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DERUESPart 3
On the morning of February 11th, Shrove Tuesday, he went to fetch the young de Lamotte from his school, telling the master that he was desired by the youth`s mother to conduct him to Versailles. But, instead, he took him to his own house, saying that he had a letter from Madame de Lamotte asking them not to come till the next day; so they started on Ash Wednesday, Edouard having breakfasted on chocolate. Arrived at Versailles, they stopped at the Fleur-de-lys inn, but there the sickness which the boy had complained of during the journey became very serious, and the innkeeper, having young children, and believing that he recognised symptoms of smallpox, which just then was ravaging Versailles, refused to receive them, saying he had no vacant room. This might have disconcerted anyone but Derues, but his audacity, activity, and resource seemed to increase with each fresh obstacle. Leaving Edouard in a room on the ground floor which had no communication with the rest of the inn, he went at once to look for lodgings, and hastily explored the town. After a fruitless search, he found at last, at the junction of the rue Saint-Honore with that of the Orangerie, a cooper named Martin, who had a furnished room to spare. This he hired at thirty sous per day for himself and his nephew, who had been taken suddenly ill, under the name of Beaupre. To avoid being questioned later, he informed the cooper in a few words that he was a doctor; that he had come to Versailles in order to place his nephew in one of the offices of the town; that in a few days the latter`s mother would arrive to join him in seeing and making application to influential persons about the court, to whom he had letters of introduction. As soon as he had delivered this fable with all the appearance of truth with which he knew so well how to disguise his falsehoods, he went back to the young de Lamotte, who was already so exhausted that he was hardly able to drag himself as far as the cooper`s house. He fainted on arrival, and was carried into the hired room, where Derues begged to be left alone with him, and only asked for certain beverages which he told the people how to prepare.
Whether it was that the strength of youth fought against the poison, or that Derues took pleasure in watching the sufferings of his victim, the agony of the poor lad was prolonged until the fourth day. The sickness continuing incessantly, he sent the cooper`s wife for a medicine which he prepared and administered himself. It produced terrible pain, and Edouard`s cries brought the cooper and his wife upstairs. They represented to Derues that he ought to call in a doctor and consult with him, but he refused decidedly, saying that a doctor hastily fetched might prove to be an ignorant person with whom he could not agree, and that he could not allow one so dear to him to be prescribed for and nursed by anyone but himself.
"I know what the malady is," he continued, raising his eyes to heaven; "it is one that has to be concealed rather than acknowledged. Poor youth! whom I love as my own son, if God, touched by my tears and thy suffering, permits me to save thee, thy whole life will be too short for thy blessings and thy gratitude!" And as Madame Martin asked what this malady might be, he answered with hypocritical blushes--
"Do not ask, madame; there are things of which you do not know even the name."
At another time, Martin expressed his surprise that the young man`s mother had not yet appeared, who, according to Derues, was to have met him at Versailles. He asked how she could know that they were lodging in his house, and if he should send to meet her at any place where she was likely to arrive.
"His mother," said Derues, looking compassionately at Edouard, who lay pale, motionless, and as if insensible,--"his mother! He calls for her incessantly. Ah! monsieur, some families are greatly to be pitied! My entreaties prevailed on her to decide on coming hither, but will she keep her promise? Do not ask me to tell you more; it is too painful to have to accuse a mother of having forgotten her duties in the presence of her son . . . there are secrets which ought not to be told--unhappy woman!"
Edouard moved, extended his arms, and repeated, "Mother! . . . mother!"
Derues hastened to his side and took his hands in his, as if to warm them.
"My mother!" the youth repeated. "Why have I not seen her? She was to have met me."
You shall soon see her, dear boy; only keep quiet."
"But just now I thought she was dead."
"Dead!" cried Derues. "Drive away these sad thoughts. They are caused by the fever only."
"No! oh no! . . . I heard a secret voice which said, `Thy mother is dead!` . . . And then I beheld a livid corpse before me . . . It was she! . . . I knew her well! and she seemed to have suffered so much----"
"Dear boy, your mother is not dead . . . . My God! what terrible chimeras you conjure up! You will see her again, I assure you; she has arrived already. Is it not so, madame?" he asked, turning towards the Martins, who were both leaning against the foot of the bed, and signing to them to support this pious falsehood, in order to calm the young man. "Did she not arrive and come to his bedside and kiss him while he slept, and she will soon come again?"
"Yes, yes," said Madame Martin, wiping her eyes; "and she begged my husband and me to help your uncle to take great care of you--"
The youth moved again, and looking round him with a dazed expression, said, "My uncle--?"
"You had better go," said Derues in a whisper to the Martins. "I am afraid he is delirious again; I will prepare a draught, which will give him a little rest and sleep."
"Adieu, then, adieu," answered Madame Martin; "and may Heaven bless you for the care you bestow on this poor young man!"
On Friday evening violent vomiting appeared to have benefited the sufferer. He had rejected most of the poison, and had a fairly quiet night. But on the Saturday morning Derues sent the cooper`s little girl to buy more medicine, which he prepared, himself, like the first. The day was horrible, and about six in the evening, seeing his victim was at the last gasp, he opened a little window overlooking the shop and summoned the cooper, requesting him to go at once for a priest. When the latter arrived he found Derues in tears, kneeling at the dying boy`s bedside. And now, by the light of two tapers placed on a table, flanking the holy water-stoup, there began what on one side was an abominable and sacrilegious comedy, a disgraceful parody of that which Christians consider most sacred and most dear; on the other, a pious and consoling ceremony. The cooper and his wife, their eyes bathed in tears, knelt in the middle of the room, murmuring such prayers as they could remember.
Derues gave up his place to the priest, but as Edouard did not answer the latter`s questions, he approached the bed, and bending over the sufferer, exhorted him to confession.
"Dear boy," he said, "take courage; your sufferings here will be counted to you above: God will weigh ahem in the scales of His infinite mercy. Listen to the words of His holy minister, cast your sins into His bosom, and obtain from Him forgiveness for your faults."
"I am in such terrible pain!" cried Edouard. "Water! water! Extinguish the fire which consumes me!"
A violent fit came on, succeeded by exhaustion and the death-rattle. Derues fell on his knees, and the priest administered extreme unction. There was then a moment of absolute silence, more impressive than cries and sobs. The priest collected himself for a moment, crossed himself, and began to pray. Derues also crossed himself, and repeated in a low voice, apparently choked by grief
"Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of God the Father Almighty, who created thee; in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, who was poured out upon thee."
The youth struggled in his bed, and a convulsive movement agitated his limbs. Derues continued--
"When thy soul departs from this body may it be admitted to the holy Mountain of Sion, to the Heavenly Jerusalem, to the numerous company of Angels, and to the Church of the First-born, whose names are written in Heaven----"
"Mother! . . . My mother!" cried Edouard. Derues resumed--
"Let God arise, and let the Powers of Darkness be dispersed! let the Spirits of Evil, who reign over the air, be put to flight; let them not dare to attack a soul redeemed by the precious blood of Jesus Christ."
"Amen," responded the priest and the Martins.
There was another silence, broken only by the stifled sobs of Derues. The priest again crossed himself and took up the prayer.
"We beseech Thee, O beloved and only Son of God, by the merits of Thy sacred Passion, Thy Cross and Thy Death, to deliver this Thy servant from the pains of Hell, and to lead him to that happy place whither Thou didst vouchsafe to lead the thief, who, with Thee, was bound upon the Cross: Thou, who art God, living and reigning with the Father and the Holy Ghost."
"Amen," repeated those present. Derues now took up the prayer, and his voice mingled with the dying gasps of the sufferer.
"And there was a darkness over all the earth----
"To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of this Thy servant, that, being dead to the world, he may, live to Thee: and the sins he hath committed through the frailty of his mortal nature, do Thou in Thy most merciful goodness, forgive and wash away. Amen."
After which all present sprinkled holy water on the body....
When the priest had retired, shown out by Madame Martin, Derues said to her husband--
"This unfortunate young man has died without the consolation of beholding his mother.... His last thought was for her.... There now remains the last duty, a very painful one to accomplish, but my poor nephew imposed it on me. A few hours ago, feeling that his end was near, he asked me, as a last mark of friendship, not to entrust these final duties to the hands of strangers."
While he applied himself to the necessary work in presence of the cooper, who was much affected by the sight of such sincere and profound affliction, Derues added, sighing--
"I shall always grieve for this dear boy. Alas! that evil living should have caused his early death!"
When he had finished laying out the body, he threw some little packets into the fire which he professed to have found in the youth`s pockets, telling Martin, in order to support this assertion, that they contained drugs suitable to this disgraceful malady.
He spent the night in the room with the corpse, as he had done in the case of Madame de Lamotte, and the next day, Sunday, he sent Martin to the parish church of St. Louis, to arrange for a funeral of the simplest kind; telling him to fill up the certificate in the name of Beaupre, born at Commercy, in Lorraine. He declined himself either to go to the church or to appear at the funeral, saying that his grief was too great. Martin, returning from the funeral, found him engaged in prayer. Derues gave him the dead youth`s clothes and departed, leaving some money to be given to the poor of the parish, and for masses to be said for the repose of the soul of the dead.
He arrived at home in the evening, found his wife entertaining some friends; and told them he had just come from Chartres, where he had been summoned on business. Everyone noticed his unusual air of satisfaction, and he sang several songs during supper.
Having accomplished these two crimes, Derues did not remain idle. When the murderer`s part of his nature was at rest, the thief reappeared. His extreme avarice now made him regret the expense` caused by the deaths of Madame de Lamotte and her son, and he wished to recoup himself. Two days after his return from Versailles, he ventured to present himself at Edouard`s school. He told the master that he had received a letter from Madame de Lamotte, saying that she wished to keep her son, and asking him to obtain Edouard`s belongings. The schoolmaster`s wife, who was present, replied that that could not be; that Monsieur de Lamotte would have known of his wife`s intention; that she would not have taken such a step without consulting him; and that only the evening before, they had received a present of game from Buisson-Souef, with a letter in which Monsieur de Lamotte entreated them to take great, care of his son.
"If what you say is true," she continued, "Madame de Lamotte is no doubt acting on your advice in taking away her son. But I will write to Buisson."
"You had better not do anything in the matter;" said Derues, turning to the schoolmaster. "It is quite possible that Monsieur de Lamotte does not know. I am aware that his wife does not always consult him. She is at Versailles, where I took Edouard to her, and I will inform her of your objection."
To insure impunity for these murders, Derues had resolved on the death of Monsieur de Lamotte; but before executing this last crime, he wished for some proof of the recent pretended agreements between himself and Madame de Lamotte. He would not wait for the disappearance of the whole family before presenting himself as the lawful proprietor, of Buisson-Souef. Prudence required him to shelter himself behind a deed which should have been executed by that lady. On February 27th he appeared at the office of Madame de Lamotte`s lawyer in the rue du Paon, and, with all the persuasion of an artful tongue, demanded the power of attorney on that lady`s behalf, saying that he had, by private contract, just paid a hundred thousand livres on the total amount of purchase, which money was now deposited with a notary. The lawyer, much astonished that an affair of such importance should have been arranged without any reference to himself, refused to give up the deed to anyone but Monsieur or Madame de Lamotte, and inquired why the latter did not appear herself. Derues replied that she was at Versailles, and that he was to send the deed to her there. He repeated his request and the lawyer his refusal, until Derues retired, saying he would find means to compel him to give up the deed. He actually did, the same day, present a petition to the civil authority, in which Cyrano Derues de Bury sets forth arrangements, made with Madame de Lamotte, founded on the deed given by her husband, and requires permission to seize and withdraw said deed from the custody in which it remains at present. The petition is granted. The lawyer objects that he can only give up the deed to either Monsieur or Madame de Lamotte, unless he be otherwise ordered. Derues has the effrontery to again appeal to the civil authority, but, for the reasons given by that public officer, the affair is adjourned.
These two futile efforts might have compromised Derues had they been heard of at Buisson-Souef; but everything seemed to conspire in the criminal`s favour: neither the schoolmaster`s wife nor the lawyer thought of writing to Monsieur de Lamotte. The latter, as yet unsuspecting, was tormented by other anxieties, and kept at home by illness.
In these days, distance is shortened, and one can travel from Villeneuve-le-Roi-les-Sens to Paris in a few hours. This was not the case in 1777, when private industry and activity, stifled by routine and privilege, had not yet experienced the need of providing the means for rapid communication. Half a day was required to go from the capital to Versailles; a journey of twenty leagues required at least two days and a night, and bristled with obstacles ind delays of all kinds. These difficulties of transport, still greater during bad weather, and a long and serious attack of gout, explain why Monsieur ale Lamotte, who was so ready to take alarm, had remained separated from his wife from the middle of December to the end of February. He had received reassuring letters from her, written at first with freedom and simplicity; but he thought he noticed a gradual change in the later ones, which appeared to proceed more from the mind than the heart. A style which aimed at being natural was interspersed with unnecessary expressions of affection, unusual between married people well assured of their mutual love. Monsieur de Lamotte observed and exaggerated these peculiarities, and though endeavouring to persuade himself that he was mistaken, he could not forget them, or regain his usual tranquility. Being somewhat ashamed of his anxiety, he kept his fears to himself.
One morning, as he was sunk in a large armchair by the fire, his sitting-room door opened, and the cure entered, who was surprised by his despondent, sad, and pale appearance. "What is the matter?" he inquired, "Have you had an extra bad night?"
"Yes," answered Monsieur de Lamotte.
"Well, have you any news from Paris?"
"Nothing for a whole week: it is odd, is it not?"
"I am always hoping that this sale may fall through; it drags on for so very long; and I believe that Monsieur Derues, in spite of what your wife wrote a month ago, has not as much money as he pretends to have. Do you know that it is said that Monsieur Despeignes-Duplessis, Madame Derues` relative, whose money they inherited, was assassinated?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"It is a common report in the country, and was brought here by a man who came recently from Beauvais."
"Have the murderers been discovered?"
"Apparently not; justice seems unable to discover anything at all."
Monsieur de Lamotte hung his head, and his countenance assumed an expression of painful thought, as though this news affected him personally.
"Frankly," resumed the cure, "I believe you will remain Seigneur du Buisson-Souef, and that I shall be spared the pain of writing another name over your seat in the church of Villeneuve."
"The affair must be settled in a few days, for I can wait no longer; if the purchaser be not Monsieur Derues, it will have to be someone else. What makes you think he is short of money?"
"Oh! oh!" said the cure, "a man who has money either pays his debts, or is a cheat. Now Heaven preserve me from suspecting Monsieur Derues` honesty!"
"What do you know about him?"
"Do you remember Brother Marchois of the Camaldulians, who came to see me last spring, and who was here the day Monsieur Derues arrived, with your wife and Edouard?"
"Perfectly. Well?"
"Well, I happened to tell him in one of my letters that Monsieur Derues had become the purchaser of Buisson-Souef, and that I believed the arrangements were concluded. Thereupon Brother Marchois wrote asking me to remind him that he owes them a sum of eight hundred livres, and that, so far, they have not seen a penny of it."
"Ah!" said Monsieur de Lamotte, "perhaps I should have done better not to let myself be deluded by his fine promises. He certainly has money on his tongue, and when once one begins to listen to him, one can`t help doing what he wants. All the same, I had rather have had to deal with someone else."
"And is it this which worries you, and makes you seem so anxious?"
"This and other things."
"What, then?"
"I am really ashamed to own it, but I am a credulous and timid as any old woman. Now do not laugh at me too much. Do you believe in dreams?"
"Monsieur," said the cure, smiling, "you should never ask a coward whether he is afraid, you only risk his telling a lie. He will say `No,` but he means `Yes.`"
"And are you a coward, my father?"
"A little. I don`t precisely believe all the nursery, tales, or in the favourable or unfavourable meaning of some object seen during our sleep, but--"
A sound of steps interrupted them, a servant entered, announcing Monsieur Derues.
On hearing the name, Monsieur de Lamotte felt troubled in spite of himself, but, overcoming the impression, he rose to meet the visitor.
"You had better stay," he said to the cure, who was also rising to take leave. "Stay; we have probably nothing to say which cannot be said before you."
Derues entered the room, and, after the usual compliments, sat down by the fire, opposite Monsieur de Lamotte.
"You did not expect me," he said, "and I ought to apologise for surprising you thus."
"Give me some news of my wife," asked Monsieur de Lamotte anxiously.
"She has never been better. Your son is also to perfect health."
"But why are you alone? Why does not Marie accompany you? It is ten weeks since she went to Paris."
"She has not yet quite finished the business with which you entrusted her. Perhaps I am partly the cause of this long absence, but one cannot transact business as quickly as one would wish. But, you have no doubt heard from her, that all is finished, or nearly so, between us. We have drawn up a second private contract, which annuls the former agreement, and I have paid over a sum of one hundred thousand livres."
"I do not comprehend," said Monsieur de Lamotte. "What can induce my wife not to inform me of this?"
"You did not know?"
"I know nothing. I was wondering just now with Monsieur le cure why I did not hear from her."
"Madame de Lamotte was going to write to you, and I do not know what can have hindered her."
"When did you leave her?"
"Several days ago. I have not been at Paris; I am returning from Chartres. I believed you were informed of everything."
Monsieur de Lamotte remained silent for some moments. Then, fixing his eyes upon Derues` immovable countenance, he said, with some emotion--
"You are a husband and father, sir; in the name of this double and sacred affection which is, not unknown to you, do not hide anything from me: I fear some misfortune has happened to my wife which you are concealing."
Derues` physiognomy expressed nothing but a perfectly natural astonishment.
"What can have suggested such ideas to you; dear sir?" In saying this he glanced at the cure; wishing to ascertain if this distrust was Monsieur de Lamotte`s own idea, or had been suggested to him. The movement was so rapid that neither of the others observed it. Like all knaves, obliged by their actions to be continually on the watch, Derues possessed to a remarkable extent the art of seeing all round him without appearing to observe anything in particular. He decided that as yet he had only to combat a suspicion unfounded on proof, and he waited till he should be attacked more seriously.
"I do not know," he said, "what may have happened during my absence; pray explain yourself, for you are making me share your disquietude."
"Yes, I am exceedingly anxious; I entreat you, tell me the whole truth. Explain this silence, and this absence prolonged beyond all expectation. You finished your business with Madame de Lamotte several days ago: once again, why did she not write? There is no letter, either from her or my son! To-morrow I shall send someone to Paris."
"Good heavens!" answered Derues, "is there nothing but an accident which could cause this delay? . . . Well, then," he continued, with the embarrassed look of a man compelled to betray a confidence,--"well, then, I see that in order to reassure you, I shall have to give up a secret entrusted to me."
He then told Monsieur de Lamotte that his wife was no longer at Paris, but at Versailles, where she was endeavouring to obtain an important and lucrative appointment, and that, if she had left him in ignorance of her efforts in this direction; it was only to give him an agreeable surprise. He added that she had removed her son from the school, and hoped to place him either in the riding school or amongst the royal pages. To prove his words, he opened his paper-case, and produced the letter written by Edouard in answer to the one quoted above.
All this was related so simply, and with such an appearance of good faith, that the cure was quite convinced. And to Monsieur de Lamotte the plans attributed to his wife were not entirely improbably. Derues had learnt indirectly that such a career for Edouard had been actually under consideration. However, though Monsieur de Lamotte`s entire ignorance prevented him from making any serious objection, his fears were not entirely at rest, but for the present he appeared satisfied with the explanation.
The cure resumed the conversation. "What you tell us ought to drive away gloomy ideas. Just now, when you were announced, Monsieur de Lamotte was confiding his troubles to me. I was as concerned as he was, and I could say nothing to help him; never did visitor arrive more apropos. Well, my friend, what now remains of your vain terrors? What was it you were saying just as Monsieur Derues arrived? . . . Ah! we were discussing dreams, you asked if I believed in them."
Monsieur, de Lamotte, who had sunk back in his easy-chair and seemed lost in his reflections, started on hearing these words. He raised his head and looked again at Derues. But the latter had had time to note the impression produced by the cure`s remark, and this renewed examination did not disturb him.
"Yes," said Monsieur de Lamotte, "I had asked that question."
"And I was going to answer that there are certain secret warnings which can be received by the soul long before they are intelligible to the bodily senses-revelations not understood at first, but which later connect themselves with realities of which they are in some way the precursors. Do you agree with me, Monsieur Derues?"
"I have no opinion on such a subject, and must leave the discussion to more learned people than myself. I do not know whether such apparitions really mean anything or not, and I have not sought to fathom these mysteries, thinking them outside the realm of human intelligence."
"Nevertheless," said the cure, "we are obliged to recognise their existence."
"Yes, but without either understanding or explaining them, like many other eternal truths. I follow the rule given in the Imitation o f Jesus Christ: `Beware, my son, of considering too curiously the things beyond thine intelligence.`"
"And I also submit, and avoid too curious consideration. But has not the soul knowledge of many wondrous things which we can yet neither see nor touch? I repeat, there are things which cannot be denied."
Derues listened attentively, continually on his guard; and afraid, he knew not why, of becoming entangled in this conversation, as in a trap. He carefully watched Monsieur de Lamotte, whose eyes never left him. The cure resumed--
"Here is an instance which I was bound to accept, seeing it happened to myself. I was then twenty, and my mother lived in the neighbourhood of Tours, whilst I was at the seminary of Montpellier. After several years of separation, I had obtained permission to go and see her. I wrote, telling her of this good news, and I received her answer--full of joy and tenderness. My brother and sister were to be informed, it was to be a family meeting, a real festivity; and I started with a light and joyous heart. My impatience was so great, that, having stopped for supper at a village inn some ten leagues from Tours, I would not wait till the next morning for the coach which went that way, but continued the journey on foot and walked all night. It was a long and difficult road, but happiness redoubled my strength. About an hour after sunrise I saw distinctly the smoke and the village roofs, and I hurried on to surprise my family a little sooner. I never felt more active, more light-hearted and gay; everything seemed to smile before and around me. Turning a corner of the hedge, I met a peasant whom I recognised. All at once it seemed as if a veil spread over my sight, all my hopes and joy suddenly vanished, a funereal idea took possession of me, and I said, taking the hand of the man, who had not yet spoken--
"`My mother is dead, I am convinced my mother is dead!`
"He hung down his head and answered--
"`She is to be buried this morning!`
"Now whence came this revelation? I had seen no one, spoken to no one; a moment before I had no idea of it!"
Derues made a gesture of surprise. Monsieur de Lamotte put his hand to his eyes, and said to the cure--
"Your presentiments were true; mine, happily, are unfounded. But listen, and tell me if in the state of anxiety which oppressed me I had not good reason for alarm and for fearing some fatal misfortune."
His eyes again sought Derues. "Towards the middle of last night I at length fell asleep, but, interrupted every moment, this sleep was more a fatigue than a rest; I seemed to hear confused noises all round me. I saw brilliant lights which dazzled me, and then sank back into silence and darkness. Sometimes I heard someone weeping near my bed; again plaintive voices called to me out of the darkness. I stretched out my arms, but nothing met them, I fought with phantoms; at length a cold hand grasped mine and led me rapidly forward. Under a dark and damp vault a woman lay on the ground, bleeding, inanimate--it was my wife! At the same moment, a groan made me look round, and I beheld a man striking my son with a dagger. I cried out and awoke, bathed in cold perspiration, panting under this terrible vision. I was obliged to get up, walk about, and speak aloud, in order to convince myself it was only a dream. I tried to go to sleep again, but the same visions still pursued me. I saw always the same man armed with two daggers streaming with blood; I heard always the cries of his two victims. When day came, I felt utterly broken, worn-out; and this morning, you, my father, could see by my despondency what an impression this awful night had made upon me."
During this recital Derues` calmness never gave way for a single moment, and the most skilful physiognomist could only have discovered an expression of incredulous curiosity on his countenance.
"Monsieur le cure`s story," said he, "impressed me much; yours only brings back my uncertainty. It is less possible than ever to deliver any opinion on this serious question of dreams, since the second instance contradicts the first."
"It is true," answered the cure, "no possible conclusion can be drawn from two facts which contradict each other, and the best thing we can do is to choose a less dismal subject of conversation."
"Monsieur Derues;" asked Monsieur de Lamatte, "if you are not too tired with your journey, shall we go and look at the last improvements I have made? It is now your affair to decide upon them, since I shall shortly be only your guest here."
"Just as I have been yours for long enough, and I trust you will often give me the opportunity of exercising hospitality in my turn. But you are ill, the day is cold and damp; if you do not care to go out, do not let me disturb you. Had you not better stay by the fire with Monsieur le cure? For me, Heaven be thanked! I require no assistance. I will look round the park, and come back presently to tell you what I think. Besides, we shall have plenty of time to talk about it. With your permission, I should like to stay two or three days."
"I shall be pleased if you will do so."
Derues went out, sufficiently uneasy in his mind, both on account of his reception of Monsieur de Lamotte`s fears and of the manner in which the latter had watched him during the conversation. He walked quickly up and down the park--
"I have been foolish, perhaps; I have lost twelve or fifteen days, and delayed stupidly from fear of not foreseeing everything. But then, how was I to imagine that this simple, easily deceived man would all at once become suspicious? What a strange dream! If I had not been on my guard, I might have been disconcerted. Come, come, I must try to disperse these ideas and give him something else to think about."
He stopped, and after a few minutes consideration turned back towards the house.
As soon as he had left the room, Monsieur de Lamotte had bent over towards the cure, and had said--
"He did not show any emotion, did--he?"
"None whatever."
"He did not start when I spoke of the man armed with those two daggers?"
"No. But put aside these ideas; you must see they are mistaken."
"I did not tell everything, my father: this murderer whom I saw in my dream--was Derues himself! I know as well as you that it must be a delusion, I saw as well as you did that he remained quite calm, but, in spite of myself, this terrible dream haunts me . . . .There, do not listen to me, do not let me talk about it; it only makes me blush for myself."
Whilst Derues remained at Buisson-Souef, Monsieur de Lamotte received several letters from his wife, some from Paris, some from Versailles. She remarked that her son and herself were perfectly well.... The writing was so well imitated that no one could doubt their genuineness. However, Monsieur de Lamotte`s suspicions continually increased and he ended by making the cure share his fears. He also refused to go with Derues to Paris, in spite of the latter`s entreaties. Derues, alarmed at the coldness shown him, left Buisson-Souef, saying that he intended to take possession about the middle of spring.
Monsieur de Lamotte was, in spite of himself, still detained by ill-health. But a new and inexplicable circumstance made him resolve to go to Paris and endeavour to clear up the mystery which appeared to surround his wife and son. He received an unsigned letter in unknown handwriting, and in which Madame de Lamotte`s reputation was attacked with a kind of would-be reticence, which hinted that she was an unfaithful wife and that in this lay the cause of her long absence. Her husband did not believe this anonymous denunciation, but the fate of the two beings dearest to him seemed shrouded in so much obscurity that he could delay no longer, and started for Paris.
His resolution not to accompany Derues had saved his life. The latter could not carry out his culminating crime at Buisson-Souef; it was only in Paris that his victims would disappear without his being called to account. Obliged to leave hold of his prey, he endeavoured to bewilder him in a labyrinth where all trace of truth might be lost. Already, as he had arranged beforehand, he had called calumny to his help, and prepared the audacious lie which was to vindicate himself should an accusation fall upon his head. He had hoped that Monsieur de Lamotte would fall defenceless into his hands; but now a careful examination of his position, showing the impossibility of avoiding an explanation had become inevitable, made him change all his plans, and compelled him to devise an infernal plot, so skilfully laid that it bid fair to defeat all human sagacity.
Monsieur de Lamotte arrived in Paris early in March. Chance decided that he should lodge in the rue de la Mortellerie, in a house not far from the one where his wife`s body lay buried. He went to see Derues, hoping to surprise him, and determined to make him speak, but found he was not at home. Madame Derues, whether acting with the discretion of an accomplice or really ignorant of her husband`s proceedings, could not say where he was likely to be found. She said that he told her nothing about his actions, and that Monsieur de Lamotte must have observed during their stay at Buisson (which was true) that she never questioned him, but obeyed his wishes in everything; and that he had now gone away without saying where he was going. She acknowledged that Madame de Lamotte had lodged with them for six weeks, and that she knew that lady had been at Versailles, but since then she had heard nothing. All Monsieur de Lamotte`s questions, his entreaties, prayers, or threats, obtained no other answer. He went to the lawyer in the rue de Paon, to the schoolmaster, and found the same uncertainty, the same ignorance. His wife and his son had gone to Versailles, there the clue ended which ought to guide his investigations. He went to this town; no one could give him any information, the very name of Lamotte was unknown. He returned to Paris, questioned and examined the people of the quarter, the proprietor of the Hotel de France, where his wife had stayed on her former visit; at length, wearied with useless efforts, he implored help from justice. Then his complaints ceased; he was advised to maintain a prudent silence, and to await Derues` return.
The latter thoroughly understood that, having failed to dissipate Monsieur de Lamotte`s fears, there was no longer an instant to lose, and that the pretended private contract of February 12th would not of itself prove the existence of Madame de Lamotte. This is how he employed the time spent by the unhappy husband in fruitless investigation.
On March 12th, a woman, her face hidden in the hood of her cloak, or "Therese," as it was then called, appeared in the office of Maitre N-----, a notary at Lyons. She gave her name as Marie Francoise Perffier, wife of Monsieur Saint-Faust de Lamotte, but separated, as to goods and estate, from him. She caused a deed to be drawn up, authorising her husband to receive the arrears of thirty thousand livres remaining from the price of the estate of Buisson-Souef, situated near Villeneuve-le-Roi-lez-Sens. The deed was drawn up and signed by Madame de Lamotte, by the notary, and one of his colleagues.
This woman was Derues. If we remember that he only arrived at Buisson February 28th, and remained there for some days, it becomes difficult to understand how at that period so long a journey as that from Paris to Lyons could have been accomplished with such rapidity. Fear must have given him wings. We will now explain what use he intended to make of it, and what fable, a masterpiece of cunning and of lies, he had invented.
On his arrival in Paris he found a summons to appear before the magistrate of police. He expected this, and appeared quite tranquil, ready to answer any questions. Monsieur de Lamotte was present. It was a formal examination, and the magistrate first asked why he had left Paris.
"Monsieur," replied Derues, "I have nothing to hide, and none of my actions need fear the daylight, but before replying, I should like to understand my position. As a domiciled citizen I have a right to require this. Will you kindly inform me why I have been summoned to appear before you, whether on account of anything personal to myself, or simply to give information as to something which may be within my knowledge?"
"You are acquainted with this gentleman, and cannot therefore be ignorant of the cause of the present inquiry."
"I am, nevertheless, quite in ignorance of it."
"Be good enough to answer my question. Why did you leave Paris? And where have you been?"
"I was absent for business reasons."
"What business?"
"I shall say no more."
"Take care! you have incurred serious suspicions, and silence will not tend to clear you."
Derues hung down his head with an air of resignation; and Monsieur de Lamotte, seeing in this attitude a silent confession of crime, exclaimed, "Wretched man! what have you done with my wife and my son?"
"Your son!--" said Derues slowly and with peculiar emphasis. He again cast down his eyes.
The magistrate conducting the inquiry was struck by the expression of Derues` countenance and by this half answer, which appeared to hide a mystery and to aim at diverting attention by offering a bait to curiosity. He might have stopped Derues at the moment when he sought to plunge into a tortuous argument, and compelled him to answer with the same clearness and decision which distinguished Monsieur de Lamotte`s question; but he reflected that the latter`s inquiries, unforeseen, hasty, and passionate, were perhaps more likely to disconcert a prepared defence than cooler and more skilful tactics. He therefore changed his plans, contenting "himself for the moment with the part of an observer only, and watching a duel between two fairly matched antagonists.
"I require: you to tell me what has become of them," repeated Monsieur de Lamotte. "I have been to Versailles, you assured me they were there."
"And I told you the truth, monsieur."
"No one has seen them, no one knows them; every trace is lost. Your Honour, this man must be compelled to answer, he must say what has become of my wife and son!"
"I excuse your anxiety, I understand your trouble, but why appeal to me? Why am I supposed to know what may have happened to them?"
"Because I confided them to your care."
"As a friend, yes, I agree. Yes, it is quite true that last December I received a letter from you informing me of the impending arrival of your wife and son. I received them in my own house, and showed them the same hospitality which I had received from you. I saw them both, your son often, your wife every day, until the day she left me to go to Versailles. Yes, I also took Edouard to his mother, who was negotiating an appointment for him. I have already told you all this, and I repeat it because it is the truth. You believed me then: why do you not believe me now? Why has what I say become strange and incredible? If your wife and your son have disappeared, am I responsible? Did you transmit your authority to me? And now, in what manner are you thus calling me to account? Is it to the friend who might have pitied, who might have aided your search, that you thus address yourself? Have you come to confide in me, to ask for advice, for consolation? No, you accuse me; very well! then I refuse to speak, because, having no proofs, you yet accuse an honest man; because your fears, whether real or imaginary, do not excuse you for casting, I know not what odious suspicions, on a blameless reputation, because I have the right to be offended. Monsieur" he continued, turning to the magistrate, "I believe you will appreciate my moderation, and will allow me to retire. If charges are brought against me, I am quite ready to meet them, and to show what they are really worth. I shall remain in Paris, I have now no business which requires my presence elsewhere."
He emphasised these last words, evidently intending to draw attention to them. It did not escape the magistrate, who inquired--
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing beyond my words, your Honour, Have I your permission to retire?"
"No, remain; you are pretending not to understand."
"I do not understand these insinuations so covertly made."
Monsieur de Lamotte rose, exclaiming--
"Insinuations! What more can I say to compel you to answer? My wife and son have disappeared. It is untrue that, as you pretend, they have been at Versailles. You deceived me at Buisson-Souef, just as you are deceiving me now, as you are endeavouring to deceive justice by inventing fresh lies. Where are they? What has become of them? I am tormented by all the fears possible to a husband and father; I imagine all the most terrible misfortunes, and I accuse you to your face of having caused their death! Is this sufficient, or do you still accuse me of covert insinuations?"
Derues turned to the magistrate. "Is this charge enough to place me in the position of a criminal if I do not give a satisfactory explanation?"
"Certainly; you should have thought of that sooner."
"Then," he continued, addressing Monsieur de Lamotte, "I understand you persist in this odious accusation?"
"I certainly persist in it."
"You have forgotten our friendship, broken all bonds between us: I am in your eyes only a miserable assassin? You consider my silence as guilty, you will ruin me if I do not speak?"
"It is true."
"There is still time for reflection; consider what you are doing; I will forget your insults and your anger. Your trouble is great enough without my reproaches being added to it. But you desire that I should speak, you desire it absolutely?"
"I do desire it."
"Very well, then; it shall be as you wish."
Derues surveyed Monsieur de Lamotte with a look which seemed to say, "I pity you." He then added, with a sigh--
"I am now ready to answer. Your Honour, will you have the kindness to resume my examination?"
Derues had succeeded in taking up an advantageous position. If he had begun narrating the extraordinary romance he had invented, the least penetrating eye must have perceived its improbability, and one would have felt it required some support at every turn. But since he had resisted being forced to tell it, and apparently only ceded to Monsieur de Lamotte`s violent persistency, the situation was changed; and this refusal to speak, coming from a man who thereby compromised his personal safety, took the semblance of generosity, and was likely to arouse the magistrate`s curiosity and prepare his mind for unusual and mysterious revelations. This was exactly what Derues wanted, and he awaited the interrogation with calm and tranquillity.
"Why did you leave Paris?" the magistrate demanded a second time.
"I have already had the honour to inform you that important business necessitated my absence."
"But you refused to explain the nature of this business. Do you still persist in this refusal?"
"For the moment, yes. I will explain it later."
"Where have you been? Whence do you return?"
"I have been to Lyons, and have returned thence."
"What took you there?
"I will tell you later."
"In the month of December last, Madame de Lamotte and her son came to Paris?
"That is so."
"They both lodged in your house?"
"I have no reason to deny it."
"But neither she herself, nor Monsieur de Lamotte, had at first intended that she should accept a lodging in the house which you occupied."
"That is quite true. We had important accounts to settle, and Madame de Lamotte told me afterwards that she feared some dispute on the question of money might arise between us--at least, that is the reason she gave me. She was mistaken, as the event proved, since I always intended to pay, and I have paid. But she may have had another reason which she preferred not to give."
"It was the distrust of this man which she felt," exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte. Derues answered only with a melancholy smile.
"Silence, monsieur," said the magistrate, "silence; do not interrupt." Then addressing Derues--
"Another motive? What motive do you suppose?"
"Possibly she preferred to be more free, and able to receive any visitor she wished."
"What do you mean?"
"It is only supposition on my part, I do not insist upon it."
"But the supposition appears to contain a hint injurious to Madame de Lamotte`s reputation?"
"No, oh no!" replied Derues, after a moment`s silence.
This sort of insinuation appeared strange to the magistrate, who resolved to try and force Derues to abandon these treacherous reticences behind which he sheltered himself. Again recommending silence to Monsieur de Lamotte, he continued to question Derues, not perceiving that he was only following the lead skilfully given by the latter, who drew him gradually on by withdrawing himself, and that all the time thus gained was an advantage to the accused.
"Well," said the magistrate, "whatever Madame de Lamotte`s motives may have been, it ended in her coming to stay with you. How did you persuade her to take this step?"
"My wife accompanied her first to the Hotel de France, and then to other hotels. I said no more than might be deemed allowable in a friend; I could not presume to persuade her against her will. When I returned home, I was surprised to find her there with her son. She could not find a disengaged room in any of the hotels she tried, and she then accepted my offer."
"What date was this?"
"Monday, the 16th of last December."
"And when did she leave your house?"
"On the 1st of February."
"The porter cannot remember having seen her go out on that day."
"That is possible. Madame de Lamotte went and came as her affairs required. She was known, and no more attention would be paid to her than to any other inmate."
"The porter also says that for several days before this date she was ill, and obliged to keep her room?"
"Yes, it was a slight indisposition, which had no results, so slight that it seemed unnecessary to call in a doctor. Madame de Lamotte appeared preoccupied and anxious. I think her mental attitude influenced her health."
"Did you escort her to Versailles?"
"No; I went there to see her later."
"What proof can you give of her having actually stayed there?"
"None whatever, unless it be a letter which I received from her."
"You told Monsieur de, Lamotte that she was exerting herself to procure her son`s admission either as a king`s page or into the riding school. Now, no one at Versailles has seen this lady, or even heard of her."
"I only repeated what she told me."
"Where was she staying?"
"I do not know."
"What! she wrote to you, you went to see her, and yet you do not know where she was lodging?"
"That is so."
"But it is impossible."
"There are many things which would appear impossible if I were to relate them, but which are true, nevertheless."
"Explain yourself."
"I only received one letter from Madame de Lamotte, in which she spoke of her plans for Edouard, requesting me to send her her son on a day she fixed, and I told Edouard of her projects. Not being able to go to the school to see him, I wrote, asking if he would like to give up his studies and become a royal page. When I was last at Buisson-Souef, I showed his answer to Monsieur de Lamotte; it is here."
And he handed over a letter to the magistrate, who read it, and passing it on to Monsieur de Lamotte, inquired--
"Did you then, and do you now, recognise your son`s handwriting?"
"Perfectly, monsieur."
"You took Edouard to Versailles?"
"I did."
"On what day?"
"February 11th, Shrove Tuesday. It is the only time I have been to Versailles. The contrary might be supposed; for I have allowed it to be understood that I have often seen Madame de Lamotte since she left my house, and was acquainted with all her actions, and that the former confidence and friendship still existed between us. In allowing this, I have acted a lie, and transgressed the habitual sincerity of my whole life."
This assertion produced a bad impression on the magistrate. Derues perceived it, and to avert evil consequences, hastened to add--
"My conduct can only be appreciated when it is known in entirety. I misunderstood the meaning of Madame de Lamotte`s letter. She asked me to send her her son, I thought to oblige her by accompanying him, and not leaving him to go alone. So we travelled together, and arrived at Versailles about midday. As I got down from the coach I saw Madame de Lamotte at the palace gate, and observed, to my astonishment, that my presence displeased her. She was not alone."
He stopped, although he had evidently reached the most interesting point of his story.
"Go on," said the magistrate; "why do you stop now?"
"Because what I have to say is so painful--not to me, who have to justify myself, but for others, that I hesitate."
"Go on."
"Will you then interrogate me, please?"
"Well, what happened in this interview?"
Derues appeared to collect himself for a moment, and then said with the air of a man who has decide on speaking out at last--
"Madame de Lamotte was not alone; she was attended by a gentleman whom I did not know, whom I never saw either at Buisson-Souef or in Paris, and whom I have never seen again since. I will ask you to allow me to recount everything; even to the smallest details. This man`s face struck me at once, on account of a singular resemblance; he paid no attention to me at first, and I was able to examine him at leisure. His manners were those of a man belonging to the highest classes of society, and his dress indicated wealth. On seeing Edouard, he said to Madame de Lamotte--
"`So this is he?` and he then kissed him tenderly. This and the marks of undisguised pleasure which he evinced surprised me, and I looked at Madame de Lamotte, who then remarked with some asperity--
"`I did not expect to see you, Monsieur Derues. I had not asked you to accompany my son.`
"Edouard seemed quite as much surprised as I was. The stranger gave me a look of haughty annoyance, but seeing I did not avoid his glance his countenance assumed a more gentle expression, and Madame de Lamotte introduced him as a person who took great interest in Edouard."
"It is a whole tissue of imposture!" exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte.
"Allow me to finish," answered Derues. "I understand your doubts, and that you are not anxious to believe what I say, but I have been brought here by legal summons to tell the truth, and I am going to tell it. You can then weigh the two accusations in the balance, and choose between them. The reputation of an honourable man is as sacred, as important, as worthy of credit as the reputation of a woman, and I never heard that the virtue of the one was more fragile than that of the other."
Monsieur de Lamotte, thunderstruck by such a revelation, could not contain his impatience and indignation.
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