The Brotherhood of Consolation

Auguste at once took the key of his apartment and went up to meet the protector of his family; but he found Godefroid’s face and manner so changed that he hesitated to address him until, generous lad that he was, the thought of his grandfather’s danger came over him and gave him courage.

XVIII. WHO MONSIEUR BERNARD WAS

The cause of this change and of the sternness in Godefroid’s face was an event which had just taken place in the rue Chanoinesse. When the initiate arrived there he found Madame de la Chanterie and her friends assembled in the salon awaiting dinner; and he instantly took Monsieur Joseph apart to give him the four volumes on “The Spirit of Modern Laws.” Monsieur Joseph took the voluminous manuscript to his room and returned for dinner; then, after sharing in the conversation for part of the evening, he went back to his room, intending to begin the reading of the book that night.

Godefroid was much astonished when Manon came to him soon after Monsieur Joseph’s retirement and asked if he would at once go up and speak to that gentleman. He went up, conducted by Manon, and was unable to pay any heed to the apartment (which he had never before entered) so amazed was he by the agitated look and manner of a man who was usually calm and placid.

“Do you know,” asked Monsieur Joseph, once more a judge, “who the author of this work is?”

“He is Monsieur Bernard,” said Godefroid; “I know him only under that name. I did not open the package.”

“True,” said Monsieur Joseph, as if to himself, “I broke the seals myself. You have not tried to find out anything about his antecedents?”

“No, I only know that he made a love-match with the daughter of General Tarlowski; that the daughter is named after the mother, Vanda; the grandson is called Auguste; and I have seen a portrait of Monsieur Bernard in the red robes of a president of the Royal Courts.”

“Here, read that,” said Monsieur Joseph, pointing to the titlepage of the manuscript, written probably in Auguste’s handwriting: —

ON THE

SPIRIT OF MODERN LAWS

By M. Bernard-Jean-Baptiste Macloud, Baron Bourlac.

Formerly attorney-general to the Royal Court of Rouen. Grand officer of the Legion of honor.

“Ha! the slayer of Madame’s daughter! of the Chevalier du Vissard! the man who condemned her to twenty years’ imprisonment!” said Godefroid, in a feeble voice. His legs gave way under him, and he dropped into a chair. “What a beginning!” he muttered.

“This matter, my dear Godefroid,” resumed Monsieur Joseph, “concerns us all. You have done your part; leave the rest to us. I beg you to have no more to do with it; go and fetch the things you have left behind you. Don’t say a word of all this. Practise absolute discretion. Tell the Baron de Bourlac to address himself to me. By that time we shall have decided how to act under the circumstances.”

Godefroid left him, took a cab, and went back as fast as he could to the boulevard du Mont-Parnasse, filled with horror as he remembered that indictment signed with Bourlac’s name, the bloody drama ending on the scaffold, and Madame de la Chanterie’s imprisonment at Bicetre. He understood now the abandonment in which this former attorney-general, another Fourquier-Tinville in the public mind, was ending his days, and the true reasons for the concealment of his name.

“May Monsieur Joseph avenge her terribly!” he thought. As he uttered the wish in his own mind, he saw Auguste.

“What do you want of me?” he asked.

“My good friend, such a dreadful misfortune has overtaken us that I am almost mad. Wretches have come here and seized all my mother’s property, and they are going to put my grandfather in prison. But it is not on account of those misfortunes that I come to implore you,” said the lad, with Roman pride; “it is to ask you to do me a service such as people do to those who are condemned to die.”

“Go on, what is it?” said Godefroid.

“They came here to seize my grandfather’s manuscript; and as I think he gave you the book itself I want you to take the notes, for Madame Vauthier will not let me carry anything out of the house. Put them with the volumes and – ”

“Yes, yes,” said Godefroid, “go and get them at once.”

While the lad went back to his own rooms, returning immediately, Godefroid reflected that the poor child was guilty of no crime, and that he ought not to put despair into that young heart by speaking of his grandfather and of the punishment for his savage political actions that had overtaken his old age. He therefore took the little package with a good grace.

“What is your mother’s name?” he asked.

“My mother is the Baronne de Mergi; my father was the son of the president of the Royal Court at Rouen.”

“Ah!” said Godefroid; “then your grandfather married his daughter to the son of the famous president Mergi.”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“Now, my little friend, leave me,” said Godefroid. He went with young Mergi to the landing, and called to Madame Vauthier.

“Mere Vauthier,” he said, “you can let my rooms. I shall not come back any more.”

He gathered his things together, went downstairs, and got into the cab.

“Have you given anything to that gentleman?” said the Vauthier to Auguste.

“Yes,” said the young man.

“You’re a pretty fellow! that’s the agent of your grandfather’s enemies. He managed this whole business, and the proof is that, now that the trick is played, he goes off and isn’t coming back any more. He has just told me I can let his lodgings.”

Auguste flew to the boulevard and ran after the cab shouting so loudly that he finally stopped it.

“What do you want?” asked Godefroid.

“My grandfather’s manuscripts.”

“Tell them he can get them from Monsieur Joseph.”

The youth thought the words were intended as a cruel joke. He sat down in the snow as he saw the cab disappearing rapidly. Presently he sprang up with momentary vigor, returned to his room and went to bed worn out with fatigue and distress.

The next morning, when the poor boy woke alone in that apartment so lately occupied by his mother and grandfather, the painful emotions of his cruel position filled his mind. The solitude of his home, where up to this time every moment had had its duty and its occupation, seemed so hard to bear that he went down to Madame Vauthier to ask if she had received any news of his grandfather. The woman answered sneeringly that he knew very well, or he might know, where to find his grandfather; the reason why he had not come in, she said, was because he had gone to live at the chateau de Clichy. This malicious speech, from the woman who had coaxed and wheedled him the evening before, put the lad into another frenzy, and he rushed to the hospital once more, desperate with the idea that his grandfather was in prison.

Baron Bourlac had wandered all night round the hospital, where he was refused entrance, and round the private residence of Dr. Halpersohn from whom he wished, naturally, to obtain an explanation of such treatment. The doctor did not get home till two in the morning. At half-past one the old man was at his door; on being told he was absent, he turned and walked about the grand alley of the Champs Elysees until half-past two. When he again went to the house, the porter told him that Monsieur Halpersohn had returned, gone to bed, was asleep, and could not be disturbed.

The poor father, in despair, wandered along the quay and under the frost-laden trees of the Cours-la-reine, waiting for daylight. At nine o’clock in the morning he again presented himself at the doctor’s house, demanding to know the reason why his daughter was thus virtually imprisoned.

“Monsieur,” replied the doctor, to whose presence he was admitted, “yesterday I told you I would answer for your daughter’s recovery; but to-day I am responsible for her life and you will readily understand that I must be the sovereign master in such a case. Yesterday your daughter took a medicine intended to bring out her disease, the plica polonica; until that horrible disease shows itself on the surface you cannot see her. I will not allow excitement or any mistake of management to carry off my patient and your daughter. If you positively insist on seeing her, I shall call a consultation of three physicians, so as to relieve myself of responsibility, for the patient may die of it.”

The old man, worn out with fatigue, dropped on a chair; but he rose immediately, saying: —

“Forgive me, monsieur. I have spent the night waiting for you in dreadful distress of mind. You cannot know to what degree I love my daughter; I have nursed her for fifteen years hovering between life and death, and this week of waiting is torture to me.”

The baron left the room staggering like a drunken man. The doctor followed and supported him by the arm until he saw him safely down the staircase.

An hour later Auguste de Mergi entered the doctor’s room. On questioning the porter at the hospital the unhappy lad heard that his grandfather had been refused an entrance and had gone away to find Monsieur Halpersohn, who could probably give information about him. As Auguste entered the doctor’s study Halpersohn was breakfasting on a cup of chocolate and a glass of water. He did not disturb himself at the young man’s entrance, but went on sopping his bread in the chocolate; for he never ate anything for breakfast but a small roll cut into four strips with careful precision.

“Well, young man,” he said, glancing at Vanda’s son, “so you have come, too, to find out about your mother?”

“Yes, monsieur;” replied Auguste de Mergi.

Auguste was standing near the table on which lay several bank-notes among a pile of gold louis. Under the circumstances in which the unhappy boy was placed the temptation was stronger than his principles, solid as they were. He saw a means of saving his grandfather and the fruits of almost a lifetime of toil. He yielded. The fascination was rapid as thought; and it was justified to the child’s mind by the idea of self-devotion. “I destroy myself, but I save my mother and my grandfather,” he thought. Under the strain put upon his reason by this criminal temptation he acquired, like madmen, a singular and momentary dexterity.

Halpersohn, an experienced observer, had divined, retrospectively, the life of the old man and that of the lad and of the mother. He felt or perceived the truth; the Baronne de Mergi’s remarks had helped to unveil it to him; and the result was a feeling of benevolent pity for his new clients. As for respect or admiration, he was incapable of those emotions.