Brother Jacques Part 10

"It seems that that appalling face which frightened the ladies so does not show itself every day;" and he was on the point of putting the key into the lock, when the face with moustaches appeared above the broken plank, exactly on a level with the eyes.

Edouard stopped; he felt that his heart was beating violently; but he soon recovered himself.

"What do you want?" he asked the stranger; "and why are you continually behind this gate, with your eyes fixed upon the garden?"

"I want nothing," the stranger replied, in a loud voice and with an abrupt manner. "I am looking at this garden because I choose to, and I look at it through this gate, because they would not permit me to walk about inside."

"If that is what you wish, you may gratify yourself now. Come in, monsieur; there is nothing now to prevent you."

As he spoke, Edouard, who was curious to see the whole of the stranger's face, opened the gate leading into the fields.

The stranger seemed surprised at Edouard's invitation; however, as soon as the gate was opened, he did not wait to be asked a second time, but entered the garden. Murville was then able to contemplate him at his ease. He saw a man of tall stature, dressed in an old blue frock-coat, b.u.t.toned to the chin, who wore black gaiters and a dilapidated three-cornered hat, which he carried in his hand.

As he examined this singular individual, whose pale face, long beard and neglected dress seemed to indicate misfortune and want, Edouard remembered his mother-in-law's suspicions, and a feeling of distrust entered his mind.

The stranger walked about the garden, pausing from time to time in front of a clump of shrubs or an old tree, and apparently forgetting that there was some one with him.

"Parbleu!" said Edouard to himself, "I propose to have something to show for my good-nature; I must find out who this man is, and why he planted himself behind the little gate. I must take the first step, and as he says nothing, I must begin the conversation; he will have to answer me."

The stranger had seated himself upon a mound of turf, from which the front of the house could be seen. Edouard approached and sat down beside him.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, monsieur," said the stranger, as if suddenly arousing himself from his abstraction, "I have not thought yet to thank you for your kindness. But I was in such a hurry to see this place again!"

"Oh! there is no harm done."

"Are you the son of the owner of this house?"

"No."

"So much the better for you."

"Why so?"

"Because he is an old money-lender, an impertinent fellow; and so is his concierge, to whom I was strongly tempted to administer a thras.h.i.+ng, in order to teach him how to behave!"

"What have they done to you?"

"I came to this village for the express purpose of seeing this house. I arrived here yesterday, utterly tired out; I entered the courtyard, and sat down on a stone bench to rest. The concierge came to me, and asked me what I was there for. I told him that I wanted to see the garden. He asked me if I intended to buy the house. That question was an impertinence in itself, for I don't look like a person with money to invest."

"That is true," thought Edouard.

"When he learned that I had come here for another reason, he ordered me to leave; I asked him again to let me walk about this garden for a moment; he called his master; an old Jew appeared, and the two together tried to turn me out! Ten thousand thunders! Turn me out! me--a--But, no! I forgot that I am one no longer! All the same, if it hadn't been that my memories restrained me, I would have thrashed master and servant. I didn't do it, however, and as I was able only to look at the place from a distance, I took my stand behind that gate where you saw me yesterday."

"I am very glad that I have been able to atone for the discourtesy of the concierge, and that I found you again to-day at the same place."

"Faith! it's a mere chance! If I were not waiting for a comrade, whom I agreed to meet in this village, I certainly should not have stayed here."

"Ah! you are waiting for a comrade?"

"Yes, monsieur."

Edouard was silent for a moment; he seemed to be reflecting upon what the stranger had said; the latter resumed the conversation.

"Excuse me, monsieur, if I question you in my turn; but how does it happen that the old villain of a proprietor has intrusted the keys of his garden to you?"

"This house no longer belongs to Monsieur Renare; he has sold it to me this very day."

"Sold it! Pardieu! I am delighted to hear that. I was distressed to see this house in the clutches of that Arab!"

"You seem to be very fond of this house?"

"I well may be, as I pa.s.sed a large part of my youth here."

"You?"

"I."

Edouard looked more closely at the stranger; vague suspicions, a secret presentiment made his heart leap. He observed that the stranger was young and that it seemed to be fatigue simply that had wasted his sun-burned features; he desired, yet dreaded to learn more.

"Yes, monsieur," continued the stranger after a moment's silence, "I have lived in this house. Indeed I was partly brought up here. At that time I was with my parents, and the future looked very bright to me. I had a kind father, I had a brother! I left them all! And I well deserve what is happening to me now!"

"Are your parents dead?" asked Edouard in a broken voice, gazing at the man whom he already feared that he recognized.

"Yes, monsieur, they are dead,--perhaps of the sorrow that I caused them! My mother did not love me very much; but my father was devoted to me! And I shall never see him again! Oh! this accursed temper of mine, that has made me do so many foolish things!"

"And your brother?"

"My brother is still alive, so I learned at Paris; he has just married, I was told. The person who told me was not then able to give me his address, but is to give it to me to-morrow; then I shall go to see him.

Poor Edouard, he will be greatly surprised to see me! I will bet that he thinks that I am dead!"

Edouard did not reply; he lowered his eyes, uncertain as to what course he ought to adopt, and not daring to admit to himself that it was his brother whom he had found.

Jacques,--for it was he in very truth,--Jacques had relapsed into meditation; with one hand he fondled his long moustaches, and with the other rubbed his forehead as if he wished to clear up his ideas. Edouard stood motionless and silent; his eyes turned sometimes upon the friend of his childhood, but the shabby coat, the old gaiters, and above all, the long beard, checked the impulse of his heart which bade him throw himself into his brother's arms without stopping to consider his dress, or without wondering what his position might be.

Suddenly an idea seemed to strike Jacques's mind, and he turned to Edouard, and said abruptly:

"It isn't impossible that you may know my brother; you seem to belong to fas.h.i.+onable society, and you usually live in Paris, do you not?"

"I do."

"Perhaps you may have heard of Edouard Murville?"

"Yes--I--I know him."

"You know my brother?"

"I am Edouard Murville."