The Mystery of Orcival | Page 4

their steps hastily toward the mayor's house.
Orcival, situated a mile or more from Corbeil, on the right bank of the
Seine, is one of the most charming villages in the environs of Paris,
despite the infernal etymology of its name. The gay and thoughtless
Parisian, who, on Sunday, wanders about the fields, more destructive
than the rook, has not yet discovered this smiling country. The
distressing odor of the frying from coffee-gardens does not there stifle
the perfume of the honeysuckles. The refrains of bargemen, the brazen
voices of boat-horns, have never awakened echoes there. Lazily
situated on the gentle slopes of a bank washed by the Seine, the houses
of Orcival are white, and there are delicious shades, and a bell-tower
which is the pride of the place. On all sides vast pleasure domains, kept
up at great cost, surround it. From the upper part, the weathercocks of
twenty chateaux may be seen. On the right is the forest of Mauprevoir,
and the pretty country-house of the Countess de la Breche; opposite, on
the other side of the river, is Mousseaux and Petit-Bourg, the ancient
domain of Aguado, now the property of a famous coach-maker; on the
left, those beautiful copses belong to the Count de Tremorel, that large
park is d'Etiolles, and in the distance beyond is Corbiel; that vast
building, whose roofs are higher than the oaks, is the Darblay mill.
The mayor of Orcival occupies a handsome, pleasant mansion, at the
upper end of the village. Formerly a manufacturer of dry goods, M.
Courtois entered business without a penny, and after thirty years of
absorbing toil, he retired with four round millions of francs.
Then he proposed to live tranquilly with his wife and children, passing
the winter at Paris and the summer at his country-house.
But all of a sudden he was observed to be disturbed and agitated.

Ambition stirred his heart. He took vigorous measures to be forced to
accept the mayoralty of Orcival. And he accepted it, quite in
self-defence, as he will himself tell you. This office was at once his
happiness and his despair; apparent despair, interior and real happiness.
It quite befits him, with clouded brow, to rail at the cares of power; he
appears yet better when, his waist encircled with the gold-laced scarf,
he goes in triumph at the head of the municipal body.
Everybody was sound asleep at the mayor's when the two Bertauds
rapped the heavy knocker of the door. After a moment, a servant, half
asleep, appeared at one of the ground-floor windows.
"What's the matter, you rascals?" asked he, growling.
Jean did not think it best to revenge an insult which his reputation in
the village too well justified.
"We want to speak to Monsieur the Mayor," he answered. "There is
terrible need of it. Go call him, Monsieur Baptiste; he won't blame
you."
"I'd like to see anybody blame me," snapped out Baptiste.
It took ten minutes of talking and explaining to persuade the servant.
Finally, the Bertauds were admitted to a little man, fat and red, very
much annoyed at being dragged from his bed so early. It was M.
Courtois.
They had decided that Philippe should speak.
"Monsieur Mayor," he said, "we have come to announce to you a great
misfortune. A crime has been committed at Monsieur de Tremorel's."
M. Courtois was a friend of the count's; he became whiter than his shirt
at this sudden news.
"My God!" stammered he, unable to control his emotion, "what do you
say - a crime!"

"Yes; we have just discovered a body; and as sure as you are here, I
believe it to be that of the countess."
The worthy man raised his arms heavenward, with a wandering air.
"But where, when?"
"Just now, at the foot of the park, as we were going to take up our
nets."
"It is horrible!" exclaimed the good M. Courtois; "what a calamity! So
worthy a lady! But it is not possible - you must be mistaken; I should
have been informed - "
"We saw it distinctly, Monsieur Mayor."
"Such a crime in my village! Well, you have done wisely to come here.
I will dress at once, and will hasten off - no, wait." He reflected a
moment, then called:
"Baptiste!"
The valet was not far off. With ear and eye alternately pressed against
the key-hole, he heard and looked with all his might. At the sound of
his master's voice he had only to stretch out his hand and open the door.
"Monsieur called me?"
"Run to the justice of the peace," said the mayor. "There is not a
moment to lose. A crime has been committed - perhaps a murder - you
must go quickly. And you," addressing the poachers, "await me