Within an Inch of His Life Part 30

"I asked them to go."

V.

Yes, the step taken by the Misses Lavarande was foolish. At the point which things had reached now, their going to see M. Galpin was perhaps equivalent to furnis.h.i.+ng him the means to crush Jacques. But whose fault was it, but M. de Chandore's and M. Folgat's? Had they not committed an unpardonable blunder in leaving Sauveterre without any other precaution than to send word through M. Seneschal's servant, that they would be back for dinner, and that they need not be troubled about them?

Not be troubled? And that to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and Dionysia, to Jacques's mother and Jacques's betrothed.

Certainly, at first, the two wretched women preserved their self-control in a manner, trying to set each other an example of courage and confidence. But, as hour after hour pa.s.sed by, their anxiety became intolerable; and gradually, as they confided their apprehensions to each other, their grief broke out openly. They thought of Jacques being innocent, and yet treated like one of the worst criminals, alone in the depth of his prison, given up to the most horrible inspirations of despair. What could have been his feelings during the twenty-four hours which had brought him no news from his friends? Must he not fancy himself despised and abandoned.

"That is an intolerable thought!" exclaimed Dionysia at lat. "We must get to him at any price."

"How?" asked the marchioness.

"I do not know; but there must be some way. There are things which I would not have ventured upon as long as I was alone; but, with you by my side, I can risk any thing. Let us go to the prison."

The old lady promptly put a shawl around her shoulders, and said,--

"I am ready; let us go."

They had both heard repeatedly that Jacques was kept in close confinement; but neither of them realized fully what that meant. They had no idea of this atrocious measure, which is, nevertheless, rendered necessary by the peculiar forms of French law-proceedings,--a measure which, so to say, immures a man alive, and leaves him in his cell alone with the crime with which he is charged, and utterly at the mercy of another man, whose duty it is to extort the truth from him. The two ladies only saw the want of liberty, a cell with its dismal outfittings, the bars at the window, the bolts at the door, the jailer shaking his bunch of keys at his belt, and the tramp of the solitary sentinel in the long pa.s.sages.

"They cannot refuse me permission," said the old lady, "to see my son."

"They cannot," repeated Dionysia. "And, besides, I know the jailer, Blangin: his wife was formerly in our service."

When the young girl, therefore, raised the heavy knocker at the prison-door, she was full of cheerful confidence. Blangin himself came to the door; and, at the sight of the two poor ladies, his broad face displayed the utmost astonishment.

"We come to see M. de Boiscoran," said Dionysia boldly.

"Have you a permit, ladies?" asked the keeper.

"From whom?"

"From M. Galpin."

"We have no permit."

"Then I am very sorry to have to tell you, ladies, that you cannot possibly see M. de Boiscoran. He is kept in close confinement, and I have the strictest orders."

Dionysia looked threatening, and said sharply,--

"Your orders cannot apply to this lady, who is the Marchioness de Boiscoran."

"My orders apply to everybody, madam."

"You would not, I am sure, keep a poor, distressed mother from seeing her son!"

"Ah! but--madam--it does not rest with me. I? Who am I? Nothing more than one of the bolts, drawn or pushed at will."

For the first time, it entered the poor girl's head that her effort might fail: still she tried once more, with tears in her eyes,--

"But I, my dear M. Blangin, think of me! You would not refuse me? Don't you know who I am? Have you never heard your wife speak of me?"

The jailer was certainly touched. He replied,--

"I know how much my wife and myself are indebted to your kindness, madam. But--I have my orders, and you surely would not want me to lose my place, madam?"

"If you lose your place, M. Blangin, I, Dionysia de Chandore, promise you another place twice as good."

"Madame!"

"You do not doubt my word, M. Blangin, do you?"

"G.o.d forbid, madam! But it is not my place only. If I did what you want me to do, I should be severely punished."

The marchioness judged from the jailer's tone that Dionysia was not likely to prevail over him, and so she said,--

"Don't insist, my child. Let us go back."

"What? Without finding out what is going on behind these pitiless walls; without knowing even whether Jacques is dead or alive?"

There was evidently a great struggle going on in the jailer's heart. All of a sudden he cast a rapid glance around, and then said, speaking very hurriedly,--

"I ought not to tell you--but never mind--I cannot let you go away without telling you that M. de Boiscoran is quite well."

"Ah!"

"Yesterday, when they brought him here, he was, so to say, overcome. He threw himself upon his bed, and he remained there without stirring for over two hours. I think he must have been crying."

A sob, which Dionysia could not suppress, made Blangin start.

"Oh, rea.s.sure yourself, madame!" he added quickly. "That state of things did not last long. Soon M. de Boiscoran got up, and said, 'Why, I am a fool to despair!'"

"Did you hear him say so?" asked the old lady.

"Not I. It was Trumence who heard it."

"Trumence?"

"Yes, one of our jail-birds. Oh! he is only a vagabond, not bad at all; and he has been ordered to stand guard at the door of M. de Boiscoran's cell, and not for a moment to lose sight of it. It was M. Galpin who had that idea, because the prisoners sometimes in their first despair,--a misfortune happens so easily,--they become weary of life--Trumence would be there to prevent it."

The old lady trembled with horror. This precautionary measure, more than any thing else, gave her the full measure of her son's situation.

"However," M. Blangin went on, "there is nothing to fear. M. de Boiscoran became quite calm again, and even cheerful, if I may say so. When he got up this morning, after having slept all night like a dormouse, he sent for me, and asked me for paper, ink, and pen. All the prisoners ask for that the second day. I had orders to let him have it, and so I gave it to him. When I carried him his breakfast, he handed me a letter for Miss Chandore."

"What?" cried Dionysia, "you have a letter for me, and you don't give it to me?"