Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

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Her dress was in disorder, her hair | hung loose down her back, she was fearful to look at, and there was fire in her eyes that dried up her tears. She stopped the passengers, crying. ‘My child! my | dear little child! Te!l me where to find my child, and | I will be your slave, and you shall do with me what you | please.’ It was quite ousting, Oudarde, and I assure | you I saw a very hard-he man, Master Ponce Lu- | cabre, the attorney, shed tears at it. Poor, poor. mother! In the evening she went home. Whilst she was away a neighbor had seen two Egyptian women slip slyly up her stairs with a large bundle, and pres- ently come down again, shut the door and hurry off. . After they were gone, cries, as if of a child, had been heard proceeding from Paquette’s lodging. The | mother laughed with joy, flew up stairs, dashed ad of | the door, and wentin. Only think, Oudarde, instead of her lovely baby, so aniling, so plump,and so ruddy, there she found a sort of a little monster, a hid- | eous, deformed, one-eyed, limping thing, squalling, and creeping about the floor.. She covered her eyes in horror. ‘Oh!’ said she, ‘can it be that the witches have changed my Agnes into. this frightful animal?’ Her neighbors took the little _imp.away forthwith; he would have driven her mad, He was the mis-shapen child of some Egyptian or other, who had given herself up to the devil. He ap- peared to be about four years old, and talked a lan- guage which was nota human language—such words were never before heardin this world. Chantefleurie snatched up the tiny shoe, all that was left of all that - she had loved.. She lay so long, without moving, without 8 ing, apparently without breathing, that _ everybody hought he was dead. All at once she _ trembled in every limb; she covered the precious relic _ with passionate and burst intoa fit of sobs, as if her heart was going to break. Iassure you we all wept along with her.. ‘Oh, my baby!’ said she, ‘my dear little baby! where art thou?’ It.makes one's . heart bleed. I can’t help crying still at the thought of _ it. Our children, you see, are as the very marrow of our bo Oh my Eustache, my poor. Eustache, if I were to. thee, what would become of me! At length antefleurie suddenly sprang a and saat . through the streets of Reims, shouting, ‘To the camp of the Egyptians! Let the witches The Marae Sere gone. It was a dark night; nobody ould tell which way they had gone. Next day, which was Sun there were found on a heath between -and Tilley, about es from Reims, the - Gueux and vremaine of a e fire, bits of ribbons which had be- Jong the dress of Paquette’s child, and several roy of blood - burnt!’ two | t drop . There could be no further doubt that e Egyptian had the night before held their Sabbath this heath, and feasted upon the child in company their master, Belzebub. When Chantefleurie ese horrid particulars, she did not weep ; she e day her hair was quite gray, and on the next she had “, tful story. indeed,’ exclaimed Oudarde, _ *and enough to draw tears from a Bur " “Iam no longer surprised,” said Gervaise, ‘that you oR “aid 3 oe <” repli 1 omer “to'get cut ., ‘ ' ' ri “~~ repliec e, bs ou — ; Gratechd, 2 of their way wi especially as these are | Bove 3 om Poland.” 5 ors abt so,”’ said pecraee ; “it is said that they come ( pai: d Ca secek Uh ; “At any rate,’’ answere darde, ‘‘it is certain that _ they are Egyptians. tart & “And not less certain,’’ continued Gervaise, “ that their are long enough to-eat little children. “And. arena not -be surprised if Esmeralda were to pick a now then, though she has such a small, pretty he white goat plays so many marvelous _ tricks, that there must be something wrong at bot- “Mabie walked on in silence. She was absorbed in it reverie which is a sort of prolongation of a doleful ,and which continues tillit has communicated its vibration to the inmost fibres of the heart. “And » did you never know what became of Chantefleurie ?”’ asked . Mahiette made no reply. 'Gervaise re- eated the question, gently shaking her arm and calling by her name. | ' ‘ “What became of Chantefleurie ?” said she, wi ann Ly | His - : ' ically ating the words whose impression was stil! fresh upon herear. Then making an effort to recall her. tion to the sense of those words, “Ah!’’ a, sharply, ‘“it was never known what became of de : “After a pause she added: “Some said they saw her leave Reimsin the dusk of the gveeng by the Porte Flechembault ; and others at daybreak by the old Porte e. Her gold cross was found hanging on the” stone # in the field where the fair is held. It was this et that occasioned her fall in 61. It was a prow from the handsome Viscount de Cermon- uil, her first Admirer. Pagnette never would part with it, distressed as she had often been. She clun to it as tolife. Of course, when we heard how an Pty Ca EE. we all bt ary that thas : ead, here were persons who declared the a Re heh the road to Paris walking hafeioct upon e flints. But in this case, she must have gone out vat the gate of Vesle, and all these acconnts Cannot be true. My own opinion is that she did actually go by .been satisfied to sigh in company with Mahiette; but | table person would look at him, I reckon.” | dow—she knows something of me. 1 will tell you when changed color and sign fox the hard, cold pavement. The faint likeness of the hu- man form discernible under this garb ot mourniny made one shudder. This et which you would have supposed to | | € the gate of Vesle, not only out of the town, but out of the world.’’ ae ‘I don't understand you,” said Gervaise, ‘The Vesle,”” replied Mahiettee, with a melancholy smile, ‘‘18 our river.’”’ , ‘Poor Chantefietrie!’"’ said Oudarde, shuddering, imbedded in the stone floor, appeared to have neith: motion, nor breath, nor thought. “ Without otiu “ drowned !”’ ' clothing save the sackcloth, in the month ot January, “Drowned |" replied Mahiete. ‘‘Ah! howit would barefoot upon a pavement of granite, without fire, in have spoiled good Father Guybertaut’s singing, while | the gloom of a dungeon, the oblique aperture of which floating in his bark beneath the bridge of Tinqueux, | admitted only the chill blast but not tke cheering sun, had he been told that his dear little Paquette would | she seemed not to suffer. not even to feel. You would some day pass under that same bridge; but without | have thought that she lad turned herselt to stone song and without bark !"’ with the dungeon, to ice with the season, Her hands * And the little shoe?” said Gervaise. were clasped, her eyes fixed. At the first glance you ‘** Disappeared with the mother,”’ replied Mahiette. | would have taken her for a specter, at the second for a Oudarde, a comely tender-hearted woman, would have | statue. At intervals, however, her livid lips opened for the Gervaise, who was of a more inquisitive disposition, | purpose of breathing, and quivered ; but they looked had not got to the end of her questions. as dead and as willess as leaves driven by the blast. ‘* And the monster ?” said she, all at once, resuming Meanwhile those haggard eyes cast a look, an ineffable her inquiries. , : look, &@ profound, melancholy, imperturbable look, ‘“‘What monster ?”’ asked Mahiette., ° | steadfustly fixed on a corner of the cell, which could “ The little Egyptian monster, left by the witches at not beseen from without, a look which seemed:to con- Chantefleurie’s in exchange for her child. What was | nect all the gloomy thonghts of that afflicted spirit done with it? Ihope you drowned that too.” | with some mysterious object. “Oh no!" replied Mahiette. Such was the creature to whom was given from her “Burnt then, Isuppose? The best thing, too, that | garb the familiar name of Sacky, and from her dwell- could be done with a witch's child.” ing that of the Récluse. , ‘Nor that either, Gervaise. The archbishop:had com- The three WCmen—for by this time Geryaise had re- passion on the my tte g boy; he carefully took. the | joined Oudarde and Mahiette—peeped in at the window. devil out of him, blessed him, and sent him to Paris to | Their heads intercepted the faint ght thatentered the be exposed in the wooden cradle at Notre-Dame as a | dungeon, but yet the wretched being whom’ they de- foundling.”’ | prived of it appeared not to notice them. “ Let us not “Those bishops,’’ said Gervaise, grumblingly, “ be- | disturb her,’’ said Oudarde, softly ; “she is praying.” cause they are learned men, Dever do anything like | Mahiette scrutinized all this time that wan, with- other people. Only think, Oudarde, to pop the devil | ered, deathlike face, under its vail of hair, with am into the place of the foundlings! for it is quite certain | anxiety that increased every moment, and her eyes that this little monster could be nothing else. Well, | filled with tears. ‘It would indeed be most extraor- Mahiette, and what became of him at Paris? No chari- | dinary!”’ muttered she. Putting her head between the bars of the aperture she was enabled to see the corner ‘‘I don’t know,” replied her country friend. “Just | upon which the eye of the unhappy recluse was still at that time my husband bought tlie place of notary at | riveted. When she drew back her head from the win- Beru, about two leagues from Reims, and, being fully | dow, her cheeks were bathed withtears. ~ , engaged with our own business, we lost sight of the “What do you call this woman?’ ‘said Es to Ou- matter. darde, who replied : ‘“‘ We call her Sister Gudule.” , Amid such conversation the worthy trio reached the Place de Greve. oe ann to ae of their discourse, they lac paes land’s Tower without | being aware ofit, and turned miechanically toward the pillory, around which the concourse of people was every momett increasing. It is probable that the scene which at this moment met théir view would have made them completely forget the Trou aux Rats and their intention of calling there, had not Eustache,. whom Mahiette still led by the hand, as if apprised by some instinct that they bad passed the place of their destination, cried, ‘Mother, now may I eat the cake ?”’ 2 Had the boy less hasty, that is to say less | her lips mute, her eyes F greedy, he would have waited till: the party had re- | en the little shoe was enough to cut any one who ki turned to the house of Master Andry Musnier, Rue her story to the heart. : “For my part,”’ rejoined Mahiette, 1 cal her Pa- quette la Chantefleurie.” ' — Then, ldying her finger upon her lips, she made a. sign to the astonished Oudarde to put her head through the aperture and look. Oudarde did so, and beheld in the corner upon which the eye of the recluse was fixed in gloomy ecstasy a tiny shoe of pink sutin,. embroidered all over with gold and silver. Gerviise looked in afte? Oudarde ‘nd th ree women fel! a weeping at the sight of the unfortunate nyoth« Neither their looks, however ta) A eel tears, Were) | nds rema clas) ticed by the recluse. xed, and that look thus } Madame la Valence in the University, when there would The three women gazed without uttering a werd; have been the two bratiches of the Seine and the five | they durst not speak even in a whisper. This pro- bridges of the city between the cake and the Trou aux | found silence, this intense sorrow, this utter foryet- , before he had yentured the timid question, | fulness of all but one object, produced upon them ‘*Mother, now I eat the cake?”’ That very question, an impru ne at the moment — it was put by Eustache, roused Mahiette’s atten- on | g the recluse. Show me your Trou aux Rats, that may carry her the cake.”’ , - Let's go at once,’’ said Oudarde + “ ‘tis a charit 7 the effect of a high altar at Ea or Christz as.. It awed them, too, into silence, into devotion; they were reudy to fall on their knees. O Marr At length Gervaise, the most inquisitive, ‘ eye course the least tender-hearted of the thre cule to the recluse, in hopes of making hér speal ter! Sister Gudule!” ‘Thrice did’ repeat the call, rais- ‘ing her voice every -< Upon my word,”’ ‘said she, “ we are e. ‘The recluse stirred not: it This was far from agreeable ‘to Eustache. “She w from her neither word, nor look, nor sigh, mur sha’n’t have my cake,’’ said he, das - his head | sign of life. ag against his two s re by turns, Which in @ caseof| ‘Sister! Sister St. Gndule!"’ said Oudarde, ii Ler this kind is a signal © notdispleasure. * tirn, in a kinder*and more soothifig tone. ‘The re- The three women turned back, and having arrived at $7 RRea se cluse was silent and motionless as before. - “A strange woman !’’ exclaimed Gervaise. ‘I verily believe that a bombard would not awaken her.’ ail 1e Roland's Tower, Oudarde said to the other .two, “ We must not all look in at the hole at once lest we should frighten Sister Gudule. Do you pretend to be reading the Dominus in'the breviary, whiled peep in at the win- . to come,”’ . She went up by herself to the window. The mo- ment she looked in, profound pity took possession of every feature, and her open, good-humored face | which the ons of the extern expression ‘as suddenly as if it had} notreach. — — tas “What shall we do to rouse her?’ said Ou . “Tf we leave the caké in the wifdow, some will run away with it.” | ' = = Eustache, whose atteution ‘had till this m. been taken up by al cart drawn by a> which had just passed alon; that his mother and h friends the window at something; and, it was, heclambered u a yand thr red chubby face in at thé ap re, he cried; * look, mother! whoisthat?”’ — het “ Perhaps ead" cule aa a ct Meo It is certain that if the halen not yet quitted: it had at least sphios to and shut 3 iate frame, \ up in} ae or ould - #* c Pas passed out of the sunshine into the moonlivht ; a tear trembled in her eye and. her mouth was contracted as when a person is ees to weep. A moment after- ward she put her finger upon her lips,aud made a tte tocomeand looks « ©. -_Mahiette went in silence and on’ tiptoe, ‘as though approaching the bed of a dyitig person, It was jn truth a melancholy sight that presented itself to the two wo- men, whilé they looked in without stirring or breath- ing at the barred window of the Trou aux Rats. The cell was small, wider than de , with coved a «fat 1 eéiling, and seen fro Withh resembled the holkow of | | a he penne watts 4 ut fete: Fees noreub a large Episcopal mitre. Upon the stone floor, in one nuated fingers tly ur +4 A angle, a female was seated or rather crouched. Her |¥¢#d; her long, at w back th chin rested neo her knees, while lienarms d clasped | from her brow, and she fixed her sad, ustonished, hands encircled her legs... Doubled up in this mauner, distracted eyes upon the boy. look was trangient wrapped in brown sackcloth, her long, lank, gray, hair falling over her face down to her feet, she presented at first sight a strange figure standing out from the dark ground ofthe cell, a sort of dun triangle which the ray ‘entering at the window showed like one of those specters seen in dreams, half shadow and half light, le, motionless, gloomy, cowering upon a grave or be- ~ the grating ofa dungeon. It was neither, woman, nor man, nor living creature ; it had no definite form ; it was a shapeless figure, asort of vision in which the real aud the fantastic were oqn trance dake light and shade. Scarcely could there be distinguished under her streaming hair the forbidding pale of - attenu- ated face; scarcely did the ample robe of sackcloth which entolded her. permit the extremity ot a bare foot to be seen peeping from befheath it aud curled up on as lightning, *‘ Oh, my God !" she instantly exclaimed, burying her face in her lap; and it seemed as if harsh voice gent itself 4 passage from her chest, “at least keep those of others out of my sight!” This shock, however, had, as it were, awakened the recluse. A long shudder thrilled her wholé frame; her teeth chattered; she half raised her head, and, taking hold of her-feet with her hands as if to warm them, she ejaculated, ‘‘Oh ! ‘how cold it is !'’ . “ Poor creature,’ said Oudarde, with deep compas- sion, ‘‘ would you like a little fire?’ ye The shook her head in token of refusal. .* - _ “Well then,’’ rejoined Oudarde, offering her a bot- tle, here is some hippoeras, which will warm you!” Again she shook her head, looking steadfastly at Oudarde, and said: ‘* Water !” COMMUG OO) (E@)