Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 10 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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30 EE ee core Op re ny ee aa =e sw eee ee eee pondered in my head the direst purposes. Blondy, the wretch Blondy, was the especial object of my wrathful tion; I could have strangled him with all my heart, and yet I still kept on terms with him, still hada wel- come for him. Impetuonus and violent as I was by nature, it'was astonishing how much patient endurance I exer- eised; but it was all owing to Annette. Oh! how I prayed with fervent sincerity, that, in one of his frequent excnrsions, some poem posure might drive a bullet through Blondy’s brain even trusted that it was an event that would soon occur; but every time that a more extended absence began to inspire me with the hope that I was at length freed from this wretch, he again appeared, and brought with him a renewal of all my cares. One day I saw him come with Deluc and an ex-clerk, anmed St. Germain, whom I had known at Ronen; where, like many others, he had barely the reputation of an honést man. St. Germain, who had only known me as the merchant Blondel, was much astonished at the meet- wee but two words from Blondy explained my whole his- .—I was’a thorough rogue. Confidence then replaced }. astonishment; and St. Germain, who at first had frowned, in the mirth. Blondy told me, that they were go- ‘all three to set out for the environs of denlis, and ed me for the loan of my wicker car, which I made ‘ase of when visiting the fairs. Gilad to get rid of these ‘fellows on such terms, I hastily wrote a note to the per- eon who had charge of it. He gave them the cpavexanics and harness, and away they went; whilst for ten days I heard nothing of them, when St. Germain rea He'entered my house one morning with an alarmed look, an rance of much fa gue. ‘** Well,’’ said he, “my comrades have been seized,”’ ‘ Seized! cried 1, with ‘@ joy which I could not repress; but assuming all my cool- esc, I asked for the details, with an affectation of being g y concerned. St. Germain told me, in a few words, that Bilondy and Deluc had only been apprehended be- ‘@ause they traveled without credentials. I did not be- lieve anything he said; and had no doubt. but the ‘Bad been engaged in some robbery; and what confirm my suspicions was, that, on proposing to send them some “‘moriey, St: Germain told me t ey were not in want of afiy. On leaving Paris,they had fifty francs amongst them; and certainly with so small a eum, it would have ween aldifficult: matter to have gone on fora fortnight; fe a Ag it that they were etill not unprovided? first’ idea that flashed through my brain, was, that they! had committed some extensive robbery, which they ‘to conceal from me; but Isoon discovered that the |. bueiness was of a still more serious nature. Two days after St. Germain’s return, I thought I would » and look at my car; and remarked, at first, that the altered ite exterior appearance. On getting inside, ‘aw on the lin of white and blue striped ticken red epdta recent! out; and then opening the seat, to d it filled with blood, as if a car- ™ . take out the “truth was exposed, even more horrible than my sus- ‘picions had forboded. I did not hesitate, far more in- ‘terested than the morderers themselves in getting rid of fl traces of the deed, on the’ next night I took the vehicle ‘te'the banks of the Seine, and having got as far as Bercy, iria lone ‘spot, I eet fire to some straw and dry wood, with which I had filled it; and did not leave the spot until the whole was burnt to ashes. ‘St. Germain, to-whom I spoke of the circumstances without adding that I had burnt my carriage, confessed that the dead body of a wagoner, assassinated by Blondy; between Louvres and Dam had been con- enled in it, antil they found an opportunity of throwin ‘tito @ well. Thies man, one o ‘most abandone “villains Dever encountered, spoke of thedeed as if it were @ midst harmless action; and # langh was on his lips while he rélated the facts with the most unembarrassed and easy “one. I was horr and listened with a sort of ey hoe ge and when he asked me for the impression of lock of an apartment with which I was acquainted, { reuched the climax of my terrors. I’ made some obser- vations, to which he replied, “What. is that to me !— business must’ be done. Because you know him! Why ‘@hat is the stronger reason; you know ise; you can guide me, and we will share the produce! Come, it is no use refusing; I must have the impres- “sion.” I pretended to yield to his arguments. ** uch ‘eeraples as these—hold your tongue!’ replied St. Ger- * you make me sweat [the ression he used was prover). But come—all is agreed, and half ©the’ plunder is yours.’ Good God!’ what an associate! [‘had' no cause to ce at’ Blondy’s mishap; I salty . rid of a fever and fell:inte an ague. Pam wane to perenasion on certain terms, but St, Germain never; and he was even more rious inhis demands. to eee myself com from one moment t another, I determined to see M. Henry, chief of the division of security in the prefecture of police. I went @ bitin; and having unfolded my situation to him de- red that if he would tolerate my residence at Paris, I @ him exact information of a great many fugi- sy-Alaves, with whose retreats and plane I was acquainted. M. Henry recetved me with much kindness; but havin ‘tor a moment’ reflected on what I had -said, answere that he could not enter into any terms with me. ‘ That should not prevent your giving the information,” he con- tinued, ‘‘and we can’then jadge how useful it may be; erhaps....”"—** Ah, air, ab pa that would risk my life. You are not ignorant of what those individuals are capable whom you denounce; and if I must be led back to the Bagne after some part of an accusation has ted ‘hat I have made communications to the police, Tam a dead man.’—*‘ Under these circumstances, let us speak no fai ther on the subject;”’ and he left me without even asking my name. I was deeply grieved at the ill success. of my weaned tion. St. Germain was about to roturnand demand the formance of my promise. What was Ito do? es ‘to inform the individual that we were about to rob him together? If it had been possible to have avoided ac- companying St. Germain, it would not have been ¢o dan-, gerous to have given such notice; but I had promised to aksist him, and had no pretext for getting off from my promise, and T waited for him as I should have done for a sentence of death. One, two, three weeks passed: in these exitiee. and at the end of thie time I began. to breithe again; and when two months had elapsed, was Mold 10 at ober thinking that he bad been appre. nded, as well 94 his two companions. Annette (I shall always remember it) made a nine days’ vow, and barnt at least a dozen wax candles in token of joy. “I pray to heaven,” she sometimes “that they may continue where theyare.”” The torment had been of long duration bai the momente Of calm were brief, and they He YR E- which decided my existence. Fae key, I foun lal - -* itt : May. 1809. et davbreak I was awakened bv | dthere! Ali was now apparent, and the all the ways of the there. Come, he must-have made aoe ee ae The N ew York Library. ew es ——— eee —————— > 82. res ee Pata ron eeoe ON ee, ee several knocks at my warehouse door; and going down to | Huspanp, “ Are you growing foolish?” see,.was on the point of opening the door, when I heard some voices in a conversation a alow tone. ‘“‘He isa powerful man,’ said one; ‘‘ we must be wary!” There was no doubt concerning the motives of this early visit, and I returned hastily to my chamber, told Annette what had passed, and opening the window, whilst she entered into conversation with the officers, I glided ont in my shirt, by a door which opened on the staircase, 4nd soon reached the upper story; at the fourth I saw an open door and entered, looked abont me, listened, and found I was alone. In arecess in the wall was a bed, hidden by a ra crimson damask curtain. Pressed by circiim- stances, and sure.that the staircase was guarded, 1 threw myself beneath the mattress; but scarcely had I lain down when some one entered, whom I recognized to be a young map named Fossé, whose father, a brass-worker, was lying in an adjacent room,and a dialogue thus began:— SCENE THE FIRST. FATHER, MOTHER, AND BON. Son. “ What'do you think, father? They are looking for the tailor—they want to seize him—all the house is in an uproar. Do ‘you hear the bell? Hark! hark! they are ringing at the watchmaker’s. oTHER. “‘ Let them ring—to not you meddie in_busi- ness that does not concern you;—(/o her husband) Come, father, dress; they will soon be hete.”’ Farnugr. (Yawning, and, as I tmagined rubbing his es). “The devil fetch them—what do they want with the tailor?” Son. “I do not know, father; but there are lots of them—bailiffe and gendarmes, and’ a commissary with them.” FatTnen. “ Perhaps it is nothing at all.” Moruer. “But what can they want with the tailor? What can he have done?” Patnrr. “What can’ he have done? Since he sells cloth, he may have made clothes of English goods.” Morner. “He may bave employed foreign goods? You make me lau you, Do you think he would be apprefrended for that?” ATHER. ‘“Yes, I think om! My noe apprehend him for that, and the continental biockade.’’ Son. ‘ Continental blockade!’ What do you mean by that, father? What has that to do with the matter?” Mortuer. ‘Oh, yes! Tell us then, what’ willbe the end of this; aud let us know the truth of itall.” Farurr. “The meaning of all this! that perhaps’ they ‘will make the tailor a head shorter."’ Mornrn. “Good God! poor man! Tam sure they will take him: away—criminals, like him, are not guilty; and if it ony dr ea on me, I know I would hide them all in my chemise.” Fatuer. “Do you not know the tailor is a large fel- low ?—he hae a famous poay of his own.” Moruer. “ Never mind, I would hidehim. I wish he would come here. Do you remember the deserter?” Faturer, “Hush, hush! Here they come.” SCENE THE SECOND. THE COMMISSARY, GENDARMES AD THEIR ATTENDANTS. At this moment the commissary and his staff; havimg traversed the house from top to bottom, reached the fourth story. Commissary. “ Ah!'the door is'open. I beg pardon for disturbing but the interest of society demauds it. You have a neighbor a very bad man, a man who would kill either father or mother.”’ Wire. ** What, Monsieur Vidocq?”’ Commissary. “‘ Yes,madam, Vidocq; and I charge you, in case you or your husband have given him shelter, to tell me without delay.” Wire. “Ah, Monsieur le Commissaire,; you may look perk pean if, you please. We give shelter to any one who—"’ Commissary. *‘ Ahy you should beware, for the law is very severe in this icular Itis a subject on which there is no joking! You would subject yourselves to very severe punishment; for a nan condemned to capital pun- ishment, it wonld be nothing less than-——"’ Husnanp (quickly). ‘We are not afraid of that, Mon- sieur Conrmmissaire.’ Commissary. ‘I believe you, and Irely on you. How- } ever, that I may have nothing to reproach myself with, ou will permit me to make a slight search, just a simple ormality. (Addressing his attendanis)—-Gentiemen, are ‘the egreases well guarded?" After a very minute search of the inner room, the com- missary returned tothat inwhich Iwas. ‘* And in this bed,"’ said hey raising the tat curtains, : pte. ~ — _ a ethno samme 04 pinot e, which they let carelessly, ‘there is no himself: invisible; we must give over our search.’ It:may be imagined that I. felt overjoyed: at these w which removed an enor- mons weight from my mind. At length all the alguazils retired, the brass-worker's wife attending them with mach politeness, and I was left alone with the father and son, and a little child, who did not think that 1 was so near’ them. I heard them pitying me; but Madame Fossé soon ran up the staircase, four at a time, until she was’ uite out of breath, and I still was the theme of conver- tion. } SCENE THE THIRD. THE HUSBAND, WIFE, AND 60N. Wire. “Oh my God! my God! how many pcople there are in the street, Ah! they say fine things about M. Vidood they talk much, and all sorts of things, How- ever, there must be some of it true; never 80 inuch smoke without some fire. I know very well that this Monsieur Vidocq was.a proud chap for a master tgilor. His arms were.crossed much more frequently than his legs. , Huepanp. ‘There you go, like all the rest, with your suppositions; you are a slanderous woman now. Besides, it is no business of ours; and suppose that it did concern us, of what do they accuse him, what do they chatter about? Lam not curious.” Wire, “ What do. they chatter about! Why the very thoughts on’t make me tremble, when they say he is a man. condemned to death for haying killed a man, I wish you could hear the little tailor who lives lower down. Huspany. “Oh, he speaka from a professional jeal- sg rz, “ And the. porteress at No. 27, who speaks of what she knows well, says that. she has seen him go out every evening with a thick atick, so well disguised that she did not know him.” HUSBAND. the Champs Elyséea *’ i 8 that?’ Wire. “ At A PRE ert 0 Tay Wit for the people in ‘ Wure. ‘‘ Ah, is that foolish? The cook-shopman — haps, is foolish when he says that they were all rob ers who came in, and that he had seen M. Vidocq with some very ill-looking fellows.” UsBAND. “* Well! who had ill looks after——”’ Wire. *‘ After all, he is, said the commissary to the grocer, a worthless man; and worse than that, for he added that he was a vile criminal, and justice could not get hold of him.” Hussanp. ‘‘And you talk nonsense; you believe the commissary because he is years Up, our quarters; but I will neyer be persnaded that M. Vidocq is a dishonest man. I think, on the other hand, that he is a good fel- low, a unctual man. Besides, whatever he may be, it is no business of ours; let us meddle with our own affairs, and time wags onward;—we must to work; come, quick- ly, to work, to work.” The sitting was adjonrned; father, mother, son, and lit- tle daughter, all the Fossé family, went away, and I re- mained locked up, reflecting on the perfidious insinua- tions of the police, who, to depriye me of the aid of my neighbors, represented me as an infamous villain. I have often seen, subsequently, this species of tactics employed, the success of which is always founded on atrocious cal umnies and measures, revolting, because unjust; clumsy, because they produce an effect entirely contrary to that which is expected; for those. persons who would exert themselves personally in the apprehensica of 2 thief, are revented from fear of struggling with a man whom the eeling of crime and the prospect of a scaffold drive prob- My to despair. had been shut up for two hours; there was no noise either in the house orin the street, and the groups had dispersed; I was beginning to take courage, when I heard a key thrust into the lock, and whilst I again squatted be- neath the coverlid, the father, mother, son and danghter Fossé entered. The father and son were qnarrelling, and by the inter- ference of the mother I had no doubt but blows would arise, when, throwing aside the tattered curtains, I made my appearance in the midst of the astonished family. “It may be imagined how much the good folks were surprised. Whilst they were looking at me without saying a word, I told them as briefly as possible how I had got amongst them; how I had concealed myself under the mattress, &c. The husband and wife were astonished that I had not been atifed in my place of ‘concealment; they pitied me, and with a cordiality not uncommon amongst people of their class, offered me refreshments which were necessary after 80 Yale a morning. t may be supposed that I was on thorns during the pro- gress of the whole affair; I_perspired copiously; at any other moment I should have been amused; but when I re- flected on the inevitable results of a discovery, none less ee myself could appreciate the burlesque of my situa- on. After the reception afforded me by the Fossé family, it was probable that I shonld have. no reason to repent of having waited patiently for results. However, I was not yet fully assured: this family was not well off; and it might happen that the first impression of kindness and compassion which the most perverse persons sometimes evince, would give place to the hope of obtaining some re- ‘ward by surrende be Foe to the police; and then suppos- ing my hosts to be what is called “ stannch,” yet an indis- creet expression might betray me. Without being en- dowed with much aspire ga Fossé guessed the secret of my uneasiness, which he sneceeded in dissipating by pro- testations too sincere to be doubted. He undertook to watch over my safety, and_ began by disclaiming any return for his kindness, and then in- formed me that the ponee agents had fixed themselves in the house and the adjoining streets, and intended to piy a second visit to all the lodgers of the honse. On these atatements I judged that it was imperative on me to get away, for they would doubtlessly this time ranseck’al) the apartinents. The Fossé family, like many other of the work-people of Paris, used to sup at a wine-shop in the vicinity, where they carried their provisions, and it was agreed that I shoriid seize on that moment to go ont with them. Till night I had time to form my plans, and was first occupied with thinking how I should obtain intelligence of Annette, when Fossé undertook this forme. It would have bren the height of imprudence to have communicated directly with her, and he thus contrived it He went into the Rue de Grammont, where he bought a pie, into which he intro- duced the note that follows :— “T amin safety. Be careful of yourself, and trust no one. Do not attend to promises from persons who have neither the intention nor the power of serving you. Con fine yourself to these four words: ‘Ido not know.’ Play the fool, which will be the best proof of vour sense I cannot meet you; but when you go out, always go eg te the Rue St. Martin and the Boulevards. Mind, de not return; [ will answer for all.” The pie, intrusted to 2 messenger of the Place Ven- déme, and addressed to Madame Vidocq, fell; as I had foreseen, into the hands of the agents, who allowed it to be delivered, after having read the dispatch; and thus | at- tained two ends at once, that of deceiving them, by per suading them that Iwas notin that quarter, and that of assuring Annette that I was out of danger. My expedi. ent succeeded, and I was more calm in, making prepara- tions for — retreat. Some money, which I had snatched from my night-table, served to procure me pantaloons, stockings, and shoes, a frock; anda blue cotton cap, in- tended to complete my disguise. . When supper-hour came, I left the room with all the family, carrying on my head, as a precaution, a large dish of bharrico mutton, the appetizing fumes of which enfficiently explained the :n- tent of our excursion. My heart did not beat less anxious- ly when I met, face to face, on the second floor, a police officer, whom I did not at ‘first perceive, as he was en seonced in acorner. “Put out your candle,” cried he abruptly to Fossé. “ Why?" replied he, who had only taken a light that it might not awaken enspicion. ‘* Go along and ask no questions,” said the fellow, blowing out the candle himself, I could have hugged him! In the peer we met several of his comrades, who, more polite than he, made way for us to pass. At length we got out, and the moment we turned the afigle of the street, Fossé took the dish from me, and we parted. That I micht not attract’ attention, 1 walked very siow- ly tothe Rue des Fontaines; but when once’ there, . id not amuse myself, as the Germans say, in countin my buttons, but directed my steps towards the Boulevar of the Temple, and running rapidly reached the Rue de Bondy without thinking of asking where I was, However, it was not enough to have escaped a first sh cad for doubtless other searches more active would be ituted. It-was necess