Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny





LA GRANDE BRETECHE

(Sequel to "Another Study of Woman.")


By Honore De Balzac


Translated by Ellen Marriage and Clara Bell





LA GRANDE BRETECHE


"Ah! madame," replied the doctor, "I have some appalling stories in my
collection. But each one has its proper hour in a conversation--you know
the pretty jest recorded by Chamfort, and said to the Duc de Fronsac:
'Between your sally and the present moment lie ten bottles of
champagne.'"

"But it is two in the morning, and the story of Rosina has prepared us,"
said the mistress of the house.

"Tell us, Monsieur Bianchon!" was the cry on every side.

The obliging doctor bowed, and silence reigned.

"At about a hundred paces from Vendome, on the banks of the Loir," said
he, "stands an old brown house, crowned with very high roofs, and so
completely isolated that there is nothing near it, not even a fetid
tannery or a squalid tavern, such as are commonly seen outside small
towns. In front of this house is a garden down to the river, where the
box shrubs, formerly clipped close to edge the walks, now straggle
at their own will. A few willows, rooted in the stream, have grown
up quickly like an enclosing fence, and half hide the house. The
wild plants we call weeds have clothed the bank with their beautiful
luxuriance. The fruit-trees, neglected for these ten years past,
no longer bear a crop, and their suckers have formed a thicket. The
espaliers are like a copse. The paths, once graveled, are overgrown with
purslane; but, to be accurate there is no trace of a path.

"Looking down from the hilltop, to which cling the ruins of the old
castle of the Dukes of Vendome, the only spot whence the eye can
see into this enclosure, we think that at a time, difficult now to
determine, this spot of earth must have been the joy of some country
gentleman devoted to roses and tulips, in a word, to horticulture, but
above all a lover of choice fruit. An arbor is visible, or rather
the wreck of an arbor, and under it a table still stands not entirely
destroyed by time. At the aspect of this garden that is no more, the
negative joys of the peaceful life of the provinces may be divined as we
divine the history of a worthy tradesman when we read the epitaph on his
tomb. To complete the mournful and tender impressions which seize the
soul, on one of the walls there is a sundial graced with this homely
Christian motto, '_Ultimam cogita_.'

"The roof of this house is dreadfully dilapidated; the outside shutters
are always closed; the balconies are hung with swallows' nests; the
doors are for ever shut. Straggling grasses have outlined the flagstones
of the steps with green; the ironwork is rusty. Moon and sun, winter,
summer, and snow have eaten into the wood, warped the boards, peeled
off the paint. The dreary silence is broken only by birds and cats,
polecats, rats, and mice, free to scamper round, and fight, and eat each
other. An invisible hand has written over it all: 'Mystery.'

"If, prompted by curiosity, you go to look at this house from the
street, you will see a large gate, with a round-arched top; the children
have made many holes in it. I learned later that this door had been
blocked for ten years. Through these irregular breaches you will see
that the side towards the courtyard is in perfect harmony with the side
towards the garden. The same ruin prevails. Tufts of weeds outline
the paving-stones; the walls are scored by enormous cracks, and the
blackened coping is laced with a thousand festoons of pellitory. The
stone steps are disjointed; the bell-cord is rotten; the gutter-spouts
broken. What fire from heaven could have fallen there? By what decree
has salt been sown on this dwelling? Has God been mocked here? Or was
France betrayed? These are the questions we ask ourselves. Reptiles
crawl over it, but give no reply. This empty and deserted house is a
vast enigma of which the answer is known to none.

"It was formerly a little domain, held in fief, and is known as La
Grande Breteche. During my stay at Vendome, where Despleins had left me
in charge of a rich patient, the sight of this strange dwelling became
one of my keenest pleasures. Was it not far better than a ruin? Certain
memories of indisputable authenticity attach themselves to a ruin; but
this house, still standing, though being slowly destroyed by an avenging
hand, contained a secret, an unrevealed thought. At the very least,
it testified to a caprice. More than once in the evening I boarded the
hedge, run wild, which surrounded the enclosure. I braved scratches, I
got into this ownerless garden, this plot which was no longer public or
private; I lingered there for hours gazing at the disorder. I would not,
as the price of the story to which this strange scene no doubt was due,
have asked a single question of any gossiping native. On that spot I
wove delightful romances, and abandoned myself to little debauches of
melancholy which enchanted me. If I had known the reason--perhaps quite
commonplace--of this neglect, I should have lost the unwritten poetry
which intoxicated me. To me this refuge represented the most various
phases of human life, shadowed by misfortune; sometimes the peace of the
graveyard without the dead, who speak in the language of epitaphs; one
day I saw in it the home of lepers; another, the house of the Atridae;
but, above all, I found there provincial life, with its contemplative
ideas, its hour-glass existence. I often wept there, I never laughed.

"More than once I felt involuntary terrors as I heard overhead the dull
hum of the wings of some hurrying wood-pigeon. The earth is dank; you
must be on the watch for lizards, vipers, and frogs, wandering about
with the wild freedom of nature; above all, you must have no fear
of cold, for in a few moments you feel an icy cloak settle on your
shoulders, like the Commendatore's hand on Don Giovanni's neck.

"One evening I felt a shudder; the wind had turned an old rusty
weathercock, and the creaking sounded like a cry from the house, at
the very moment when I was finishing a gloomy drama to account for
this monumental embodiment of woe. I returned to my inn, lost in gloomy
thoughts. When I had supped, the hostess came into my room with an air
of mystery, and said, 'Monsieur, here is Monsieur Regnault.'

"'Who is Monsieur Regnault?'

"'What, sir, do you not know Monsieur Regnault?--Well, that's odd,' said
she, leaving the room.

"On a sudden I saw a man appear, tall, slim, dressed in black, hat
in hand, who came in like a ram ready to butt his opponent, showing a
receding forehead, a small pointed head, and a colorless face of the hue
of a glass of dirty water. You would have taken him for an usher. The
stranger wore an old coat, much worn at the seams; but he had a diamond
in his shirt frill, and gold rings in his ears.

"'Monsieur,' said I, 'whom have I the honor of addressing?'--He took a
chair, placed himself in front of my fire, put his hat on my table,
and answered while he rubbed his hands: 'Dear me, it is very
cold.--Monsieur, I am Monsieur Regnault.'

"I was encouraging myself by saying to myself, '_Il bondo cani!_ Seek!'

"'I am,' he went on, 'notary at Vendome.'

"'I am delighted to hear it, monsieur,' I exclaimed. 'But I am not in a
position to make a will for reasons best known to myself.'

"'One moment!' said he, holding up his hand as though to gain silence.
'Allow me, monsieur, allow me! I am informed that you sometimes go to
walk in the garden of la Grande Breteche.'

"'Yes, monsieur.'

"'One moment!' said he, repeating his gesture. 'That constitutes a
misdemeanor. Monsieur, as executor under the will of the late Comtesse
de Merret, I come in her name to beg you to discontinue the practice.
One moment! I am not a Turk, and do not wish to make a crime of it. And
besides, you are free to be ignorant of the circumstances which
compel me to leave the finest mansion in Vendome to fall into ruin.
Nevertheless, monsieur, you must be a man of education, and you should
know that the laws forbid, under heavy penalties, any trespass on
enclosed property. A hedge is the same as a wall. But, the state in
which the place is left may be an excuse for your curiosity. For my
part, I should be quite content to make you free to come and go in the
house; but being bound to respect the will of the testatrix, I have
the honor, monsieur, to beg that you will go into the garden no more.
I myself, monsieur, since the will was read, have never set foot in the
house, which, as I had the honor of informing you, is part of the estate
of the late Madame de Merret. We have done nothing there but verify the
number of doors and windows to assess the taxes I have to pay annually
out of the funds left for that purpose by the late Madame de Merret. Ah!
my dear sir, her will made a great commotion in the town.'

"The good man paused to blow his nose. I respected his volubility,
perfectly understanding that the administration of Madame de Merret's
estate had been the most important event of his life, his reputation,
his glory, his Restoration. As I was forced to bid farewell to my
beautiful reveries and romances, I was to reject learning the truth on
official authority.

"'Monsieur,' said I, 'would it be indiscreet if I were to ask you the
reasons for such eccentricity?'

"At these words an expression, which revealed all the pleasure which
men feel who are accustomed to ride a hobby, overspread the lawyer's
countenance. He pulled up the collar of his shirt with an air, took out
his snuffbox, opened it, and offered me a pinch; on my refusing, he took
a large one. He was happy! A man who has no hobby does not know all
the good to be got out of life. A hobby is the happy medium between a
passion and a monomania. At this moment I understood the whole bearing
of Sterne's charming passion, and had a perfect idea of the delight with
which my uncle Toby, encouraged by Trim, bestrode his hobby-horse.

"'Monsieur,' said Monsieur Regnault, 'I was head-clerk in Monsieur
Roguin's office, in Paris. A first-rate house, which you may have heard
mentioned? No! An unfortunate bankruptcy made it famous.--Not having
money enough to purchase a practice in Paris at the price to which they
were run up in 1816, I came here and bought my predecessor's business.
I had relations in Vendome; among others, a wealthy aunt, who allowed
me to marry her daughter.--Monsieur,' he went on after a little pause,
'three months after being licensed by the Keeper of the Seals, one
evening, as I was going to bed--it was before my marriage--I was sent
for by Madame la Comtesse de Merret, to her Chateau of Merret. Her maid,
a good girl, who is now a servant in this inn, was waiting at my door
with the Countess' own carriage. Ah! one moment! I ought to tell you
that Monsieur le Comte de Merret had gone to Paris to die two months
before I came here. He came to a miserable end, flinging himself into
every kind of dissipation. You understand?

"'On the day when he left, Madame la Comtesse had quitted la Grand
Breteche, having dismantled it. Some people even say that she had
burnt all the furniture, the hangings--in short, all the chattels and
furniture whatever used in furnishing the premises now let by the
said M.--(Dear, what am I saying? I beg your pardon, I thought I was
dictating a lease.)--In short, that she burnt everything in the meadow
at Merret. Have you been to Merret, monsieur?--No,' said he, answering
himself, 'Ah, it is a very fine place.'

"'For about three months previously,' he went on, with a jerk of his
head, 'the Count and Countess had lived in a very eccentric way; they
admitted no visitors; Madame lived on the ground-floor, and Monsieur on
the first floor. When the Countess was left alone, she was never seen
excepting at church. Subsequently, at home, at the chateau, she refused
to see the friends, whether gentlemen or ladies, who went to call on
her. She was already very much altered when she left la Grande Breteche
to go to Merret. That dear lady--I say dear lady, for it was she who
gave me this diamond, but indeed I saw her but once--that kind lady was
very ill; she had, no doubt, given up all hope, for she died without
choosing to send for a doctor; indeed, many of our ladies fancied she
was not quite right in her head. Well, sir, my curiosity was strangely
excited by hearing that Madame de Merret had need of my services. Nor
was I the only person who took an interest in the affair. That very
night, though it was already late, all the town knew that I was going to
Merret.

"'The waiting-woman replied but vaguely to the questions I asked her on
the way; nevertheless, she told me that her mistress had received the
Sacrament in the course of the day at the hands of the Cure of Merret,
and seemed unlikely to live through the night. It was about eleven when
I reached the chateau. I went up the great staircase. After crossing
some large, lofty, dark rooms, diabolically cold and damp, I reached the
state bedroom where the Countess lay. From the rumors that were current
concerning this lady (monsieur, I should never end if I were to repeat
all the tales that were told about her), I had imagined her a coquette.
Imagine, then, that I had great difficulty in seeing her in the great
bed where she was lying. To be sure, to light this enormous room, with
old-fashioned heavy cornices, and so thick with dust that merely to see
it was enough to make you sneeze, she had only an old Argand lamp. Ah!
but you have not been to Merret. Well, the bed is one of those old world
beds, with a high tester hung with flowered chintz. A small table stood
by the bed, on which I saw an "Imitation of Christ," which, by the
way, I bought for my wife, as well as the lamp. There were also a deep
armchair for her confidential maid, and two small chairs. There was no
fire. That was all the furniture, not enough to fill ten lines in an
inventory.

"'My dear sir, if you had seen, as I then saw, that vast room, papered
and hung with brown, you would have felt yourself transported into a
scene of a romance. It was icy, nay more, funereal,' and he lifted his
hand with a theatrical gesture and paused.

"'By dint of seeking, as I approached the bed, at last I saw Madame de
Merret, under the glimmer of the lamp, which fell on the pillows.
Her face was as yellow as wax, and as narrow as two folded hands. The
Countess had a lace cap showing her abundant hair, but as white as linen
thread. She was sitting up in bed, and seemed to keep upright with
great difficulty. Her large black eyes, dimmed by fever, no doubt,
and half-dead already, hardly moved under the bony arch of her
eyebrows.--There,' he added, pointing to his own brow. 'Her forehead was
clammy; her fleshless hands were like bones covered with soft skin;
the veins and muscles were perfectly visible. She must have been very
handsome; but at this moment I was startled into an indescribable
emotion at the sight. Never, said those who wrapped her in her shroud,
had any living creature been so emaciated and lived. In short, it was
awful to behold! Sickness so consumed that woman, that she was no more
than a phantom. Her lips, which were pale violet, seemed to me not to
move when she spoke to me.

"'Though my profession has familiarized me with such spectacles, by
calling me not infrequently to the bedside of the dying to record their
last wishes, I confess that families in tears and the agonies I have
seen were as nothing in comparison with this lonely and silent woman in
her vast chateau. I heard not the least sound, I did not perceive the
movement which the sufferer's breathing ought to have given to the
sheets that covered her, and I stood motionless, absorbed in looking at
her in a sort of stupor. In fancy I am there still. At last her large
eyes moved; she tried to raise her right hand, but it fell back on the
bed, and she uttered these words, which came like a breath, for her
voice was no longer a voice: "I have waited for you with the greatest
impatience." A bright flush rose to her cheeks. It was a great effort to
her to speak.

"'"Madame," I began. She signed to me to be silent. At that moment
the old housekeeper rose and said in my ear, "Do not speak; Madame la
Comtesse is not in a state to bear the slightest noise, and what you say
might agitate her."

"'I sat down. A few instants after, Madame de Merret collected all her
remaining strength to move her right hand, and slipped it, not without
infinite difficulty, under the bolster; she then paused a moment. With
a last effort she withdrew her hand; and when she brought out a sealed
paper, drops of perspiration rolled from her brow. "I place my will in
your hands--Oh! God! Oh!" and that was all. She clutched a crucifix that
lay on the bed, lifted it hastily to her lips, and died.

"'The expression of her eyes still makes me shudder as I think of it.
She must have suffered much! There was joy in her last glance, and it
remained stamped on her dead eyes.

"'I brought away the will, and when it was opened I found that Madame de
Merret had appointed me her executor. She left the whole of her property
to the hospital at Vendome excepting a few legacies. But these were her
instructions as relating to la Grande Breteche: She ordered me to leave
the place, for fifty years counting from the day of her death, in the
state in which it might be at the time of her death, forbidding any one,
whoever he might be, to enter the apartments, prohibiting any repairs
whatever, and even settling a salary to pay watchmen if it were needful
to secure the absolute fulfilment of her intentions. At the expiration
of that term, if the will of the testatrix has been duly carried out,
the house is to become the property of my heirs, for, as you know, a
notary cannot take a bequest. Otherwise la Grande Breteche reverts to
the heirs-at-law, but on condition of fulfilling certain conditions
set forth in a codicil to the will, which is not to be opened till
the expiration of the said term of fifty years. The will has not been
disputed, so----' And without finishing his sentence, the lanky notary
looked at me with an air of triumph; I made him quite happy by offering
him my congratulations.

"'Monsieur,' I said in conclusion, 'you have so vividly impressed
me that I fancy I see the dying woman whiter than her sheets; her
glittering eyes frighten me; I shall dream of her to-night.--But you
must have formed some idea as to the instructions contained in that
extraordinary will.'

"'Monsieur,' said he, with comical reticence, 'I never allow myself
to criticise the conduct of a person who honors me with the gift of a
diamond.'

"However, I soon loosened the tongue of the discreet notary of Vendome,
who communicated to me, not without long digressions, the opinions of
the deep politicians of both sexes whose judgments are law in Vendome.
But these opinions were so contradictory, so diffuse, that I was
near falling asleep in spite of the interest I felt in this authentic
history. The notary's ponderous voice and monotonous accent, accustomed
no doubt to listen to himself and to make himself listened to by his
clients or fellow-townsmen, were too much for my curiosity. Happily, he
soon went away.

"'Ah, ha, monsieur,' said he on the stairs, 'a good many persons would
be glad to live five-and-forty years longer; but--one moment!' and he
laid the first finger of his right hand to his nostril with a cunning
look, as much as to say, 'Mark my words!--To last as long as that--as
long as that,' said he, 'you must not be past sixty now.'

"I closed my door, having been roused from my apathy by this last
speech, which the notary thought very funny; then I sat down in my
armchair, with my feet on the fire-dogs. I had lost myself in a romance
_a la_ Radcliffe, constructed on the juridical base given me by Monsieur
Regnault, when the door, opened by a woman's cautious hand, turned on
the hinges. I saw my landlady come in, a buxom, florid dame, always
good-humored, who had missed her calling in life. She was a Fleming, who
ought to have seen the light in a picture by Teniers.

"'Well, monsieur,' said she, 'Monsieur Regnault has no doubt been giving
you his history of la Grande Breteche?'

"'Yes, Madame Lepas.'

"'And what did he tell you?'

"I repeated in a few words the creepy and sinister story of Madame de
Merret. At each sentence my hostess put her head forward, looking at
me with an innkeeper's keen scrutiny, a happy compromise between the
instinct of a police constable, the astuteness of a spy, and the cunning
of a dealer.

"'My good Madame Lepas,' said I as I ended, 'you seem to know more about
it. Heh? If not, why have you come up to me?'

"'On my word, as an honest woman----'

"'Do not swear; your eyes are big with a secret. You knew Monsieur de
Merret; what sort of man was he?'

"'Monsieur de Merret--well, you see he was a man you never could see
the top of, he was so tall! A very good gentleman, from Picardy, and who
had, as we say, his head close to his cap. He paid for everything down,
so as never to have difficulties with any one. He was hot-tempered, you
see! All our ladies liked him very much.'

"'Because he was hot-tempered?' I asked her.

"'Well, may be,' said she; 'and you may suppose, sir, that a man had to
have something to show for a figurehead before he could marry Madame de
Merret, who, without any reflection on others, was the handsomest and
richest heiress in our parts. She had about twenty thousand francs
a year. All the town was at the wedding; the bride was pretty and
sweet-looking, quite a gem of a woman. Oh, they were a handsome couple
in their day!'

"'And were they happy together?'

"'Hm, hm! so-so--so far as can be guessed, for, as you may suppose, we
of the common sort were not hail-fellow-well-met with them.--Madame de
Merret was a kind woman and very pleasant, who had no doubt sometimes to
put up with her husband's tantrums. But though he was rather haughty, we
were fond of him. After all, it was his place to behave so. When a man
is a born nobleman, you see----'

"'Still, there must have been some catastrophe for Monsieur and Madame
de Merret to part so violently?'

"'I did not say there was any catastrophe, sir. I know nothing about
it.'

"'Indeed. Well, now, I am sure you know everything.'

"'Well, sir, I will tell you the whole story.--When I saw Monsieur
Regnault go up to see you, it struck me that he would speak to you about
Madame de Merret as having to do with la Grande Breteche. That put it
into my head to ask your advice, sir, seeming to me that you are a
man of good judgment and incapable of playing a poor woman like me
false--for I never did any one a wrong, and yet I am tormented by my
conscience. Up to now I have never dared to say a word to the people of
these parts; they are all chatter-mags, with tongues like knives. And
never till now, sir, have I had any traveler here who stayed so long in
the inn as you have, and to whom I could tell the history of the fifteen
thousand francs----'

"'My dear Madame Lepas, if there is anything in your story of a nature
to compromise me,' I said, interrupting the flow of her words, 'I would
not hear it for all the world.'

"'You need have no fears,' said she; 'you will see.'

"Her eagerness made me suspect that I was not the only person to whom
my worthy landlady had communicated the secret of which I was to be the
sole possessor, but I listened.

"'Monsieur,' said she, 'when the Emperor sent the Spaniards here,
prisoners of war and others, I was required to lodge at the charge
of the Government a young Spaniard sent to Vendome on parole.
Notwithstanding his parole, he had to show himself every day to the
sub-prefect. He was a Spanish grandee--neither more nor less. He had
a name in _os_ and _dia_, something like Bagos de Feredia. I wrote his
name down in my books, and you may see it if you like. Ah! he was a
handsome young fellow for a Spaniard, who are all ugly they say. He was
not more than five feet two or three in height, but so well made; and he
had little hands that he kept so beautifully! Ah! you should have
seen them. He had as many brushes for his hands as a woman has for her
toilet. He had thick, black hair, a flame in his eye, a somewhat coppery
complexion, but which I admired all the same. He wore the finest linen
I have ever seen, though I have had princesses to lodge here, and, among
others, General Bertrand, the Duc and Duchesse d'Abrantes, Monsieur
Descazes, and the King of Spain. He did not eat much, but he had such
polite and amiable ways that it was impossible to owe him a grudge for
that. Oh! I was very fond of him, though he did not say four words to me
in a day, and it was impossible to have the least bit of talk with him;
if he was spoken to, he did not answer; it is a way, a mania they all
have, it would seem.

"'He read his breviary like a priest, and went to mass and all the
services quite regularly. And where did he post himself?--we found this
out later.--Within two yards of Madame de Merret's chapel. As he took
that place the very first time he entered the church, no one imagined
that there was any purpose in it. Besides, he never raised his nose
above his book, poor young man! And then, monsieur, of an evening he
went for a walk on the hill among the ruins of the old castle. It was
his only amusement, poor man; it reminded him of his native land. They
say that Spain is all hills!

"'One evening, a few days after he was sent here, he was out very late.
I was rather uneasy when he did not come in till just on the stroke of
midnight; but we all got used to his whims; he took the key of the door,
and we never sat up for him. He lived in a house belonging to us in the
Rue des Casernes. Well, then, one of our stable-boys told us one evening
that, going down to wash the horses in the river, he fancied he had seen
the Spanish Grandee swimming some little way off, just like a fish. When
he came in, I told him to be careful of the weeds, and he seemed put out
at having been seen in the water.

"'At last, monsieur, one day, or rather one morning, we did not find
him in his room; he had not come back. By hunting through his things, I
found a written paper in the drawer of his table, with fifty pieces of
Spanish gold of the kind they call doubloons, worth about five thousand
francs; and in a little sealed box ten thousand francs worth of
diamonds. The paper said that in case he should not return, he left us
this money and these diamonds in trust to found masses to thank God for
his escape and for his salvation.

"'At that time I still had my husband, who ran off in search of him.
And this is the queer part of the story: he brought back the Spaniard's
clothes, which he had found under a big stone on a sort of breakwater
along the river bank, nearly opposite la Grande Breteche. My husband
went so early that no one saw him. After reading the letter, he burnt
the clothes, and, in obedience to Count Feredia's wish, we announced
that he had escaped.

"'The sub-prefect set all the constabulary at his heels; but, pshaw! he
was never caught. Lepas believed that the Spaniard had drowned himself.
I, sir, have never thought so; I believe, on the contrary, that he had
something to do with the business about Madame de Merret, seeing that
Rosalie told me that the crucifix her mistress was so fond of that she
had it buried with her, was made of ebony and silver; now in the early
days of his stay here, Monsieur Feredia had one of ebony and silver
which I never saw later.--And now, monsieur, do not you say that I need
have no remorse about the Spaniard's fifteen thousand francs? Are they
not really and truly mine?'

"'Certainly.--But have you never tried to question Rosalie?' said I.

"'Oh, to be sure I have, sir. But what is to be done? That girl is like
a wall. She knows something, but it is impossible to make her talk.'

"After chatting with me for a few minutes, my hostess left me a prey
to vague and sinister thoughts, to romantic curiosity, and a religious
dread, not unlike the deep emotion which comes upon us when we go into a
dark church at night and discern a feeble light glimmering under a lofty
vault--a dim figure glides across--the sweep of a gown or of a priest's
cassock is audible--and we shiver! La Grande Breteche, with its rank
grasses, its shuttered windows, its rusty iron-work, its locked doors,
its deserted rooms, suddenly rose before me in fantastic vividness. I
tried to get into the mysterious dwelling to search out the heart of
this solemn story, this drama which had killed three persons.

"Rosalie became in my eyes the most interesting being in Vendome. As
I studied her, I detected signs of an inmost thought, in spite of the
blooming health that glowed in her dimpled face. There was in her soul
some element of ruth or of hope; her manner suggested a secret, like
the expression of devout souls who pray in excess, or of a girl who has
killed her child and for ever hears its last cry. Nevertheless, she was
simple and clumsy in her ways; her vacant smile had nothing criminal
in it, and you would have pronounced her innocent only from seeing the
large red and blue checked kerchief that covered her stalwart bust,
tucked into the tight-laced bodice of a lilac- and white-striped gown.
'No,' said I to myself, 'I will not quit Vendome without knowing the
whole history of la Grande Breteche. To achieve this end, I will make
love to Rosalie if it proves necessary.'

"'Rosalie!' said I one evening.

"'Your servant, sir?'

"'You are not married?' She started a little.

"'Oh! there is no lack of men if ever I take a fancy to be miserable!'
she replied, laughing. She got over her agitation at once; for every
woman, from the highest lady to the inn-servant inclusive, has a native
presence of mind.

"'Yes; you are fresh and good-looking enough never to lack lovers! But
tell me, Rosalie, why did you become an inn-servant on leaving Madame de
Merret? Did she not leave you some little annuity?'

"'Oh yes, sir. But my place here is the best in all the town of
Vendome.'

"This reply was such an one as judges and attorneys call evasive.
Rosalie, as it seemed to me, held in this romantic affair the place of
the middle square of the chess-board: she was at the very centre of the
interest and of the truth; she appeared to me to be tied into the knot
of it. It was not a case for ordinary love-making; this girl contained
the last chapter of a romance, and from that moment all my attentions
were devoted to Rosalie. By dint of studying the girl, I observed in
her, as in every woman whom we make our ruling thought, a variety of
good qualities; she was clean and neat; she was handsome, I need not
say; she soon was possessed of every charm that desire can lend to a
woman in whatever rank of life. A fortnight after the notary's visit,
one evening, or rather one morning, in the small hours, I said to
Rosalie:

"'Come, tell me all you know about Madame de Merret.'

"'Oh!' she said, 'I will tell you; but keep the secret carefully.'

"'All right, my child; I will keep all your secrets with a thief's
honor, which is the most loyal known.'

"'If it is all the same to you,' said she, 'I would rather it should be
with your own.'

"Thereupon she set her head-kerchief straight, and settled herself to
tell the tale; for there is no doubt a particular attitude of confidence
and security is necessary to the telling of a narrative. The best tales
are told at a certain hour--just as we are all here at table. No one
ever told a story well standing up, or fasting.

"If I were to reproduce exactly Rosalie's diffuse eloquence, a whole
volume would scarcely contain it. Now, as the event of which she gave me
a confused account stands exactly midway between the notary's gossip and
that of Madame Lepas, as precisely as the middle term of a rule-of-three
sum stands between the first and third, I have only to relate it in as
few words as may be. I shall therefore be brief.

"The room at la Grande Breteche in which Madame de Merret slept was on
the ground floor; a little cupboard in the wall, about four feet deep,
served her to hang her dresses in. Three months before the evening of
which I have to relate the events, Madame de Merret had been seriously
ailing, so much so that her husband had left her to herself, and had his
own bedroom on the first floor. By one of those accidents which it is
impossible to foresee, he came in that evening two hours later than
usual from the club, where he went to read the papers and talk politics
with the residents in the neighborhood. His wife supposed him to have
come in, to be in bed and asleep. But the invasion of France had been
the subject of a very animated discussion; the game of billiards had
waxed vehement; he had lost forty francs, an enormous sum at Vendome,
where everybody is thrifty, and where social habits are restrained
within the bounds of a simplicity worthy of all praise, and the
foundation perhaps of a form of true happiness which no Parisian would
care for.

"For some time past Monsieur de Merret had been satisfied to ask Rosalie
whether his wife was in bed; on the girl's replying always in the
affirmative, he at once went to his own room, with the good faith that
comes of habit and confidence. But this evening, on coming in, he took
it into his head to go to see Madame de Merret, to tell her of his
ill-luck, and perhaps to find consolation. During dinner he had observed
that his wife was very becomingly dressed; he reflected as he came
home from the club that his wife was certainly much better, that
convalescence had improved her beauty, discovering it, as husbands
discover everything, a little too late. Instead of calling Rosalie,
who was in the kitchen at the moment watching the cook and the coachman
playing a puzzling hand at cards, Monsieur de Merret made his way to his
wife's room by the light of his lantern, which he set down at the lowest
step of the stairs. His step, easy to recognize, rang under the vaulted
passage.

"At the instant when the gentleman turned the key to enter his wife's
room, he fancied he heard the door shut of the closet of which I have
spoken; but when he went in, Madame de Merret was alone, standing in
front of the fireplace. The unsuspecting husband fancied that Rosalie
was in the cupboard; nevertheless, a doubt, ringing in his ears like a
peal of bells, put him on his guard; he looked at his wife, and read in
her eyes an indescribably anxious and haunted expression.

"'You are very late,' said she.--Her voice, usually so clear and sweet,
struck him as being slightly husky.

"Monsieur de Merret made no reply, for at this moment Rosalie came in.
This was like a thunder-clap. He walked up and down the room, going from
one window to another at a regular pace, his arms folded.

"'Have you had bad news, or are you ill?' his wife asked him timidly,
while Rosalie helped her to undress. He made no reply.

"'You can go, Rosalie,' said Madame de Merret to her maid; 'I can put in
my curl-papers myself.'--She scented disaster at the mere aspect of her
husband's face, and wished to be alone with him. As soon as Rosalie
was gone, or supposed to be gone, for she lingered a few minutes in the
passage, Monsieur de Merret came and stood facing his wife, and said
coldly, 'Madame, there is some one in your cupboard!' She looked at her
husband calmly, and replied quite simply, 'No, monsieur.'

"This 'No' wrung Monsieur de Merret's heart; he did not believe it; and
yet his wife had never appeared purer or more saintly than she seemed
to be at this moment. He rose to go and open the closet door. Madame de
Merret took his hand, stopped him, looked at him sadly, and said in a
voice of strange emotion, 'Remember, if you should find no one there,
everything must be at an end between you and me.'

"The extraordinary dignity of his wife's attitude filled him with deep
esteem for her, and inspired him with one of those resolves which need
only a grander stage to become immortal.

"'No, Josephine,' he said, 'I will not open it. In either event we
should be parted for ever. Listen; I know all the purity of your soul, I
know you lead a saintly life, and would not commit a deadly sin to save
your life.'--At these words Madame de Merret looked at her husband with
a haggard stare.--'See, here is your crucifix,' he went on. 'Swear to
me before God that there is no one in there; I will believe you--I will
never open that door.'

"Madame de Merret took up the crucifix and said, 'I swear it.'

"'Louder,' said her husband; 'and repeat: "I swear before God that there
is nobody in that closet."' She repeated the words without flinching.

"'That will do,' said Monsieur de Merret coldly. After a moment's
silence: 'You have there a fine piece of work which I never saw before,'
said he, examining the crucifix of ebony and silver, very artistically
wrought.

"'I found it at Duvivier's; last year when that troop of Spanish
prisoners came through Vendome, he bought it of a Spanish monk.'

"'Indeed,' said Monsieur de Merret, hanging the crucifix on its nail;
and he rang the bell.

"He had to wait for Rosalie. Monsieur de Merret went forward quickly
to meet her, led her into the bay of the window that looked on to the
garden, and said to her in an undertone:

"'I know that Gorenflot wants to marry you, that poverty alone prevents
your setting up house, and that you told him you would not be his wife
till he found means to become a master mason.--Well, go and fetch him;
tell him to come here with his trowel and tools. Contrive to wake no one
in his house but himself. His reward will be beyond your wishes. Above
all, go out without saying a word--or else!' and he frowned.

"Rosalie was going, and he called her back. 'Here, take my latch-key,'
said he.

"'Jean!' Monsieur de Merret called in a voice of thunder down the
passage. Jean, who was both coachman and confidential servant, left his
cards and came.

"'Go to bed, all of you,' said his master, beckoning him to come close;
and the gentleman added in a whisper, 'When they are all asleep--mind,
_asleep_--you understand?--come down and tell me.'

"Monsieur de Merret, who had never lost sight of his wife while giving
his orders, quietly came back to her at the fireside, and began to tell
her the details of the game of billiards and the discussion at the club.
When Rosalie returned she found Monsieur and Madame de Merret conversing
amiably.

"Not long before this Monsieur de Merret had had new ceilings made to
all the reception-rooms on the ground floor. Plaster is very scarce at
Vendome; the price is enhanced by the cost of carriage; the gentleman
had therefore had a considerable quantity delivered to him, knowing
that he could always find purchasers for what might be left. It was this
circumstance which suggested the plan he carried out.

"'Gorenflot is here, sir,' said Rosalie in a whisper.

"'Tell him to come in,' said her master aloud.

"Madame de Merret turned paler when she saw the mason.

"'Gorenflot,' said her husband, 'go and fetch some bricks from the
coach-house; bring enough to wall up the door of this cupboard; you can
use the plaster that is left for cement.' Then, dragging Rosalie and the
workman close to him--'Listen, Gorenflot,' said he, in a low voice,
'you are to sleep here to-night; but to-morrow morning you shall have a
passport to take you abroad to a place I will tell you of. I will give
you six thousand francs for your journey. You must live in that town for
ten years; if you find you do not like it, you may settle in another,
but it must be in the same country. Go through Paris and wait there till
I join you. I will there give you an agreement for six thousand francs
more, to be paid to you on your return, provided you have carried out
the conditions of the bargain. For that price you are to keep perfect
silence as to what you have to do this night. To you, Rosalie, I will
secure ten thousand francs, which will not be paid to you till your
wedding day, and on condition of your marrying Gorenflot; but, to get
married, you must hold your tongue. If not, no wedding gift!'

"'Rosalie,' said Madame de Merret, 'come and brush my hair.'

"Her husband quietly walked up and down the room, keeping an eye on the
door, on the mason, and on his wife, but without any insulting display
of suspicion. Gorenflot could not help making some noise. Madame de
Merret seized a moment when he was unloading some bricks, and when her
husband was at the other end of the room to say to Rosalie: 'My dear
child, I will give you a thousand francs a year if only you will tell
Gorenflot to leave a crack at the bottom.' Then she added aloud quite
coolly: 'You had better help him.'

"Monsieur and Madame de Merret were silent all the time while Gorenflot
was walling up the door. This silence was intentional on the husband's
part; he did not wish to give his wife the opportunity of saying
anything with a double meaning. On Madame de Merret's side it was pride
or prudence. When the wall was half built up the cunning mason took
advantage of his master's back being turned to break one of the two
panes in the top of the door with a blow of his pick. By this Madame de
Merret understood that Rosalie had spoken to Gorenflot. They all three
then saw the face of a dark, gloomy-looking man, with black hair and
flaming eyes.

"Before her husband turned round again the poor woman had nodded to the
stranger, to whom the signal was meant to convey, 'Hope.'

"At four o'clock, as the day was dawning, for it was the month of
September, the work was done. The mason was placed in charge of Jean,
and Monsieur de Merret slept in his wife's room.

"Next morning when he got up he said with apparent carelessness, 'Oh,
by the way, I must go to the Maire for the passport.' He put on his hat,
took two or three steps towards the door, paused, and took the crucifix.
His wife was trembling with joy.

"'He will go to Duvivier's,' thought she.

"As soon as he had left, Madame de Merret rang for Rosalie, and then in
a terrible voice she cried: 'The pick! Bring the pick! and set to work.
I saw how Gorenflot did it yesterday; we shall have time to make a gap
and build it up again.'

"In an instant Rosalie had brought her mistress a sort of cleaver; she,
with a vehemence of which no words can give an idea, set to work to
demolish the wall. She had already got out a few bricks, when, turning
to deal a stronger blow than before, she saw behind her Monsieur de
Merret. She fainted away.

"'Lay madame on her bed,' said he coldly.

"Foreseeing what would certainly happen in his absence, he had laid
this trap for his wife; he had merely written to the Maire and sent for
Duvivier. The jeweler arrived just as the disorder in the room had been
repaired.

"'Duvivier,' asked Monsieur de Merret, 'did not you buy some crucifixes
of the Spaniards who passed through the town?'

"'No, monsieur.'

"'Very good; thank you,' said he, flashing a tiger's glare at his wife.
'Jean,' he added, turning to his confidential valet, 'you can serve my
meals here in Madame de Merret's room. She is ill, and I shall not leave
her till she recovers.'

"The cruel man remained in his wife's room for twenty days. During
the earlier time, when there was some little noise in the closet,
and Josephine wanted to intercede for the dying man, he said, without
allowing her to utter a word, 'You swore on the Cross that there was no
one there.'"


After this story all the ladies rose from table, and thus the spell
under which Bianchon had held them was broken. But there were some among
them who had almost shivered at the last words.




ADDENDUM

The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy.

     Bianchon, Horace
       Father Goriot
       The Atheist's Mass
       Cesar Birotteau
       The Commission in Lunacy
       Lost Illusions
       A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
       A Bachelor's Establishment
       The Secrets of a Princess
       The Government Clerks
       Pierrette
       A Study of Woman
       Scenes from a Courtesan's Life
       Honorine
       The Seamy Side of History
       The Magic Skin
       A Second Home
       A Prince of Bohemia
       Letters of Two Brides
       The Muse of the Department
       The Imaginary Mistress
       The Middle Classes
       Cousin Betty
       The Country Parson

     In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following:
       Another Study of Woman