The Two Brothers

“Before his innocence can be proved, the crowd may get in here and pillage us,” said Monsieur Hochon, livid with fear, for he had gold in his cellar.

“Where is Agathe?”

“Sound asleep.”

“Ah! so much the better,” said Madame Hochon. “I wish she may sleep on till the matter is cleared up. Such a shock might kill the poor child.”

But Agathe woke up and came down half-dressed; for the evasive answers of Gritte, whom she questioned, had disturbed both her head and heart. She found Madame Hochon, looking very pale, with her eyes full of tears, at one of the windows of the salon beside her husband.

“Courage, my child. God sends us our afflictions,” said the old lady. “Joseph is accused – ”

“Of what?”

“Of a bad action which he could never have committed,” answered Madame Hochon.

Hearing the words, and seeing the lieutenant of gendarmes, who at this moment entered the room accompanied by the two gentlemen, Agathe fainted away.

“There now!” said Monsieur Hochon to his wife and Gritte, “carry off Madame Bridau; women are only in the way at these times. Take her to her room and stay there, both of you. Sit down, gentlemen,” continued the old man. “The mistake to which we owe your visit will soon, I hope, be cleared up.”

“Even if it should be a mistake,” said Monsieur Mouilleron, “the excitement of the crowd is so great, and their minds are so exasperated, that I fear for the safety of the accused. I should like to get him arrested, and that might satisfy these people.”

“Who would ever have believed that Monsieur Maxence Gilet had inspired so much affection in this town?” asked Lousteau-Prangin.

“One of my men says there’s a crowd of twelve hundred more just coming in from the faubourg de Rome,” said the lieutenant of gendarmes, “and they are threatening death to the assassin.”

“Where is your guest?” said Monsieur Mouilleron to Monsieur Hochon.

“He has gone to walk in the country, I believe.”

“Call Gritte,” said the judge gravely. “I was in hopes he had not left the house. You are aware that the crime was committed not far from here, at daybreak.”

While Monsieur Hochon went to find Gritte, the three functionaries looked at each other significantly.

“I never liked that painter’s face,” said the lieutenant to Monsieur Mouilleron.

“My good woman,” said the judge to Gritte, when she appeared, “they say you saw Monsieur Joseph Bridau leave the house this morning?”

“Yes, monsieur,” she answered, trembling like a leaf.

“At what hour?”

“Just as I was getting up: he walked about his room all night, and was dressed when I came downstairs.”

“Was it daylight?”

“Barely.”

“Did he seem excited?”

“Yes, he was all of a twitter.”

“Send one of your men for my clerk,” said Lousteau-Prangin to the lieutenant, “and tell him to bring warrants with him – ”

“Good God! don’t be in such a hurry,” cried Monsieur Hochon. “The young man’s agitation may have been caused by something besides the premeditation of this crime. He meant to return to Paris to-day, to attend to a matter in which Gilet and Mademoiselle Brazier had doubted his honor.”

“Yes, the affair of the pictures,” said Monsieur Mouilleron. “Those pictures caused a very hot quarrel between them yesterday, and it is a word and a blow with artists, they tell me.”

“Who is there in Issoudun who had any object in killing Gilet?” said Lousteau. “No one, – neither a jealous husband nor anybody else; for the fellow has never harmed a soul.”

“But what was Monsieur Gilet doing in the streets at four in the morning?” remarked Monsieur Hochon.

“Now, Monsieur Hochon, you must allow us to manage this affair in our own way,” answered Mouilleron; “you don’t know all: Gilet recognized your painter.”

At this instant a clamor was heard from the other end of the town, growing louder and louder, like the roll of thunder, as it followed the course of the Grande-Narette.

“Here he is! here he is! – he’s arrested!”

These words rose distinctly on the ear above the hoarse roar of the populace. Poor Joseph, returning quietly past the mill at Landrole intending to get home in time for breakfast, was spied by the various groups of people, as soon as he reached the place Misere. Happily for him, a couple of gendarmes arrived on a run in time to snatch him from the inhabitants of the faubourg de Rome, who had already pinioned him by the arms and were threatening him with death.

“Give way! give way!” cried the gendarmes, calling to some of their comrades to help them, and putting themselves one before and the other behind Bridau.

“You see, monsieur,” said the one who held the painter, “it concerns our skin as well as yours at this moment. Innocent or guilty, we must protect you against the tumult raised by the murder of Captain Gilet. And the crowd is not satisfied with suspecting you; they declare, hard as iron, that you are the murderer. Monsieur Gilet is adored by all the people, who – look at them! – want to take justice into their own hands. Ah! didn’t we see them, in 1830, dusting the jackets of the tax-gatherers? whose life isn’t a bed of roses, anyway!”

Joseph Bridau grew pale as death, and collected all his strength to walk onward.

“After all,” he said, “I am innocent. Go on!”

Poor artist! he was forced to bear his cross. Amid the hooting and insults and threats from the mob, he made the dreadful transit from the place Misere to the place Saint-Jean. The gendarmes were obliged to draw their sabres on the furious mob, which pelted them with stones. One of the officers was wounded, and Joseph received several of the missiles on his legs, and shoulders, and hat.

“Here we are!” said one of the gendarmes, as they entered Monsieur Hochon’s hall, “and not without difficulty, lieutenant.”

“We must now manage to disperse the crowd; and I see but one way, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant to the magistrates. “We must take Monsieur Bridau to the Palais accompanied by all of you; I and my gendarmes will make a circle round you. One can’t answer for anything in presence of a furious crowd of six thousand – ”

“You are right,” said Monsieur Hochon, who was trembling all the while for his gold.

“If that’s your only way to protect innocence in Issoudun,” said Joseph, “I congratulate you. I came near being stoned – ”

“Do you wish your friend’s house to be taken by assault and pillaged?” asked the lieutenant. “Could we beat back with our sabres a crowd of people who are pushed from behind by an angry populace that knows nothing of the forms of justice?”

“That will do, gentlemen, let us go; we can come to explanations later,” said Joseph, who had recovered his self-possession.

“Give way, friends!” said the lieutenant to the crowd; “He is arrested, and we are taking him to the Palais.”

“Respect the law, friends!” said Monsieur Mouilleron.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to see him guillotined?” said one of the gendarmes to an angry group.

“Yes, yes, they shall guillotine him!” shouted one madman.