Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 442 | Page 7

silently presented him with a
measure of vin ordinaire. It was eagerly swallowed, though Delessert's
hand shook so that he could scarcely hold the pewter flagon to his lips.
'Something has happened,' said Le Bossu presently.
'Morbleu!--yes. That is,' added the father, checking himself, 'something
might have happened, if---- Who's there?'
'Only the wind shaking the door. What might have happened?' persisted
the son.
'I will tell you, Antoine. I set off for Strasbourg yesterday, to see
Destouches once again, and entreat him to accept the assignats in
part-payment at least. He was not at home. Marguérite, the old servant,
said he was gone to the cathedral, not long since reopened. Well, I
found the usurer just coming out of the great western entrance, heathen
as he is, looking as pious as a pilgrim. I accosted him, told my errand,
begged, prayed, stormed! It was all to no purpose, except to attract the
notice and comments of the passers-by. Destouches went his way, and I,
with fury in my heart, betook myself to a wine-shop--Le Brun's. He
would not even change an assignat to take for what I drank, which was
not a little; and I therefore owe him for it. When the gendarmes cleared
the house at last, I was nearly crazed with rage and drink. I must have
been so, or I should never have gone to the Rue Béchard, forced myself
once more into the notary's presence, and--and'----
'And what?' quivered the young man, as his father abruptly stopped,
startled as before into silence by a sudden rattling of the crazy door.
'And what?'

'And abused him for a flinty-hearted scoundrel, as he is. He ordered me
away, and threatened to call the guard. I was flinging out of the house,
when Marguérite twitched me by the sleeve, and I stepped aside into
the kitchen. "You must not think," she said, "of going home on such a
night as this." It was snowing furiously, and blowing a hurricane at the
time. "There is a straw pallet," Marguérite added, "where you can sleep,
and nobody the wiser." I yielded. The good woman warmed some soup,
and the storm not abating, I lay down to rest--to rest, do I say?' shouted
Delessert, jumping madly to his feet, and pacing furiously to and
fro--'the rest of devils! My blood was in a flame; and rage, hate, despair,
blew the consuming fire by turns. I thought how I had been plundered
by the mercenary ruffian sleeping securely, as he thought, within a
dozen yards of the man he had ruined--sleeping securely just beyond
the room containing the secrétaire in which the mortgage-deed of
which I had been swindled was deposited'----
'Oh, father!' gasped the son.
'Be silent, boy, and you shall know all! It may be that I dreamed all this,
for I think the creaking of a door, and a stealthy step on the stair, awoke
me; but perhaps that, too, was part of the dream. However, I was at last
wide awake, and I got up and looked out on the cold night. The storm
had passed, and the moon had temporarily broken through the heavy
clouds by which she was encompassed. Marguérite had said I might let
myself out, and I resolved to depart at once. I was doing so, when,
looking round, I perceived that the notary's office-door was ajar.
Instantly a demon whispered, that although the law was restored, it was
still blind and deaf as ever--could not see or hear in that dark
silence--and that I might easily baffle the cheating usurer after all.
Swiftly and softly, I darted towards the half-opened door--entered. The
notary's secrétaire, Antoine, was wide open! I hunted with shaking
hands for the deed, but could not find it. There was money in the
drawers, and I--I think I should have taken some--did perhaps, I hardly
know how--when I heard, or thought I did, a rustling sound not far off.
I gazed wildly round, and plainly saw in the notary's bedroom--the door
of which, I had not before observed, was partly open--the shadow of a
man's figure clearly traced by the faint moonlight on the floor. I ran out

of the room, and out of the house, with the speed of a madman, and
here--here I am!' This said, he threw himself into a seat, and covered
his face with his hands.
'That is a chink of money,' said Le Bossu, who had listened in dumb
dismay to his father's concluding narrative. 'You had none, you said,
when at the wine-shop.'
'Money! Ah, it may be as I said---- Thunder of heaven!' cried the
wretched man, again fiercely springing to his feet, 'I am lost!'
'I fear so,' replied a commissaire de police, who had suddenly entered,
accompanied by several gendarmes--'if it be