San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 33

"Yes, but we didn't know him," Jean Ficelle made haste to reply.

"You can tell monsieur le commissaire what you know about him; he wants to question you. That's all I know; don't fail to come this morning."

"We will come, monsieur."

The little man went away. Jean Ficelle had become thoughtful, and Sans-Cravate knitted his brows, muttering:

"To have to go before the magistrate! Not three days ago, I was congratulating myself on never having had anything to do with him. I've had quarrels enough; I've often fought, but I've always fought fair. No man I ever whipped could complain of being tricked, and there was no need of going before a magistrate to settle our quarrels. And to-day--just because I drank with that Laboussole, a friend of yours,--and now you say that you don't know him, and again that he ain't a thief. Tell me the truth, do you know him, or not?"

"Good G.o.d! as if I was called on to compromise myself before the magistrate to help someone else!"

"But if that someone is your friend, if he's arrested unjustly, you'd be a coward if you didn't try to defend him."

"Parbleu! Laboussole's a fox; he will get out of it without any help.

Come, Sans-Cravate, don't be ugly; after all, the most respectable people go before the magistrate; you see, we're only summoned as witnesses."

"_Sacredie!_ what do you expect to be summoned for? Let's go right away; I long to have it over with."

"All right, let's go."

"But I don't know where the magistrate lives; do you, Jean Ficelle?"

"Yes, it ain't very far from here; come, I'll show you the way."

"And Paul hasn't come yet; but perhaps we shall find him at the magistrate's, too."

The two messengers soon reached their destination.

There are four police magistrates for each arrondiss.e.m.e.nt of Paris, which makes forty-eight for the whole city. That is none too large a number for such a huge, densely populated, turbulent city, where so many things happen every day.

A lantern suspended over the door indicates the magistrate's residence; his office is rarely a particularly attractive apartment; but there is no occasion for him to go to much expense for the benefit of the society he ordinarily receives there, and cleansing would be a useless luxury.

Those who come thither are not even accustomed to wipe their feet on the mat--when there is one.

You enter the office, where the magistrate's clerk and secretary are usually to be found, although sometimes the latter official has his desk in another room. Then comes the magistrate's private office, to which everybody is not admitted.

Just as Sans-Cravate and Jean Ficelle arrived, a corporal and two soldiers brought in two women and a boy, the latter holding in his arms a small black dog, evidently a very young puppy.

One of the women was about fifty years of age; she was so enormous that she seemed not to be a human being at all, but a shapeless ma.s.s, on top of which was a red, purple, scarlet face surmounted by a dirty bonnet with flying strings; she was a wine shop keeper.

The other woman was younger; she was thin and pale, and had not a pleasant face; but, at all events, she resembled a woman; she was dressed very modestly, and wore a cap and an ap.r.o.n.

The boy, who was about fourteen, could boast already of an enormous head and two puffy cheeks which concealed his nose; he resembled the bulky wine shop keeper, if anything could have resembled her. He was dressed in a blouse, with a small cap on his head; he wore shoes, but no stockings.

The party entered the magistrate's office, yelling, whining, and hurling insults at one another; and the corporal was compelled at times to exert his authority, to keep the two women from fighting.

A considerable crowd, entertained by the quarrel between the two, followed them to the magistrate's door, but were not allowed to go farther.

The magistrate left his private office, where he did not hear trivial matters, and, first of all, asked the corporal what the two women had done.

A corporal of the line is not always a born orator; this one put his hand to his shako, and answered:

"Faith!--the thing--well, you see, I don't know anything about it, but these two women made such a noise in the street--and then they hit each other--and there was this dog here--this little pup no bigger than my hand--then someone came after us to put a stop to it--and, _sapredie!_ how they gave it each other on the way! but as for telling you which is in the right, monsieur le commissaire, I'll never try."

Having presented his report, the corporal stepped back. Thereupon the magistrate addressed the two women.

"Well, which of you is the complainant?"

They both spoke at once, and the boy chimed in as well.

"She's the one that's in the wrong, monsieur le commissaire."

"That ain't true, for she says I stole her dog."

"Of course, when I saw you."

"You lie!"

"And she kicked me in the fat of my leg, above the garter."

"And she pinched me so she tore my dress, and you can see the marks of her nails."

"Shut up, you saucy hussy! you ought to tell him that you're the cause----"

"Yes, monsieur le commissaire; she's the cause of it. I've never been here before--this is the first time, I can tell you that!"

The boy, who had the Limousin accent, and talked as if his mouth were full of paste, tried to put in a word:

"First--sure as I stand here--for I was carrying my--my basket, and I saw her!"

To add to the confusion, the dog began to yelp.

"Very good," said the magistrate, with a smile, for he saw that the affair was of no consequence. "I judge that a dog is the subject of your dispute. Well, we will follow Solomon's example, cut him in two, and give half to each of you."

"That's right!" cried the bulky ma.s.s, trying to laugh, until her enormous paunch seemed on the point of bursting. "There's no way but cutting him in two."

"The deuce! I should say that you are not the real mother."

"Oh! monsieur le commissaire, I was joking when I said that; but he's my dog. I've got witnesses, too."

"Oh, yes!" cried the thin woman; "and the very first man that came into your shop, when you said to him: 'Ain't that my dog?' answered: 'I never saw him.'"

"She lies! she lies! it is my dog. Everybody knows him; and then, he was with Francois, my son here;--come, Francois, make your deposition."

Francois opened his mouth and moved his lips a long while before he could find a word to say, his excitement had such a powerful effect on his mental faculties; at last, he muttered in a thick voice:

"First--sure as I stand here--as I was going along with my basket, I thought the dog was behind me--and she grabbed him, and run off with him!"

"That ain't true; he's lying, monsieur le commissaire. The dog was ahead of him--a long way ahead of him--when I saw the little creature, and I said: 'He hasn't got any master,' and I picked him up. If he was his, why didn't he say: 'That's my dog.' But he let me pick him up, and it wasn't till madame overtook him that he began to run after me and yell: 'Stop thief!'--What is there to prove that the dog belongs to them and not to me?"