THE RED INN

 BY

 HONORE DE BALZAC

 Translated by

 Katharine Prescott Wormeley

 DEDICATION

 To Monsieur le Marquis de Custine. 

 THE RED INN

In I know not what year a Parisian banker, who had very extensivecommercial relations with Germany, was entertaining at dinner one ofthose friends whom men of business often make in the markets of theworld through correspondence; a man hitherto personally unknown tohim. This friend, the head of a rather important house in Nuremburg, was a stout worthy German, a man of taste and erudition, above all aman of pipes, having a fine, broad, Nuremburgian face, with a squareopen forehead adorned by a few sparse locks of yellowish hair. He wasthe type of the sons of that pure and noble Germany, so fertile inhonorable natures, whose peaceful manners and morals have never beenlost, even after seven invasions. 

This stranger laughed with simplicity, listened attentively, and drankremarkably well, seeming to like champagne as much perhaps as he likedhis straw-colored Johannisburger. His name was Hermann, which is thatof most Germans whom authors bring upon their scene. Like a man whodoes nothing frivolously, he was sitting squarely at the banker'stable and eating with that Teutonic appetite so celebrated throughoutEurope, saying, in fact, a conscientious farewell to the cookery ofthe great Careme. 

To do honor to his guest the master of the house had invited a fewintimate friends, capitalists or merchants, and several agreeable andpretty women, whose pleasant chatter and frank manners were in harmonywith German cordiality. Really, if you could have seen, as I saw, thisjoyous gathering of persons who had drawn in their commercial claws, and were speculating only on the pleasures of life, you would havefound no cause to hate usurious discounts, or to curse bankruptcies. Mankind can't always be doing evil. Even in the society of pirates onemight find a few sweet hours during which we could fancy theirsinister craft a pleasure-boat rocking on the deep. 

"Before we part, Monsieur Hermann will, I trust, tell one more Germanstory to terrify us?"

These words were said at dessert by a pale fair girl, who had read, nodoubt, the tales of Hoffmann and the novels of Walter Scott. She wasthe only daughter of the banker, a charming young creature whoseeducation was then being finished at the Gymnase, the plays of whichshe adored. At this moment the guests were in that happy state oflaziness and silence which follows a delicious dinner, especially ifwe have presumed too far on our digestive powers. Leaning back intheir chairs, their wrists lightly resting on the edge of the table, they were indolently playing with the gilded blades of theirdessert-knives. When a dinner comes to this declining moment someguests will be seen to play with a pear seed; others roll crumbs ofbread between their fingers and thumbs; lovers trace indistinctletters with fragments of fruit; misers count the stones on theirplate and arrange them as a manager marshals his supernumeraries atthe back of the stage. These are little gastronomic felicities whichBrillat-Savarin, otherwise so complete an author, overlooked in hisbook. The footmen had disappeared. The dessert was like a squadronafter a battle: all the dishes were disabled, pillaged, damaged;several were wandering around the table, in spite of the efforts ofthe mistress of the house to keep them in their places. Some of thepersons present were gazing at pictures of Swiss scenery, symmetrically hung upon the gray-toned walls of the dining-room. Nota single guest was bored; in fact, I never yet knew a man who was sadduring his digestion of a good dinner. We like at such moments toremain in quietude, a species of middle ground between the reverie ofa thinker and the comfort of the ruminating animals; a conditionwhich we may call the material melancholy of gastronomy. 

So the guests now turned spontaneously to the excellent German, delighted to have a tale to listen to, even though it might prove ofno interest. During this blessed interregnum the voice of a narratoris always delightful to our languid senses; it increases theirnegative happiness. I, a seeker after impressions, admired the facesabout me, enlivened by smiles, beaming in the light of the waxcandles, and somewhat flushed by our late good cheer; their diverseexpressions producing piquant effects seen among the porcelainbaskets, the fruits, the glasses, and the candelabra. 

All of a sudden my imagination was caught by the aspect of a guest whosat directly in front of me. He was a man of medium height, rather fatand smiling, having the air and manner of a stock-broker, andapparently endowed with a very ordinary mind. Hitherto I had scarcelynoticed him, but now his face, possibly darkened by a change in thelights, seemed to me to have altered its character; it had certainlygrown ghastly; violet tones were spreading over it; you might havethought it the cadaverous head of a dying man. Motionless as thepersonages painted on a diorama, his stupefied eyes were fixed on thesparkling facets of a cut-glass stopper, but certainly withoutobserving them; he seemed to be engulfed in some weird contemplationof the future or the past. When I had long examined that puzzling faceI began to reflect about it. "Is he ill?" I said to myself. "Has hedrunk too much wine? Is he ruined by a drop in the Funds? Is hethinking how to cheat his creditors?"

"Look!" I said to my neighbor, pointing out to her the face of theunknown man, "is that an embryo bankrupt?"

"Oh, no!" she answered, "he would be much gayer. " Then, nodding herhead gracefully, she added, "If that man ever ruins himself I'll tellit in Pekin! He possesses a million in real estate. That's a formerpurveyor to the imperial armies; a good sort of man, and ratheroriginal. He married a second time by way of speculation; but for allthat he makes his wife extremely happy. He has a pretty daughter, whomhe refused for many years to recognize; but the death of his son, unfortunately killed in a duel, has compelled him to take her home, for he could not otherwise have children. The poor girl has suddenlybecome one of the richest heiresses in Paris. The death of his sonthrew the poor man into an agony of grief, which sometimes reappearson the surface. "

At that instant the purveyor raised his eyes and rested them upon me;that glance made me quiver, so full was it of gloomy thought. Butsuddenly his face grew lively; he picked up the cut-glass stopper andput it, with a mechanical movement, into a decanter full of water thatwas near his plate, and then he turned to Monsieur Hermann and smiled. After all, that man, now beatified by gastronomical enjoyments, hadn'tprobably two ideas in his brain, and was thinking of nothing. Consequently I felt rather ashamed of wasting my powers of divination"in anima vili, "--of a doltish financier. 

While I was thus making, at a dead loss, these phrenologicalobservations, the worthy German had lined his nose with a good pinchof snuff and was now beginning his tale. It would be difficult toreproduce it in his own language, with his frequent interruptions andwordy digressions. Therefore, I now write it down in my own way;leaving out the faults of the Nuremburger, and taking only what histale may have had of interest and poesy with the coolness of writerswho forget to put on the title pages of their books: "Translated fromthe German. "

 THOUGHT AND ACT

Toward the end of Venemiaire, year VII. , a republican period which inthe present day corresponds to October 20, 1799, two young men, leaving Bonn in the early morning, had reached by nightfall theenvirons of Andernach, a small town standing on the left bank of theRhine a few leagues from Coblentz. At that time the French army, commanded by Augereau, was manoeuvring before the Austrians, who thenoccupied the right bank of the river. The headquarters of theRepublican division was at Coblentz, and one of the demi-brigadesbelonging to Augereau's corps was stationed at Andernach. 

The two travellers were Frenchmen. At sight of their uniforms, bluemixed with white and faced with red velvet, their sabres, and aboveall their hats covered with a green varnished-cloth and adorned with atricolor plume, even the German peasants had recognized army surgeons, a body of men of science and merit liked, for the most part, not onlyin our own army but also in the countries invaded by our troops. Atthis period many sons of good families taken from their medicalstudies by the recent conscription law due to General Jourdan, hadnaturally preferred to continue their studies on the battle-fieldrather than be restricted to mere military duty, little in keepingwith their early education and their peaceful destinies. Men ofscience, pacific yet useful, these young men did an actual good in themidst of so much misery, and formed a bond of sympathy with other menof science in the various countries through which the cruelcivilization of the Republic passed. 

The two young men were each provided with a pass and a commission asassistant-surgeon signed Coste and Bernadotte; and they were on theirway to join the demi-brigade to which they were attached. Bothbelonged to moderately rich families in Beauvais, a town in which thegentle manners and loyalty of the provinces are transmitted as aspecies of birthright. Attracted to the theatre of war before the dateat which they were required to begin their functions, they hadtravelled by diligence to Strasburg. Though maternal prudence had onlyallowed them a slender sum of money they thought themselves rich inpossessing a few louis, an actual treasure in those days whenassignats were reaching their lowest depreciation and gold was worthfar more than silver. The two young surgeons, about twenty years ofage at the most, yielded themselves up to the poesy of their situationwith all the enthusiasm of youth. Between Strasburg and Bonn they hadvisited the Electorate and the banks of the Rhine as artists, philosophers, and observers. When a man's destiny is scientific he is, at their age, a being who is truly many-sided. Even in making love orin travelling, an assistant-surgeon should be gathering up therudiments of his fortune or his coming fame. 

The two young had therefore given themselves wholly to that deepadmiration which must affect all educated men on seeing the banks ofthe Rhine and the scenery of Suabia between Mayenne and Cologne, --astrong, rich, vigorously varied nature, filled with feudal memories, ever fresh and verdant, yet retaining at all points the imprints offire and sword. Louis XIV. And Turenne have cauterized that beautifulland. Here and there certain ruins bear witness to the pride or ratherthe foresight of the King of Versailles, who caused to be pulled downthe ancient castles that once adorned this part of Germany. Looking atthis marvellous country, covered with forests, where the picturesquecharm of the middle ages abounds, though in ruins, we are able toconceive the German genius, its reverie, its mysticism. 

The stay of the two friends at Bonn had the double purpose of scienceand pleasure. The grand hospital of the Gallo-Batavian army and ofAugereau's division was established in the very palace of the Elector. These assistant-surgeons of recent date went there to see oldcomrades, to present their letters of recommendation to their medicalchiefs, and to familiarize themselves with the first aspects of theirprofession. There, as elsewhere, they got rid of a few prejudices towhich we cling so fondly in favor of the beauties of our native land. Surprised by the aspect of the columns of marble which adorn theElectoral Palace, they went about admiring the grandiose effects ofGerman architecture, and finding everywhere new treasures both modernand antique. 

From time to time the highways along which the two friends rode atleisure on their way to Andernach, led them over the crest of somegranite hill that was higher than the rest. Thence, through a clearingof the forest or cleft in the rocky barrier, they caught suddenglimpses of the Rhine framed in stone or festooned with vigorousvegetation. The valleys, the forest paths, the trees exhaled thatautumnal odor which induced to reverie; the wooded summits werebeginning to gild and to take on the warm brown tones significant ofage; the leaves were falling, but the skies were still azure and thedry roads lay like yellow lines along the landscape, just thenilluminated by the oblique rays of the setting sun. At a mile and ahalf from Andernach the two friends walked their horses in silence, asif no war were devastating this beautiful land, while they followed apath made for the goats across the lofty walls of bluish granitebetween which foams the Rhine. Presently they descended by one of thedeclivities of the gorge, at the foot of which is placed the littletown, seated coquettishly on the banks of the river and offering aconvenient port to mariners. 

"Germany is a beautiful country!" cried one of the two young men, whowas named Prosper Magnan, at the moment when he caught sight of thepainted houses of Andernach, pressed together like eggs in a basket, and separated only by trees, gardens, and flowers. Then he admired fora moment the pointed roofs with their projecting eaves, the woodenstaircases, the galleries of a thousand peaceful dwellings, and thevessels swaying to the waves in the port. 

[At the moment when Monsieur Hermann uttered the name of ProsperMagnan, my opposite neighbor seized the decanter, poured out a glassof water, and emptied it at a draught. This movement having attractedmy attention, I thought I noticed a slight trembling of the hand and amoisture on the brow of the capitalist. 

"What is that man's name?" I asked my neighbor. 

"Taillefer, " she replied. 

"Do you feel ill?" I said to him, observing that this strangepersonage was turning pale. 

"Not at all, " he said with a polite gesture of thanks. "I amlistening, " he added, with a nod to the guests, who were allsimultaneously looking at him. 

"I have forgotten, " said Monsieur Hermann, "the name of the otheryoung man. But the confidences which Prosper Magnan subsequently madeto me enabled me to know that his companion was dark, rather thin, andjovial. I will, if you please, call him Wilhelm, to give greaterclearness to the tale I am about to tell you. "

The worthy German resumed his narrative after having, without thesmallest regard for romanticism and local color, baptized the youngFrench surgeon with a Teutonic name. ]

By the time the two young men reached Andernach the night was dark. Presuming that they would lose much time in looking for their chiefsand obtaining from them a military billet in a town already full ofsoldiers, they resolved to spend their last night of freedom at an innstanding some two or three hundred feet from Andernach, the rich colorof which, embellished by the fires of the setting sun, they hadgreatly admired from the summit of the hill above the town. Paintedentirely red, this inn produced a most piquant effect in thelandscape, whether by detaching itself from the general background ofthe town, or by contrasting its scarlet sides with the verdure of thesurrounding foliage, and the gray-blue tints of the water. This houseowed its name, the Red Inn, to this external decoration, imposed uponit, no doubt from time immemorial by the caprice of its founder. Amercantile superstition, natural enough to the different possessors ofthe building, far-famed among the sailors of the Rhine, had made themscrupulous to preserve the title. 

Hearing the sound of horses' hoofs, the master of the Red Inn came outupon the threshold of his door. 

"By heavens! gentlemen, " he cried, "a little later and you'd have hadto sleep beneath the stars, like a good many more of your compatriotswho are bivouacking on the other side of Andernach. Here every room isoccupied. If you want to sleep in a good bed I have only my own roomto offer you. As for your horses I can litter them down in a corner ofthe courtyard. The stable is full of people. Do these gentlemen comefrom France?" he added after a slight pause. 

"From Bonn, " cried Prosper, "and we have eaten nothing since morning. "

"Oh! as to provisions, " said the innkeeper, nodding his head, "peoplecome to the Red Inn for their wedding feast from thirty miles round. You shall have a princely meal, a Rhine fish! More, I need not say. "

After confiding their weary steeds to the care of the landlord, whovainly called to his hostler, the two young men entered the publicroom of the inn. Thick white clouds exhaled by a numerous company ofsmokers prevented them from at first recognizing the persons with whomthey were thrown; but after sitting awhile near the table, with thepatience practised by philosophical travellers who know the inutilityof making a fuss, they distinguished through the vapors of tobacco theinevitable accessories of a German inn: the stove, the clock, the potsof beer, the long pipes, and here and there the eccentricphysiognomies of Jews, or Germans, and the weather-beaten faces ofmariners. The epaulets of several French officers were glitteringthrough the mist, and the clank of spurs and sabres echoed incessantlyfrom the brick floor. Some were playing cards, others argued, or heldtheir tongues and ate, drank, or walked about. One stout little woman, wearing a black velvet cap, blue and silver stomacher, pincushion, bunch of keys, silver buckles, braided hair, --all distinctive signs ofthe mistress of a German inn (a costume which has been so oftendepicted in colored prints that it is too common to describe here), --well, this wife of the innkeeper kept the two friends alternatelypatient and impatient with remarkable ability. 

Little by little the noise decreased, the various travellers retiredto their rooms, the clouds of smoke dispersed. When places were setfor the two young men, and the classic carp of the Rhine appeared uponthe table, eleven o'clock was striking and the room was empty. Thesilence of night enabled the young surgeons to hear vaguely the noisetheir horses made in eating their provender, and the murmur of thewaters of the Rhine, together with those indefinable sounds whichalways enliven an inn when filled with persons preparing to go to bed. Doors and windows are opened and shut, voices murmur vague words, anda few interpellations echo along the passages. 

At this moment of silence and tumult the two Frenchmen and theirlandlord, who was boasting of Andernach, his inn, his cookery, theRhine wines, the Republican army, and his wife, were all threelistening with a sort of interest to the hoarse cries of sailors in aboat which appeared to be coming to the wharf. The innkeeper, familiarno doubt with the guttural shouts of the boatmen, went out hastily, but presently returned conducting a short stout man, behind whomwalked two sailors carrying a heavy valise and several packages. Whenthese were deposited in the room, the short man took the valise andplaced it beside him as he seated himself without ceremony at the sametable as the surgeons. 

"Go and sleep in your boat, " he said to the boatmen, "as the inn isfull. Considering all things, that is best. "

"Monsieur, " said the landlord to the new-comer, "these are all theprovisions I have left, " pointing to the supper served to the twoFrenchmen; "I haven't so much as another crust of bread nor a bone. "

"No sauer-kraut?"

"Not enough to put in my wife's thimble! As I had the honor to tellyou just now, you can have no bed but the chair on which you aresitting, and no other chamber than this public room. "

At these words the little man cast upon the landlord, the room, andthe two Frenchmen a look in which caution and alarm were equallyexpressed. 

["Here, " said Monsieur Hermann, interrupting himself, "I ought to tellyou that we have never known the real name nor the history of thisman; his papers showed that he came from Aix-la-Chapelle; he calledhimself Wahlenfer and said that he owned a rather extensive pinmanufactory in the suburbs of Neuwied. Like all the manufacturers ofthat region, he wore a surtout coat of common cloth, waistcoat andbreeches of dark green velveteen, stout boots, and a broad leatherbelt. His face was round, his manners frank and cordial; but duringthe evening he seemed unable to disguise altogether some secretapprehension or, possibly, some anxious care. The innkeeper's opinionhas always been that this German merchant was fleeing his country. Later I heard that his manufactory had been burned by one of thoseunfortunate chances so frequent in times of war. In spite of itsanxious expression the man's face showed great kindliness. Hisfeatures were handsome; and the whiteness of his stout throat was wellset off by a black cravat, a fact which Wilhelm showed jestingly toProsper. "

Here Monsieur Taillefer drank another glass of water. ]

Prosper courteously proposed that the merchant should share theirsupper, and Wahlenfer accepted the offer without ceremony, like a manwho feels himself able to return a civility. He placed his valise onthe floor and put his feet on it, took off his hat and gloves andremoved a pair of pistols from his belt; the landlord having by thistime set a knife and fork for him, the three guests began to satisfytheir appetites in silence. The atmosphere of this room was hot andthe flies were so numerous that Prosper requested the landlord to openthe window looking toward the outer gate, so as to change the air. This window was barricaded by an iron bar, the two ends of which wereinserted into holes made in the window casings. For greater security, two bolts were screwed to each shutter. Prosper accidentally noticedthe manner in which the landlord managed these obstacles and openedthe window. 

As I am now speaking of localities, this is the place to describe toyou the interior arrangements of the inn; for, on an accurateknowledge of the premises depends an understanding of my tale. Thepublic room in which the three persons I have named to you weresitting, had two outer doors. One opened on the main road toAndernach, which skirts the Rhine. In front of the inn was a littlewharf, to which the boat hired by the merchant for his journey wasmoored. The other door opened upon the courtyard of the inn. Thiscourtyard was surrounded by very high walls and was full, for the timebeing, of cattle and horses, the stables being occupied by humanbeings. The great gate leading into this courtyard had been socarefully barricaded that to save time the landlord had brought themerchant and sailors into the public room through the door opening onthe roadway. After having opened the window, as requested by ProsperMagnan, he closed this door, slipped the iron bars into their placesand ran the bolts. The landlord's room, where the two young surgeonswere to sleep, adjoined the public room, and was separated by asomewhat thin partition from the kitchen, where the landlord and hiswife intended, probably, to pass the night. The servant-woman had leftthe premises to find a lodging in some crib or hayloft. It istherefore easy to see that the kitchen, the landlord's chamber, andthe public room were, to some extent, isolated from the rest of thehouse. In the courtyard were two large dogs, whose deep-toned barkingshowed vigilant and easily roused guardians. 

"What silence! and what a beautiful night!" said Wilhelm, looking atthe sky through the window, as the landlord was fastening the door. 

The lapping of the river against the wharf was the only sound to beheard. 

"Messieurs, " said the merchant, "permit me to offer you a few bottlesof wine to wash down the carp. We'll ease the fatigues of the day bydrinking. From your manner and the state of your clothes, I judge thatyou have made, like me, a good bit of a journey to-day. "

The two friends accepted, and the landlord went out by a door throughthe kitchen to his cellar, situated, no doubt, under this portion ofthe building. When five venerable bottles which he presently broughtback with him appeared on the table, the wife brought in the rest ofthe supper. She gave to the dishes and to the room generally theglance of a mistress, and then, sure of having attended to all thewants of the travellers, she returned to the kitchen. 

The four men, for the landlord was invited to drink, did not hear hergo to bed, but later, during the intervals of silence which came intotheir talk, certain strongly accentuated snores, made the moresonorous by the thin planks of the loft in which she had ensconcedherself, made the guests laugh and also the husband. Towards midnight, when nothing remained on the table but biscuits, cheese, dried fruit, and good wine, the guests, chiefly the young Frenchmen, becamecommunicative. The latter talked of their homes, their studies, and ofthe war. The conversation grew lively. Prosper Magnan brought a fewtears to the merchant's eyes, when with the frankness and naivete of agood and tender nature, he talked of what his mother must be doing atthat hour, while he was sitting drinking on the banks of the Rhine. 

"I can see her, " he said, "reading her prayers before she goes to bed. She won't forget me; she is certain to say to herself, 'My poorProsper; I wonder where he is now!' If she has won a few sous from herneighbors--your mother, perhaps, " he added, nudging Wilhelm's elbow--"she'll go and put them in the great red earthenware pot, where sheis accumulating a sum sufficient to buy the thirty acres adjoining herlittle estate at Lescheville. Those thirty acres are worth at leastsixty thousand francs. Such fine fields! Ah! if I had them I'd liveall my days at Lescheville, without other ambition! How my father usedto long for those thirty acres and the pretty brook which windsthrough the meadows! But he died without ever being able to buy them. Many's the time I've played there!"

"Monsieur Wahlenfer, haven't you also your 'hoc erat in votis'?" askedWilhelm. 

"Yes, monsieur, but it came to pass, and now--"

The good man was silent, and did not finish his sentence. 

"As for me, " said the landlord, whose face was rather flushed, "Ibought a field last spring, which I had been wanting for ten years. "

They talked thus like men whose tongues are loosened by wine, and theyeach took that friendly liking to the others of which we are neverstingy on a journey; so that when the time came to separate for thenight, Wilhelm offered his bed to the merchant. 

"You can accept it without hesitation, " he said, "for I can sleep withProsper. It won't be the first, nor the last time either. You are ourelder, and we ought to honor age!"

"Bah!" said the landlord, "my wife's bed has several mattresses; takeone off and put it on the floor. "

So saying, he went and shut the window, making all the noise thatprudent operation demanded. 

"I accept, " said the merchant; "in fact I will admit, " he added, lowering his voice and looking at the two Frenchmen, "that I desiredit. My boatmen seem to me suspicious. I am not sorry to spend thenight with two brave young men, two French soldiers, for, betweenourselves, I have a hundred thousand francs in gold and diamonds in myvalise. "

The friendly caution with which this imprudent confidence was receivedby the two young men, seemed to reassure the German. The landlordassisted in taking off one of the mattresses, and when all wasarranged for the best he bade them good-night and went off to bed. 

The merchant and the surgeons laughed over the nature of theirpillows. Prosper put his case of surgical instruments and that ofWilhelm under the end of his mattress to raise it and supply the placeof a bolster, which was lacking. Wahlenfer, as a measure ofprecaution, put his valise under his pillow. 

"We shall both sleep on our fortune, " said Prosper, "you, on yourgold; I, on my instruments. It remains to be seen whether myinstruments will ever bring me the gold you have now acquired. "

"You may hope so, " said the merchant. "Work and honesty can doeverything; have patience, however. "

Wahlenfer and Wilhelm were soon asleep. Whether it was that his bed onthe floor was hard, or that his great fatigue was a cause ofsleeplessness, or that some fatal influence affected his soul, it iscertain that Prosper Magnan continued awake. His thoughtsunconsciously took an evil turn. His mind dwelt exclusively on thehundred thousand francs which lay beneath the merchant's pillow. ToProsper Magnan one hundred thousand francs was a vast and ready-madefortune. He began to employ it in a hundred different ways; he madecastles in the air, such as we all make with eager delight during themoments preceding sleep, an hour when images rise in our mindsconfusedly, and often, in the silence of the night, thought acquiressome magical power. He gratified his mother's wishes; he bought thethirty acres of meadow land; he married a young lady of Beauvais towhom his present want of fortune forbade him to aspire. With a hundredthousand francs he planned a lifetime of happiness; he saw himselfprosperous, the father of a family, rich, respected in his province, and, possibly, mayor of Beauvais. His brain heated; he searched formeans to turn his fictions to realities. He began with extraordinaryardor to plan a crime theoretically. While fancying the death of themerchant he saw distinctly the gold and the diamonds. His eyes weredazzled by them. His heart throbbed. Deliberation was, undoubtedly, already crime. Fascinated by that mass of gold he intoxicated himselfmorally by murderous arguments. He asked himself if that poor Germanhad any need to live; he supposed the case of his never havingexisted. In short, he planned the crime in a manner to secure himselfimpunity. The other bank of the river was occupied by the Austrianarmy; below the windows lay a boat and boatman; he would cut thethroat of that man, throw the body into the Rhine, and escape with thevalise; gold would buy the boatman and he could reach the Austrians. He went so far as to calculate the professional ability he had reachedin the use of instruments, so as to cut through his victim's throatwithout leaving him the chance for a single cry. 

[Here Monsieur Taillefer wiped his forehead and drank a little water. ]

Prosper rose slowly, making no noise. Certain of having waked no one, he dressed himself and went into the public room. There, with thatfatal intelligence a man suddenly finds on some occasions within him, with that power of tact and will which is never lacking to prisonersor to criminals in whatever they undertake, he unscrewed the ironbars, slipped them from their places without the slightest noise, placed them against the wall, and opened the shutters, leaning heavilyupon their hinges to keep them from creaking. The moon was sheddingits pale pure light upon the scene, and he was thus enabled to faintlysee into the room where Wilhelm and Wahlenfer were sleeping. There, hetold me, he stood still for a moment. The throbbing of his heart wasso strong, so deep, so sonorous, that he was terrified; he feared hecould not act with coolness; his hands trembled; the soles of his feetseem planted on red-hot coal; but the execution of his plan wasaccompanied by such apparent good luck that he fancied he saw aspecies of predestination in this favor bestowed upon him by fate. Heopened the window, returned to the bedroom, took his case ofinstruments, and selected the one most suitable to accomplish thecrime. 

"When I stood by the bed, " he said to me, "I commended myselfmechanically to God. "

At the moment when he raised his arm collecting all his strength, heheard a voice as it were within him; he thought he saw a light. Heflung the instrument on his own bed and fled into the next room, andstood before the window. There, he conceived the utmost horror ofhimself. Feeling his virtue weak, fearing still to succumb to thespell that was upon him he sprang out upon the road and walked alongthe bank of the Rhine, pacing up and down like a sentinel before theinn. Sometimes he went as far as Andernach in his hurried tramp; oftenhis feet led him up the slope he had descended on his way to the inn;and sometimes he lost sight of the inn and the window he had left openbehind him. His object, he said, was to weary himself and so findsleep. 

But, as he walked beneath the cloudless skies, beholding the stars, affected perhaps by the purer air of night and the melancholy lappingof the water, he fell into a reverie which brought him back by degreesto sane moral thoughts. Reason at last dispersed completely hismomentary frenzy. The teachings of his education, its religiousprecepts, but above all, so he told me, the remembrance of his simplelife beneath the parental roof drove out his wicked thoughts. When hereturned to the inn after a long meditation to which he abandonedhimself on the bank of the Rhine, resting his elbow on a rock, hecould, he said to me, not have slept, but have watched untemptedbeside millions of gold. At the moment when his virtue rose proudlyand vigorously from the struggle, he knelt down, with a feeling ofecstasy and happiness, and thanked God. He felt happy, light-hearted, content, as on the day of his first communion, when he thought himselfworthy of the angels because he had passed one day without sinning inthought, or word, or deed. 

He returned to the inn and closed the window without fearing to make anoise, and went to bed at once. His moral and physical lassitude wascertain to bring him sleep. In a very short time after laying his headon his mattress, he fell into that first fantastic somnolence whichprecedes the deepest sleep. The senses then grew numb, and life isabolished by degrees; thoughts are incomplete, and the last quiveringof our consciousness seems like a sort of reverie. "How heavy the airis!" he thought; "I seem to be breathing a moist vapor. " He explainedthis vaguely to himself by the difference which must exist between theatmosphere of the close room and the purer air by the river. Butpresently he heard a periodical noise, something like that made bydrops of water falling from a robinet into a fountain. Obeying afeeling of panic terror he was about to rise and call the innkeeperand waken Wahlenfer and Wilhelm, but he suddenly remembered, alas! tohis great misfortune, the tall wooden clock; he fancied the sound wasthat of the pendulum, and he fell asleep with that confused andindistinct perception. 

["Do you want some water, Monsieur Taillefer?" said the master of thehouse, observing that the banker was mechanically pouring from anempty decanter. 

Monsieur Hermann continued his narrative after the slight pauseoccasioned by this interruption. ]

The next morning Prosper Magnan was awakened by a great noise. Heseemed to hear piercing cries, and he felt that violent shuddering ofthe nerves which we suffer when on awaking we continue to feel apainful impression begun in sleep. A physiological fact then takesplace within us, a start, to use the common expression, which hasnever been sufficiently observed, though it contains very curiousphenomena for science. This terrible agony, produced, possibly, by thetoo sudden reunion of our two natures separated during sleep, isusually transient; but in the poor young surgeon's case it lasted, andeven increased, causing him suddenly the most awful horror as hebeheld a pool of blood between Wahlenfer's bed and his own mattress. The head of the unfortunate German lay on the ground; his body wasstill on the bed; all its blood had flowed out by the neck. 

Seeing the eyes still open but fixed, seeing the blood which hadstained his sheets and even his hands, recognizing his own surgicalinstrument beside him, Prosper Magnan fainted and fell into the poolof Wahlenfer's blood. "It was, " he said to me, "the punishment of mythoughts. " When he recovered consciousness he was in the public room, seated on a chair, surrounded by French soldiers, and in presence of acurious and observing crowd. He gazed stupidly at a Republican officerengaged in taking the testimony of several witnesses, and in writingdown, no doubt, the "proces-verbal. " He recognized the landlord, hiswife, the two boatmen, and the servant of the Red Inn. The surgicalinstrument which the murderer had used--

[Here Monsieur Taillefer coughed, drew out his handkerchief to blowhis nose, and wiped his forehead. These perfectly natural motions werenoticed by me only; the other guests sat with their eyes fixed onMonsieur Hermann, to whom they were listening with a sort of avidity. The purveyor leaned his elbow on the table, put his head into hisright hand and gazed fixedly at Hermann. From that moment he showed noother sign of emotion or interest, but his face remained passive andghastly, as it was when I first saw him playing with the stopper ofthe decanter. ]

The surgical instrument which the murderer had used was on the tablewith the case containing the rest of the instruments, together withProsper's purse and papers. The gaze of the assembled crowd turnedalternately from these convicting articles to the young man, whoseemed to be dying and whose half-extinguished eyes apparently sawnothing. A confused murmur which was heard without proved the presenceof a crowd, drawn to the neighborhood of the inn by the news of thecrime, and also perhaps by a desire to see the murderer. The step ofthe sentries placed beneath the windows of the public room and therattle of their accoutrements could be heard above the talk of thepopulace; but the inn was closed and the courtyard was empty andsilent. 

Incapable of sustaining the glance of the officer who was gatheringhis testimony, Prosper Magnan suddenly felt his hand pressed by a man, and he raised his eyes to see who his protector could be in that crowdof enemies. He recognized by his uniform the surgeon-major of thedemi-brigade then stationed at Andernach. The glance of that man wasso piercing, so stern, that the poor young fellow shuddered, andsuffered his head to fall on the back of his chair. A soldier putvinegar to his nostrils and he recovered consciousness. Neverthelesshis haggard eyes were so devoid of life and intelligence that thesurgeon said to the officer after feeling Prosper's pulse, --

"Captain, it is impossible to question the man at this moment. "

"Very well! Take him away, " replied the captain, interrupting thesurgeon, and addressing a corporal who stood behind the prisoner. "Youcursed coward!" he went on, speaking to Prosper in a low voice, "tryat least to walk firmly before these German curs, and save the honorof the Republic. "

This address seemed to wake up Prosper Magnan, who rose and made a fewsteps forward; but when the door was opened and he felt the fresh airand saw the crowd before him, he staggered and his knees gave wayunder him. 

"This coward of a sawbones deserves a dozen deaths! Get on!" cried thetwo soldiers who had him in charge, lending him their arms to supporthim. 

"There he is!--oh, the villain! the coward! Here he is! There he is!"

These cries seemed to be uttered by a single voice, the tumultuousvoice of the crowd which followed him with insults and swelled atevery step. During the passage from the inn to the prison, the noisemade by the tramping of the crowd and the soldiers, the murmur of thevarious colloquies, the sight of the sky, the coolness of the air, theaspect of Andernach and the shimmering of the waters of the Rhine, --these impressions came to the soul of the young man vaguely, confusedly, torpidly, like all the sensations he had felt since hiswaking. There were moments, he said, when he thought he was no longerliving. 

I was then in prison. Enthusiastic, as we all are at twenty years ofage, I wished to defend my country, and I commanded a company of freelances, which I had organized in the vicinity of Andernach. A few daysbefore these events I had fallen plump, during the night, into aFrench detachment of eight hundred men. We were two hundred at themost. My scouts had sold me. I was thrown into the prison ofAndernach, and they talked of shooting me, as a warning to intimidateothers. The French talked also of reprisals. My father, however, obtained a reprieve for three days to give him time to see GeneralAugereau, whom he knew, and ask for my pardon, which was granted. Thusit happened that I saw Prosper Magnan when he was brought to theprison. He inspired me with the profoundest pity. Though pale, distracted, and covered with blood, his whole countenance had acharacter of truth and innocence which struck me forcibly. To me hislong fair hair and clear blue eyes seemed German. A true image of myhapless country. I felt he was a victim and not a murderer. At themoment when he passed beneath my window he chanced to cast about himthe painful, melancholy smile of an insane man who suddenly recoversfor a time a fleeting gleam of reason. That smile was assuredly notthe smile of a murderer. When I saw the jailer I questioned him abouthis new prisoner. 

"He has not spoken since I put him in his cell, " answered the man. "Heis sitting down with his head in his hands and is either sleeping orreflecting about his crime. The French say he'll get his reckoningto-morrow morning and be shot in twenty-four hours. "

That evening I stopped short under the window of the prison during theshort time I was allowed to take exercise in the prison yard. Wetalked together, and he frankly related to me his strange affair, replying with evident truthfulness to my various questions. After thatfirst conversation I no longer doubted his innocence; I asked, andobtained the favor of staying several hours with him. I saw him againat intervals, and the poor lad let me in without concealment to allhis thoughts. He believed himself both innocent and guilty. Remembering the horrible temptation which he had had the strength toresist, he feared he might have done in sleep, in a fit ofsomnambulism, the crime he had dreamed of awake. 

"But your companion?" I said to him. 

"Oh!" he cried eagerly. "Wilhelm is incapable of--"

He did not even finish his sentence. At that warm defence, so full ofyouth and manly virtue, I pressed his hand. 

"When he woke, " continued Prosper, "he must have been terrified andlost his head; no doubt he fled. "

"Without awaking you?" I said. "Then surely your defence is easy;Wahlenfer's valise cannot have been stolen. "

Suddenly he burst into tears. 

"Oh, yes!" he cried, "I am innocent! I have not killed a man! Iremember my dreams. I was playing at base with my schoolmates. Icouldn't have cut off the head of a man while I dreamed I wasrunning. "

Then, in spite of these gleams of hope, which gave him at times somecalmness, he felt a remorse which crushed him. He had, beyond allquestion, raised his arm to kill that man. He judged himself; and hefelt that his heart was not innocent after committing that crime inhis mind. 

"And yet, I _am_ good!" he cried. "Oh, my poor mother! Perhaps at thismoment she is cheerfully playing boston with the neighbors in herlittle tapestry salon. If she knew that I had raised my hand to murdera man--oh! she would die of it! And I _am_ in prison, accused ofcommitting that crime! If I have not killed a man, I have certainlykilled my mother!"

Saying these words he wept no longer; he was seized by that short andrapid madness known to the men of Picardy; he sprang to the wall, andif I had not caught him, he would have dashed out his brains againstit. 

"Wait for your trial, " I said. "You are innocent, you will certainlybe acquitted; think of your mother. "

"My mother!" he cried frantically, "she will hear of the accusationbefore she hears anything else, --it is always so in little towns; andthe shock will kill her. Besides, I am not innocent. Must I tell youthe whole truth? I feel that I have lost the virginity of myconscience. "

After that terrible avowal he sat down, crossed his arms on hisbreast, bowed his head upon it, gazing gloomily on the ground. At thisinstant the turnkey came to ask me to return to my room. Grieved toleave my companion at a moment when his discouragement was so deep, Ipressed him in my arms with friendship, saying:--

"Have patience; all may yet go well. If the voice of an honest man canstill your doubts, believe that I esteem you and trust you. Accept myfriendship, and rest upon my heart, if you cannot find peace in yourown. "

The next morning a corporal's guard came to fetch the young surgeon atnine o'clock. Hearing the noise made by the soldiers, I stationedmyself at my window. As the prisoner crossed the courtyard, he casthis eyes up to me. Never shall I forget that look, full of thoughts, presentiments, resignation, and I know not what sad, melancholy grace. It was, as it were, a silent but intelligible last will by which a manbequeathed his lost existence to his only friend. The night must havebeen very hard, very solitary for him; and yet, perhaps, the pallor ofhis face expressed a stoicism gathered from some new sense ofself-respect. Perhaps he felt that his remorse had purified him, andbelieved that he had blotted out his fault by his anguish and hisshame. He now walked with a firm step, and since the previous eveninghe had washed away the blood with which he was, involuntarily, stained. 

"My hands must have dabbled in it while I slept, for I am always arestless sleeper, " he had said to me in tones of horrible despair. 

I learned that he was on his way to appear before the council of war. The division was to march on the following morning, and thecommanding-officer did not wish to leave Andernach without inquiryinto the crime on the spot where it had been committed. I remained inthe utmost anxiety during the time the council lasted. At last, aboutmid-day, Prosper Magnan was brought back. I was then taking my usualwalk; he saw me, and came and threw himself into my arms. 

"Lost!" he said, "lost, without hope! Here, to all the world, I am amurderer. " He raised his head proudly. "This injustice restores to memy innocence. My life would always have been wretched; my death leavesme without reproach. But is there a future?"

The whole eighteenth century was in that sudden question. He remainedthoughtful. 

"Tell me, " I said to him, "how you answered. What did they ask you?Did you not relate the simple facts as you told them to me?"

He looked at me fixedly for a moment; then, after that awful pause, heanswered with feverish excitement:--

"First they asked me, 'Did you leave the inn during the night?' Isaid, 'Yes. ' 'How?' I answered, 'By the window. ' 'Then you must havetaken great precautions; the innkeeper heard no noise. ' I wasstupefied. The sailors said they saw me walking, first to Andernach, then to the forest. I made many trips, they said, no doubt to bury thegold and diamonds. The valise had not been found. My remorse stillheld me dumb. When I wanted to speak, a pitiless voice cried out tome, _'You meant to commit that crime!'_ All was against me, even myself. They asked me about my comrade, and I completely exonerated him. Thenthey said to me: 'The crime must lie between you, your comrade, theinnkeeper, and his wife. This morning all the windows and doors werefound securely fastened. ' At those words, " continued the poor fellow, "I had neither voice, nor strength, nor soul to answer. More sure ofmy comrade than I could be of myself, I could not accuse him. I sawthat we were both thought equally guilty of the murder, and that I wasconsidered the most clumsy. I tried to explain the crime bysomnambulism, and so protect my friend; but there I rambled andcontradicted myself. No, I am lost. I read my condemnation in the eyesof my judges. They smiled incredulously. All is over. No moreuncertainty. To-morrow I shall be shot. I am not thinking of myself, "he went on after a pause, "but of my poor mother. " Then he stopped, looked up to heaven, and shed no tears; his eyes were dry and stronglyconvulsed. "Frederic--"

["Ah! true, " cried Monsieur Hermann, with an air of triumph. "Yes, theother's name was Frederic, Frederic! I remember now!"

My neighbor touched my foot, and made me a sign to look at MonsieurTaillefer. The former purveyor had negligently dropped his hand overhis eyes, but between the interstices of his fingers we thought wecaught a darkling flame proceeding from them. 

"Hein?" she said in my ear, "what if his name were Frederic?"

I answered with a glance, which said to her: "Silence!"

Hermann continued:]

"Frederic!" cried the young surgeon, "Frederic basely deserted me. Hemust have been afraid. Perhaps he is still hidden in the inn, for ourhorses were both in the courtyard this morning. What anincomprehensible mystery!" he went on, after a moment's silence. "Somnambulism! somnambulism? I never had but one attack in my life, and that was when I was six years old. Must I go from this earth, " hecried, striking the ground with his foot, "carrying with me all thereis of friendship in the world? Shall I die a double death, doubting afraternal love begun when we were only five years old, and continuedthrough school and college? Where is Frederic?"

He wept. Can it be that we cling more to a sentiment than to life?

"Let us go in, " he said; "I prefer to be in my cell. I do not wish tobe seen weeping. I shall go courageously to death, but I cannot playthe heroic at all moments; I own I regret my beautiful young life. Alllast night I could not sleep; I remembered the scenes of my childhood;I fancied I was running in the fields. Ah! I had a future, " he said, suddenly interrupting himself; "and now, twelve men, a sub-lieutenantshouting 'Carry-arms, aim, fire!' a roll of drums, and infamy! that'smy future now. Oh! there must be a God, or it would all be toosenseless. "

Then he took me in his arms and pressed me to him with all hisstrength. 

"You are the last man, the last friend to whom I can show my soul. Youwill be set at liberty, you will see your mother! I don't know whetheryou are rich or poor, but no matter! you are all the world to me. Theywon't fight always, 'ceux-ci. ' Well, when there's peace, will you goto Beauvais? If my mother has survived the fatal news of my death, youwill find her there. Say to her the comforting words, 'He wasinnocent!' She will believe you. I am going to write to her; but youmust take her my last look; you must tell her that you were the lastman whose hand I pressed. Oh, she'll love you, the poor woman! you, mylast friend. Here, " he said, after a moment's silence, during which hewas overcome by the weight of his recollections, "all, officers andsoldiers, are unknown to me; I am an object of horror to them. If itwere not for you my innocence would be a secret between God andmyself. "

I swore to sacredly fulfil his last wishes. My words, the emotion Ishowed touched him. Soon after that the soldiers came to take himagain before the council of war. He was condemned to death. I amignorant of the formalities that followed or accompanied thisjudgment, nor do I know whether the young surgeon defended his life ornot; but he expected to be executed on the following day, and he spentthe night in writing to his mother. 

"We shall both be free to-day, " he said, smiling, when I went to seehim the next morning. "I am told that the general has signed yourpardon. "

I was silent, and looked at him closely so as to carve his features, as it were, on my memory. Presently an expression of disgust crossedhis face. 

"I have been very cowardly, " he said. "During all last night I beggedfor mercy of these walls, " and he pointed to the sides of his dungeon. "Yes, yes, I howled with despair, I rebelled, I suffered the mostawful moral agony--I was alone! Now I think of what others will say ofme. Courage is a garment to put on. I desire to go decently to death, therefore--"

 A DOUBLE RETRIBUTION

"Oh, stop! stop!" cried the young lady who had asked for this history, interrupting the narrator suddenly. "Say no more; let me remain inuncertainty and believe that he was saved. If I hear now that he wasshot I shall not sleep all night. To-morrow you shall tell me therest. "

We rose from table. My neighbor in accepting Monsieur Hermann's arm, said to him--

"I suppose he was shot, was he not?"

"Yes. I was present at the execution. "

"Oh! monsieur, " she said, "how could you--"

"He desired it, madame. There was something really dreadful infollowing the funeral of a living man, a man my heart cared for, aninnocent man! The poor young fellow never ceased to look at me. Heseemed to live only in me. He wanted, he said, that I should carry tohis mother his last sigh. "

"And did you?"

"At the peace of Amiens I went to France, for the purpose of taking tothe mother those blessed words, 'He was innocent. ' I religiouslyundertook that pilgrimage. But Madame Magnan had died of consumption. It was not without deep emotion that I burned the letter of which Iwas the bearer. You will perhaps smile at my German imagination, but Isee a drama of sad sublimity in the eternal secrecy which engulfedthose parting words cast between two graves, unknown to all creation, like the cry uttered in a desert by some lonely traveller whom a lionseizes. "

"And if, " I said, interrupting him, "you were brought face to facewith a man now in this room, and were told, 'This is the murderer!'would not that be another drama? And what would you do?"

Monsieur Hermann looked for his hat and went away. 

"You are behaving like a young man, and very heedlessly, " said myneighbor. "Look at Taillefer!--there, seated on that sofa at thecorner of the fireplace. Mademoiselle Fanny is offering him a cup ofcoffee. He smiles. Would a murderer to whom that tale must have beentorture, present so calm a face? Isn't his whole air patriarchal?"

"Yes; but go and ask him if he went to the war in Germany, " I said. 

"Why not?"

And with that audacity which is seldom lacking to women when someaction attracts them, or their minds are impelled by curiosity, myneighbor went up to the purveyor. 

"Were you ever in Germany?" she asked. 

Taillefer came near dropping his cup and saucer. 

"I, madame? No, never. "

"What are you talking about, Taillefer"; said our host, interruptinghim. "Were you not in the commissariat during the campaign of Wagram?"

"Ah, true!" replied Taillefer, "I was there at that time. "

"You are mistaken, " said my neighbor, returning to my side; "that's agood man. "

"Well, " I cried, "before the end of this evening, I will hunt thatmurderer out of the slough in which he is hiding. "

Every day, before our eyes, a moral phenomenon of amazing profunditytakes place which is, nevertheless, so simple as never to be noticed. If two men meet in a salon, one of whom has the right to hate ordespise the other, whether from a knowledge of some private and latentfact which degrades him, or of a secret condition, or even of a comingrevenge, those two men divine each other's souls, and are able tomeasure the gulf which separates or ought to separate them. Theyobserve each other unconsciously; their minds are preoccupied bythemselves; through their looks, their gestures, an indefinableemanation of their thought transpires; there's a magnet between them. I don't know which has the strongest power of attraction, vengeance orcrime, hatred or insult. Like a priest who cannot consecrate the hostin presence of an evil spirit, each is ill at ease and distrustful;one is polite, the other surly, but I know not which; one colors orturns pale, the other trembles. Often the avenger is as cowardly asthe victim. Few men have the courage to invoke an evil, even when justor necessary, and men are silent or forgive a wrong from hatred ofuproar or fear of some tragic ending. 

This introsusception of our souls and our sentiments created amysterious struggle between Taillefer and myself. Since the firstinquiry I had put to him during Monsieur Hermann's narrative, he hadsteadily avoided my eye. Possibly he avoided those of all the otherguests. He talked with the youthful, inexperienced daughter of thebanker, feeling, no doubt, like many other criminals, a need ofdrawing near to innocence, hoping to find rest there. But, though Iwas a long distance from him, I heard him, and my piercing eyefascinated his. When he thought he could watch me unobserved our eyesmet, and his eyelids dropped immediately. 

Weary of this torture, Taillefer seemed determined to put an end to itby sitting down at a card-table. I at once went to bet on hisadversary; hoping to lose my money. The wish was granted; the playerleft the table and I took his place, face to face with the murderer. 

"Monsieur, " I said, while he dealt the cards, "may I ask if you areMonsieur Frederic Taillefer, whose family I know very well atBeauvais?"

"Yes, monsieur, " he answered. 

He dropped the cards, turned pale, put his hands to his head and rose, asking one of the bettors to take his hand. 

"It is too hot here, " he cried; "I fear--"

He did not end the sentence. His face expressed intolerable suffering, and he went out hastily. The master of the house followed him andseemed to take an anxious interest in his condition. My neighbor and Ilooked at each other, but I saw a tinge of bitter sadness or reproachupon her countenance. 

"Do you think your conduct is merciful?" she asked, drawing me to theembrasure of a window just as I was leaving the card-table, havinglost all my money. "Would you accept the power of reading hearts? Whynot leave things to human justice or divine justice? We may escape onebut we cannot escape the other. Do you think the privilege of a judgeof the court of assizes so much to be envied? You have almost done thework of an executioner. "

"After sharing and stimulating my curiosity, why are you now lecturingme on morality?"

"You have made me reflect, " she answered. 

"So, then, peace to villains, war to the sorrowful, and let's deifygold! However, we will drop the subject, " I added, laughing. "Do yousee that young girl who is just entering the salon?"

"Yes, what of her?"

"I met her, three days ago, at the ball of the Neapolitan ambassador, and I am passionately in love with her. For pity's sake tell me hername. No one was able--"

"That is Mademoiselle Victorine Taillefer. "

I grew dizzy. 

"Her step-mother, " continued my neighbor, "has lately taken her from aconvent, where she was finishing, rather late in the day, hereducation. For a long time her father refused to recognize her. Shecomes here for the first time. She is very beautiful and very rich. "

These words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. 

At this moment we heard violent, but smothered outcries; they seemedto come from a neighboring apartment and to be echoed faintly backthrough the garden. 

"Isn't that the voice of Monsieur Taillefer?" I said. 

We gave our full attention to the noise; a frightful moaning reachedour ears. The wife of the banker came hurriedly towards us and closedthe window. 

"Let us avoid a scene, " she said. "If Mademoiselle Taillefer hears herfather, she might be thrown into hysterics. "

The banker now re-entered the salon, looked round for Victorine, andsaid a few words in her ear. Instantly the young girl uttered a cry, ran to the door, and disappeared. This event produced a greatsensation. The card-players paused. Every one questioned his neighbor. The murmur of voices swelled, and groups gathered. 

"Can Monsieur Taillefer be--" I began. 

"--dead?" said my sarcastic neighbor. "You would wear the gayestmourning, I fancy!"

"But what has happened to him?"

"The poor dear man, " said the mistress of the house, "is subject toattacks of a disease the name of which I never can remember, thoughMonsieur Brousson has often told it to me; and he has just been seizedwith one. "

"What is the nature of the disease?" asked an examining-judge. 

"Oh, it is something terrible, monsieur, " she replied. "The doctorsknow no remedy. It causes the most dreadful suffering. One day, whilethe unfortunate man was staying at my country-house, he had an attack, and I was obliged to go away and stay with a neighbor to avoid hearinghim; his cries were terrible; he tried to kill himself; his daughterwas obliged to have him put into a strait-jacket and fastened to hisbed. The poor man declares there are live animals in his head gnawinghis brain; every nerve quivers with horrible shooting pains, and hewrithes in torture. He suffers so much in his head that he did noteven feel the moxas they used formerly to apply to relieve it; butMonsieur Brousson, who is now his physician, has forbidden thatremedy, declaring that the trouble is a nervous affection, aninflammation of the nerves, for which leeches should be applied to theneck, and opium to the head. As a result, the attacks are not sofrequent; they appear now only about once a year, and always late inthe autumn. When he recovers, Taillefer says repeatedly that he wouldfar rather die than endure such torture. "

"Then he must suffer terribly!" said a broker, considered a wit, whowas present. 

"Oh, " continued the mistress of the house, "last year he nearly diedin one of these attacks. He had gone alone to his country-house onpressing business. For want, perhaps, of immediate help, he laytwenty-two hours stiff and stark as though he were dead. A very hotbath was all that saved him. "

"It must be a species of lockjaw, " said one of the guests. 

"I don't know, " she answered. "He got the disease in the army nearlythirty years ago. He says it was caused by a splinter of wood enteringhis head from a shot on board a boat. Brousson hopes to cure him. Theysay the English have discovered a mode of treating the disease withprussic acid--"

At that instant a still more piercing cry echoed through the house, and froze us with horror. 

"There! that is what I listened to all day long last year, " said thebanker's wife. "It made me jump in my chair and rasped my nervesdreadfully. But, strange to say, poor Taillefer, though he suffersuntold agony, is in no danger of dying. He eats and drinks as well asever during even short cessations of the pain--nature is so queer! AGerman doctor told him it was a form of gout in the head, and thatagrees with Brousson's opinion. "

I left the group around the mistress of the house and went away. Onthe staircase I met Mademoiselle Taillefer, whom a footman had come tofetch. 

"Oh!" she said to me, weeping, "what has my poor father ever done todeserve such suffering?--so kind as he is!"

I accompanied her downstairs and assisted her in getting into thecarriage, and there I saw her father bent almost double. 

Mademoiselle Taillefer tried to stifle his moans by putting herhandkerchief to his mouth; unhappily he saw me; his face became evenmore distorted, a convulsive cry rent the air, and he gave me adreadful look as the carriage rolled away. 

That dinner, that evening exercised a cruel influence on my life andon my feelings. I loved Mademoiselle Taillefer, precisely, perhaps, because honor and decency forbade me to marry the daughter of amurderer, however good a husband and father he might be. A curiousfatality impelled me to visit those houses where I knew I could meetVictorine; often, after giving myself my word of honor to renounce thehappiness of seeing her, I found myself that same evening beside her. My struggles were great. Legitimate love, full of chimerical remorse, assumed the color of a criminal passion. I despised myself for bowingto Taillefer when, by chance, he accompanied his daughter, but I bowedto him all the same. 

Alas! for my misfortune Victorine is not only a pretty girl, she isalso educated, intelligent, full of talent and of charm, without theslightest pedantry or the faintest tinge of assumption. She converseswith reserve, and her nature has a melancholy grace which no one canresist. She loves me, or at least she lets me think so; she has acertain smile which she keeps for me alone; for me, her voice growssofter still. Oh, yes! she loves me! But she adores her father; shetells me of his kindness, his gentleness, his excellent qualities. Those praises are so many dagger-thrusts with which she stabs me tothe heart. 

One day I came near making myself the accomplice, as it were, of thecrime which led to the opulence of the Taillefer family. I was on thepoint of asking the father for Victorine's hand. But I fled; Itravelled; I went to Germany, to Andernach; and then--I returned! Ifound Victorine pale, and thinner; if I had seen her well in healthand gay, I should certainly have been saved. Instead of which my loveburst out again with untold violence. Fearing that my scruples mightdegenerate into monomania, I resolved to convoke a sanhedrim of soundconsciences, and obtain from them some light on this problem of highmorality and philosophy, --a problem which had been, as we shall see, still further complicated since my return. 

Two days ago, therefore, I collected those of my friends to whom Iattribute most delicacy, probity, and honor. I invited two Englishmen, the secretary of an embassy, and a puritan; a former minister, now amature statesman; a priest, an old man; also my former guardian, asimple-hearted being who rendered so loyal a guardianship account thatthe memory of it is still green at the Palais; besides these, therewere present a judge, a lawyer, and a notary, --in short, all socialopinions, and all practical virtues. 

We began by dining well, talking well, and making some noise; then, atdessert, I related my history candidly, and asked for advice, concealing, of course, the Taillefer name. 

A profound silence suddenly fell upon the company. Then the notarytook leave. He had, he said, a deed to draw. 

The wine and the good dinner had reduced my former guardian tosilence; in fact I was obliged later in the evening to put him underguardianship, to make sure of no mishap to him on his way home. 

"I understand!" I cried. "By not giving an opinion you tell meenergetically enough what I ought to do. "

On this there came a stir throughout the assembly. 

A capitalist who had subscribed for the children and tomb of GeneralFoy exclaimed:--

"Like Virtue's self, a crime has its degrees. "

"Rash tongue!" said the former minister, in a low voice, nudging mewith his elbow. 

"Where's your difficulty?" asked a duke whose fortune is derived fromthe estates of stubborn Protestants, confiscated on the revocation ofthe Edict of Nantes. 

The lawyer rose, and said:--

"In law, the case submitted to us presents no difficulty. Monsieur leduc is right!" cried the legal organ. "There are time limitations. Where should we all be if we had to search into the origin offortunes? This is simply an affair of conscience. If you mustabsolutely carry the case before some tribunal, go to that of theconfessional. "

The Code incarnate ceased speaking, sat down, and drank a glass ofchampagne. The man charged with the duty of explaining the gospel, thegood priest, rose. 

"God has made us all frail beings, " he said firmly. "If you love theheiress of that crime, marry her; but content yourself with theproperty she derives from her mother; give that of the father to thepoor. "

"But, " cried one of those pitiless hair-splitters who are often to bemet with in the world, "perhaps the father could make a rich marriageonly because he was rich himself; consequently, the marriage was thefruit of the crime. "

"This discussion is, in itself, a verdict. There are some things onwhich a man does not deliberate, " said my former guardian, who thoughtto enlighten the assembly with a flash of inebriety. 

"Yes!" said the secretary of an embassy. 

"Yes!" said the priest. 

But the two men did not mean the same thing. 

A "doctrinaire, " who had missed his election to the Chamber by onehundred and fifty votes out of one hundred and fifty-five, here rose. 

"Messieurs, " he said, "this phenomenal incident of intellectual natureis one of those which stand out vividly from the normal condition towhich sobriety is subjected. Consequently the decision to be madeought to be the spontaneous act of our consciences, a suddenconception, a prompt inward verdict, a fugitive shadow of our mentalapprehension, much like the flashes of sentiment which constitutetaste. Let us vote. "

"Let us vote!" cried all my guests. 

I have each two balls, one white, one red. The white, symbol ofvirginity, was to forbid the marriage; the red ball sanctioned it. Imyself abstained from voting, out of delicacy. 

My friends were seventeen in number; nine was therefore the majority. Each man put his ball into the wicker basket with a narrow throat, used to hold the numbered balls when card-players draw for theirplaces at pool. We were all roused to a more or less keen curiosity;for this balloting to clarify morality was certainly original. Inspection of the ballot-box showed the presence of nine white balls!The result did not surprise me; but it came into my heard to count theyoung men of my own age whom I had brought to sit in judgment. Thesecasuists were precisely nine in number; they all had the same thought. 

"Oh, oh!" I said to myself, "here is secret unanimity to forbid themarriage, and secret unanimity to sanction it! How shall I solve thatproblem?"

"Where does the father-in-law live?" asked one my school-friends, heedlessly, being less sophisticated than the others. 

"There's no longer a father-in-law, " I replied. "Hitherto, myconscience has spoken plainly enough to make your verdict superfluous. If to-day its voice is weakened, here is the cause of my cowardice. Ireceived, about two months ago, this all-seducing letter. "

And I showed them the following invitation, which I took from mypocket-book:--

 "You are invited to be present at the funeral procession, burial services, and interment of Monsieur Jean-Frederic Taillefer, of the house of Taillefer and Company, formerly Purveyor of Commissary-meats, in his lifetime chevalier of the Legion of honor, and of the Golden Spur, captain of the first company of the Grenadiers of the National Guard of Paris, deceased, May 1st, at his residence, rue Joubert; which will take place at, etc. , etc. 

 "On the part of, etc. "

"Now, what am I do to?" I continued; "I will put the question beforeyou in a broad way. There is undoubtedly a sea of blood inMademoiselle Taillefer's estates; her inheritance from her father is avast Aceldama. I know that. _But_ Prosper Magnan left no heirs; _but_, again, I have been unable to discover the family of the merchant whowas murdered at Andernach. To whom therefore can I restore thatfortune? And ought it to be wholly restored? Have I the right tobetray a secret surprised by me, --to add a murdered head to the dowryof an innocent girl, to give her for the rest of her life bad dreams, to deprive her of all her illusions, and say, 'Your gold is stainedwith blood'? I have borrowed the 'Dictionary of Cases of Conscience'from an old ecclesiastic, but I can find nothing there to solve mydoubts. Shall I found pious masses for the repose of the souls ofProsper Magnan, Wahlenfer, and Taillefer? Here we are in the middle ofthe nineteenth century! Shall I build a hospital, or institute a prizefor virtue? A prize for virtue would be given to scoundrels; and asfor hospitals, they seem to me to have become in these days theprotectors of vice. Besides, such charitable actions, more or lessprofitable to vanity, do they constitute reparation?--and to whom do Iowe reparation? But I love; I love passionately. My love is my life. If I, without apparent motive, suggest to a young girl accustomed toluxury, to elegance, to a life fruitful of all enjoyments of art, ayoung girl who loves to idly listen at the opera to Rossini's music, --if to her I should propose that she deprive herself of fifteenhundred thousand francs in favor of broken-down old men, or scrofulouspaupers, she would turn her back on me and laugh, or her confidentialfriend would tell her that I'm a crazy jester. If in an ecstasy oflove, I should paint to her the charms of a modest life, and a littlehome on the banks of the Loire; if I were to ask her to sacrifice herParisian life on the altar of our love, it would be, in the firstplace, a virtuous lie; in the next, I might only be opening the way tosome painful experience; I might lose the heart of a girl who lovessociety, and balls, and personal adornment, and _me_ for the time being. Some slim and jaunty officer, with a well-frizzed moustache, who canplay the piano, quote Lord Byron, and ride a horse elegantly, may gether away from me. What shall I do? For Heaven's sake, give me someadvice!"

The honest man, that species of puritan not unlike the father ofJeannie Deans, of whom I have already told you, and who, up to thepresent moment hadn't uttered a word, shrugged his shoulders, as helooked at me and said:--

"Idiot! why did you ask him if he came from Beauvais?"

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. 

Taillefer, Jean-Frederic The Firm of Nucingen Father Goriot The Magic Skin

Taillefer, Victorine Father Goriot