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A Marriage for the Other World.

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tance astern a boat, carrying a light, and to all

CHAP. VII. appearance in the wake of the transport.

*** Idiots !” cried the Captain, " you should If, leaving to the right, the picturesque elevahave watched, have dogged him. Why did you tion of Ingouville, which from its height overallow him to come on deck? Lieutenant, you looks at the same glance Havre, the sea, and will mark down the men of the watch for pun- | the plain, and leaving the port behind, you conishment; but first of all, the rascal must be tinue on skirting the wave, you will arrive, after brought back again ; only let me get hold of a short walk, at the lovely little village of Sainte him once more, and he goes down into the Adresse. There is here a choice of two roads : lower hold !”

one leads up into the village; the other continues The sailors speedily obeyed his orders, and faithfully following the bends of the ocean, and the shallop was quickly launched. The Lieu-conducts you to a small cabin (built of boards) tenant and boat's-crew manned her, and gave that trembles in the storm, and is the receptacle way with right good will.

of fishing-tackle, and other implements belong“Ah! swim as you will, abominable robber !” ing to a fisherman of Sainte Adresse, and who vociferated the Lieutenant, “you'll not reach was in the exercise of his perilous profesyon boat, in spite of the signal she has been sion the very same evening the “Emerald” making this hour past. Swim, swim, rascal ! put to sea. The good man went out to catch we are close upon you! Give way! give way, fish, but he caught something more than he exmy men,” he cried continually to the rowers :pected; for it was precisely he who picked up "in the direction of the boat, the light guides Sauvegrain and poor Mauricette Fauvel. us. I see Sauvegrain! there, that dark point! As soon as the convict bandit got bold of the Give way! give way! We don't move the boat-side with one hand, he raised up the burwater!"

den sustained in the other. “Take your turn, The Captain spoke from on board with the my good friend,” he said, “and relieve me of trumpet—“The man! the man! Let the her, or my arm will drop off !” woman drown! Never mind her!”

The fisherman leant over the side, and lifted “Have you water instead of muscle in your up the woman, whom he laid in the bottom of arms,” furiously added the Lieutenant, " that the boat; which done, Dominick Sauvegrain you do not row?" And seizing on an oar, he climbed in himself, and immediately extinworked away with the rest. They advanced guished with his feet the light in the stern. The rapidly, notwithstanding the wind, which was man was about to exclaim against this proceedagainst them : at the same time the boat, which ing, when Sauvegrain, who had already poswas supposed to be favouring the evasion of sessed himself of the oars in order to stop the Sauvegrain, gained fast upon them. “You are sound of the splash in the water, addressing a parcel of cowards !” exclaimed the Lieutenant, him in an imperious voice, hade him not stir, seeing that the shallop did not get on accord-speak, or call, as he valued his life. The fishering to his wishes.

man, already sore amazed with the new and "That is easier said than proved,” answered unexpected arrival, kept silence, and moved an old sailor, with the perspiration streaming not, leaving his oars in the hands of his exdown his face from exertion.

traordinary visitor. By little and little our fuThe officer, exasperated by this rebellion, gitive heard the voices and oar-strokes of his forgot his duty for an instant. To punish the pursuers go off into distance, and having nothing insolence, he raised his hand, and gave the man further to fear, except from the wind and wave, a blow in the face that knocked out two of his he broke the silence he had both kept and enteeth. This movement somewhat retarded the joined, and taking the fisherman's hand, he boat, and the sailor, thus roughly admonished, gratefully pressed it between his own. “ Thanks, spit his teeth over the side, and bent to his oar. my friend, said he to him ; "you have saved us :

“You are all good-for-nothing," continued you will not refuse to land us? You would not, the Lieutenant, boiling with rage. “He's es- | I trust, stop half-way in a good action?" caped! Do you see, the boat lays on her oars ?! The man replied by taking the oars, to which She is waiting for him—there! he is getting up he bent himself gallantly, and the little barque cut the side ; but all is not lost : he must tack to its way swiftly through the waters. For several lay her head shorewards, and then he will have | hours the toil was undiminished, the boatman the wind in his teeth. We are the best sea- rowing, and Sauvegrain steering, with the boat: we shall have him yet. Give way! give inanimate form of poor Mauricette lying in the way, my men !”

bottom of the craft; so that if any eye could Stimulated to exertion, the men rowed bravely, have beheld them, they might have taken them and the shallop flew over the water. “Well for two murderers, going to conceal the body of done! well done! we shall catch him yet.” their victim! At length their prow neared the

But on a sudden the light which had served shore, and then for the first time Sauvegrain apto guide them on the track was extinguished, peared to take any notice of his companion in and the “ Emerald” boat, having no longer this misfortune, who, drenched with water, and signal, rowed at a venture. After trying in vain pierced with cold, seemed nearly dead where to make out the boat they sought after, and she lay; notwithstanding, female instinct made spending much fruitless time and toil, they re- her recall all the strength she could muster to turned on board, and the vessel lay on her shrink from the bandit's touch : he, however, course.

without giving the slightest attention to her , and while she gazed on him, she was obliged to movement of repugnance, roughly raised her, confess to herself that he was not at all the sort and walking in the water nearly knee-deep, of being her affrighted fancy had conjured up. reached the shore, carrying his wife in his arms. The name of Dominick Sauvegrain, written on Here he stopped to take breath, and then con- her memory in characters of fire, associated tinued following his guide, with undiminished with it something horrible-frightful, and now vigour, till they gained the humble cabin, which for the first time, as she rested her eyes on served him for a dwelling-place.

the man whom the hand of destiny had given The fisherman quickly kindled a cheering fire, her for husband, she saw that he was young and the bandit, while thanking him for his shel- and handsome; his countenance presented an ter, observed they would remain till dawn, expression of nobleness; well defined, his wellwhich, from the streaks in the eastward sky, shaped head and curling brown hair seemed could not be far off. Their host looked as if belonging to another cast of character altogether, he would rather they went immediately; but than a wretch to whom plunder was a pastime, Sauvegrain paid no more attention to his looks and murder of no consideration. He suddenly than he had to the repugnance of his bride turned, and seeing Mauricette's look of surprise The boatman then, with the consideration fixed upon him, rose from the posture he had generally evinced by a sailor for suffering of assumed, when, not knowing how to colour her any kind, more particularly the sufferings of a curiosity, she said hurriedly, “You were praying, woman, spread his nets on one side the fire, and sir?" and turned herself to the window, seeming proposed that the lady should lie down and rest to note the clouds as they rolled past. herself, that her clothes would dry in the blaze; “And since when," demanded Sauvegrain, “and no one,” he said, “ever took cold from “ was a man forbidden to pray? Have you no good sea-water!"

religion, you?” Mauricette at first declined, saying she did “Forgive me, sir," replied she;" I have been very well for the short time they were to re- brought up a Christian too, and in my troubles main : but Sauvegrain, in a rough tone, de- it is to God alone I appeal.” sired her to do as she was bid, and make no “ And you appeal rightly," he observed; fuss about it. The trembling which seized her, “ when one is fallen it is still a duty to pray; however, as she made an effort to obey, was so and who can tell what prayer may not bring? evident, that the host handed him a bottle with Man condemns, while God pardons!” a little brandy in it, desiring he would give his Mauricette, overjoyed by such words, was wife a little, as she seemed wholly done for, poor about to reply accordingly; but he did not gire thing. Sauvegrain approached, and raising her time; for, without looking at ler, and reher as tenderly as a inother would her suffering suming the rough tone he had for a moment child, be gently poured a few drops into her abandoned, “ Come, Madame,” he said, “We mouth, reminding her that in an hour they must move off; we are not secure so near must be moving again. As he did so, he for Havre, and by the sea-shore.” the first time since his marriage bent his eyes! So saying, he opened the door, and stepped upon her face, and remarked, for the first time, forth, without taking the trouble of asking his her extreme youth and loveliness; a sentiment wife to follow; and, pursuing the first road he unknown before rose in his heart, a something saw, kept off from the shore, Mauricette, whose more than admiration; but suddenly a thought I lips had been closed by the tone of Sauvegrain's arose which checked the feeling, and a look of last speech, followed behind passively, and urwithering scorn passed over his features. able to account for the attraction or fascination “Then, madamne, rest yourself as best you can, he exercised over her spirit. As for him, he whilst our host and I sit by the fire. Ah! the continued rapidly striding onwards, seemingly bed is not of down, but you have not been ac- careless whether she kept pace with him or not. customed to much better where you came from, They walked on thus for some considerable I should think,” he said, reseating himself. | time; the morning broke beautifully, the sun

Mauricette listened to the low, harsh voices shone out, and the birds warbled, while pour near her, till sleep stole over her senses from Mauricette felt so completely as it were displıysical exhaustion; but not to last long, how- | inherited by the world, that she envied every ever, for she had scarcely attained that point little ragged child she saw at the cottage-doors. which might be termed rest, when a slight noise | All at once Sauvegrain, looking over his shoulawakened her; she was instantly aware that the der, said, “You are not a native of this place ?" grey morning light replaced the lamp; but! “ No, Sir," she timidly answered. seeing no one by the fire, she conjectured that “ So inuch the worse," he rejoined, and withthe fisherman, had departed to his occupation, l out vouchsafing to explain what he meant, conand that Sauvegrain had taken the opportunity tinued walking on. After a little, Mauricette, to decamp-at least she hoped so; and raising exerting all her courage, hazarded the question, herself a little, she peered round, as well as the why he had asked her. Some time intervened yet uncertain light would permit; but what was between Sauvegrain's question and Mauricette's; her astonishment to behold the bandit on his but on hearing himself addressed, lie turned knces in the corner of the cabin, his hands round, and eyeing her from head to foot, with lifted in humble supplication, while his lips an expression of sovereign contempt, askelmoved in prayers! Amazement kept her silent; “ Did I address you, Madam?”

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Such unspeakable scorn from such a man, i While Mauricette gave herself up to these even to the creature he supposed her to be, was thoughts, she alınost treinbled to tind that her almost more than she could bear; and, heart- horror of him had passed away, and that softer broken, she remained silent. Scarcely had sentiments seemed to rise in her heart towards Sauvegrain finished speaking, when their ears this man, who, after all, was her husband! A were assailed by cries and feeble wailings from husband, young, handsome, and courageous, a thicket which bordered the road; he stopped, and, despite his rough manner to her, gentle. listened as if to certify the direction in which She remained alone about a quarter of an hour, the sounds lay, then stepping hastily forward, when the subject of her thoughts returned, and entered the thicket; Mauricette, acting under appeared surprised at finding her still there. the impulse of the fascination she experienced, “What, are you there yet?” he cried. “Howstill following. At some distance there was a ever, Madam, we must separate; together, we high bank, and the plaints appearing to come should certainly be retaken. Let us each forget from the other side, they both leant over, and what has passed; we are both at liberty; we perceived a child who had fallen, it appeared, neither of us know the other. Now here two from the top.

roads meet; take whichever you prefer, and I "What are you doing there, my boy?” de- will depart by the other.” manded the bandit.

At these words, which were a sad blow to “Don't you see on the bougl of that tree- Mauricette's vision, tears streained from her the bird's-nest ? I was trying to reach, and fell eyes; she threw a despairing look down each down; and I have torn my jacket. Oh, father path, and Dominick Sauvegrain, taking it for will beat me so !"

| an indication, replied, “ Be it so; if you go that, “Ilere, my man,” said Sauvegrain, forcing I take this." And without further adieu he down a bough; "hold on by that, and I will turned on his way. pull you up."

Mauricette looked after him in mute stupefac"I cannot staud," answered the child; “my tion, and felt as if her heart was torn. Perhaps leg is broken."

he will come back, thought she; or perhaps he “ Broken !” exclaimed Sauvegrain, in a tone will beckon me to follov-I, alone in the world, of commiseration. “But perhaps you are mis- and united to him before God—where else can I taken, dear child ; try to stand up, and cling to turn? And would it not be my duty ? the branch I am holding. Don't be afraid ; Il t'ain hope. Sauvegrain turned not till he ain strong, and will not let you fall.”

reached a bend in the road, when he suddenly The child tried to do as he was bid, but on turned his head. The poor girl immediately putting his foot to the ground, shirieked and fell. | flew onward towards hiin, and held out her

Mauricette, forgetting her own sufferings in hands in supplication; but Sauvegrain stopped those of the poor little being before her, was her with an imperious gesture, and taking a going to implore Sauvegrain to try and get down piece of money from his pocket--the only piece to carry him up; but before her words were he possessed-he threw it on the ground to her, forined he was already at the bottom of the "Take that, and God help you!" Then pointing ravine; and taking the child lightly in his arms, with his finger to the road, he turned the corner firmly and gently regained the summit with him, and was out of sight. whilst the poor little fellow wept less for the pain of his leg than the hard treatment he expected from his father.

Chap. VIII. “Do not cry," said his deliverer; "they will not beat you; they will be kind to you. Tell Nations, as well as individuals, have their me where you live, and I will carry you home moments of wisdom and folly. France was gone and speak for you."

mad at the time we write of; every one lived in The child pointed to the cottage, and Sauve- an illusion; the scenes of the theatre were not grain took the direction ; while Mauricette, asto- inore changing than the scenes of real life. nished to find such a man accessible to pity and Such a one would get up in the morning a foot. endued with religion, sought in vain a clue to mar, and go to bed a grandee; the intruding 80 much contradiction. What then could be his beggar you gave a cut of your cane to one day, nature? Dominick Sauvegrain, whose name would the next purchase your hotel, your caralone caused terror whenever it was pronounced, riages, and all you had to dispose of; a general had preserved her life at the hazard of his own; fever had set the whole country in delirium! and now, in imminent peril of being discovered One gentleman remarked, “ I like ladies better and retaken, the cries of an infant had found than horses, but I only esteem the latter." their way to his heart, and caused him to expose | Another, the Prince of Conti, said

Another, the Prince of Conti, said to his chaphimself to the utmost peril, in order to give him | lain, “ Mr. Priest, you know I do not hear help! But, above all, she wondered how a man | mass;” to which he replied, " My

mass;" to which he replied, " My lord, I do who had committed so many crimes had not not say it.” In one word, gambling was at its forgotten how to pray! He must have somne zenith : in some houses the footmen received no good in him, thought she; and who knows, other wages than what they gained by furnishperhaps God has appointed me the instrument ling the cards, and divided amongst themselves to bring him back to the right path! It would thirty thousand francs per annum. Paris reckbe a glorious mission!

oned many splendid hotels, respectable in ana pearances, where any one might go in and risk / rough tone of his voice, and something indehis fortune on a card : amongst the most dis- finably unpleasant, inspired rather fear and retinguished of these were, the Hôtel Transyl- spect than friendship. But if she felt uncomvania, the Rogotski Hotel, and above all, the fortable with him, how happy che was with his Hotel d’Anglade, where we will introduce the sister! who showed her protegée such delicate reader; it was situated in the Rue Neuve des attention, and such useful kindness during the pétits Champs, and its directress was called remainder of their journey, that Mauricette's Madame de Monclar. Latterly, her brother, only fear · was, she could not be sufficiently the Baron, had come to reside with her, giving grateful. if required the sanction of his presence, and the The evening of their arrival she felt a good service of his arm-not less valuable in such a | deal surprised at the number of persons going place perhaps : of Herculean stature and im- in and out, and the numerous lights in all the posing mien, he bore a high name proudly. windows and in the hall; but Madame de Monsieur le Baron had only returned to Paris Montclar, seeing this expressed on her face, within the last two months, having been (said told her their friends had prepared a welcome Madame, his sister) residing abroad; and so for their return, but that she should not be redesirous was she to see him on his return, quired to join their festivities unless she pleased. that she left the concerns of her house in other Mauricette was too much in want of repose not hands, and went to Havre, where he had disem- to avail herself of this permission, and the lady barked to meet her. As they returned from herself conducted her, by a private stair-case, to their journey, travelling post, Madame de Mont- a comfortable chamber, when, kissing her, she clar stopped her carriage one day to speak to a retired, saying, “I will send you a lady's maid. young girl who sat by the road-side weeping Good night, dear child !” bitterly. It was so long since the unfortunate In a few minutes the lady's maid appeared, being she addressed had seen a gleam of com- bringing in linen of the finest description for passionate kindness shed upon her, that she present use, and a dress of the most elegant would willingly have confided all her troubles to materials and newest fashion for the season. the noble lady, who had got out of her carriage to When once more alone, Mauricette's first action speak to her; a scruple, however, restrained her; was to offer up an humble thanksgiving for her she feared that, if she recounted her misfortunes, present happiness, and then before she slept to no one would believe her; indeed she almost write a letter to her father, doubted herself. Therefore she took care to say In the morning Madame de Montclar came to nothing of the Salpêtrière, nor of her marriage see her as soon as she waked, when Mauricette at Havre; she only said that, daughter to the opened her letter, which the lady promised to Magistrate of Nantes, she had quitted her take to the Baron for his P.S., and send it back father's house, on commission of a slight fault, again to her; but when, a few hours later, she and come to Paris to join her brother; and that, asked to see what had been added, “ What," pot having found him, she still sought on. exclaimed Madame de Montclar, “has not Madame de Montclar looked more at Mauricette Sophy brought it you?” than listened to her; she seemed struck with “No, ma'am, I have not seen her.” her beauty—something lessened, it is true, by “Dear me, that girl is very stupid. But as it grief and fatigue; but requiring only rest and is so, you must be content without seeing it; care to shine out again resplendently. When for, late as it is now, all the letters are posted, Mauricette ceased speaking, the lady returned and yours among the number.” to the carriage to consult the Baron, who looked “Posted !" said Mauricette; “but it was not from the window with an air of indifference. directed.” They spoke some time rather warmly, as the “I directed it,” replied the lady. “At the end gentleman seemed opposed to the lady's propo- of a week, however, the letter was still unsition; she carried her point, however, and re- answered, and Mauricette wrote again, the turned to Mauricette, who, perceiving herself to second letter passing by the Baron's hands for be an object of debate between them, was pre-his postscript, obtained no more notice than the paring to continue her way.

first. The poor girl wrote every week, without * " My dear child,” said the lady, “dry your any more success, till two months had elapsed; bears; you have found protectors; the Baron de during which time Mauricette had observed that Montclar is interested for you, and will serve the fete given to celebrate the Baron's return you to the best of his power. You shall return continued to be held every day; every evening with us to Paris, when you can write to your the hotel was as brilliantly illuminated, and the father; the Baron will add a postcript to obtain guests appeared as numerous, as on the first of your pardon ; and till it arrives you shall stay her arrival. Hitherto, timid and modest, she with me, and remain under my protection. You had declined appearing in the drawing-rooms; are too pretty, my child, to be left without a but Madame de Montclar pressed her so much guide.”

to come down—if merely from curiosity for half Mauricette, grateful and confused, kissed the an-hour; and," added she, “it will divert you lady's hand and followed her into the carriage, from thinking of your father's unkindness in and thought herself near the end of her troubles. not writing. For my part, I should not send True, she did not feel so much sympathy for the any more letters if I were you; I should rebrother as the lady: his colossal stature, the nounce it altogether."

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“Renounce what?” asked Mauricette, who speakers were close to her ; while the Chevalier could not believe it possible any one would walked about impatiently, as if expecting some advise her to renounce her father's forgiveness. one to join him.

“I should renounce writing," replied the In any other case Mauricette would have lady, with some embarrassment.

scorned to become an eaves-dropper ; but a “You are right, madam," answered she; feeling almost superhuman compelled her to "I ought to go myself and ask pardon; and listen to what was said of a person whom she you, who have been so kind to me, will not, I could not persuade herself was not her brother. hope, refuse to put me in the way of taking the One of the two speakers was the Baron de journey."

de Montclar; he was giving directions, and “Better than that,” returned Madame Mont-| laying a plan. His directions were horror; his clar; “it is not impossible but we may all go plan, a crime ! shortly to Nantes.”

When Mauricette had heard all, she again Before such a hope Mauricette would have drew near the window; for she was determined, thought herself ungrateful to refuse any longer; whether Edouard or Gloriette, to speak to the and suffering herself to be dressed, under the individual she had been watching. He was direction of Madame de Montclar, she followed still there, but not alone; a lady had joined him, her to the reception-rooms. The looks that to whom he was saying “You have been lucky were fixed upon her, and the whispers of which to me, love; I have won two thousand crowns she was evidently the object, covered her with more than enough to carry you off to-night, and confusion; she felt hurt and distressed. “I am reach Holland with; where, in spite of your wrong," thought she, “to feel thus; I do not brother, we can get married.” know the world; and no doubt it is the same “ Above all things,” replied the lady, “take everywhere as at the Hotel d'Anglade.” Never-care the Baron does not get a suspicion; if he theless, she could not prevail upon herself to only suspected, he would kill us both; he is so remain more than a few minutes ; and, whisper- | rigid in his ideas-Mons. de Montclar.” ing to Madame Montclar that she was near “ Fear nothing; he shall not suspect. I will fainting, that lady, fully satisfied with the suc- not quit the hotel, but at two o'clock, at the cess of her first appearance, permitted her to house on St. Michael's Bridge.” retire.

“ Yes, the house on St. Michael's Bridge.” It was not merely a pretext Mauricette had In the room adjoining Mauricette had heard employed to escape from the offensive admira- also, “The house on St. Michael's Bridge, at tion she excited; but the blaze of light, the two o'clock-this night!” smell of perfumes, and the wonder of strangers, Scarcely knowing what plan to pursue, and had caused a sensation of uneasiness that really feeling herself incapable of coping with the amounted to indisposition, and obliged her to owners of the hotel, Mauricette returned to the approach a window in the gallery which led to drawing-room. Madame de Montclar was already her room; this window, as well as that of her come back; the Chevalier de Gloriette had not chamber, looked into the gardens; they were entered. Since she had heard the two conilluminated, and music was playing, while groups ferences of that night, a new and frightful light of visitors walked or listened about here and had burst upon her, and it required but the there amongst them. Mauricette beheld one rapidity of a thought to explain all that had been whom she gazed on with restless curiosity; mysterious to her since her arrival in the house. presently he stopped a moment in passing under Mauricette's re-appearance in the drawingthe window, and the lights from the garden room was hailed with rapturous admiration by the placed him in full view, and a likeness which gentlemen, and great surprise by her protectress; had once before so cruelly deceived Mauricette she looked so delicately lovely with the colour came so forcibly to her memory that she dared heightened on her fair cheeks by the discovery not disbelieve; she felt she could not be mis- she had made, and the dress she wore of white taken. The elegant young gentleman moved on satin flowered with gold, and trimmed round the and beyond her sight, but she remembered neck with a rich fall of lace, so became her, that there was another window at the further end of it was no wonder many ladies were deserted by the gallery, where she might regain the sight of those who had been their faithful cavaliers all him. At that end there were no lights, as the the evening. The Baron de Montclar was deguests were not admitted to that part of the lighted to see her there, and, coming up to her, house; Mauricette was certain that there she said (while inhaling a pinch of snuff from one should be alone, and could contemplate at leisure of the gold boxes which he successively took the person it so behoved her to recognize. In from his pockets), at the same time giving his an instant she saw him again and closer, and sister a significant look, “This is well, my child; said to herself, “If that is not Edouard, good I have hopes we shall humanize you yet, since Heavens, how like he is to him!” She leaned you are already so tractable !”. forward to call him by name, when the sound of Mauricette made a violent effort to keep down voices close at hand deterred her. The name of the horror she felt at the sound of that voice the Chevalier Gloriette caught her ear, and which she had just heard utter such dreadful her mistake appeared to her the same as on her things; she had presence of mind, however, to first arrival in Paris, when she had, as now, reply by a graceful smile, and turning away her named the same individual “ Edouard.” The head she perceived the elegant Chevalier de

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