Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [165]
to the lawyer and the sergeant, till she saw Jacques Collin come out supported by two gendarmes, and preceded by Monsieur Camusot's clerk.
"Ah, there is a chaplain no doubt going to prepare a poor wretch----"
"Not at all, Madame la Baronne," said the gendarme. "He is a prisoner coming to be examined."
"What is he accused of?"
"He is concerned in this poisoning case."
"Oh! I should like to see him."
"You cannot stay here," said the sergeant, "for he is under close arrest, and he must pass through here. You see, madame, that door leads to the stairs----"
"Oh! thank you!" cried the Baroness, making for the door, to rush down the stairs, where she at once shrieked out, "Oh! where am I?"
This cry reached the ear of Jacques Collin, who was thus prepared to see her. The sergeant flew after Madame la Baronne, seized her by the middle, and lifted her back like a feather into the midst of a group of five gendarmes, who started up as one man; for in that guardroom everything is regarded as suspicious. The proceeding was arbitrary, but the arbitrariness was necessary. The young lawyer himself had cried out twice, "Madame! madame!" in his horror, so much did he fear finding himself in the wrong.
The Abbe Carlos Herrera, half fainting, sank on a chair in the guardroom.
"Poor man!" said the Baroness. "Can he be a criminal?"
The words, though spoken low to the young advocate, could be heard by all, for the silence of death reigned in that terrible guardroom. Certain privileged persons are sometimes allowed to see famous criminals on their way through this room or through the passages, so that the clerk and the gendarmes who had charge of the Abbe Carlos made no remark. Also, in consequence of the devoted zeal of the sergeant who had snatched up the Baroness to hinder any communication between the prisoner and the visitors, there was a considerable space between them.
"Let us go on," said Jacques Collin, making an effort to rise.
At the same moment the little ball rolled out of his sleeve, and the spot where it fell was noted by the Baroness, who could look about her freely from under her veil. The little pellet, being damp and sticky, did not roll; for such trivial details, apparently unimportant, had all been duly considered by Jacques Collin to insure success.
When the prisoner had been led up the higher part of the steps, Asie very unaffectedly dropped her bag and picked it up again; but in stooping she seized the pellet which had escaped notice, its color being exactly like that of the dust and mud on the floor.
"Oh dear!" cried she, "it goes to my heart.--He is dying----"
"Or seems to be," replied the sergeant.
"Monsieur," said Asie to the lawyer, "take me at once to Monsieur Camusot; I have come about this case; and he might be very glad to see me before examining that poor priest."
The lawyer and the Baroness left the guardroom, with its greasy, fuliginous walls; but as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Asie exclaimed:
"Oh, and my dog! My poor little dog!" and she rushed off like a mad creature down the Salle des Pas-Perdus, asking every one where her dog was. She got to the corridor beyond (la Galerie Marchande, or Merchant's Hall, as it is called), and flew to the staircase, saying, "There he is!"
These stairs lead to the Cour de Harlay, through which Asie, having played out the farce, passed out and took a hackney cab on the Quai des Orfevres, where there is a stand; thus she vanished with the summons requiring "Europe" to appear, her real name being unknown to the police and the lawyers.
"Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc," cried she to the driver.
Asie could depend on the absolute secrecy of an old-clothes purchaser, known as Madame Nourrisson, who also called herself Madame de Saint- Esteve; and who would lend Asie not merely her personality, but her shop at need, for it was there that Nucingen had bargained for the surrender of Esther. Asie was quite at home there, for she had a bedroom in Madame Nourrisson's establishment.
She paid the driver, and went
"Ah, there is a chaplain no doubt going to prepare a poor wretch----"
"Not at all, Madame la Baronne," said the gendarme. "He is a prisoner coming to be examined."
"What is he accused of?"
"He is concerned in this poisoning case."
"Oh! I should like to see him."
"You cannot stay here," said the sergeant, "for he is under close arrest, and he must pass through here. You see, madame, that door leads to the stairs----"
"Oh! thank you!" cried the Baroness, making for the door, to rush down the stairs, where she at once shrieked out, "Oh! where am I?"
This cry reached the ear of Jacques Collin, who was thus prepared to see her. The sergeant flew after Madame la Baronne, seized her by the middle, and lifted her back like a feather into the midst of a group of five gendarmes, who started up as one man; for in that guardroom everything is regarded as suspicious. The proceeding was arbitrary, but the arbitrariness was necessary. The young lawyer himself had cried out twice, "Madame! madame!" in his horror, so much did he fear finding himself in the wrong.
The Abbe Carlos Herrera, half fainting, sank on a chair in the guardroom.
"Poor man!" said the Baroness. "Can he be a criminal?"
The words, though spoken low to the young advocate, could be heard by all, for the silence of death reigned in that terrible guardroom. Certain privileged persons are sometimes allowed to see famous criminals on their way through this room or through the passages, so that the clerk and the gendarmes who had charge of the Abbe Carlos made no remark. Also, in consequence of the devoted zeal of the sergeant who had snatched up the Baroness to hinder any communication between the prisoner and the visitors, there was a considerable space between them.
"Let us go on," said Jacques Collin, making an effort to rise.
At the same moment the little ball rolled out of his sleeve, and the spot where it fell was noted by the Baroness, who could look about her freely from under her veil. The little pellet, being damp and sticky, did not roll; for such trivial details, apparently unimportant, had all been duly considered by Jacques Collin to insure success.
When the prisoner had been led up the higher part of the steps, Asie very unaffectedly dropped her bag and picked it up again; but in stooping she seized the pellet which had escaped notice, its color being exactly like that of the dust and mud on the floor.
"Oh dear!" cried she, "it goes to my heart.--He is dying----"
"Or seems to be," replied the sergeant.
"Monsieur," said Asie to the lawyer, "take me at once to Monsieur Camusot; I have come about this case; and he might be very glad to see me before examining that poor priest."
The lawyer and the Baroness left the guardroom, with its greasy, fuliginous walls; but as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Asie exclaimed:
"Oh, and my dog! My poor little dog!" and she rushed off like a mad creature down the Salle des Pas-Perdus, asking every one where her dog was. She got to the corridor beyond (la Galerie Marchande, or Merchant's Hall, as it is called), and flew to the staircase, saying, "There he is!"
These stairs lead to the Cour de Harlay, through which Asie, having played out the farce, passed out and took a hackney cab on the Quai des Orfevres, where there is a stand; thus she vanished with the summons requiring "Europe" to appear, her real name being unknown to the police and the lawyers.
"Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc," cried she to the driver.
Asie could depend on the absolute secrecy of an old-clothes purchaser, known as Madame Nourrisson, who also called herself Madame de Saint- Esteve; and who would lend Asie not merely her personality, but her shop at need, for it was there that Nucingen had bargained for the surrender of Esther. Asie was quite at home there, for she had a bedroom in Madame Nourrisson's establishment.
She paid the driver, and went