable business. Jacques Collin has an aunt—an aunt by nature, not putative—a woman concerning whom the superior police have communicated a report to the Prefecture. He is this woman’s pupil and idol; she is his father’s sister, her name is Jacqueline Collin. This wretched woman carries on a trade as a wardrobe purchaser, and by the connection this business has secured her she gets hold of many family secrets. If Jacques Collin has intrusted those papers, which would be his salvation, to any one’s keeping, it is to that of this creature. Have her arrested.”

The public prosecutor gave Camusot a keen look, as much as to say, “This man is not such a fool as I thought him; he is still young, and does not yet know how to handle the reins of justice.”

“But,” Camusot went on, “in order to succeed, we must give up all the plans we laid yesterday, and I came to take your advice—your orders——”

The public prosecutor took up his paper-knife and tapped it against the edge of the table with one of the tricky movements familiar to thoughtful men when they give themselves up to meditation.

“Three noble families involved!” he exclaimed. “We must not make the smallest blunder!—You are right: as a first step let us act on Fouche’s principle, ‘Arrest!’—and Jacques Collin must at once be sent back to the secret cells.”

“That is to proclaim him a convict and to ruin Lucien’s memory!”

“What a desperate business!” said Monsieur de Granville. “There is danger on every side.”

At this instant the governor of the Conciergerie came in, not without knocking; and the private room of a public prosecutor is so well guarded, that only those concerned about the courts may even knock at the door.

“Monsieur le Comte,” said Monsieur Gault, “the prisoner calling himself Carlos Herrera wishes to speak with you.”

“Has he had communication with anybody?” asked Monsieur de Granville.

“With all the prisoners, for he has been out in the yard since about half-past seven. And he has seen the condemned man, who would seem to have talked to him.”

A speech of Camusot’s, which recurred to his mind like a flash of light, showed Monsieur de Granville all the advantage that might be taken of a confession of intimacy between Jacques Collin and Theodore Calvi to obtain the letters. The public prosecutor, glad to have an excuse for postponing the execution, beckoned Monsieur Gault to his side.

“I intend,” said he, “to put off the execution till to-morrow; but let no one in the prison suspect it. Absolute silence! Let the executioner seem to be superintending the preparations.

“Send the Spanish priest here under a strong guard; the Spanish Embassy claims his person! Gendarmes can bring up the self-styled Carlos by your back stairs so that he may see no one. Instruct the men each to hold him by one arm, and never let him go till they reach this door.

“Are you sure, Monsieur Gault, that this dangerous foreigner has spoken to no one but the prisoners!”

“Ah! just as he came out of the condemned cell a lady came to see him——”

The two magistrates exchanged looks, and such looks!

“What lady was that!” asked Camusot.

“One of his penitents—a Marquise,” replied Gault.

“Worse and worse!” said Monsieur de Granville, looking at Camusot.

“She gave all the gendarmes and warders a sick headache,” said Monsieur Gault, much puzzled.

“Nothing can be a matter of indifference in your business,” said the public prosecutor. “The Conciergerie has not such tremendous walls for nothing. How did this lady get in?”

“With a regular permit, monsieur,” replied the governor. “The lady, beautifully dressed, in a fine carriage with a footman and a chasseur, came to see her confessor before going to the funeral of the poor young man whose body you had had removed.”

“Bring me the order for admission,” said Monsieur de Granville.

“It was given on the recommendation of the Comte de Serizy.”

“What was the woman like?” asked the public prosecutor.

“She seemed to be a lady.”

“你看到她的脸了吗？”

“She wore a black veil.”

“What did they say to each other?”

“Well—a pious person, with a prayer-book in her hand—what could she say? She asked the Abbe’s blessing and went on her knees.”

“Did they talk together a long time?”

“Not five minutes; but we none of us understood what they said; they spoke Spanish no doubt.”

“Tell us everything, monsieur,” the public prosecutor insisted. “I repeat, the very smallest detail is to us of the first importance. Let this be a caution to you.”

“She was crying, monsieur.”

“Really weeping?”

“That we could not see, she hid her face in her handkerchief. She left three hundred francs in gold for the prisoners.”

“That was not she!” said Camusot.

“Bibi-Lupin at once said, ‘She is a thief!’” said Monsieur Gault.

“He knows the tribe,” said Monsieur de Granville.—“Get out your warrant,” he added, turning to Camusot, “and have seals placed on everything in her house—at once! But how can she have got hold of Monsieur de Serizy’s recommendation?—Bring me the order—and go, Monsieur Gault; send me that Abbe immediately. So long as we have him safe, the danger cannot be greater. And in the course of two hours’ talk you get a long way into a man’s mind.”

“Especially such a public prosecutor as you are,” said Camusot insidiously.

“There will be two of us,” replied Monsieur de Granville politely.

And he became discursive once more.

“There ought to be created for every prison parlor, a post of superintendent, to be given with a good salary to the cleverest and most energetic police officers,” said he, after a long pause. “Bibi-Lupin ought to end his days in such a place. Then we should have an eye and ear on the watch in a department that needs closer supervision than it gets.—Monsieur Gault could tell us nothing positive.”

“He has so much to do,” said Camusot. “Still, between these secret cells and us there lies a gap which ought not to exist. On the way from the Conciergerie to the judges’ rooms there are passages, courtyards, and stairs. The attention of the agents cannot be unflagging, whereas the prisoner is always alive to his own affairs.

“I was told that a lady had already placed herself in the way of Jacques Collin when he was brought up from the cells to be examined. That woman got into the guardroom at the top of the narrow stairs from the mousetrap; the ushers told me, and I blamed the gendarmes.”

“Oh! the Palais needs entire reconstruction,” said Monsieur de Granville. “But it is an outlay of twenty to thirty million francs! Just try asking the Chambers for thirty millions for the more decent accommodation of Justice.”

The sound of many footsteps and a clatter of arms fell on their ear. It would be Jacques Collin.

The public prosecutor assumed a mask of gravity that hid the man. Camusot imitated his chief.

The office-boy opened the door, and Jacques Collin came in, quite calm and unmoved.

“You wished to speak to me,” said Monsieur de Granville. “I am ready to listen.”

“Monsieur le Comte, I am Jacques Collin. I surrender!”

Camusot started; the public prosecutor was immovable.

“As you may suppose, I have my reasons for doing this,” said Jacques Collin, with an ironical glance at the two magistrates. “I must inconvenience you greatly; for if I had remained a Spanish priest, you would simply have packed me off with an escort of gendarmes as far as the frontier by Bayonne, and there Spanish bayonets would have relieved you of me.”

The lawyers sat silent and imperturbable.

“Monsieur le Comte,” the convict went on, “the reasons which have led me to this step are yet more pressing than this, but devilish personal to myself. I can tell them to no one but you.—If you are afraid——”

“Afraid of whom? Of what?” said the Comte de Granville.

In attitude and expression, in the turn of his head, his demeanor and his look, this distinguished judge was at this moment a living embodiment of the law which ought to supply us with the noblest examples of civic courage. In this brief instant he was on a level with the magistrates of the old French Parlement in the time of the civil wars, when the presidents found themselves face to face with death, and stood, made of marble, like the statues that commemorate them.

“Afraid to be alone with an escaped convict!”

“Leave us, Monsieur Camusot,” said the public prosecutor at once.

“I was about to suggest that you should bind me hand and foot,” Jacques Collin coolly added, with an ominous glare at the two gentlemen. He paused, and then said with great gravity:

“Monsieur le Comte, you had my esteem, but you now command my admiration.”

“Then you think you are formidable?” said the magistrate, with a look of supreme contempt.

“认为 myself formidable?” retorted the convict. “Why think about it? I am, and I know it.”

Jacques Collin took a chair and sat down, with all the ease of a man who feels himself a match for his adversary in an interview where they would treat on equal terms.

At this instant Monsieur Camusot, who was on the point of closing the door behind him, turned back, came up to Monsieur de Granville, and handed him two folded papers.

“Look!” said he to Monsieur de Granville, pointing to one of them.

“Call back Monsieur Gault!” cried the Comte de Granville, as he read the name of Madame de Maufrigneuse’s maid—a woman he knew.

The governor of the prison came in.

“Describe the woman who came to see the prisoner,” said the public prosecutor in his ear.

“Short, thick-set, fat, and square,” replied Monsieur Gault.

“The woman to whom this permit was given is tall and thin,” said Monsieur de Granville. “How old was she?”

“About sixty.”

“This concerns me, gentlemen?” said Jacques Collin. “Come, do not puzzle your heads. That person is my aunt, a very plausible aunt, a woman, and an old woman. I can save you a great deal of trouble. You will never find my aunt unless I choose. If we beat about the bush, we shall never get forwarder.”

“Monsieur l’Abbe has lost his Spanish accent,” observed Monsieur Gault; “he does not speak broken French.”

“Because things are in a desperate mess, my dear Monsieur Gault,” replied Jacques Collin with a bitter smile, as he addressed the Governor by name.

Monsieur Gault went quickly up to his chief, and said in a whisper, “Beware of that man, Monsieur le Comte; he is mad with rage.”

Monsieur de Granville gazed slowly at Jacques Collin, and saw that he was controlling himself; but he saw, too, that what the governor said was true. This treacherous demeanor covered the cold but terrible nervous irritation of a savage. In Jacques Collin’s eyes were the lurid fires of a volcanic eruption, his fists were clenched. He was a tiger gathering himself up to spring.

“Leave us,” said the Count gravely to the prison governor and the judge.

“You did wisely to send away Lucien’s murderer!” said Jacques Collin, without caring whether Camusot heard him or no; “I could not contain myself, I should have strangled him.”

Monsieur de Granville felt a chill; never had he seen a man’s eyes so full of blood, or cheeks so colorless, or muscles so set.

“And what good would that murder have done you?” he quietly asked.

“You avenge society, or fancy you avenge it, every day, monsieur, and you ask me to give a reason for revenge? Have you never felt vengeance throbbing in surges in your veins? Don’t you know that it was that idiot of a judge who killed him?—For you were fond of my Lucien, and he loved you! I know you by heart, sir. The dear boy would tell me everything at night when he came in; I used to put him to bed as a nurse tucks up a child, and I made him tell me everything. He confided everything to me, even his least sensations!

“The best of mothers never loved an only son so tenderly as I loved that angel! If only you knew! All that is good sprang up in his heart as flowers grow in the fields. He was weak; it was his only fault, weak as the string of a lyre, which is so strong when it is taut. These are the most beautiful natures; their weakness is simply tenderness, admiration, the power of expanding in the sunshine of art, of love, of the beauty God has made for man in a thousand shapes!—In short, Lucien was a woman spoiled. Oh! what could I not say to that brute beast who had just gone out of the room!

“I tell you, monsieur, in my degree, as a prisoner before his judge, I did what God A’mighty would have done for His Son if, hoping to save Him, He had gone with Him before Pilate!”

A flood of tears fell from the convict’s light tawny eyes, which just now had glared like those of a wolf starved by six months’ snow in the plains of the Ukraine. He went on:

“That dolt would listen to nothing, and he killed the boy!—I tell you, sir, I bathed the child’s corpse in my tears, crying out to the Power I do not know, and which is above us all! I, who do not believe in God!—(For if I were not a materialist, I should not be myself.)

“I have told everything when I say that. You don’t know—no man knows what suffering is. I alone know it. The fire of anguish so dried up my tears, that all last night I could not weep. Now I can, because I feel that you can understand me. I saw you, sitting there just now, an Image of Justice. Oh! monsieur, may God—for I am beginning to believe in Him—preserve you from ever being as bereft as I am! That cursed judge has robbed me of my soul, Monsieur le Comte! At this moment they are burying my life, my beauty, my virtue, my conscience, all my powers! Imagine a dog from which a chemist had extracted the blood.—That’s me! I am that dog——

“And that is why I have come to tell you that I am Jacques Collin, and to give myself up. I made up my mind to it this morning when they came and carried away the body I was kissing like a madman—like a mother—as the Virgin must have kissed Jesus in the tomb.

“I meant then to give myself up to justice without driving any bargain; but now I must make one, and you shall know why.”

“Are you speaking to the judge or to Monsieur de Granville?” asked the magistrate.

The two men, Crime and Law, looked at each other. The magistrate had been strongly moved by the convict; he felt a sort of divine pity for the unhappy wretch; he understood what his life and feelings were. And besides, the magistrate—for a magistrate is always a magistrate—knowing nothing of Jacques Collin’s career since his escape from prison, fancied that he could impress the criminal who, after all, had only been sentenced for forgery. He would try the effect of generosity on this nature, a compound, like bronze, of various elements, of good and evil.

Again, Monsieur de Granville, who had reached the age of fifty-three without ever having been loved, admired a tender soul, as all men do who have not been loved. This despair, the lot of many men to whom women can only give esteem and friendship, was perhaps the unknown bond on which a strong intimacy was based that united the Comtes de Bauvan, de Granville, and de Serizy; for a common misfortune brings souls into unison quite as much as a common joy.

“You have the future before you,” said the public prosecutor, with an inquisitorial glance at the dejected villain.

The man only expressed by a shrug the utmost indifference to his fate.

“Lucien made a will by which he leaves you three hundred thousand francs.”

“Poor, poor chap! poor boy!” cried Jacques Collin. “Always too honest! I was all wickedness, while he was goodness—noble, beautiful, sublime! Such lovely souls cannot be spoiled. He had taken nothing from me but my money, sir.”

This utter and complete surrender of his individuality, which the magistrate vainly strove to rally, so thoroughly proved his dreadful words, that Monsieur de Granville was won over to the criminal. The public prosecutor remained!

“If you really care for nothing,” said Monsieur de Granville, “what did you want to say to me?”

“Well, is it not something that I have given myself up? You were getting warm, but you had not got me; besides, you would not have known what to do with me——”

“What an antagonist!” said the magistrate to himself.

“Monsieur le Comte, you are about to cut off the head of an innocent man, and I have discovered the culprit,” said Jacques Collin, wiping away his tears. “I have come here not for their sakes, but for yours. I have come to spare you remorse, for I love all who took an interest in Lucien, just as I will give my hatred full play against all who helped to cut off his life—men or women!

“What can a convict more or less matter to me?” he went on, after a short pause. “A convict is no more in my eyes than an emmet is in yours. I am like the Italian brigands—fine men they are! If a traveler is worth ever so little more than the charge of their musket, they shoot him dead.

“I thought only of you.—I got the young man to make a clean breast of it; he was bound to trust me, we had been chained together. Theodore is very good stuff; he thought he was doing his mistress a good turn by undertaking to sell or pawn stolen goods; but he is no more guilty of the Nanterre job than you are. He is a Corsican; it is their way to revenge themselves and kill each other like flies. In Italy and Spain a man’s life is not respected, and the reason is plain. There we are believed to have a soul in our own image, which survives us and lives for ever. Tell that to your analyst! It is only among atheistical or philosophical nations that those who mar human life are made to pay so dearly; and with reason from their point of view—a belief only in matter and in the present.

“If Calvi had told you who the woman was from whom he obtained the stolen goods, you would not have found the real murderer; he is already in your hands; but his accomplice, whom poor Theodore will not betray because she is a woman——Well, every calling has its point of honor; convicts and thieves have theirs!

“Now, I know the murderer of those two women and the inventors of that bold, strange plot; I have been told every detail. Postpone Calvi’s execution, and you shall know all; but you must give me your word that he shall be sent safe back to the hulks and his punishment commuted. A man so miserable as I am does not take the trouble to lie—you know that. What I have told you is the truth.”

“To you, Jacques Collin, though it is degrading Justice, which ought never to condescend to such a compromise, I believe I may relax the rigidity of my office and refer the case to my superiors.”

“Will you grant me this life?”

“可能。”

“Monsieur, I implore you to give me your word; it will be enough.”

Monsieur Granville drew himself up with offended pride.

“I hold in my hand the honor of three families, and you only the lives of three convicts in yours,” said Jacques Collin. “I have the stronger hand.”

“But you may be sent back to the dark cells: then, what will you do?” said the public prosecutor.

“Oh! we are to play the game out then!” said Jacques Collin. “I was speaking as man to man—I was talking to Monsieur de Granville. But if the public prosecutor is my adversary, I take up the cards and hold them close.—And if only you had given me your word, I was ready to give you back the letters that Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu——”

This was said with a tone, an audacity, and a look which showed Monsieur de Granville, that against such an adversary the least blunder was dangerous.

“And is that all you ask?” said the magistrate.

“I will speak for myself now,” said Jacques. “The honor of the Grandlieu family is to pay for the commutation of Theodore’s sentence. It is giving much to get very little. For what is a convict in penal servitude for life? If he escapes, you can so easily settle the score. It is drawing a bill on the guillotine! Only, as he was consigned to Rochefort with no amiable intentions, you must promise me that he shall be quartered at Toulon, and well treated there.

“Now, for myself, I want something more. I have the packets of letters from Madame de Serizy and Madame de Maufrigneuse.—And what letters!—I tell you, Monsieur le Comte, prostitutes, when they write letters, assume a style of sentiment; well, sir, fine ladies, who are accustomed to style and sentiment all day long, write as prostitutes behave. Philosophers may know the reasons for this contrariness. I do not care to seek them. Woman is an inferior animal; she is ruled by her instincts. To my mind a woman has no beauty who is not like a man.

“So your smart duchesses, who are men in brains only, write masterpieces. Oh! they are splendid from beginning to end, like Piron’s famous ode!——”

“确实！”

“Would you like to see them?” said Jacques Collin, with a laugh.

The magistrate felt ashamed.

“I cannot give them to you to read. But, there; no nonsense; this is business and all above board, I suppose?—You must give me back the letters, and allow no one to play the spy or to follow or to watch the person who will bring them to me.”

“That will take time,” said Monsieur de Granville.

“No. It is half-past nine,” replied Jacques Collin, looking at the clock; “well, in four minutes you will have a letter from each of these ladies, and after reading them you will countermand the guillotine. If matters were not as they are, you would not see me taking things so easy.—The ladies indeed have had warning.”—Monsieur de Granville was startled.—“They must be making a stir by now; they are going to bring the Keeper of the Seals into the fray—they may even appeal to the King, who knows?—Come, now, will you give me your word that you will forget all that has passed, and neither follow, nor send any one to follow, that person for a whole hour?”

“我保证。”

“Very well; you are not the man to deceive an escaped convict. You are a chip of the block of which Turennes and Condes are made, and would keep your word to a thief.—In the 帕斯珀杜斯厅 there is at this moment a beggar woman in rags, an old woman, in the very middle of the hall. She is probably gossiping with one of the public writers, about some lawsuit over a party-wall perhaps; send your office messenger to fetch her, saying these words, ‘Dabor ti Mandana’ (the Boss wants you). She will come.

“But do not be unnecessarily cruel. Either you accept my terms or you do not choose to be mixed up in a business with a convict.—I am only a forger, you will remember!—Well, do not leave Calvi to go through the terrors of preparation for the scaffold.”

“I have already countermanded the execution,” said Monsieur de Granville to Jacques Collin. “I would not have Justice beneath you in dignity.”

Jacques Collin looked at the public prosecutor with a sort of amazement, and saw him ring his bell.

“Will you promise not to escape? Give me your word, and I shall be satisfied. Go and fetch the woman.”

The office-boy came in.

“Felix, send away the gendarmes,” said Monsieur de Granville.

Jacques Collin was conquered.

In this duel with the magistrate he had tried to be the superior, the stronger, the more magnanimous, and the magistrate had crushed him. At the same time, the convict felt himself the superior, inasmuch as he had tricked the Law; he had convinced it that the guilty man was innocent, and had fought for a man’s head and won it; but this advantage must be unconfessed, secret and hidden, while the magistrate towered above him majestically in the eye of day.

As Jacques Collin left Monsieur de Granville’s room, the Comte des Lupeaulx, Secretary-in-Chief of the President of the Council, and a deputy, made his appearance, and with him a feeble-looking, little old man. This individual, wrapped in a puce-colored overcoat, as though it were still winter, with powdered hair, and a cold, pale face, had a gouty gait, unsteady on feet that were shod with loose calfskin boots; leaning on a gold-headed cane, he carried his hat in his hand, and wore a row of seven orders in his button-hole.

“What is it, my dear des Lupeaulx?” asked the public prosecutor.

“I come from the Prince,” replied the Count, in a low voice. “You have carte blanche if you can only get the letters—Madame de Serizy’s, Madame de Maufrigneuse’s and Mademoiselle Clotilde de Grandlieu’s. You may come to some arrangement with this gentleman——”

“Who is he?” asked Monsieur de Granville, in a whisper.

“There are no secrets between you and me, my dear sir,” said des Lupeaulx. “This is the famous Corentin. His Majesty desires that you will yourself tell him all the details of this affair and the conditions of success.”

“Do me the kindness,” replied the public prosecutor, “of going to tell the Prince that the matter is settled, that I have not needed this gentleman’s assistance,” and he turned to Corentin. “I will wait on His Majesty for his commands with regard to the last steps in the matter, which will lie with the Keeper of the Seals, as two reprieves will need signing.”

“You have been wise to take the initiative,” said des Lupeaulx, shaking hands with the Comte de Granville. “On the very eve of a great undertaking the King is most anxious that the peers and the great families should not be shown up, blown upon. It ceases to be a low criminal case; it becomes an affair of State.”

“But tell the Prince that by the time you came it was all settled.”

“真！”

“我相信是这样。”

“Then you, my dear fellow, will be Keeper of the Seals as soon as the present Keeper is made Chancellor——”

“I have no ambition,” replied the magistrate.

Des Lupeaulx laughed, and went away.

“Beg of the Prince to request the King to grant me ten minutes’ audience at about half-past two,” added Monsieur de Granville, as he accompanied the Comte des Lupeaulx to the door.

“So you are not ambitious!” said des Lupeaulx, with a keen look at Monsieur de Granville. “Come, you have two children, you would like at least to be made peer of France.”

“If you have the letters, Monsieur le Procureur General, my intervention is unnecessary,” said Corentin, finding himself alone with Monsieur de Granville, who looked at him with very natural curiosity.

“Such a man as you can never be superfluous in so delicate a case,” replied the magistrate, seeing that Corentin had heard or guessed everything.

Corentin bowed with a patronizing air.

“Do you know the man in question, monsieur?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Comte, it is Jacques Collin, the head of the ‘Ten Thousand Francs Association,’ the banker for three penal settlements, a convict who, for the last five years, has succeeded in concealing himself under the robe of the Abbe Carlos Herrera. How he ever came to be intrusted with a mission to the late King from the King of Spain is a question which we have all puzzled ourselves with trying to answer. I am now expecting information from Madrid, whither I have sent notes and a man. That convict holds the secrets of two kings.”

“He is a man of mettle and temper. We have only two courses open to us,” said the public prosecutor. “We must secure his fidelity, or get him out of the way.”

“The same idea has struck us both, and that is a great honor for me,” said Corentin. “I am obliged to have so many ideas, and for so many people, that out of them all I ought occasionally to meet a clever man.”

He spoke so drily, and in so icy a tone, that Monsieur de Granville made no reply, and proceeded to attend to some pressing matters.

Mademoiselle Jacqueline Collin’s amazement on seeing Jacques Collin in the 帕斯珀杜斯厅 is beyond imagining. She stood square on her feet, her hands on her hips, for she was dressed as a costermonger. Accustomed as she was to her nephew’s conjuring tricks, this beat everything.

“Well, if you are going to stare at me as if I were a natural history show,” said Jacques Collin, taking his aunt by the arm and leading her out of the hall, “we shall be taken for a pair of curious specimens; they may take us into custody, and then we should lose time.”

And he went down the stairs of the Galerie Marchande leading to the Rue de la Barillerie. “Where is Paccard?”

“He is waiting for me at la Rousse’s, walking up and down the flower market.”

“And Prudence?”

“Also at her house, as my god-daughter.”

“让我们去那里。”

“Look round and see if we are watched.”

La Rousse, a hardware dealer living on the Quai aux Fleurs, was the widow of a famous murderer, one of the “Ten Thousand.” In 1819, Jacques Collin had faithfully handed over twenty thousand francs and odd to this woman from her lover, after he had been executed. 特龙佩拉莫特 was the only person who knew of his pal’s connection with the girl, at that time a milliner.

“I am your young man’s boss,” the boarder at Madame Vauquer’s had told her, having sent for her to meet him at the Jardin des Plantes. “He may have mentioned me to you, my dear.—Any one who plays me false dies within a year; on the other hand, those who are true to me have nothing to fear from me. I am staunch through thick and thin, and would die without saying a word that would compromise anybody I wish well to. Stick to me as a soul sticks to the Devil, and you will find the benefit of it. I promised your poor Auguste that you should be happy; he wanted to make you a rich woman, and he got scragged for your sake.

“Don’t cry; listen to me. No one in the world knows that you were mistress to a convict, to the murderer they choked off last Saturday; and I shall never tell. You are two-and-twenty, and pretty, and you have twenty-six thousand francs of your own; forget Auguste and get married; be an honest woman if you can. In return for peace and quiet, I only ask you to serve me now and then, me, and any one I may send you, but without stopping to think. I will never ask you to do anything that can get you into trouble, you or your children, or your husband, if you get one, or your family.

“In my line of life I often want a safe place to talk in or to hide in. Or I may want a trusty woman to carry a letter or do an errand. You will be one of my letter-boxes, one of my porters’ lodges, one of my messengers, neither more nor less.

“You are too red-haired; Auguste and I used to call you la Rousse; you can keep that name. My aunt, an old-clothes dealer at the Temple, who will come and see you, is the only person in the world you are to obey; tell her everything that happens to you; she will find you a husband, and be very useful to you.”

And thus the bargain was struck, a diabolical compact like that which had for so long bound Prudence Servien to Jacques Collin, and which the man never failed to tighten; for, like the Devil, he had a passion for recruiting.

In about 1821 Jacques Collin found la Rousse a husband in the person of the chief shopman under a rich wholesale tin merchant. This head-clerk, having purchased his master’s house of business, was now a prosperous man, the father of two children, and one of the district Maire’s deputies. La Rousse, now Madame Prelard, had never had the smallest ground for complaint, either of Jacques Collin or of his aunt; still, each time she was required to help them, Madame Prelard quaked in every limb. So, as she saw the terrible couple come into her shop, she turned as pale as death.

“We want to speak to you on business, madame,” said Jacques Collin.

“My husband is in there,” said she.

“Very well; we have no immediate need of you. I never put people out of their way for nothing.”

“Send for a hackney coach, my dear,” said Jacqueline Collin, “and tell my god-daughter to come down. I hope to place her as maid to a very great lady, and the steward of the house will take us there.”

A shop-boy fetched the coach, and a few minutes later Europe, or, to be rid of the name under which she had served Esther, Prudence Servien, Paccard, Jacques Collin, and his aunt, were, to la Rousse’s great joy, packed into a coach, ordered by 特龙佩拉莫特 to drive to the Barriere d’Ivry.

Prudence and Paccard, quaking in presence of the boss, felt like guilty souls in the presence of God.

“Where are the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs?” asked the boss, looking at them with the clear, penetrating gaze which so effectually curdled the blood of these tools of his, these ames damnees, when they were caught tripping, that they felt as though their scalp were set with as many pins as hairs.

“The seven hundred and 三十 thousand francs,” said Jacqueline Collin to her nephew, “are quite safe; I gave them to la Romette this morning in a sealed packet.”

“If you had not handed them over to Jacqueline,” said 特龙佩拉莫特, “you would have gone straight there,” and he pointed to the Place de Greve, which they were just passing.

Prudence Servien, in her country fashion, made the sign of the Cross, as if she had seen a thunderbolt fall.

“I forgive you,” said the boss, “on condition of your committing no more mistakes of this kind, and of your being henceforth to me what these two fingers are of my right hand,” and he pointed to the first and middle fingers, “for this good woman is the thumb,” and he slapped his aunt on the shoulder.

“Listen to me,” he went on. “You, Paccard, have nothing more to fear; you may follow your nose about Pantin (Paris) as you please. I give you leave to marry Prudence Servien.”

Paccard took Jacques Collin’s hand and kissed it respectfully.

“And what must I do?” said he.

“Nothing; and you will have dividends and women, to say nothing of your wife—for you have a touch of the Regency about you, old boy!—That comes of being such a fine man!”

Paccard colored under his sultan’s ironical praises.

“You, Prudence,” Jacques went on, “will want a career, a position, a future; you must remain in my service. Listen to me. There is a very good house in the Rue Sainte-Barbe belonging to that Madame de Saint-Esteve, whose name my aunt occasionally borrows. It is a very good business, with plenty of custom, bringing in fifteen to twenty thousand francs a year. Saint-Esteve puts a woman in to keep the shop——”

“La Gonore,” said Jacqueline.

“Poor la Pouraille’s moll,” said Paccard. “That is where I bolted to with Europe the day that poor Madame van Bogseck died, our mis’ess.”

“Who jabbers when I am speaking?” said Jacques Collin.

Perfect silence fell in the coach. Paccard and Prudence did not dare look at each other.

“The shop is kept by la Gonore,” Jacques Collin went on. “If that is where you went to hide with Prudence, I see, Paccard, that you have wit enough to dodge the reelers (mislead the police), but not enough to puzzle the old lady,” and he stroked his aunt’s chin. “Now I see how she managed to find you.—It all fits beautifully. You may go back to la Gonore.—To go on: Jacqueline will arrange with Madame Nourrisson to purchase her business in the Rue Sainte-Barbe; and if you manage well, child, you may make a fortune out of it,” he said to Prudence. “An Abbess at your age! It is worthy of a Daughter of France,” he added in a hard tone.

Prudence flung her arms round 特龙佩拉莫特 neck and hugged him; but the boss flung her off with a sharp blow, showing his extraordinary strength, and but for Paccard, the girl’s head would have struck and broken the coach window.

“Paws off! I don’t like such ways,” said the boss stiffly. “It is disrespectful to me.”

“He is right, child,” said Paccard. “Why, you see, it is as though the boss had made you a present of a hundred thousand francs. The shop is worth that. It is on the Boulevard, opposite the Gymnase. The people come out of the theatre——”

“I will do more,” said 特龙佩拉莫特; “I will buy the house.”

“And in six years we shall be millionaires,” cried Paccard.

Tired of being interrupted, 特龙佩拉莫特 gave Paccard’s shin a kick hard enough to break it; but the man’s tendons were of india-rubber, and his bones of wrought iron.

“All right, boss, mum it is,” said he.

“Do you think I am cramming you with lies?” said Jacques Collin, perceiving that Paccard had had a few drops too much. “Well, listen. In the cellar of that house there are two hundred and fifty thousand francs in gold——”

Again silence reigned in the coach.

“The coin is in a very hard bed of masonry. It must be got out, and you have only three nights to do it in. Jacqueline will help you.—A hundred thousand francs will buy up the business, fifty thousand will pay for the house; leave the remainder.”

“Where?” said Paccard.

“In the cellar?” asked Prudence.

“Silence!” cried Jacqueline.

“Yes, but to get the business transferred, we must have the consent of the police authorities,” Paccard objected.

“We shall have it,” said 特龙佩拉莫特. “Don’t meddle in what does not concern you.”

Jacqueline looked at her nephew, and was struck by the alteration in his face, visible through the stern mask under which the strong man generally hid his feelings.

“You, child,” said he to Prudence Servien, “will receive from my aunt the seven hundred and fifty thousand francs——”

“Seven hundred and thirty,” said Paccard.

“Very good, seven hundred and thirty then,” said Jacques Collin. “You must return this evening under some pretext to Madame Lucien’s house. Get out on the roof through the skylight; get down the chimney into your miss’ess’ room, and hide the packet she had made of the money in the mattress——”

“And why not by the door?” asked Prudence Servien.

“Idiot! there are seals on everything,” replied Jacques Collin. “In a few days the inventory will be taken, and you will be innocent of the theft.”

“Good for the boss!” cried Paccard. “That is really kind!”

“Stop, coachman!” cried Jacques Collin’s powerful voice.

The coach was close to the stand by the Jardin des Plantes.

“Be off, young ‘uns,” said Jacques Collin, “and do nothing silly! Be on the Pont des Arts this afternoon at five, and my aunt will let you know if there are any orders to the contrary.—We must be prepared for everything,” he whispered to his aunt. “To-morrow,” he went on, “Jacqueline will tell you how to dig up the gold without any risk. It is a ticklish job——”

Paccard and Prudence jumped out on to the King’s highway, as happy as reprieved thieves.

“What a good fellow the boss is!” said Paccard.

“He would be the king of men if he were not so rough on women.”

“Oh, yes! He is a sweet creature,” said Paccard. “Did you see how he kicked me? Well, we deserved to be sent to old Nick; for, after all, we got him into this scrape.”

“If only he does not drag us into some dirty job, and get us packed off to the hulks yet,” said the wily Prudence.

“Not he! If he had that in his head, he would tell us; you don’t know him.—He has provided handsomely for you. Here we are, citizens at large! Oh, when that man takes a fancy to you, he has not his match for good-nature.”

“Now, my jewel,” said Jacques Collin to his aunt, “you must take la Gonore in hand; she must be humbugged. Five days hence she will be taken into custody, and a hundred and fifty thousand francs will be found in her rooms, the remains of a share from the robbery and murder of the old Crottat couple, the notary’s father and mother.”

“She will get five years in the Madelonnettes,” said Jacqueline.

“That’s about it,” said the nephew. “This will be a reason for old Nourrisson to get rid of her house; she cannot manage it herself, and a manager to suit is not to be found every day. You can arrange all that. We shall have a sharp eye there.—But all these three things are secondary to the business I have undertaken with regard to our letters. So unrip your gown and give me the samples of the goods. Where are the three packets?”

“At la Rousse’s, of course.”

“Coachman,” cried Jacques Collin, “go back to the Palais de Justice, and look sharp——

“I promised to be quick, and I have been gone half an hour; that is too much.—Stay at la Rousse’s, and give the sealed parcels to the office clerk, who will come and ask for Madame de Saint-Esteve; the de will be the password. He will say to you, ‘Madame, I have come from the public prosecutor for the things you know of.’ Stand waiting outside the door, staring about at what is going on in the Flower-Market, so as not to arouse Prelard’s suspicions. As soon as you have given up the letters, you can start Paccard and Prudence.”

“I see what you are at,” said Jacqueline; “you mean to step into Bibi-Lupin’s shoes. That boy’s death has turned your brain.”

“And there is Theodore, who was just going to have his hair cropped to be scragged at four this afternoon!” cried Jacques Collin.

“Well, it is a notion! We shall end our days as honest folks in a fine property and a delightful climate—in Touraine.”

“What was to become of me? Lucien has taken my soul with him, and all my joy in life. I have thirty years before me to be sick of life in, and I have no heart left. Instead of being the boss of the hulks, I shall be a Figaro of the law, and avenge Lucien. I can never be sure of demolishing Corentin excepting in the skin of a police agent. And so long as I have a man to devour, I shall still feel alive.—The profession a man follows in the eyes of the world is a mere sham; the reality is in the idea!” he added, striking his forehead.—“How much have we left in the cash-box?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said his aunt, dismayed by the man’s tone and manner. “I gave you all I had for the boy. La Romette has not more than twenty thousand francs left in the business. I took everything from Madame Nourrisson; she had about sixty thousand francs of her own. Oh! we are lying in sheets that have been washed this twelve months past. That boy had all the pals’ blunt, our savings, and all old Nourrisson’s.”

“Making——?”

“Five hundred and sixty thousand.”

“We have a hundred and fifty thousand which Paccard and Prudence will pay us. I will tell you where to find two hundred thousand more. The remainder will come to me out of Esther’s money. We must repay old Nourrisson. With Theodore, Paccard, Prudence, Nourrisson, and you, I shall soon have the holy alliance I require.—Listen, now we are nearly there——”

“Here are the three letters,” said Jacqueline, who had finished unsewing the lining of her gown.

“Quite right,” said Jacques Collin, taking the three precious documents—autograph letters on vellum paper, and still strongly scented. “Theodore did the Nanterre job.”

“Oh! it was he.”

“Don’t talk. Time is precious. He wanted to give the proceeds to a little Corsican sparrow named Ginetta. You must set old Nourrisson to find her; I will give you the necessary information in a letter which Gault will give you. Come for it to the gate of the Conciergerie in two hours’ time. You must place the girl with a washerwoman, Godet’s sister; she must seem at home there. Godet and Ruffard were concerned with la Pouraille in robbing and murdering the Crottats.

“The four hundred and fifty thousand francs are all safe, one-third in la Gonore’s cellar—la Pouraille’s share; the second third in la Gonore’s bedroom, which is Ruffard’s; and the rest is hidden in Godet’s sister’s house. We will begin by taking a hundred and fifty thousand francs out of la Pouraille’s whack, a hundred thousand of Godet’s, and a hundred thousand of Ruffard’s. As soon as Godet and Ruffard are nabbed, they will be supposed to have got rid of what is missing from their shares. And I will make Godet believe that I have saved a hundred thousand francs for him, and that la Gonore has done the same for la Pouraille and Ruffard.

“Prudence and Paccard will do the job at la Gonore’s; you and Ginetta—who seems to be a smart hussy—must manage the job at Godet’s sister’s place.

“And so, as the first act in the farce, I can enable the public prosecutor to lay his hands on four hundred thousand francs stolen from the Crottats, and on the guilty parties. Then I shall seem to have shown up the Nanterre murderer. We shall get back our shiners, and are behind the scenes with the police. We were the game, now we are the hunters—that is all.

“Give the driver three francs.”

The coach was at the Palais. Jacqueline, speechless with astonishment, paid. 特龙佩拉莫特 went up the steps to the public prosecutor’s room.

A complete change of life is so violent a crisis, that Jacques Collin, in spite of his resolution, mounted the steps but slowly, going up from the Rue de la Barillerie to the Galerie Marchande, where, under the gloomy peristyle of the courthouse, is the entrance to the Court itself.

Some civil case was going on which had brought a little crowd together at the foot of the double stairs leading to the Assize Court, so that the convict, lost in thought, stood for some minutes, checked by the throng.

To the left of this double flight is one of the mainstays of the building, like an enormous pillar, and in this tower is a little door. This door opens on a spiral staircase down to the Conciergerie, to which the public prosecutor, the governor of the prison, the presiding judges, King’s council, and the chief of the Safety department have access by this back way.

It was up a side staircase from this, now walled up, that Marie Antoinette, the Queen of France, was led before the Revolutionary tribunal which sat, as we all know, in the great hall where appeals are now heard before the Supreme Court. The heart sinks within us at the sight of these dreadful steps, when we think that Marie Therese’s daughter, whose suite, and head-dress, and hoops filled the great staircase at Versailles, once passed that way! Perhaps it was in expiation of her mother’s crime—the atrocious division of Poland. The sovereigns who commit such crimes evidently never think of the retribution to be exacted by Providence.

When Jacques Collin went up the vaulted stairs to the public prosecutor’s room, Bibi-Lupin was just coming out of the little door in the wall.

The chief of the “Safety” had come from the Conciergerie, and was also going up to Monsieur de Granville. It was easy to imagine Bibi-Lupin’s surprise when he recognized, in front of him, the gown of Carlos Herrera, which he had so thoroughly studied that morning; he ran on to pass him. Jacques Collin turned round, and the enemies were face to face. Each stood still, and the self-same look flashed in both pairs of eyes, so different in themselves, as in a duel two pistols go off at the same instant.

“This time I have got you, rascal!” said the chief of the Safety Department.

“Ah, ha!” replied Jacques Collin ironically.

It flashed through his mind that Monsieur de Granville had sent some one to watch him, and, strange to say, it pained him to think the magistrate less magnanimous than he had supposed.

Bibi-Lupin bravely flew at Jacques Collin’s throat; but he, keeping his eye on the foe, gave him a straight blow, and sent him sprawling on his back three yards off; then 特龙佩拉莫特 went calmly up to Bibi-Lupin, and held out a hand to help him rise, exactly like an English boxer who, sure of his superiority, is ready for more. Bibi-Lupin knew better than to call out; but he sprang to his feet, ran to the entrance to the passage, and signed to a gendarme to stand on guard. Then, swift as lightning, he came back to the foe, who quietly looked on. Jacques Collin had decided what to do.

“Either the public prosecutor has broken his word, or he had not taken Bibi-Lupin into his confidence, and in that case I must get the matter explained,” thought he.—“Do you mean to arrest me?” he asked his enemy. “Say so without more ado. Don’t I know that in the heart of this place you are stronger than I am? I could kill you with a well-placed kick, but I could not tackle the gendarmes and the soldiers. Now, make no noise. Where to you want to take me?”

“To Monsieur Camusot.”

“Come along to Monsieur Camusot,” replied Jacques Collin. “Why should we not go to the public prosecutor’s court? It is nearer,” he added.

Bibi-Lupin, who knew that he was out of favor with the upper ranks of judicial authorities, and suspected of having made a fortune at the expense of criminals and their victims, was not unwilling to show himself in Court with so notable a capture.

“All right, we will go there,” said he. “But as you surrender, allow me to fit you with bracelets. I am afraid of your claws.”

And he took the handcuffs out of his pocket.

Jacques Collin held out his hands, and Bibi-Lupin snapped on the manacles.

“Well, now, since you are feeling so good,” said he, “tell me how you got out of the Conciergerie?”

“By the way you came; down the turret stairs.”

“Then have you taught the gendarmes some new trick?”

“No, Monsieur de Granville let me out on parole.”

“You are gammoning me?”

“You will see. Perhaps it will be your turn to wear the bracelets.”

Just then Corentin was saying to Monsieur de Granville:

“Well, monsieur, it is just an hour since our man set out; are you not afraid that he may have fooled you? He is on the road to Spain perhaps by this time, and we shall not find him there, for Spain is a whimsical kind of country.”

“Either I know nothing of men, or he will come back; he is bound by every interest; he has more to look for at my hands than he has to give.”

Bibi-Lupin walked in.

“Monsieur le Comte,” said he, “I have good news for you. Jacques Collin, who had escaped, has been recaptured.”

“And this,” said Jacques Collin, addressing Monsieur de Granville, “is the way you keep your word!—Ask your double-faced agent where he took me.”

“Where?” said the public prosecutor.

“Close to the Court, in the vaulted passage,” said Bibi-Lupin.

“Take your irons off the man,” said Monsieur de Granville sternly. “And remember that you are to leave him free till further orders.—Go!—You have a way of moving and acting as if you alone were law and police in one.”

The public prosecutor turned his back on Bibi-Lupin, who became deadly pale, especially at a look from Jacques Collin, in which he read disaster.

“I have not been out of this room. I expected you back, and you cannot doubt that I have kept my word, as you kept yours,” said Monsieur de Granville to the convict.

“For a moment I did doubt you, sir, and in my place perhaps you would have thought as I did, but on reflection I saw that I was unjust. I bring you more than you can give me; you had no interest in betraying me.”

The magistrate flashed a look at Corentin. This glance, which could not escape 特龙佩拉莫特, who was watching Monsieur de Granville, directed his attention to the strange little old man sitting in an armchair in a corner. Warned at once by the swift and anxious instinct that scents the presence of an enemy, Collin examined this figure; he saw at a glance that the eyes were not so old as the costume would suggest, and he detected a disguise. In one second Jacques Collin was revenged on Corentin for the rapid insight with which Corentin had unmasked him at Peyrade’s.

“We are not alone!” said Jacques Collin to Monsieur de Granville.

“No,” said the magistrate drily.

“And this gentleman is one of my oldest acquaintances, I believe,” replied the convict.

He went forward, recognizing Corentin, the real and confessed originator of Lucien’s overthrow.

Jacques Collin, whose face was of a brick-red hue, for a scarcely perceptible moment turned white, almost ashy; all his blood rushed to his heart, so furious and maddening was his longing to spring on this dangerous reptile and crush it; but he controlled the brutal impulse, suppressing it with the force that made him so formidable. He put on a polite manner and the tone of obsequious civility which he had practised since assuming the garb of a priest of a superior Order, and he bowed to the little old man.

“Monsieur Corentin,” said he, “do I owe the pleasure of this meeting to chance, or am I so happy as to be the cause of your visit here?”

Monsieur de Granville’s astonishment was at its height, and he could not help staring at the two men who had thus come face to face. Jacques Collin’s behavior and the tone in which he spoke denoted a crisis, and he was curious to know the meaning of it. On being thus suddenly and miraculously recognized, Corentin drew himself up like a snake when you tread on its tail.

“Yes, it is I, my dear Abbe Carlos Herrera.”

“And are you here,” said 特龙佩拉莫特, “to interfere between monsieur the public prosecutor and me? Am I so happy as to be the object of one of those negotiations in which your talents shine so brightly?—Here, Monsieur le Comte,” the convict went on, “not to waste time so precious as yours is, read these—they are samples of my wares.”

And he held out to Monsieur de Granville three letters, which he took out of his breast-pocket.

“And while you are studying them, I will, with your permission, have a little talk with this gentleman.”

“You do me great honor,” said Corentin, who could not help giving a little shiver.

“You achieved a perfect success in our business,” said Jacques Collin. “I was beaten,” he added lightly, in the tone of a gambler who has lost his money, “but you left some men on the field—your victory cost you dear.”

“Yes,” said Corentin, taking up the jest, “you lost your queen, and I lost my two castles.”

“Oh! Contenson was a mere pawn,” said Jacques Collin scornfully; “you may easily replace him. You really are—allow me to praise you to your face—you are, on my word of honor, a magnificent man.”

“No, no, I bow to your superiority,” replied Corentin, assuming the air of a professional joker, as if he said, “If you mean humbug, by all means humbug! I have everything at my command, while you are single-handed, so to speak.”

“Oh! Oh!” said Jacques Collin.

“And you were very near winning the day!” said Corentin, noticing the exclamation. “You are quite the most extraordinary man I ever met in my life, and I have seen many very extraordinary men, for those I have to work with me are all remarkable for daring and bold scheming.

“I was, for my sins, very intimate with the late Duc d’Otranto; I have worked for Louis XVIII. when he was on the throne; and, when he was exiled, for the Emperor and for the Directory. You have the tenacity of Louvel, the best political instrument I ever met with; but you are as supple as the prince of diplomates. And what auxiliaries you have! I would give many a head to the guillotine if I could have in my service the cook who lived with poor little Esther.—And where do you find such beautiful creatures as the woman who took the Jewess’ place for Monsieur de Nucingen? I don’t know where to get them when I want them.”

“Monsieur, monsieur, you overpower me,” said Jacques Collin. “Such praise from you will turn my head——”

“It is deserved. Why, you took in Peyrade; he believed you to be a police officer—he!—I tell you what, if you had not that fool of a boy to take care of, you would have thrashed us.”

“Oh! monsieur, but you are forgetting Contenson disguised as a mulatto, and Peyrade as an Englishman. Actors have the stage to help them, but to be so perfect by daylight, and at all hours, no one but you and your men——”

“Come, now,” said Corentin, “we are fully convinced of our worth and merits. And here we stand each of us quite alone; I have lost my old friend, you your young companion. I, for the moment, am in the stronger position, why should we not do like the men in l’Auberge des Adrets? I offer you my hand, and say, ‘Let us embrace, and let bygones be bygones.’ Here, in the presence of Monsieur le Comte, I propose to give you full and plenary absolution, and you shall be one of my men, the chief next to me, and perhaps my successor.”

“You really offer me a situation?” said Jacques Collin. “A nice situation indeed!—out of the fire into the frying-pan!”

“You will be in a sphere where your talents will be highly appreciated and well paid for, and you will act at your ease. The Government police are not free from perils. I, as you see me, have already been imprisoned twice, but I am none the worse for that. And we travel, we are what we choose to appear. We pull the wires of political dramas, and are treated with politeness by very great people.—Come, my dear Jacques Collin, do you say yes?”

“Have you orders to act in this matter?” said the convict.

“I have a free hand,” replied Corentin, delighted at his own happy idea.

“You are trifling with me; you are very shrewd, and you must allow that a man may be suspicious of you.—You have sold more than one man by tying him up in a sack after making him go into it of his own accord. I know all your great victories—the Montauran case, the Simeuse business—the battles of Marengo of espionage.”

“Well,” said Corentin, “you have some esteem for the public prosecutor?”

“Yes,” said Jacques Collin, bowing respectfully, “I admire his noble character, his firmness, his dignity. I would give my life to make him happy. Indeed, to begin with, I will put an end to the dangerous condition in which Madame de Serizy now is.”

Monsieur de Granville turned to him with a look of satisfaction.

“Then ask him,” Corentin went on, “if I have not full power to snatch you from the degrading position in which you stand, and to attach you to me.”

“It is quite true,” said Monsieur de Granville, watching the convict.

“Really and truly! I may have absolution for the past and a promise of succeeding to you if I give sufficient evidence of my intelligence?”

“Between two such men as we are there can be no misunderstanding,” said Corentin, with a lordly air that might have taken anybody in.

“And the price of the bargain is, I suppose, the surrender of those three packets of letters?” said Jacques Collin.

“I did not think it would be necessary to say so to you——”

“My dear Monsieur Corentin,” said 特龙佩拉莫特, with irony worthy of that which made the fame of Talma in the part of Nicomede, “I beg to decline. I am indebted to you for the knowledge of what I am worth, and of the importance you attach to seeing me deprived of my weapons—I will never forget it.

“At all times and for ever I shall be at your service, but instead of saying with Robert Macaire, ‘Let us embrace!’ I embrace you.”

He seized Corentin round the middle so suddenly that the other could not avoid the hug; he clutched him to his heart like a doll, kissed him on both cheeks, carried him like a feather with one hand, while with the other he opened the door, and then set him down outside, quite battered by this rough treatment.

“Good-bye, my dear fellow,” said Jacques Collin in a low voice, and in Corentin’s ear: “the length of three corpses parts you from me; we have measured swords, they are of the same temper and the same length. Let us treat each other with due respect; but I mean to be your equal, not your subordinate. Armed as you would be, it strikes me you would be too dangerous a general for your lieutenant. We will place a grave between us. Woe to you if you come over on to my territory!

“You call yourself the State, as footmen call themselves by their master’s names. For my part, I will call myself Justice. We shall often meet; let us treat each other with dignity and propriety—all the more because we shall always remain—atrocious blackguards,” he added in a whisper. “I set you the example by embracing you——”

Corentin stood nonplussed for the first time in his life, and allowed his terrible antagonist to wring his hand.

“If so,” said he, “I think it will be to our interest on both sides to remain chums.”

“We shall be stronger each on our own side, but at the same time more dangerous,” added Jacques Collin in an undertone. “And you will allow me to call on you to-morrow to ask for some pledge of our agreement.”

“Well, well,” said Corentin amiably, “you are taking the case out of my hands to place it in those of the public prosecutor. You will help him to promotion; but I cannot but own to you that you are acting wisely.—Bibi-Lupin is too well known; he has served his turn; if you get his place, you will have the only situation that suits you. I am delighted to see you in it—on my honor——”

“Till our next meeting, very soon,” said Jacques Collin.

On turning round, 特龙佩拉莫特 saw the public prosecutor sitting at his table, his head resting on his hands.

“Do you mean that you can save the Comtesse de Serizy from going mad?” asked Monsieur de Granville.

“In five minutes,” said Jacques Collin.

“And you can give me all those ladies’ letters?”

“Have you read the three?”

“Yes,” said the magistrate vehemently, “and I blush for the women who wrote them.”

“Well, we are now alone; admit no one, and let us come to terms,” said Jacques Collin.

“Excuse me, Justice must first take its course. Monsieur Camusot has instructions to seize your aunt.”

“He will never find her,” said Jacques Collin.

“Search is to be made at the Temple, in the shop of a demoiselle Paccard who superintends her shop.”

“Nothing will be found there but rags, costumes, diamonds, uniforms——However, it will be as well to check Monsieur Camusot’s zeal.”

Monsieur de Granville rang, and sent an office messenger to desire Monsieur Camusot to come and speak with him.

“Now,” said he to Jacques Collin, “an end to all this! I want to know your recipe for curing the Countess.”

“Monsieur le Comte,” said the convict very gravely, “I was, as you know, sentenced to five years’ penal servitude for forgery. But I love my liberty.—This passion, like every other, had defeated its own end, for lovers who insist on adoring each other too fondly end by quarreling. By dint of escaping and being recaptured alternately, I have served seven years on the hulks. So you have nothing to remit but the added terms I earned in quod—I beg pardon, in prison. I have, in fact, served my time, and till some ugly job can be proved against me,—which I defy Justice to do, or even Corentin—I ought to be reinstated in my rights as a French citizen.

“What is life if I am banned from Paris and subject to the eye of the police? Where can I go, what can I do? You know my capabilities. You have seen Corentin, that storehouse of treachery and wile, turn ghastly pale before me, and doing justice to my powers.—That man has bereft me of everything; for it was he, and he alone, who overthrew the edifice of Lucien’s fortunes, by what means and in whose interest I know not.—Corentin and Camusot did it all——”

“No recriminations,” said Monsieur de Granville; “give me the facts.”

“Well, then, these are the facts. Last night, as I held in my hand the icy hand of that dead youth, I vowed to myself that I would give up the mad contest I have kept up for twenty years past against society at large.

“You will not believe me capable of religious sentimentality after what I have said of my religious opinions. Still, in these twenty years I have seen a great deal of the seamy side of the world. I have known its back-stairs, and I have discerned, in the march of events, a Power which you call Providence and I call Chance, and which my companions call Luck. Every evil deed, however quickly it may hide its traces, is overtaken by some retribution. In this struggle for existence, when the game is going well—when you have quint and quartorze in your hand and the lead—the candle tumbles over and the cards are burned, or the player has a fit of apoplexy!—That is Lucien’s story. That boy, that angel, had not committed the shadow of a crime; he let himself be led, he let things go! He was to marry Mademoiselle de Grandlieu, to be made marquis; he had a fine fortune;—well, a prostitute poisons herself, she hides the price of a certificate of stock, and the whole structure so laboriously built up crumbles in an instant.

“And who is the first man to deal a blow? A man loaded with secret infamy, a monster who, in the world of finance, has committed such crimes that every coin of his vast fortune has been dipped in the tears of a whole family [see la Maison Nucingen]—by Nucingen, who has been a legalized Jacques Collin in the world of money. However, you know as well as I do all the bankruptcies and tricks for which that man deserves hanging. My fetters will leave a mark on all my actions, however virtuous. To be a shuttlecock between two racquets—one called the hulks, and the other the police—is a life in which success means never-ending toil, and peace and quiet seem quite impossible.

“At this moment, Monsieur de Granville, Jacques Collin is buried with Lucien, who is being now sprinkled with holy water and carried away to Pere-Lachaise. What I want is a place not to live in, but to die in. As things are, you, representing Justice, have never cared to make the released convict’s social status a concern of any interest. Though the law may be satisfied, society is not; society is still suspicious, and does all it can to justify its suspicions; it regards a released convict as an impossible creature; it ought to restore him to his full rights, but, in fact, it prohibits his living in certain circles. Society says to the poor wretch, ‘Paris, which is the only place you can be hidden in; Paris and its suburbs for so many miles round is the forbidden land, you shall not live there!’ and it subjects the convict to the watchfulness of the police. Do you think that life is possible under such conditions? To live, the convict must work, for he does not come out of prison with a fortune.

“You arrange matters so that he is plainly ticketed, recognized, hedged round, and then you fancy that his fellow-citizens will trust him, when society and justice and the world around him do not. You condemn him to starvation or crime. He cannot get work, and is inevitably dragged into his old ways, which lead to the scaffold.

“Thus, while earnestly wishing to give up this struggle with the law, I could find no place for myself under the sun. One course alone is open to me, that is to become the servant of the power that crushes us; and as soon as this idea dawned on me, the Power of which I spoke was shown in the clearest light. Three great families are at my mercy. Do not suppose I am thinking of blackmail—blackmail is the meanest form of murder. In my eyes it is baser villainy than murder. The murderer needs, at any rate, atrocious courage. And I practise what I preach; for the letters which are my safe-conduct, which allow me to address you thus, and for the moment place me on an equality with you—I, Crime, and you, Justice—those letters are in your power. Your messenger may fetch them, and they will be given up to him.

“I ask no price for them; I do not sell them. Alas! Monsieur le Comte, I was not thinking of myself when I preserved them; I thought that Lucien might some day be in danger! If you cannot agree to my request, my courage is out; I hate life more than enough to make me blow out my own brains and rid you of me!—Or, with a passport, I can go to America and live in the wilderness. I have all the characteristics of a savage.

“These are the thoughts that came to me in the night.—Your clerk, no doubt, carried you a message I sent by him. When I saw what precautions you took to save Lucien’s memory from any stain, I dedicated my life to you—a poor offering, for I no longer cared for it; it seemed to me impossible without the star that gave it light, the happiness that glorified it, the thought that gave it meaning, the prosperity of the young poet who was its sun—and I determined to give you the three packets of letters——”

Monsieur de Granville bowed his head.

“I went down into the prison-yard, and there I found the persons guilty of the Nanterre crime, as well as my little chain companion within an inch of the chopper as an involuntary accessory after the fact,” Jacques Collin went on. “I discovered that Bibi-Lupin is cheating the authorities, that one of his men murdered the Crottats. Was not this providential, as you say?—So I perceived a remote possibility of doing good, of turning my gifts and the dismal experience I have gained to account for the benefit of society, of being useful instead of mischievous, and I ventured to confide in your judgment, your generosity.”

The man’s air of candor, of artlessness, of childlike simplicity, as he made his confession, without bitterness, or that philosophy of vice which had hitherto made him so terrible to hear, was like an absolute transformation. He was no longer himself.

“I have such implicit trust in you,” he went on, with the humility of a penitent, “that I am wholly at your mercy. You see me with three roads open to me—suicide, America, and the Rue de Jerusalem. Bibi-Lupin is rich; he has served his turn; he is a double-faced rascal. And if you set me to work against him, I would catch him red-handed in some trick within a week. If you will put me in that sneak’s shoes, you will do society a real service. I will be honest. I have every quality that is needed in the profession. I am better educated than Bibi-Lupin; I went through my schooling up to rhetoric; I shall not blunder as he does; I have very good manners when I choose. My sole ambition is to become an instrument of order and repression instead of being the incarnation of corruption. I will enlist no more recruits to the army of vice.

“In war, monsieur, when a hostile general is captured, he is not shot, you know; his sword is returned to him, and his prison is a large town; well, I am the general of the hulks, and I have surrendered.—I am beaten, not by the law, but by death. The sphere in which I crave to live and act is the only one that is suited to me, and there I can develop the powers I feel within me.

“Decide.”

And Jacques Collin stood in an attitude of diffident submission.

“You place the letters in my hands, then?” said the public prosecutor.

“You have only to send for them; they will be delivered to your messenger.”

“但是如何？”

Jacques Collin read the magistrate’s mind, and kept up the game.

“You promised me to commute the capital sentence on Calvi for twenty years’ penal servitude. Oh, I am not reminding you of that to drive a bargain,” he added eagerly, seeing Monsieur de Granville’s expression; “that life should be safe for other reasons, the lad is innocent——”

“How am I to get the letters?” asked the public prosecutor. “It is my right and my business to convince myself that you are the man you say you are. I must have you without conditions.”

“Send a man you can trust to the Flower Market on the quay. At the door of a tinman’s shop, under the sign of Achilles’ shield——”

“That house?”

“Yes,” said Jacques Collin, smiling bitterly, “my shield is there.—Your man will see an old woman dressed, as I told you before, like a fish-woman who has saved money—earrings in her ears, and clothes like a rich market-woman’s. He must ask for Madame de Saint-Esteve. Do not omit the DE. And he must say, ‘I have come from the public prosecutor to fetch you know what.’—You will immediately receive three sealed packets.”

“All the letters are there?” said Monsieur de Granville.

“There is no tricking you; you did not get your place for nothing!” said Jacques Collin, with a smile. “I see you still think me capable of testing you and giving you so much blank paper.—No; you do not know me,” said he. “I trust you as a son trusts his father.”

“You will be taken back to the Conciergerie,” said the magistrate, “and there await a decision as to your fate.”

Monsieur de Granville rang, and said to the office-boy who answered:

“Beg Monsieur Garnery to come here, if he is in his room.”

Besides the forty-eight police commissioners who watch over Paris like forty-eight petty Providences, to say nothing of the guardians of Public Safety—and who have earned the nickname of quart d’oeil, in thieves’ slang, a quarter of an eye, because there are four of them to each district,—besides these, there are two commissioners attached equally to the police and to the legal authorities, whose duty it is to undertake delicate negotiation, and not frequently to serve as deputies to the examining judges. The office of these two magistrates, for police commissioners are also magistrates, is known as the Delegates’ office; for they are, in fact, delegated on each occasion, and formally empowered to carry out inquiries or arrests.

These functions demand men of ripe age, proved intelligence, great rectitude, and perfect discretion; and it is one of the miracles wrought by Heaven in favor of Paris, that some men of that stamp are always forthcoming. Any description of the Palais de Justice would be incomplete without due mention of these 预防 officials, as they may be called, the most powerful adjuncts of the law; for though it must be owned that the force of circumstances has abrogated the ancient pomp and wealth of justice, it has materially gained in many ways. In Paris especially its machinery is admirably perfect.

Monsieur de Granville had sent his secretary, Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, to attend Lucien’s funeral; he needed a substitute for this business, a man he could trust, and Monsieur Garnery was one of the commissioners in the Delegates’ office.

“Monsieur,” said Jacques Collin, “I have already proved to you that I have a sense of honor. You let me go free, and I came back.—By this time the funeral mass for Lucien is ended; they will be carrying him to the grave. Instead of remanding me to the Conciergerie, give me leave to follow the boy’s body to Pere-Lachaise. I will come back and surrender myself prisoner.”

“Go,” said Monsieur de Granville, in the kindest tone.

“One word more, monsieur. The money belonging to that girl—Lucien’s mistress—was not stolen. During the short time of liberty you allowed me, I questioned her servants. I am sure of them as you are of your two commissioners of the Delegates’ office. The money paid for the certificate sold by Mademoiselle Esther Gobseck will certainly be found in her room when the seals are removed. Her maid remarked to me that the deceased was given to mystery-making, and very distrustful; she no doubt hid the banknotes in her bed. Let the bedstead be carefully examined and taken to pieces, the mattresses unsewn—the money will be found.”

“你确定吗？”

“I am sure of the relative honesty of my rascals; they never play any tricks on me. I hold the power of life and death; I try and condemn them and carry out my sentence without all your formalities. You can see for yourself the results of my authority. I will recover the money stolen from Monsieur and Madame Crottat; I will hand you over one of Bibi-Lupin’s men, his right hand, caught in the act; and I will tell you the secret of the Nanterre murders. This is not a bad beginning. And if you only employ me in the service of the law and the police, by the end of a year you will be satisfied with all I can tell you. I will be thoroughly all that I ought to be, and shall manage to succeed in all the business that is placed in my hands.”

“I can promise you nothing but my goodwill. What you ask is not in my power. The privilege of granting pardons is the King’s alone, on the recommendation of the Keeper of the Seals; and the place you wish to hold is in the gift of the Prefet of Police.”

“Monsieur Garnery,” the office-boy announced.

At a nod from Monsieur de Granville the Delegate commissioner came in, glanced at Jacques Collin as one who knows, and gulped down his astonishment on hearing the word “Go!” spoken to Jacques Collin by Monsieur de Granville.

“Allow me,” said Jacques Collin, “to remain here till Monsieur Garnery has returned with the documents in which all my strength lies, that I may take away with me some expression of your satisfaction.”

This absolute humility and sincerity touched the public prosecutor.

“Go,” said he; “I can depend on you.”

Jacques Collin bowed humbly, with the submissiveness of an inferior to his master. Ten minutes later, Monsieur de Granville was in possession of the letters in three sealed packets that had not been opened! But the importance of this point, and Jacques Collin’s avowal, had made him forget the convict’s promise to cure Madame de Serizy.

When once he was outside, Jacques Collin had an indescribable sense of satisfaction. He felt he was free, and born to a new phase of life. He walked quickly from the Palais to the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, where mass was over. The coffin was being sprinkled with holy water, and he arrived in time thus to bid farewell, in a Christian fashion, to the mortal remains of the youth he had loved so well. Then he got into a carriage and drove after the body to the cemetery.

In Paris, unless on very exceptional occasions, or when some famous man has died a natural death, the crowd that gathers about a funeral diminishes by degrees as the procession approaches Pere-Lachaise. People make time to show themselves in church; but every one has his business to attend to, and returns to it as soon as possible. Thus of ten mourning carriages, only four were occupied. By the time they reached Pere-Lachaise there were not more than a dozen followers, among whom was Rastignac.

“That is right; it is well that you are faithful to him,” said Jacques Collin to his old acquaintance.

Rastignac started with surprise at seeing Vautrin.

“Be calm,” said his old fellow-boarder at Madame Vauquer’s. “I am your slave, if only because I find you here. My help is not to be despised; I am, or shall be, more powerful than ever. You slipped your cable, and you did it very cleverly; but you may need me yet, and I will always be at your service.

“可是你打算怎么办？”

“To supply the hulks with lodgers instead of lodging there,” replied Jacques Collin.

Rastignac gave a shrug of disgust.

“But if you were robbed——”

Rastignac hurried on to get away from Jacques Collin.

“You do not know what circumstances you may find yourself in.”

They stood by the grave dug by the side of Esther’s.

“Two beings who loved each other, and who were happy!” said Jacques Collin. “They are united.—It is some comfort to rot together. I will be buried here.”

When Lucien’s body was lowered into the grave, Jacques Collin fell in a dead faint. This strong man could not endure the light rattle of the spadefuls of earth thrown by the gravediggers on the coffin as a hint for their payment.

Just then two men of the corps of Public Safety came up; they recognized Jacques Collin, lifted him up, and carried him to a hackney coach.

“What is up now?” asked Jacques Collin when he recovered consciousness and had looked about him.

He saw himself between two constables, one of whom was Ruffard; and he gave him a look which pierced the murderer’s soul to the very depths of la Gonore’s secret.

“Why, the public prosecutor wants you,” replied Ruffard, “and we have been hunting for you everywhere, and found you in the cemetery, where you had nearly taken a header into that boy’s grave.”

Jacques Collin was silent for a moment.

“Is it Bibi-Lupin that is after me?” he asked the other man.

“No. Monsieur Garnery sent us to find you.”

“And he told you nothing?”

The two men looked at each other, holding council in expressive pantomime.

“Come, what did he say when he gave you your orders?”

“He bid us fetch you at once,” said Ruffard, “and said we should find you at the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Pres; or, if the funeral had left the church, at the cemetery.”

“The public prosecutor wants me?”

“也许。”

“That is it,” said Jacques Collin; “he wants my assistance.”

And he relapsed into silence, which greatly puzzled the two constables.

At about half-past two Jacques Collin once more went up to Monsieur de Granville’s room, and found there a fresh arrival in the person of Monsieur de Granville’s predecessor, the Comte Octave de Bauvan, one of the Presidents of the Court of Appeals.

“You forgot Madame de Serizy’s dangerous condition, and that you had promised to save her.”

“Ask these rascals in what state they found me, monsieur,” said Jacques Collin, signing to the two constables to come in.

“Unconscious, monsieur, lying on the edge of the grave of the young man they were burying.”

“Save Madame de Serizy,” said the Comte de Bauvan, “and you shall have what you will.”

“I ask for nothing,” said Jacques Collin. “I surrendered at discretion, and Monsieur de Granville must have received——”

“All the letters, yes,” said the magistrate. “But you promised to save Madame de Serizy’s reason. Can you? Was it not a vain boast?”

“I hope I can,” replied Jacques Collin modestly.

“Well, then, come with me,” said Comte Octave.

“No, monsieur; I will not be seen in the same carriage by your side—I am still a convict. It is my wish to serve the Law; I will not begin by discrediting it. Go back to the Countess; I will be there soon after you. Tell her Lucien’s best friend is coming to see her, the Abbe Carlos Herrera; the anticipation of my visit will make an impression on her and favor the cure. You will forgive me for assuming once more the false part of a Spanish priest; it is to do so much good!”

“I shall find you there at about four o’clock,” said Monsieur de Granville, “for I have to wait on the King with the Keeper of the Seals.”

Jacques Collin went off to find his aunt, who was waiting for him on the Quai aux Fleurs.

“So you have given yourself up to the authorities?” said she.

“是的。”

“It is a risky game.”

“No; I owed that poor Theodore his life, and he is reprieved.”

“你呢？”

“I—I shall be what I ought to be. I shall always make our set shake in their shoes.—But we must get to work. Go and tell Paccard to be off as fast as he can go, and see that Europe does as I told her.”

“That is a trifle; I know how to deal with la Gonore,” said the terrible Jacqueline. “I have not been wasting my time here among the gilliflowers.”

“Let Ginetta, the Corsican girl, be found by to-morrow,” Jacques Collin went on, smiling at his aunt.

“I shall want some clue.”

“You can get it through Manon la Blonde,” said Jacques.

“Then we meet this evening,” replied the aunt, “you are in such a deuce of a hurry. Is there a fat job on?”

“I want to begin with a stroke that will beat everything that Bibi-Lupin has ever done. I have spoken a few words to the brute who killed Lucien, and I live only for revenge! Thanks to our positions, he and I shall be equally strong, equally protected. It will take years to strike the blow, but the wretch shall have it straight in the heart.”

“He must have vowed a Roland for your Oliver,” said the aunt, “for he has taken charge of Peyrade’s daughter, the girl who was sold to Madame Nourrisson, you know.”

“Our first point must be to find him a servant.”

“That will be difficult; he must be tolerably wide-awake,” observed Jacqueline.

“Well, hatred keeps one alive! We must work hard.”

Jacques Collin took a cab and drove at once to the Quai Malaquais, to the little room he lodged in, quite separate from Lucien’s apartment. The porter, greatly astonished at seeing him, wanted to tell him all that had happened.

“I know everything,” said the Abbe. “I have been involved in it, in spite of my saintly reputation; but, thanks to the intervention of the Spanish Ambassador, I have been released.”

He hurried up to his room, where, from under the cover of a breviary, he took out a letter that Lucien had written to Madame de Serizy after that lady had discarded him on seeing him at the opera with Esther.

Lucien, in his despair, had decided on not sending this letter, believing himself cast off for ever; but Jacques Collin had read the little masterpiece; and as all that Lucien wrote was to him sacred, he had treasured the letter in his prayer-book for its poetical expression of a passion that was chiefly vanity. When Monsieur de Granville told him of Madame de Serizy’s condition, the keen-witted man had very wisely concluded that this fine lady’s despair and frenzy must be the result of the quarrel she had allowed to subsist between herself and Lucien. He knew women as magistrates know criminals; he guessed the most secret impulses of their hearts; and he at once understood that the Countess probably ascribed Lucien’s death partly to her own severity, and reproached herself bitterly. Obviously a man on whom she had shed her love would never have thrown away his life!—To know that he had loved her still, in spite of her cruelty, might restore her reason.

If Jacques Collin was a grand general of convicts, he was, it must be owned, a not less skilful physician of souls.

This man’s arrival at the mansion of the Serizys was at once a disgrace and a promise. Several persons, the Count, and the doctors were assembled in the little drawing-room adjoining the Countess’ bedroom; but to spare him this stain on his soul’s honor, the Comte de Bauvan dismissed everybody, and remained alone with his friend. It was bad enough even then for the Vice-President of the Privy Council to see this gloomy and sinister visitor come in.

Jacques Collin had changed his dress. He was in black with trousers, and a plain frock-coat, and his gait, his look, and his manner were all that could be wished. He bowed to the two statesmen, and asked if he might be admitted to see the Countess.

“She awaits you with impatience,” said Monsieur de Bauvan.

“With impatience! Then she is saved,” said the dreadful magician.

And, in fact, after an interview of half an hour, Jacques Collin opened the door and said:

“Come in, Monsieur le Comte; there is nothing further to fear.”

The Countess had the letter clasped to her heart; she was calm, and seemed to have forgiven herself. The Count gave expression to his joy at the sight.

“And these are the men who settle our fate and the fate of nations,” thought Jacques Collin, shrugging his shoulders behind the two men. “A female has but to sigh in the wrong way to turn their brain as if it were a glove! A wink, and they lose their head! A petticoat raised a little higher, dropped a little lower, and they rush round Paris in despair! The whims of a woman react on the whole country. Ah, how much stronger is a man when, like me, he keeps far away from this childish tyranny, from honor ruined by passion, from this frank malignity, and wiles worthy of savages! Woman, with her genius for ruthlessness, her talent for torture, is, and always will be, the marring of man. The public prosecutor, the minister—here they are, all hoodwinked, all moving the spheres for some letters written by a duchess and a chit, or to save the reason of a woman who is more crazy in her right mind than she was in her delirium.”

And he smiled haughtily.

“Ay,” said he to himself, “and they believe in me! They act on my information, and will leave me in power. I shall still rule the world which has obeyed me these five-and-twenty years.”

Jacques Collin had brought into play the overpowering influence he had exerted of yore over poor Esther; for he had, as has often been shown, the mode of speech, the look, the action which quell madmen, and he had depicted Lucien as having died with the Countess’ image in his heart.

No woman can resist the idea of having been the one beloved.

“You now have no rival,” had been this bitter jester’s last words.

He remained a whole hour alone and forgotten in that little room. Monsieur de Granville arrived and found him gloomy, standing up, and lost in a brown study, as a man may well be who makes an 18th Brumaire in his life.

The public prosecutor went to the door of the Countess’ room, and remained there a few minutes; then he turned to Jacques Collin and said:

“You have not changed your mind?”

“不，先生。”

“Well, then, you will take Bibi-Lupin’s place, and Calvi’s sentence will be commuted.”

“And he is not to be sent to Rochefort?”

“Not even to Toulon; you may employ him in your service. But these reprieves and your appointment depend on your conduct for the next six months as subordinate to Bibi-Lupin.”

Within a week Bibi-Lupin’s new deputy had helped the Crottat family to recover four hundred thousand francs, and had brought Ruffard and Godet to justice.

The price of the certificates sold by Esther Gobseck was found in the courtesan’s mattress, and Monsieur de Serizy handed over to Jacques Collin the three hundred thousand francs left to him by Lucien de Rubempre.

The monument erected by Lucien’s orders for Esther and himself is considered one of the finest in Pere-Lachaise, and the earth beneath it belongs to Jacques Collin.

After exercising his functions for about fifteen years Jacques Collin retired in 1845.

DECEMBER 1847.