The Mysteries of Paris, vol 3 | Page 7

heard nothing, sir; I just came in.' 'You do not deceive me?' 'No, sir.' 'Well, what do you want?' 'To ask for some signatures, sir.' 'Give me the papers.' And he began to sign--without reading them, a half dozen notarial acts--he, who never put his flourish on an act without spelling it, letter by letter, and twice over, from end to end. I remarked that, from time to time, his hand slackened a little in the middle of his signature, as if he was absorbed by a fixed idea, and then he resumed and signed quickly, in a convulsive manner. When all were signed he told me to retire, and I heard him descend by the little staircase which leads from his cabinet to the court."
"I now come back to this: what can the matter be with him?"
"Perhaps he regrets Madame S��raphin."
"Oh, yes! he regrets any one!"
"That reminds me of what the porter said: that the cur�� of Bonne-Nouvelle and his vicar had called several times, and were not received. That is surprising."
"What I want to know is, what the carpenter and locksmith have been doing in the pavilion."
"The fact is, they have worked there for three days consecutively."
"And then one evening they brought some furniture here in a covered cart."
"I give it up! as sung the swan of Cambrai."
"It is perhaps remorse for having imprisoned Germain which torments him."
"Remorse--he? It is too hard, and too tough, as the eagle of Meau said."
"Fie, Chalamel!"
"Speaking of Germain, he is going to have famous recruits in his prison, poor fellow."
"How is that?"
"I read in the 'Gazette des Tribunaux' that the gang of robbers and assassins who have been arrested by the Champs Elysees in one of those little subterranean taverns--"
"They are real caverns."
"That this band of scoundrels has been confined in La Force."
"Poor Germain, good society for him."
"Louise Morel will also have her part of the recruits; for in the band they say there is a whole family, from father to son and mother to daughter."
"Then they will send the women to Saint Lazare, where Louise is."
"It is, perhaps, some of this band who have attempted the life of the countess who lives near the Observatory, one of our clients. Has not master sent me often enough to know how she is? He appears to be very much interested about her health. Only yesterday he sent me again to inquire how Lady M'Gregor had passed the night."
"Well."
"Always uncertain: one day they hope, the next despair--they never know whether she will get through the day; two days ago she was given up; but yesterday there was a ray of hope; what complicates the matter is, she has a brain fever."
"Could you go into the house, and see where the deed was committed?"
"Oh! by no means! I could go no further than the gate, and the porter did not seem disposed to walk much, not as ..."
"Here comes master," cried the boy, entering the office with the carcass. Immediately the young men seated themselves at their respective desks, over which they bent, moving their pens, while the boy deposited for a moment the turkey skeleton in a box filled with law papers.
Jacques Ferrand appeared.
Taking off his old silk cap, his red hair, mixed with gray, fell in disorder from each side of his temples; some of the veins on his forehead seemed injected with blood, while his flat face and hollow cheeks were of a livid paleness. The expression of his eyes could not be seen, concealed as they were by his large green spectacles; but the visible alteration of his features announced a consuming passion.
He crossed the office slowly, without saying a word to his clerks, without appearing to notice their presence, entered the room of the head clerk, walked through it, as well as his own cabinet, and descended immediately by the little staircase which led to the court. Jacques Ferrand having left behind him all the doors open, the clerks could, with good reason, be astonished at the extraordinary motions of their master, who came up one staircase and descended another, without stopping in any of the chambers, which he had traversed mechanically.
The Countess M'Gregor, at least, was not his trouble. In showing La Chouette Fleur-de-Marie's picture, she had exposed her jewels, and to secure them, the hag poniarded the lady and decamped.
CHAPTER II.
THOU SHALT NOT LUST.
It was night. The profound silence which reigned in the house occupied by Jacques Ferrand was interrupted at intervals by the sighing of the wind, and by rain, which fell in torrents. These melancholy sounds seemed to render still more complete the solitude of the dwelling. In a bed-chamber on the first floor, very comfortably and newly furnished, and covered with a thick carpet, a young woman was standing before an excellent fire.
What was very