Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [247]
sir, I bathed the child's corpse in my tears, crying out to the Power I do not know, and which is above us all! I, who do not believe in God!--(For if I were not a materialist, I should not be myself.)
"I have told everything when I say that. You don't know--no man knows what suffering is. I alone know it. The fire of anguish so dried up my tears, that all last night I could not weep. Now I can, because I feel that you can understand me. I saw you, sitting there just now, an Image of Justice. Oh! monsieur, may God--for I am beginning to believe in Him--preserve you from ever being as bereft as I am! That cursed judge has robbed me of my soul, Monsieur le Comte! At this moment they are burying my life, my beauty, my virtue, my conscience, all my powers! Imagine a dog from which a chemist had extracted the blood.-- That's me! I am that dog----
"And that is why I have come to tell you that I am Jacques Collin, and to give myself up. I made up my mind to it this morning when they came and carried away the body I was kissing like a madman--like a mother-- as the Virgin must have kissed Jesus in the tomb.
"I meant then to give myself up to justice without driving any bargain; but now I must make one, and you shall know why."
"Are you speaking to the judge or to Monsieur de Granville?" asked the magistrate.
The two men, Crime and Law, looked at each other. The magistrate had been strongly moved by the convict; he felt a sort of divine pity for the unhappy wretch; he understood what his life and feelings were. And besides, the magistrate--for a magistrate is always a magistrate-- knowing nothing of Jacques Collin's career since his escape from prison, fancied that he could impress the criminal who, after all, had only been sentenced for forgery. He would try the effect of generosity on this nature, a compound, like bronze, of various elements, of good and evil.
Again, Monsieur de Granville, who had reached the age of fifty-three without ever having been loved, admired a tender soul, as all men do who have not been loved. This despair, the lot of many men to whom women can only give esteem and friendship, was perhaps the unknown bond on which a strong intimacy was based that united the Comtes de Bauvan, de Granville, and de Serizy; for a common misfortune brings souls into unison quite as much as a common joy.
"You have the future before you," said the public prosecutor, with an inquisitorial glance at the dejected villain.
The man only expressed by a shrug the utmost indifference to his fate.
"Lucien made a will by which he leaves you three hundred thousand francs."
"Poor, poor chap! poor boy!" cried Jacques Collin. "Always too honest! I was all wickedness, while he was goodness--noble, beautiful, sublime! Such lovely souls cannot be spoiled. He had taken nothing from me but my money, sir."
This utter and complete surrender of his individuality, which the magistrate vainly strove to rally, so thoroughly proved his dreadful words, that Monsieur de Granville was won over to the criminal. The public prosecutor remained!
"If you really care for nothing," said Monsieur de Granville, "what did you want to say to me?"
"Well, is it not something that I have given myself up? You were getting warm, but you had not got me; besides, you would not have known what to do with me----"
"What an antagonist!" said the magistrate to himself.
"Monsieur le Comte, you are about to cut off the head of an innocent man, and I have discovered the culprit," said Jacques Collin, wiping away his tears. "I have come here not for their sakes, but for yours. I have come to spare you remorse, for I love all who took an interest in Lucien, just as I will give my hatred full play against all who helped to cut off his life--men or women!
"What can a convict more or less matter to me?" he went on, after a short pause. "A convict is no more in my eyes than an emmet is in yours. I am like the Italian brigands--fine men they are! If a traveler is worth ever so little more than the charge of their musket, they shoot him dead.
"I have told everything when I say that. You don't know--no man knows what suffering is. I alone know it. The fire of anguish so dried up my tears, that all last night I could not weep. Now I can, because I feel that you can understand me. I saw you, sitting there just now, an Image of Justice. Oh! monsieur, may God--for I am beginning to believe in Him--preserve you from ever being as bereft as I am! That cursed judge has robbed me of my soul, Monsieur le Comte! At this moment they are burying my life, my beauty, my virtue, my conscience, all my powers! Imagine a dog from which a chemist had extracted the blood.-- That's me! I am that dog----
"And that is why I have come to tell you that I am Jacques Collin, and to give myself up. I made up my mind to it this morning when they came and carried away the body I was kissing like a madman--like a mother-- as the Virgin must have kissed Jesus in the tomb.
"I meant then to give myself up to justice without driving any bargain; but now I must make one, and you shall know why."
"Are you speaking to the judge or to Monsieur de Granville?" asked the magistrate.
The two men, Crime and Law, looked at each other. The magistrate had been strongly moved by the convict; he felt a sort of divine pity for the unhappy wretch; he understood what his life and feelings were. And besides, the magistrate--for a magistrate is always a magistrate-- knowing nothing of Jacques Collin's career since his escape from prison, fancied that he could impress the criminal who, after all, had only been sentenced for forgery. He would try the effect of generosity on this nature, a compound, like bronze, of various elements, of good and evil.
Again, Monsieur de Granville, who had reached the age of fifty-three without ever having been loved, admired a tender soul, as all men do who have not been loved. This despair, the lot of many men to whom women can only give esteem and friendship, was perhaps the unknown bond on which a strong intimacy was based that united the Comtes de Bauvan, de Granville, and de Serizy; for a common misfortune brings souls into unison quite as much as a common joy.
"You have the future before you," said the public prosecutor, with an inquisitorial glance at the dejected villain.
The man only expressed by a shrug the utmost indifference to his fate.
"Lucien made a will by which he leaves you three hundred thousand francs."
"Poor, poor chap! poor boy!" cried Jacques Collin. "Always too honest! I was all wickedness, while he was goodness--noble, beautiful, sublime! Such lovely souls cannot be spoiled. He had taken nothing from me but my money, sir."
This utter and complete surrender of his individuality, which the magistrate vainly strove to rally, so thoroughly proved his dreadful words, that Monsieur de Granville was won over to the criminal. The public prosecutor remained!
"If you really care for nothing," said Monsieur de Granville, "what did you want to say to me?"
"Well, is it not something that I have given myself up? You were getting warm, but you had not got me; besides, you would not have known what to do with me----"
"What an antagonist!" said the magistrate to himself.
"Monsieur le Comte, you are about to cut off the head of an innocent man, and I have discovered the culprit," said Jacques Collin, wiping away his tears. "I have come here not for their sakes, but for yours. I have come to spare you remorse, for I love all who took an interest in Lucien, just as I will give my hatred full play against all who helped to cut off his life--men or women!
"What can a convict more or less matter to me?" he went on, after a short pause. "A convict is no more in my eyes than an emmet is in yours. I am like the Italian brigands--fine men they are! If a traveler is worth ever so little more than the charge of their musket, they shoot him dead.