Other People's Money by Emile Gaboriau (ebook smartphone txt) 📕

suffered with the laundress; and, at the idea of the tortures which the future still held in store for me, I desired death.  The Seine was near:  why not put an end at once to the miserable existence which I foresaw?

“Such were my reflections, when a woman from Rueil, a vegetable-vender, whom I knew by sight, happened to pass, pushing her hand-cart before her over the muddy pavement.  She stopped when she saw me; and, in the softest voice she could command,

“‘What are you doing there, my darling?’ she asked.

“In a few words I explained to her my situation.  She seemed more surprised than moved.

“‘Such is life,’ she remarked,—‘sometimes up, sometimes down.’

“And, stepping up nearer,

“‘What do you expect to do now?’ she interrogated in a tone of voice so different from that in which she had spoken at first, that I felt more keenly the horror of my altered situation.

“‘I have no idea,’ I replied.

“After thinking for a moment,

“‘You can’t stay there,’ she resumed:  ‘the gendarmes would arrest you.  Come with me.  We will talk things over at the house; and I’ll give you my advice.’

“I was so completely crushed, that I had neither strength nor will.  Besides, what was the use of thinking?  Had I any choice of resolutions?  Finally, the woman’s offer seemed to me a last favor of destiny.

“‘I shall do as you say, madame,’ I replied.

“She proceeded at once to load up my little baggage on her cart.  We started; and soon we arrived ‘home.’

“What she called thus was a sort of cellar, at least twelve inches lower than the street, receiving its only light through the glass door, in which several broken panes had been replaced by sheets of paper.  It was revoltingly filthy, and filled with a sickening odor.  On all sides were heaps of vegetables,—cabbages, potatoes, onions.  In one corner a nameless heap of decaying rags, which she called her bed; in the centre, a small cast-iron stove, the worn-out pipe of which allowed the smoke to escape in the room.

“‘Anyway,’ she said to me, ‘you have a home now!’

“I helped her to unload the cart.  She filled the stove with coal, and at once declared that she wanted to inspect my things.

“My trunks were opened; and it was with exclamations of surprise that the woman handled my dresses, my skirts, my stockings.

“‘The mischief!’ she exclaimed, ‘you dressed well, didn’t you?’

“Her eyes sparkled so, that a strong feeling of mistrust arose in my mind.  She seemed to consider all my property as an unexpected godsend to herself.  Her hands trembled as she handled some piece of jewelry; and she took me to the light that she might better estimate the value of my ear-rings.

“And so, when she asked me if I had any money, determined to hide at least my twenty-franc-piece, which was my sole fortune, I replied boldly, ‘No.’

“‘That’s a pity,’ she grumbled.

“But she wished to know my history, and I was compelled to tell it to her.  One thing only surprised her,—my age; and in fact, though only thirteen, I looked fully sixteen.

“When I had done,

“‘Never mind!’ she said.  ‘It was lucky for you that you met me.  You are at least certain now of eating every day; for I am going to take charge of you.  I am getting old:  you’ll help me to drag my cart.  If you are as smart as you are pretty, we’ll make money.’

“Nothing could suit me less.  But how could I resist?  She threw a few rags upon the floor; and on them I had to sleep.  The next day, wearing my meanest dress, and a pair of wooden shoes which she had bought for me, and which bruised my feet horribly, I had to harness myself to the cart by means of a leather strap, which cut my shoulders and my chest.  She was an abominable creature, that woman; and I soon found out that her repulsive features indicated but too well her ignoble instincts.  After leading a life of vice and shame, she had, with the approach of old age, fallen into the most abject poverty, and had adopted the trade of vegetable-vender, which she carried on just enough to escape absolute starvation.  Enraged at her fate, she found a detestable pleasure in ill-treating me, or in endeavoring to stain my imagination by the foulest speeches.

“Ah, if I had only known where to fly, and where to take refuge!  But, abusing my ignorance, that execrable woman had persuaded me, that, if I attempted to go out alone, I would be arrested.  And I knew no one to whom I could apply for protection and advice.  And then I began to learn that beauty, to a poor girl, is a fatal gift.  One by one, the woman had sold every thing I had,—dresses, underclothes, jewels; and I was now reduced to rags almost as mean as when I was with the laundress.

“Every morning, rain or shine, hot or cold, we started, wheeling our cart from village to village, all along the Seine, from Courbevoie to Pont-Marly.  I could see no end to this wretched existence, when one evening the commissary of police presented himself at our hovel, and ordered us to follow him.

“We were taken to prison; and there I found myself thrown among some hundred women, whose faces, words, and gestures frightened me.  The vegetable-woman had committed a theft; and I was accused of complicity.  Fortunately I was easily able to demonstrate my innocence; and, at the end of two weeks, a jailer opened the door to me, saying, ‘Go:  you are free!’”

Maxence understood now the gently ironical smile with which Mlle. Lucienne had heard him assert that he, too, had been very unhappy.  What a life hers had been!  And how could such things be within a step of Paris, in the midst of a society which deems its organization too perfect to consent to modify it!

Mlle. Lucienne went on, speaking somewhat faster,

“I was indeed free; but of what use could my freedom be to me?  I knew not which way to go.  A mechanical instinct took me back to Rueil.  I fancied I would be safer among people who all knew me, and that I might find shelter in our old lodgings.  But this last hope was disappointed.  Immediately after our arrest, the owner of the building had thrown out every thing it contained, and had rented it to a hideous beggar, who offered me, with a giggle, to become his housekeeper.  I ran off as fast as I could.

“The situation was certainly more horrible now than the day when I had been turned out of my benefactress’ house.  But the eight months I had just spent with the horrible woman had taught me anew how to bear misery, and had nerved up my energy.

“I took out from a fold of my dress, where I had kept it constantly