The Mysteries of Paris, vol 2 | Page 2

artisan, said to himself; "They say he is
a cutter of false stones; if so, he would not fear their being stolen. Just
as well to know that. I take! Then again, Mother Mathieu, who comes
here so often, is a dealer in real; and those she has in her casket are real
diamonds. I will put the Owl up to this!" added Red Arm's son.
"If you do not leave this room instantly, I will call the police," said
Morel.
The children, frightened at this scene, began to cry, while the old idiot
started upright in her bed.
"If any one has a right to call the police, we're the men. Do you hear,
Mister Sideways?" said Bourdin.
"You'll see the police lend a hand to take you, if you don't go quietly,"
added Malicorne; "we have not the magistrate with us, it is true; but if
you wish to enjoy his society, you shall have a taste of one, just out of
his bed, quite hot and heavy. Bourdin will go and fetch him."
"To prison! Me?" cried the astounded Morel.
"Yes, to Clichy."
"To Clichy!" repeated the artisan, with a wild look.
"Is he hard of hearing?" asked Malicorne.
"Well, then, to the debtor's prison, if you like that better," explained
Bourdin.
"You--you--are--can it be?--the lawyer! Oh, my God!"
The artisan, pale as death, fell back on his stool, unable to utter another
word.
"We are the officers who are to take you, if we can; do you understand
now, old fellow?"

"Morel, it is for the bill in the hands of Louise's master! We are all
lost!" said Madeleine, with a sorrowful voice.
"This is the warrant," said Malicorne, taking from his dirty pocket-book
a stamped writ.
After having mumbled over in the usual way a part of this document, in
a voice hardly intelligible, he pronounced distinctly the last words,
unfortunately too well understood by the artisan.--
"As final judgment, the court condemns Jerome Morel to pay to Pierre
Petit-Jean, merchant,[Footnote: The crafty notary incompetent to
proceed in his own name, had got from the unfortunate Morel a blank
acceptance, and had introduced a third party's name.] by all his goods,
and even with his body, the sum of thirteen hundred francs, with lawful
interest, dated from the day of the protest; and he is besides condemned
to pay all other and extra costs. Given and judged at Paris, the 30th of
September," etc., etc.
"And Louise, then? Louise!" cried Morel, almost distracted, without
appearing to have heard what had just been read. "Where is she? She
must have left the lawyer, since he sends me to prison. Louise! my
child! what has become of her?"
"Who is this Louise?" said Bourdin.
"Let him alone," said Malicorne. "Don't you see he's coming the
artful?" Then, approaching Morel, he added: "Come, to the
right-about-face, march; I want to breathe the air, I am poisoned here!"
"Morel, do not go!" said Madeleine, wildly. "Kill them, the thieves! Oh,
you are a coward! You will let them take you, and abandon us to our
fate."
"Act as though you were at home, madame," said Bourdin, sarcastically;
"but if your husband lifts his hand against me, I will give him
something to remember it by," continued he, twisting his loaded stick
round and round.

Occupied solely with thoughts of Louise, Morel heard nothing of what
was said. Suddenly, an expression of bitter joy lighting up his face, he
cried out, "Louise has quitted the lawyer's house. I shall go to prison
with a light heart!" But then, glancing round him, he exclaimed, "But
my wife, and her mother, and my poor children--who will support them?
They will not trust me with stones to cut in prison; for it will be
supposed that my own misconduct has sent me there. Does this lawyer
desire the death of all of us?"
"Once for all, let us be off!" said Bourdin; "I am sick of all this. Come,
dress yourself and march."
"My good gentleman, forgive what I have just said to you," cried
Madeleine, still in bed; "you will not have the cruelty to take away
Morel; what do you think will become of me, with my five children,
and my idiot mother? There she is, huddled up on her mattress. She is
foolish, my good gentlemen; she is quite out of her mind."
"The old woman that is shorn?"
"Sure enough she is shaved," said Malicorne; "I thought she had on a
white scull-cap."
"My dear children, throw yourselves at the feet of these two
gentlemen," said Madeleine, hoping, by a last effort, to soften the
bailiffs, "entreat them not to take away your poor father--our only
hope." But in spite of the order of their mother, the children, frightened
and crying,