The Mysteries of Paris, vol 2 | Page 4

hiding his face
between his hands, he groaned bitterly. Madeleine, almost as frenzied
as her husband, laid the child in the straw of her couch, and watched it
with a sort of savage jealousy; while the other children were kneeling

round in tears.
The bailiffs, for a moment softened by the death of the child, soon
returned to their accustomed brutality of conduct. "Oh, look here, my
friend," said Malicorne to the lapidary, "your child is dead; it is
unfortunate, but we are all mortal; we cannot help it, nor can you, so
there's an end of it. We have an extra job to do to-day--a swell to grab."
Morel did not hear the man. Completely lost in mournful contemplation,
the artisan said to himself, in a hollow and broken voice: "It will be
necessary to bury my poor little girl--to watch her here till they come to
carry her away. But how?--we have nothing! And the coffin!-- who will
give us credit? Oh, a little coffin for a child of four years old ought not
to cost much! And then we shall want no bearers! One can take it under
his arm. Ha! ha! ha!" added he, with a frightful burst of laughter, "how
lucky I am! She might perhaps have lived to be eighteen, Louise's age,
and no one would have given me credit for a large coffin!"
"Egad! this chap seems as though he would lose his senses!" said
Bourdin to Malicorne. "Look at him; he quite frightens me! and how
the old idiot howls with hunger! What a queer lot!"
"We must, however, make a finish; although the arrest of this beggar is
only for seventy-six francs, seventy-five centimes, it is only right that
we should swell the costs to two hundred and forty or fifty francs. It is
the wolf who pays."
"You mean who has to fork out--for this poor devil here will have to
pay the fiddler, since it is he that must dance."
"By the time he has paid his creditor two thousand five hundred francs,
for principal, interest, costs, and all, he will be warm."
"It will not be then as now, for it freezes," said the bailiff, blowing his
fingers. "Come, old fellow, pack up and let us be off; you can blubber
as you go along. Who the devil can help the youngun's kicking the
bucket!"

"Besides, when people are so poor, they have no right to have
children."
"A good idea!" said Malicorne. Then slapping Morel on the shoulder,
he continued: "Come, come, old boy, we can wait no longer; since you
cannot pay, off to prison with you!"
"Prison!" said a pure, youthful voice; "Morel to prison!" A young,
bright, rosy brunette suddenly entered the garret.
"Oh, Miss Dimpleton!" said one of the children, crying; "you are so
good; save papa! they want to take him to prison, and little sister is
dead."
"Adele dead!" exclaimed the girl, whose large, brilliant black eyes were
veiled in tears. "Your father to prison? This cannot be." Stupefied by
surprise, she looked alternately at the lapidary, his wife, and the
bailiffs.
"My pretty girl," said Bourdin approaching Miss Dimpleton, "you're
cool, you must try to make this poor man listen to reason; his little girl
is dead, but nevertheless he must come with us to Clichy--to the
debtors' prison. We are sheriffs' officers."
"It is, then, all true," said the girl.
"Quite true. The mother has the little one in her bed--they cannot take it
from her; and while she is hugging it there, the father ought to take the
opportunity of slipping out."
"My God! my God! what misery," said Miss Dimpleton. "What is to be
done?"
"Pay, or go to prison! there is no other way, unless you have notes for
two or three thousand francs to lend them," said Malicorne, in a
careless tone; "if you have them, shell out, and we will cut, devilish
glad to get away."

"Oh, this is dreadful!" said Miss Dimpleton, with indignation; "daring
to jest with such dreadful misfortunes."
"Well then, joking aside," replied the other bailiff, "if you would do
some good, endeavor to prevent the woman from seeing us take away
her husband. You will thus save each of them a very disagreeable
quarter of an hour."
The advice was good, though coarsely given, and Miss Dimpleton,
following it, approached Madeleine, who, distracted with grief, did not
appear to notice the young girl, as she knelt down beside the bed with
the children.
Meanwhile, Morel had only recovered from his temporary delirium to
sink under the most painful reflections. Having become calm, he could
view far too clearly the horror of his situation. The notary must be
pitiless, since he had gone to such extremity; the bailiffs did but do
their duty.