[Le Drame de la rue de la Paix.] A Tragedy Indeed. A novel ... Translated ... by H. Mainwaring Dunstan

Front matter

SHORTLY. AT EVERY LIBRARY. WITHERED LEAVES. a i&obel, BY RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL, from: the gkbman, By BERTHA NESS, Translator of Werner's "Riven Bonds " and " Sacred Vows." 3 Vols., 31s. 6n. "'Withered Leaves' is a highly effective novel, * * * * * cleverly constructed, full of varied incident, excellently written, and indicating the accomplished literary craftsman on every page." — Saturday Review. REMINGTON & Co., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. a jaobri, IN TWO VOLUMES. Translated from the French of Adolf e Belot. BY ■ji. Mainwaring Dunstan. VOL. II. govtbon'. REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. 1878. [AU Rights Reserved."]

PART I — Continued

CHAPTER XVIII.

Vibert undoubtedly aimed too high. Instead of intriguing for the honour of entering the police force he should have simply come out as a dramatic author, and in that modest career he would have gained an unquestioned success. He would have been especially excellent in the construction of a piece and in devising what are called " situations," whilst in arranging the mise en scene he would have been without a rival. VOL. II. E He wanted Savari, the hero of his drama, to betray and unmask himself, and he imagined that in putting in his hands the instrument which had been employed in the commission of his crime he had found the means to bring about that end. It was the crowning situation, to be awaited with impatience, and on it would follow the denouement. How cleverly he had led up to it! With what art he had arranged it !

This situation might have been brought about at any moment from the opening of the play, but then it would have been wanting in scenic effect. Savari, on his guard since his arrest ; Savari, distrusting everybody and everything, would have taken the dagger in his hand without flinching, would have examined it, poised it, and returned it quietly to its owner. Vibert had allowed several months to elapse. By his intelligence and his craftiness he had in spired Savari with a certain amount of confidence ; by kind words and acts he had softened his naturally difficult character, and by the serious love in which he had skilfully entangled him, he had succeeded in mollifying and quell ing his energetic nature. See, too, how well he had chosen the site of the scene — the Cafe Anglais — the very place where Albert Savari had dined an hour before the assassination of Maurice Vidal took place.

If he had done the deed, would he not experi ence some agitation at thus finding himself in the place where he must undoubtedly, in that case, have thought out and arranged his crime? How propitious, too, was the moment chosen for this decisive trial ! Savari had seen Julia during the day ; for the first time he had spoken to her of love ; he had opened his heart to her ; he had pleaded, he had wept, he had suffered. His over-excited nerves were relaxed, his mental force less active, and he found himself, by a sort of fatality, in a state both morally and physically incapable of origi nating anything, but peculiarly accessible to influences and impressions of all kinds. Athalf-past six Vibert entered the Cafe Anglais, and was at once shown into a room engaged by him on the previous evening and known to the fashionable world as " le Grand Seize."

Whilst awaiting the arrival of his guests he made some important preparations. By his orders, bouquets of flowers, bought by him on account of their exhaling the most powerful perfumes, were placed on the table. Vibertr who had studied everything, was a thorough believer in the action of flowers on the nervous system. He also was very particular in order ing the wines, asking for heady, but not exciting kinds. Finally, he directed that double the usual number of candles should be lighted, and took especial care that the seat to be occupied by Savari should be in the full glare of all this illu mination. At seven o'clock Madame Vidal, Savari, and Vibert met and sat down to dinner. The con versation languished at first, and it could not well be otherwise, seeing that each of the guests carried a heavy burden of engrossing thoughts.

But very soon Vibert, more master of him self than the others were, drove away all ideas which might have endangered the important end he had in view, and brought the conver sation into a channel in accordance with his plan. During the first course it was trifling, varied and almost gay, entering later on into a melan choly phase. At dessert it touched on serious topics and relapsed into moral and philosophi cal arguments. Vibert, in order to rise to the level of the occasion, had summoned to his assistance his own reminiscences, his earliest religious studies, the more or less paradoxical theories evolved by his protector, the Marquis de X , and all the experience he had acquired in the Police Office, where the majority of social evils and moral infirmities had bit by bit unfolded them selves before him.

He enunciated certain new ideas, which he was reputed to have brought from Italy, on prison organisation, the solitary system, and hard labour. From things he passed on to persons, and entertained Savari with accounts of some cele brated criminals, French and foreign, whose trials had interested him. He manifested a wish to be present during the sitting of an assize court, and asked if there was any inter esting case hkely to come on soon. " You cannot imagine," he said, turning to his guests with an open-hearted manner, " how curious I have always been on these sub jects. I have read the greater part of the celebrated trials in various countries, and all the official reports published with regard to them." Then, suddenly addressing Savari, he added, " Do you know why I have always been drawn towards you ?

" " I have not the least idea.'' " It is fantastic, ridiculous, I admit, and you will not bear me any good-will for it." " At all events, I promise you I will bear you no ill-will." "Well, my dear fellow, your name was familiar to me and seemed to come pleasantly from my lips. It differs only in the mode of spelling it from the name of one of the most distinguished Ministers of Police, Rene Savary, Duke de Rovigo, whose interesting memoirs I recently read with avidity. I am an original, but what of that ? People please me on slight grounds." " So much the better for me, for I have no grounds but slight ones." " Indeed you have, and I discovered them later on ; but in the first instance it was your name that won me over." " And it never did me a greater service," said Savari graciously. Vibert bowed, and continued, with his usual volubility — " Ah ! the police, trials, and assassinations — they are my forte.

Not that I am telling you any news, for ever since I knew you have I not been asking you daily to gain admittance for me to your prisons and your Palais-de- Justice ? By-the-by, I must tell you that I have not waited for you because you did not appear to be greatly interested in the matter. So I went this morning, before breakfast, and paid a round of visits of this description." " Of what description ? " " The Conciergerie, Sainte-Chapelle, and the Palais-de-Justice. I could not contain myself any longer, my worthy guide, and I followed my bent without you." " Well, what did you see ? " " Everything, absolutely everything. I took a guide, a brave old man about fifty years old, covered with medals, and an excellent one he was. Yes, I alighted from my cab outside the Conciergerie, and was gazing with wonder ment at its huge towers, when my guide caught sight of me, and no doubt, said to himself — ' Here is a stranger, a sight-seer, a fool — I'll take charge of him, show him about, and then fleece him.' He came to me and offered his services, which I accepted eagerly, and as he was well known in the place, he showed me over pretty nearly everywhere.

I saw the hall of the Pas- Perdus, one of the Chambers of the Correc tional Police, the Assize Courts, and the tower in which Marie-Antoinette was confined — it was curious — very curious. I was so thoroughly satisfied that I did not wish to dispense with my guide, and I hoped he, on his part, would stick to me. I owe a famous acquisition to him, too ! " " A famous acquisition ! " said Savari, who, with Madame Vidal's permission, was lighting a cigarette. " Yes, a famous acquisition," replied Vibert. " You shall see. Always accompanied by my guide, I went upstairs one minute, down the next, traversed passages, and, in short, I was overrunning the whole of the Palais-de-Justice when I all once came upon a half-open door. " ' Where does this door lead to ? ' I asked. " ' To a room belonging to the registry.' " ' And what is in it ? ' " ' Heaps of papers, portfolios of all sorts, and particularly what are called in Paris pieces de conviction, that is to say, all the miscellaneous articles that are produced on the various trials ; the weapon used by a criminal, the hat he lost in his flight, the blood-stained handkerchief found upon him ; in several instances the clothes of the victim, the watch which was stolen — in a word, all the different objects which have assisted judges and juries in bringing a case home.

Whilst the trial is going on, and according to the necessities of the case, these different objects are removed' from the registry to the Correctional Tribune or the Assize Court, as the case may be.' " ' But,' I asked, still impelled by my desire for knowledge, ' when the case is over and the matter at an end, what becomes of all these things : ' " ' Some, under the authority of the Public Prosecutor, are restored to the owners or their friends, others are sold. You can well under stand, sir,' added my guide, ' that even the Palais-de-Justice would not be large enough to contain all the objects of this sort, accumula ting year by year.' " ' And when do the sales of which you speak take place ? ' I asked, with interest. " ' At certain dates fixed in advance. There is one going on now.' " ' Where ? ' " ' Close to this place.

" ' Indeed ! I am curious to see that. I shall buy something, perhaps, which has belonged to a great criminal.' " ' Nothing easier, sir, if you will have the goodness to follow me.' " I did not say a word more, but followed my guide, and a quarter-of-an-hour later I was the possessor of a most curious relic, I assure you." " A stolen jewel ? " asked Savari, between the whiffs of his cigarette. "Oh! better than that." "An article of clothing which belonged to some wretched man who has found his way to the hulks, or the scaffold ? " " Not a bit of it. I worship curiosities, but at the same time I like them to be of some use, or, at all events, to be free from everything repulsive or disgusting. An Englishman is not so particular. He gives rolls of bank notes for the old end of a cigar which has been between illustrious lips.

But I am not English, not I — I know how to mingle the useful with the agreeable, utile dulci, as the poet has it. But, see." And abruptly, without further preparation, he handed to Savari the dagger which until then he had kept under the table, and which he had opened, whilst he was speaking, without any one having noticed him. Julia, pale and trembling, leaning half over the table, looked on. Vibert, in handing the dagger, had risen. His two hands rested on the back of a chair, and from behind his blue glasses he looked on, too. But he looked on coolly, ready to seize on the least change of countenance on the part of his adversary. For the moment he forbade his heart to beat, and it stopped. The waiters had cleared the table, and left the room. No sound was heard but the dull rumbling of the carriages on the Boulevard.

At last, then, the truth would perhaps come out — If Savari were the murderer, it appeared im possible, considering the surroundings of the scene, cleverly prepared as they were, that he could avoid betraying himself by a start, an exclamation, or a shudder, at the sight of the weapon which would recall his crime to his remembrance in the most vivid and matter-offact manner. Savari, at first, showed a certain unwilling ness to touch the dagger held out to him, but, after having at length taken and carefully ex amined it, he replaced it on the table, with the remark — " I should not advise you, if you are ever attacked, to make use of this weapon. It is in a shocking bad state." Vibert was confounded. All his calculations were upset, his plans overthrown. He was at the expense of the dinner at the Cafe Anglais and the mise en scene.

For three months he had been losing his time and working at a dead loss ; he had been hunting on a false scent. Truly in that there was enough to drive him to despair. Whilst giving way to these reflections, it occurred to him to discover the impression made upon Julia. He went back to her side, whilst Savari, without troubling himself any more about the dagger on the table, had risen and was lighting a second cigarette at one of the candles placed on the piano. Julia had not changed her attitude; only she was not quite so pale, and a sad smile passed over her lips. One would have said that she was indifferent to the futile result which had been obtained. This was too much for the irascible Vibert. What ! whilst he was in despair, his companion, his accomplice, she who was even more in terested than he in the success of the experiment, did not despair with him !

He was defeated, and, to look at her, one might believe that instead of lamenting his failure, she was rejoicing over it. Such a piece of injustice re volted him, but far from disheartening him, she inspired him with a sudden desire for revenge. " The game is not lost yet," he said to him self; "the experiment that I have just tried was incomplete. It is possible that in a moment of fury and exasperation, a murderer would make use of the first weapon he could lay his hands on, without even looking at it, and that consequently he would have no recollection of it. I must complete the experiment." He rejoined Savari, talked to him for a few moments on indifferent subjects, took his arm, and walked up and down the room, bringing him nearer and nearer, by degrees, to the table and the place he had previously left.

" So," he said, at length, sitting down at his side, and pointing to the dagger on the table, " this weapon, which I was fortunate enough to buy, will not, according to you, be of any use. " I do not think so ; the point is so blunt Look at it yourself." " So it is," said Vibert, appearing to scruti nize it closely. "Then, that fully explains how the point, in penetrating the body of the victim, must have struck some part — " " What ! " asked Savari, quickly. " Was somebody actually struck by this weapon ? " " Yes, and the blow was mortal." " Who told you that ? " " My guiQe> °f course. Do you think I buy things of this sort without collecting every particle of information as to their origin and history? This dagger has a history, and I have it at my finger's end. It was the property of a young man, who was assassinated in the month of October last, in Paris, at No. 6, Rue de la Paix."

Savari started. Vibert continued — " This young man was called — wait a moment — I shall remember the name directly — he was called — " " Maurice Vidal," said Savari It was Vibert's turn now to start in surprise. " You know of this affair ? " he asked. " I was directly mixed up in it," said Savari. "How?" " I was accused of being the assassin of Maurice Vidal." " You ! " " Yes, I ! So when you spoke to me so abruptly of this crime, my emotion was ex treme. The very memory of it distresses me, and I have every reason to turn as pale as death. Have the kindness to pass me the water bottle." Vibert complied. Savari drank a mouthful of water, and resumed — " If you only knew the misery and annoyvol. 11. c ance I suffered from that affair ! Would you believe that I was arrested, thrown into prison — ?

" " Impossible," said Vibert. " Alas ! It is only too true. I had to appear before a magistrate ; I was in solitary confine ment. I even had the handcuffs on, according to the custom of the police in France. Yes, it is of no use being calm and going where you are told ; the handcuffs are put on all the same. It is a precautionary measure." Then turning towards Julia, he continued — " Pardon my emotion. I know it is not quite the thing at the end of a dinner party, and in the presence of a lady, but when I think of all my sufferings I am no longer master of myself." " If I had suspected for a moment," said Vibert, " believe me, my dear sir — " He stopped in the full swing of his excuses, and said with a perfectly natural air — " May we know how you got out of all this difficulty ? " " By proving in the clearest manner possible that I could not have been the culprit."

" But how came the idea of suspecting you into any magistrate's head ? " " Simply because I had been in constant communication with Maurice Vidal up to two days before his death.'' " By heaven, this is too dreadful," cried Vibert, " I suppose that if you were to be assassinated to-night, I should be suspected of the crime because I had spent the evening with you." " Certainly you would stand a good chance of being arrested if nobody had discovered the real culprit. I advise you to be on your guard," added Savari, whose colour was returning. " Justice is rather eccentric," remarked the detective. " Not so much so as you might imagine ; after all, she does her duty, and you see that she loses no time in releasing those who are innocent. But, all the same, I have suffered terribly, and you have this evening re-opened a wound which was barely healed."

For the last few minutes he had been speaking calmly, without excess of any kind, and in a measured tone. A sort of melancholy appeared to be diffused over him, and there were tears in his voice. All at once he reached across the table, seized the dagger in his hands, and after a long and silent examination of it, he said — " And it was with this that you were killed, poor Maurice Vidal ! You were no friend of mine, and I had with you some unpleasant discussions in my own interest. Yes, you, the upright man par excellence, the man successful by sheer force of toil, energy, and honestyr, you would not set yrourself to understand the difficulties of my life, the obstacles, both social and innate in myself, which stood in the way of myr being what you were. You were ever stern, harsh, unjust perhaps, to me.

I have no grudge against you for that, Maurice Vidal. I lament you with all my heart, I weep for vou with all my soul. You had youth, wealth, and strength, and one second of time, one blow with this thing that does not even resemble a weapon, sufficed to rob you of all ! " He hesitated for a moment, and then, without looking at Julia, Savari resumed — " Ah ! if the man who killed you had been aware of certain details of your hfe, as I knew them after this lamentable event had taken place, if he had known that you loved and were beloved, and that you were expecting on the morrow the companion of your heart, then perhaps his hand would have trembled, and the fatal blow would not have been struck. Poor fellow ! Poor woman ! " Savari was silent, and heavy tears coursed down his cheeks. At the same moment Julia, whose courage had up to this time sustained her, but who v. as shaken by all that she had gone through during the day, broke into a passion of sobs just as the last words fell from the lips of Savari.

Vibert's first impulse was to rush to her, but, remembering that this sudden outburst of grief required explanation, he turned towards Savari, and said with an air of annoyance — " This, too, is all our fault ; we have been too dramatic. For the last hour we have done nothing but talk of murder and assassination. You have been lamenting it, I was stupid enough to be engrossed by it, and she — she is possessed of nerves, and I must say one ought not to be without them." Savari did not utter a syllable, but watched Julia's tears without going near her. " Come," said Vibert, desirous of putting an end to this scene, " what we had better do now is to separate, and come to a mutual understanding to be more lively in future." He rang, ordered a cab and took Madame Vidal home, Savari meanwhile going his own way.

In Julia's present state Vibert was unwilling to come to any explanation with her, so he confided her to Marietta's care, and left. What explanation, in fact, was there to have ? What fresh proof did he possess of Savari's guilt ? He had anticipated producing a great effect ; that effect had been produced and had exceeded his expectation. Savari did not confine himself to turning pale and trembling. He had given way to tears, and had exhibited every indication of a real, lively emotion. But this emotion admitted of a very easy explanation, and Vibert was caught in his own trap. He had contrived for his own pleasure an admirable mise en scene, he had brought about an excess of feeling on the part of his adversary, had softened his heart, and disposed him to senti mentality. What more natural than that Savari should break down over the recollection of an affair in which he had found himself so directly concerned, and from which he had suffered so cruelly ?

His paleness, his tears, his emotion, were no evidences of guilt ; they merely testified to the fact that the suspicions which were rife against him, his arrest, and the hours he had passed in prison, had inflicted on his heart a wound which still bled. In wishing to confound Savari, Vibert had given him an opportunity of appearing in the most favourable light possible. This man, who had hitherto been credited with being trivial, commonplace, and even incapable of high sentiments, had suddenly shown himself serious, impressionable, and reflecting. He was moved at the death of Maurice Vidal, he had eulogised him who at one time had been his enemy, he had paid a tribute to his memory, and had mingled his tears with those of Julia Vidal. In giving way to these various reflections, all tending to render him downcast, Vibert made his way to his rooms in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, which he had not thought of giving up.

He was not sorry to resume for a moment his old character, to lay aside the habiliments of the Count de Rubini, which had profited him so little, and to indulge in the reminiscences of a life which, if not meny, had been at least uniform and peaceful, and which was recalled to him by his little room on the fifth floor. "Ah ! M. Vibert," said the porter, recog nising him, " it is a long time since we set eyes on you — " " I have been in the country. Has anything happened during my absence ? " " Nothing, except that this letter has been left for you." Vibert took the letter handed to him. It bore the stamp of the Commissioner of Police of the first arrondissement, Tuileries section, and was couched in the following terms — " My dear Vibert, " During the time you were employed in my office, you had under your con sideration, in my absence, the case of an escaped convict, called Langlade, and a strap ping red-haired girl, known under the nick name of Soleil-Couchant.

" Information, which you alone can give, is required at the Prefecture in connection with these two persons, and I should be obliged if you would come and see me as soon as possible in my office, so that I may be enabled, in concert with you, to draw up the required memorandum. "X." " I will go to-morrow morning before re turning to the Hotel des Princes," said Vibert to himself, as he put the letter in his pocket and went upstairs. PAfiT II.

Chapter I

After having passed the night following the dinner at the Cafe Anglais in his little room in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, and after having on the morrow given the Commissioner of Police of the Tuileries section the required in formation with regard to Langlade and Soleil- Couchant, Vibert returned to his rooms at the Hotel des Princes. He had been debating seriously within him self as to whether he had not better give up the game, write and tell the Magistrate that Savari was either innocent or too clever to furnish weapons against himself, pay a last visit to Madame Vidal and express his regret that he was unable to serve her further, and, in short, resign his post as a detective police agent on extraordinary service. Restrained by his amour propre, or by some feeling of a totally different nature, he did not give effect to these ideas, but resumed, for a time at least, the part of the Count de Rubini, which he had so wonderfully created and made his own.

The only difference consisted in his not playing it with the same perfection ; he was, so to speak, merely a substitute for that person age. Carelessness in his dress, formerly at tended to so scrupulously, might now be noticed; in speaking, he sometimes forgot that he was an Italian, and at times he appeared surprised when the waiters at the Hotel ad dressed him as Count. Simultaneously with all this, his temper be came unequal, his manner abrupt and hasty, and his mode of life decidedly irregular. He appeared to labour under some fixed idea which occasionally, when he was pacing with long strides his sitting-room in the hotel, would force from himself senseless exclamations, fragments of sentences, or soliloquies, such as these — " Fool ! " he would say to himself, " you wanted to leave your peaceful office in the Rue Saint Honore, to live, forsooth — well, you are living.

What have you to complain about ? " " To suffer is to live ! To live is to suffer. Ah ! yrou have life enough, for you suffer much." He stopped for a moment, drew his hand across his forehead, and said — " It is well done — I tell you it is well done. That will teach you ; instead of remaining quietly in yrour hole, yrou wanted to have pas sions like the rest of the world ; you gave your heart leave to beat — and it has profited by your permission, like the artful creature that it is — It beats, but to make up for not having beaten until to-day, it hammers away now with force enough to burst its fragile casing." He broke out into a laugh, and added — " Well, and if it does burst, what then ? No more anger, no more rage, no more envy, and no more suffering ! A few feet of earth, a common grave, a wooden cross, perhaps, given by the Marquis de X , and all is told !

No," he cried, savagely, " I will not die, I am not such a fool as to die of such things as these — I, Vibert, die because — Bah ! this is too absurd — How the Marquis would laugh, and I, too, first of all, in my tomb underneath my little garden — No, on the contrary, I want to live, to hve well, and indulge in every kind of folly. Folly, indeed — I'll have enough of it. I will live in one year sufficiently^ to make up for all the time during which I have been only existing." He stopped short once more, and then resumed his monologue more calmly but with a sort of bitter sadness — " I boast, but I could not live so. One can not change one's habits in a day. At thirty five one cannot burn for pleasures yret untasted. Besides, there are memories which cannot be effaced, thoughts not to be chased away at will, images whose place none others can fill — Ah ! if I had a son," he continued, still harp ing on the same idea, " I would launch him at eighteen out into the world's ocean and the whirlpool of passion.