The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iv Part 45
"Oh, if it were but possible! My dear Madame Georges?--M. Rodolph?"
"Upon my word, my dear, I am just like a baby in your hands, and you turn and twist me just as you please; it is useless for me to try to conceal anything, for, with your little winning ways, you find out all secrets."
"Then I shall soon see them again? Dear madame, how can I ever thank you sufficiently for your goodness to a poor girl like me? Feel how my heart beats! It is all with joy and happiness!"
"Well, well, my love, be as wild with delight as you please, but pray do not hurry on so very fast. You forget, you little mad thing, that my old bones cannot run as fast as your nimble young feet."
"I beg your pardon, madame; but I cannot help being quite impatient to arrive where we are going."
"To be sure you cannot; don't fancy I mean to blame you for it; quite the contrary."
"The road slopes a little now, madame, and it is rather rough, too; will you accept of my arm to a.s.sist you down?"
"I never refuse a good offer, my dear; for I am somewhat infirm, as well as old, while you are young and active."
"Then pray lean all your weight on me, madame; don't be afraid of tiring me."
"Many thanks, my child! Your help was really very serviceable, for the descent is so extremely rapid just here. Now, then, we are once more on smooth, level ground."
"Oh, madame, can it, indeed, be true that I am about to meet my dear Madame Georges? I can scarcely persuade myself it is reality."
"A little patience,--another quarter of an hour, and then you will see whether it is true or false."
"But what puzzles me," said Fleur-de-Marie, after a moment's reflection, "is, why Madame Georges should have thought proper to meet me here, instead of at the farm."
"Still curious, my dear child, still wanting to know everybody's reasons."
"How very foolish and unreasonable I am, am I not, madame?" said Fleur-de-Marie, smiling.
"And, by way of punishing you, I have a great mind to tell you what the surprise is that your friends have prepared for you."
"For me, madame, a surprise?"
"Be quiet, you little chatterbox! You will make me reveal the secret, in spite of myself."
We shall now leave Madame Seraphin and her victim proceeding along the road which led to the river's side, while we precede them, by a few minutes, to the Isle du Ravageur.
CHAPTER XV.
THE BOATS.
During the night the appearance of the isle inhabited by the Martial family was very gloomy, but by the bright light of day nothing could be more smiling than this accursed spot. Bordered by willows and poplars, almost entirely covered with thick gra.s.s, in which wound several paths of yellow sand, the islet included a kitchen-garden and a good number of fruit-trees. In the midst of the orchard was to be seen the hovel, with the thatched roof, into which Martial had expressed his intention to retire with Francois and Amandine. On this side, the isle terminated at its point by a kind of stockade, formed of large piles, driven in to prevent the soil from wearing away.
In front of the house, and almost touching the landing-place, was a small arbour of green trellis-work, intended to support in summer-time the creeping shoots of the young vines and hops,--a cradle of verdure, beneath which were arranged tables for the visitors. At one end of the house, painted white and covered with tiles, a wood-house, with a loft over it, formed at the angle a small wing, much lower than the main body of the building. Almost precisely over this wing there appeared a window, with the shutters covered with iron plates, and strengthened without by two transverse iron bars attached to the wall by strong clamps.
Three boats were undulating in the water, fastened to posts at the landing-place. Seated in one of these boats, Nicholas was making sure that the valve he had introduced performed its part properly. Standing on a bench at the mouth of the arbour, Calabash, with her hands placed over her eyes so as to shade away the sun, was looking out in the direction in which Madame Seraphin and Fleur-de-Marie were to come to reach the isle.
"I don't see any one yet, old or young," said Calabash, getting off the bench and speaking to Nicholas. "It will be just as it was yesterday; we may as well wait for the King of Prussia. If these women do not come in half an hour, we can't wait any longer; Bras-Rouge's 'dodge' is much better, and he'll be waiting for us. The diamond-matcher is to be at his place in the Champs Elysees at five o'clock. We ought to be there before her; the Chouette said so this morning."
"You are right," replied Nicholas, leaving the boat. "May thunder smite the old devil's kin, who has given us all the trouble for nothing! The valve works capitally. It appears we shall only have one instead of two jobs."
"Besides, Bras-Rouge and Barbillon will want us; they can do nothing by their two selves."
"True, again; for, whilst the job is doing, Bras-Rouge must keep watch outside the cabaret, and Barbillon is not strong enough to drag the matcher into the cellar, for the old ---- will fight for it, I know!"
"Didn't the Chouette say that, for a joke, she had got the Schoolmaster at 'school' in the cellar?"
"Not in this one; in another much deeper, and which is filled with water at spring-tides."
"How the Schoolmaster must rage and foam there in the cellar! There all alone, and blind, too!"
"That is no matter, for, if he saw as clear as ever, he could see nothing there; the cellar is as dark as an oven."
"Still, when he has done singing all the songs he knows, to pa.s.s away the time, his days must hang precious heavy on his hands."
"The Chouette says that he amuses himself with rat-hunting, and that the cellar is full of game."
"I say, Nicholas, talking of certain persons who must be tired, and fume, and fret," remarked Calabash, with a savage smile, and pointing to the window fastened up with the iron plates, "there is one there who must be ready to devour his own flesh and blood."
"Bah! He's asleep. Since the morning he hasn't stirred, and his dog is silent."
"Perhaps he has strangled him for food. For two days, they must both be desperate hungry and thirsty up there together."
"That is their affair. Martial may still last a long time in this way, if it amuses him. When it is done, why, we shall say he died of his complaint, and there'll be an end of that affair."
"Do you think so?"
"Of course I do. As mother went to Asnieres this morning, she met Pere Ferot, the fisherman, and, as he was very much astonished at not having seen his friend Martial for the last two days, mother told him that Martial was confined to his bed, and was so ill that his life was despaired of. Daddy Ferot swallowed all, like so much honey; he'll tell everybody else, and when the thing's done and over, why, it'll all seem nat'ral enough."
"Yes, but he won't die directly; this way is a tedious one."
"What else is to be done? There was no way of doing otherwise. That devil of a Martial, when he's put up, is as full of mischief as the old one himself, and as strong as a bull; particularly when he suspects anything, it is dangerous to approach him; but, now his door is well nailed up on the outside, what can he do? His window is strongly fastened with iron, too."
"Why, he might have driven out the bars by cutting away the plaster with his knife, and he would have done it, only I got up the ladder, and chopped at his fingers with the bill-hook every time he tried to go to work."
"What a pleasant watch!" said the ruffian, with a chuckle; "it must have been vastly amusing!"
"Why, it was to give you time to come with the iron plates you went to get from Pere Micou."
"What a rage the dear brother must have been in!"
"He ground his teeth like a lunatic. Two or three times he tried to drive me away from the iron bars with his stick, but then, as he had only one hand at liberty, he could not work and release the iron bars, which was what he was trying at."
"Fortunately, there's no fireplace in his room, and the door is solid, and his hands finely cut; if not, he would work his way through the floor."