The drama of the Rue de la Paix

Front matter

POPULAR 1ENCH NOVELS.

TIE DRAMA

OF

Prologue

Political affairs so completely absorbed the public mind of Paris in the early part of the year 1848, that but little notice was taken of the numerous private tragedies which occurred during that troublous period, and gave no inconsiderable occupation to the judicial tribunals. Revolution and its attendant perils completely cast in the shade what, in more peaceful times, would have sufficed to glut Parisian curiosity. How, indeed, could any drama enacted within the walls of a private dwelling-house, or the doors of an assize-court, rival in interest that which was being unfolded in the public streets, which revelled in excitement, and in which, seeing that it touched the dearest interests of all, every individual was immediately concerned ] The roll of the drum, the rattle of musketry, and the cannon's roar, deadened every other sound, and rendered the world deaf to all but popular cries.

Thus it happened that in the beginning of March, 1848, a trial took place almost unnoticed, yet so dramatic and extraordinary as to surpass in interest well-nigh all that stand recorded in the annals of justice.

In the following pages will be narrated the history of this case in all its details, based partly on those which appeared in the public prints at the time, and on personal experience, and partly on private information subsequently communicated.

Chapter I

At seven o'clock on the morning of the 20th October, 1S47, the diligence, which at that date still furnished the means of communication between Marseilles and Paris, deposited at its halting place in a court of the Ptue Notre-Dame-des- Yictoires, two females eminently calculated to attract attention. Both young and remarkably handsome, their carriage and personal appearance generally betra ed at a glance an origin undoubtedly foreign ; one of them, moreover, was of a tvpe full of startling contrasts. Her brow was of a purity almost angelic, her eyes were large, blue, and exquisitely sweet, but on her full and poivting lips passion stood confessed, whilst her clearly defined eye-brows, nearly meeting in the centre, revealed an indomitable will. Her complexion approached that of a brunette, enriched with the rosy tints of youth, and masses of blue-black hair surrounded a face whose perfect oval might have been envied by the virgins of Perugino. It was evident that the warm rays of an Italian sun had left their impress on both her countenance and her mind.

Julia was, indeed, a Genoese, as was also her companion, a tall and handsome brunette of shapely figure.

Further than this they were only remarkable from each carrying, besides various parcels, one of those large orangebranches laden with fruit, still green, which are brought from the South as curiosities, and one of the palms used at

Rome in certain religions ceremonies, and principally cultivated at Bordighera, one of the loveliest towns in the Mount Como district.

These two Italians were at the same time Parisian in their knowledge of the customs of the place, and the court where the diligence stopped appeared perfectly familiar to them. She, whom we have called Julia, nevertheless hesitated to leave the conveyance, and seemed to await a friendly arm, but suddenly overcoming her hesitation, she made her way to the room where the arrival of the passengers was awaited by their friends, or others actuated merely by curiosity. She evidently did not find the person whom she expected to see there, for after a rapid survey of the room she hurried into the street. There, also, her scrutiny was futile, and Julia, with an air of thorough disappointment, rejoined her companion, who by this time had descended from the diligence, and was occupied in paying the fares.

" He is not there ! What can be the meaning of it 1" cried she on approaching her.

" Patience, signora, he is sure to come."

" Patience ! Patience ! When I have not seen him for two months, when I ought already to have embraced him a hundred times !"

" Here, before all the world T

" Is he not my husband ?"

" Doubtless, doubtless, madame has a right — "

" Madame 1 You style me madame now 1"

"We are in Paris."

" And is that to change the terms on which we are 1 I have already told you, Marietta, that I expect you to continue on the same footing here with me as at Genoa. You are my foster-sister, and my country-woman, and I will not allow you for a moment to consider yourself a dependant. When did you ever see such a thing ? Even in France it

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would scarcely be permitted. Ah ! if my husband were here, he would read you a lesson. But I hear a carriage ; it must be he."

With petulant haste, in itself charming, she rushed towards a carriage then entering the court, but returned almost at once.

" No," she said in a tone of vexation, " it is a gentleman, but oh ! so ugly. It is not my husband."

" Are you quite sure that he has received your letter 1" asked Marietta.

" Why not ? I put it in the post myself at Marseilles two days before we left, and the post is always several hours in advance of the diligence."

" Then M. Yidal must have overslept himself. Did he not say in one of his last letters that he had been obliged to discharge his servant, and was living en gargon ?"

" Yes, but do you think he could sleep while he was expecting me ? You don't know how he loves me," added she, with a bewitching smile which exposed to view her pearly teeth.

All this was said with rapid haste, half in Italian, half in French, for Julia, with true southern vivacity, seized haphazard on any word in either of the languages which the other did not furnish quickly enough.

A servant of the diligence company now interrupted them for the purpose of examining their luggage. This was but a short process, and then the perplexed pair stood looking at one another.

" What are we to do now?" said Julia at last.

" Call a cab, and make our way to your husband's apartments."

" And suppose he crosses us V

" We shall see him, or at all events they will tell him here that we have gone, and he will come after us."

" Come, then," said Julia, looking round the court again in vain.

The vehicle which had brought the ugly individual was on the point of leaving, and Marietta hailed it.

" What is the matter with you, cara mia V she cried, as Julia sighed deeply on taking her seat.

" I am — I had pictured to myself so much joy in once more entering with him under that roof where I have experienced such happiness since my marriage."

" But, my dear mistress, you are going to rejoin him there."

" I do not know, I am afraid."

" What an idea ! Do you think he is ill 1 He never is. Besides, have you not had news of him within the last two days in the letter which was forwarded after you to the diligence office at Lyons V

"It is of no use, I am uneasy," Julia could not help saying, " this cab is so slow ; we shall never get there. What need has the driver to choose the boulevards to reach the Rue de la Paix ? it is far too long."

" He takes us for strangers," replied Marietta, " and he is artful enough to present Paris to us under its most seductive aspect. He is right. Look, I have never seen the boulevards so gay ; they glisten in the sun to such an extent that we might fancy ourselves in Italy."

Paris was, in fact, rejoicing in one of those delicious days which summer, when just about to wing its flight, gives now and then as if to make the world regret it the more. The air was so fresh, and the sun so bright and warm that one might almost imagine spring to have returned by mistake. On a day such as this we forget that the leaves are putting on their autumnal tints, and that the swallows are gone, or that yesterday, in order to be warm, it was necessary to warm ourselves, to which state we shall probably rettirn to-

10 THE DRAMA OF TITE RUE DE LA PAIX.

morrow. What matter ? We are astonished, but delighted ; we cannot keep quiet, we must be out and moving, and we are much tempted to go back to Baden or Trouville. The streets and the boulevards are soon crowded, the early rising habits of summer reassert themselves, there is a general desire to make the most of the last fine days, everybody says, " how d'ye do ? " cordially, shakes hands heartily, and smiles on everything ; in a word, there is a new birth and a new life. To change Paris thus, from one day to another, a sense of warmth and a glimpse of blue sky have sufficed.

Our two travellers, like true daughters of the sun, felt, perforce, all these impressions ; they could not but be amenable to the charming influences of that lovely day. Gazing from the windows of their cab they saw with all their eyes, and appreciated with all their heart.

Julia forgot her ill-humour, and not a trace of uneasiness remained on her lovely countenance. But a short space separated her from him she so longed to see once more, but a few minutes could elapse before she would take him by surprise at home. She even rejoiced that he had not met her.

" He never received my letter, and he does not expect me," said she. " How happy he will be ! " The blush of joy overspread her cheeks, her eyes sparkled, and she smiled on the passers-by, who stopped in admiration of her beauty.

Suddenly, the cab quitted the boulevards, and, entering the Rue de la Paix, stopped at the door of No. 6. Julia's first movement was to look up at the windows of the entresol. "It is not open," she cried, "the lazy fellow, he is still asleep."

And, without paying any attention to her companion, but leaving her to settle with the driver and arrange about the luggage and all the miscellaneous articles with which the vehicle was laden, she burst open the door, leaped out,

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rushed past the porter without a word, ran up a flight of stairs, and pulled the bell with an eager hand.

Some seconds elapsed, and the bell remained unanswered. She gave a second peal, and listened. Not a sound came from the room.

" I was right," she said to herself, "he has gone to meet me, and we have passed each other on the road." Descending the stairs precipitately, she asked the porter if her husband had gone out 1

"Ah! madame, it is you," was the reply. "And have you had a pleasant journey 1 "

" Oh, yes, exceedingly so— but my husband 1 "

" I have not seen him this morning."

" And he said nothing to you when he went out 1 "

" He cannot be out at all."

" Well, then, why does he not open the door 1 "

" Perhaps madame has not rung loudly enough — shall we go up again ?'

" Yes — come."

Julia went upstairs with the porter, and rang with all her might. There was the same silence.

" It is very extraordinary," said the porter. " The gentleman has been expecting madame for the last — "

"Ah, then he received my letter?"

" Two days ago."

" He is evidently at the diligence office," said Marietta. " If you wish, I will return there at once.

" Oh, do," said Julia.

A cab was passing, and Marietta got into it. She had chanced on a remarkable one, for the horses broke at once into a gallop.

Julia resigned herself to wait, but she could not rest in the porter's room. She walked feverishly to and fro in the street, casting unceasing glances on the still darkened

12 THE DRAMA OP THE RUE DE LA PA1X.

windows. As she looked intently at them she thought she could perceive that the blinds were down, so that complete darkness must reign in the room. Her husband, then, was not yet up. She hurried again to the porter and requested that the door might be burst open.

The porter went in search of a locksmith, and five minutes afterwards returned with one, just as a vehicle turned the corner of the street. It was Marietta, who was leaning out of the window.

" Well r cried Julia to her.

Marietta replied by shaking her head.

Julia once more ascended the stairs, and with her the locksmith.

"You will have a troublesome job," said the porter. " There is an extra bolt, which holds to some purpose."

To the great astonishment of the locksmith, the extra bolt was not shot ; the lock was only turned once, and the door opened at the first attempt.

Julia sprang into the room. She crossed the outer room, the dining-room, the drawing-room ; everything was in its wonted state. She entered the bedroom, the door of which was wide open.

All at once Marietta heard a scream — a terrible scream. She ran towards the sound. In the middle of the room lay Julia insensible. Close to the bed, half on the floor and half resting against the mattress, was stretched a corpse, covered with blood — the body of a man assassinated — and on an open memorandum-book, such as is used by men on the Bourse, were these words, written in blood —

" Julia, avenge me — the assassin's name — "

Death had laid his icy grasp on the hand of the victim at the moment when he was about to write the name of his murderer. On the law now developed the task of completing the unfinished sentence.

THE DRAMA OF THE HUE DE LA PAIX. IS

Chapter II

One of the first questions which would occur to the mind of a magistrate would be as to the motive for the assassination — was it theft 1

The reply would appear simple if it were ascertained that the victim, at the moment of his death, had either on or about him effects which had disappeared. Nevertheless, the circumstance that such effects were not forthcoming would not suffice as a starting point in a criminal inquiry. Justice would not overlook the fact that theft is oftentimes an expedient towards disguising some act of revenge, or diverting suspic on.

Justice would also devote herself at once to a most minute investigation into the antecedents, mode of life, and habits of the victim. We will accompany her in these inquiries.

Maurice Vidal, born at Nantes, in a house in the Rue de Sully, in the month of March, 1815, was at the time of his death a little more than thirty-two years of age. He had resided in Paris about twelve years, and had achieved a i*emarkably rapid fortune owing to a keen insight into the money market, and, above all, to an untiring activity.

After a stay of a few months only in a broker's office, and having there been initiated into the practical details of financial operations, he was not slow in setting up on his own account, and, as a stock-broker, quickly made for himself one of the foremost connections in Paris. To attain to this end, so vainly sought by so many young men of the present generation, what trouble, what care, what incessant

14 THE DRAMA OF THE RUE DE LA PA1X.

labour had fallen to his lot ! But he was known to have solved the problem of being at once a man of the world, a man of pleasure, and at the same time an indefatigable worker.

For ten years he might have been seen at every fete, ball, or supper. He had led a cotillon at the residence of a banker in the Chaussee d'Antin up to two o'clock in the morning, and had afterwards figured in the last frantic galop of an evening with one of our most celebrated hetairai.

Many a time, at six o'clock in the morning, had his friends left him at his door, somewhat elevated, half-dead with fatigue, and overpowered by sleep. Notwithstanding all this, at least a dozen persons could bear witness to having found him by ten o'clock thoroughly fresh, alert, clean shaven, and occupied in his rooms, at an hotel in the Rue Lafitte, in receiving orders for the day's Bourse.

This Nantais, now become a Parisian, understood perfectly the age in whicli he lived — an epoch eager for contrasts and prone to extreme frivolity under an exterior guise of gravity. He knew that the most formal man of business never neglected an opportunity of interspersing jokes amongst his figures ; that an attorney would willingly break off in the study of a bundle of papers to ask for news of the latest ballet ; that a presiding judge was on the alert for the last good story, and that a Minister, though denied to the importunate, was easily accessible to those who could amuse him.

He knew also — none better — that business is not a forbidden topic even at a masked ball or in the boudoir of an actress ; that it is easy for a man of intelligence to secure, between a couple of glasses of champagne, a commission at the Bourse ; and, in short, that a client will avoid people who are tiresome, unfashionably got up, and belonging to another world than his owm, whilst he will, on the contrary, run after those who can both join in his amusements and hand him a profit on his account. To this may be traced not a few of the catastrophes of our time.

It is hard for the breath of suspicion to touch the honour of such a man, and, without the shadow of hesitation, you trust him with your all. You see him every hour of the day — in the morning he breakfasts with you at Bignon's ; from noon until three in the afternoon you are walking together under the cohimns of the Bourse ; at five o'clock you find him " at home " with some fair dame in the world of fashion, with whom you are both, possibly, smitten ; at seven you discover him at an adjoining table in the Cafe Anglais — and you wind up the evening with him at your club, or the opera, or a first night at some theatre.

And throughout the day, having lived the same life with him, you have never found his good temper wanting, or his gaiety forced ; but he has provided a fund of entertainment for you in his own successes, or yours, or your latest speculations. He has advised you to sell your four-and-a-half per cents. ; he has been delighted to retail the latest scandal for your benefit, but at the same time has given you excellent advice about some doubtful stock.

You are very far, indeed, from imagining that this companion, so spruce, so obliging, so sportive, and yet so calm, who is thinking, he tells you, of building out of his brokerage a house in the Champs Elysees, has during the day realised all your scrip, and will, when, he leaves you, be off to the Antipodes. Maurice Vidal deserved the full confidence of his rich connection. He was one of a numerous cluster of men on the Bourse whose ways might appear eccentric to those of a decidedly serious turn, whose life, out of workinghours, is often stigmatised as irregular, but who in business have the reputation of being regular to a degree and scrupulous to a nicety.

If, by way of fivrthering his own interests, he had felt himself bound to mix in the pleasures of others, he had not forgotten, whilst so doing, to make numbers of useful and well-connected friends. It had only depended on himself on several occasions to be admitted to the "parquet," and every time that the appointment of agent du change had fallen vacant, such capital as he might require had been placed at his disposal. But he had always energetically refused such offers, under the pretext that he wished still to enjoy some years of youth and liberty.

This liberty, however, to which he seemed so to cling, he one day surrendered. It was suddenly buzzed about that he had married a young lady whom he had known at Genos. during a visit paid to that town in 1846. And when some surprise was expressed at his having married a foreigner, when he could have made an advantageous match in Paris, he treated his friends to the following little speech —

" Gentlemen," said he to them, " in the eyes of you Parisians marriage is merely the means to an end ; with me, a Breton only, it is the end itself. You marry a woman who is almost an object of indifference to you, in order that her dowry or her friends may help to build up your fortune; in my case I have chosen a woman who pleases me, so that she may help me to spend as agreeably as we can an income laboriously acquired by ten years' hard work. But in these luxurious times your wife, instead of enriching you, would eat up both her own dowry and your small savings, whilst mine, who has not breathed the lively air of Paris since her infancy, will be blessed, I think, with a smaller appetite. An reste, if she learns to eat I shall not complain— she, has such pretty teeth."

By way of peroration to this speech Maurice Vidal presented his wife to several of his intimate friends. To them he said simply, without elaborate phraseology this time — " There she is — I adore her, and she loves me."

And his friends decided in his favour.

In fact, never was a marriage contracted under happier auspices. Maurice was over head and ears in love with Julia, and she loved him with that Italian furia of which we in Paris have but a slight idea.

For three days nothing was talked of on the Bourse but their marriage, their love, and the brilliant beauty of Madame Vidal. Afterwards, as nothing happened to foster this enthusiasm (for Maurice, not seeing any advantage in making a show of his wife, loved her at home), the new Benedict was forgotten. The stock-broker, who resumed his customary business, was alone remembered.

Occasionally, it is true, a client, after having charged him with some commission, wotild say to Maurice — "Well, is the honeymoon to last for ever 1"

The reply was, invariably — " My friend, I am the happiest man in the world."

This happiness lasted for a whole year, and probably would have lasted for ever had not Julia received a letter summoning her to Genoa, where her mother, attacked by an illness thought to be mortal, wished to see her. Maurice let her set out alone with Marietta, a servant, but almost a friend, whom she had educated, and whom she had wished to bring with her from Genoa after marriage.

Why, it may be asked, did he not accompany her himself? The hurried departure was one reason, and the absence was to be but for a week — though in the end it reached nearly two months. Last of all, perhaps, fate had decreed that Maurice Vidal should remain alone in Paris at the mercy of an assassin !

Informed of these details of his life, the magistrates could not long dwell on the idea that Julia's husband had fallen a victim to revenge. What enemies could this young man, whose life for ten years had been devoted to open pleasure and honourable work, have made ? He had wounded no susceptibility— compromised no iuterest. His frank and open manner had conciliated the sympathy of all, and though he was somewhat hasty, and occasionally, in money matters, a little brusque, he had always been so completely master of himself that nobody could remember having been involved in a quarrel, or even a discussion, with him.

Could his marriage, then, have roused any jealousy or envious feelings 1 On this point the Law, careful of every detail, desired some information. But during the whole of his career as a man about town Maurice was never known to have had a serious love-affair.

As for Julia, no one knew her except the two or three intimate friends to whom Maurice had presented her. In marrying her he had had no rival to engage or get rid of. She had quitted Genoa tranquilly enough, and was regretted only by her family.

All things considered, theft must be held to have been one of the motives of the assassin. But had a theft been committed 1 AVe shall easily answer that question by publishing th'e various reports on the affair, which we owe to the kindness of one of the chief employes in the office of the public prosecutor.

We shall, however, take care to substitute as often as possible for the official proces-verbaux, which, from their dry and prolix character, might fatigue our readers, certain confidential notes, such as are often exchanged between magistrates in France during the progress of a criminal inquiry, and which were found in the portfolio containing the records of the case.

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Chapter III

Confidential Notes attached to the Official Report of the Commissary of Police of the First Arrondissement, Tuileries Section.

"Acting on information received at 9 a.m. on the 20th October, 1847, to the effect that a crime had been committed in the Rue de la Paix, I hastened to the spot, after having called to my assistance my secretary, M. Vibert, and M. Godin, police officer, who happened to be in my office at the time when the news reached me.

" On our arrival at No. 6, we perceived that a crowd had assembled, large enough to frustrate the efforts made towards its dispersion by several sergents de ville. It was extremely difficult for us to reach the street door of the house.

"Opinions of all kinds, but for the most part contradictory, were held by the various groups through which we made our way. But on one point they were all apparently agreed — that the name of the victim was Maurice Vidal, and that he was on the Bourse.

" One said that his wife, an Italian of great beauty, had arrived in the morning from a journey, and had given way to the most violent despair ; a second declared that the assassin had been arrested, whilst a third maintained that nobody knew who had committed the crime.

" On going up the stairs we heard the following colloquy—

" ' It was his wife, perhaps — those Italian women are capable of anything.'

" ' Didn't you hear that she adored her husband 1 '

" ' Oh, they often seem to adore their husbands, but hate them all the time.'

" ' Well, then, she was not there at all ; she has only been back an hour.'

" ' Bah ! couldn't she have had an accomplice who did the business 1 That's simple. '

" When we reached the entresol the sergents de ville recognised us and let us into the room where the crime had been committed.

" Orders were at once given to clear the staircase, shut the street door, and to allow no one to enter the house except the lodgers or the authorities. Special messengers were at the same time despatched, to the office of the public prosecutor, to the Prefecture of Police, and the chief of the detective force.

"After having passed through the outer room and the dining and drawing-rooms, where we did not remark anything unusual, and where the furniture appeared to occupy its usual place, we entered an elegant study.

" Here were two women who, overwhelmed with grief, did not appear to notice our entrance. One of them seemed to be the attendant or maid of the other. She was kneeling at the feet of her mistress, and held her hands as she murmured : — ' Courage ! courage ! my dear Julia. You need your courage to avenge him.'

" Suddenly, she who had been called Julia sprang to her feet, and cried — 'Yes, yes! I will avenge him! I swear it!'

" And she drew herself up and stretched out her hands, whilst her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"The police officer, M. Godin, leaned towards me and whispered in my ear — 'This woman's grief seems sincere enough ! I don't think anything of what we heard on the staircase.'

" Such was also my opinion. My secretary, who has on several occasions given me proofs of great acuteness, did not appear to share our impression. He thought this grief rather theatrical, and he was tempted to accuse Madame Julia of acting a part.

" We pointed out to him that according to our information the lady in question was an Italian; that in her country a little exaggeration is admissible, and that it was diffloult to judge her as he would a Parisian. Moreover, the blow which she just received was so terrible and so unexpected that her grief was perfectly legitimate.