Monsieur Lecoq by Émile Gaboriau (romance novel chinese novels .txt) 📕

aid her in driving away the thoughts of Martial, which haunted her.

So the next day she was more cheerful than she had been for months, and once, while putting her little house in order, she was surprised to find herself singing at her work.

Eight o’clock was sounding when she heard a peculiar whistle.

It was the signal of the younger Poignot, who came bringing an armchair for the sick man, the abbé’s box of medicine, and a bag of books.

These articles Marie-Anne deposited in the room which Chanlouineau had adorned for her, and which she intended for the baron. After arranging them to her satisfaction she went out to meet young Poignot, who had told her that he would soon return with other articles.

The night was very dark, and Marie-Anne, as she hastened on, did not notice two motionless figures in the shadow of a clump of lilacs in her little garden.

XLV

Detected by Mme. Blanche in a palpable falsehood, Chupin was quite crestfallen for a moment.

He saw the pleasing vision of a retreat at Courtornieu vanish; he saw himself suddenly deprived of frequent gifts which permitted him to spare his hoarded treasure, and even to increase it.

But he soon regained his assurance, and with an affectation of frankness he said:

“I may be stupid, but I could not deceive an infant. Someone must have told you falsely.”

Mme. Blanche shrugged her shoulders.

“I obtained my information from two persons who were ignorant of the interest it would possess for me.”

“As truly as the sun is in the heavens I swear⁠—”

“Do not swear; simply confess that you have been wanting in zeal.”

The young lady’s manner betrayed such positive certainty that Chupin ceased his denials and changed his tactics.

With the most abject humility, he admitted that the evening before he had relaxed his surveillance; he had been very busy; one of his boys had injured his foot; then he had encountered some friends who persuaded him to enter a drinking-saloon, where he had taken more than usual, so that⁠—

He told this story in a whining tone, and every moment he interrupted himself to affirm his repentance and to cover himself with reproaches.

“Old drunkard!” he said, “this will teach you⁠—”

But these protestations, far from reassuring Mme. Blanche, made her still more suspicious,

“All this is very well, Father Chupin,” she said, dryly, “but what are you going to do now to repair your negligence?”

“What do I intend to do?” he exclaimed, feigning the most violent anger. “Oh! you will see. I will prove that no one can deceive me with impunity. Near the Borderie is a small grove. I shall station myself there; and may the devil seize me if a cat enters that house unbeknown to me.”

Mme. Blanche drew her purse from her pocket, and taking out three louis, she gave them to Chupin, saying:

“Take these, and be more careful in future. Another blunder like this, and I shall be compelled to ask the aid of some other person.”

The old poacher went away, whistling quite reassured; but he was wrong. The lady’s generosity was only intended to allay his suspicions.

And why should she not suppose he had betrayed her⁠—this miserable wretch, who made it his business to betray others? What reason had she for placing any confidence in his reports? She paid him! Others, by paying him more, would certainly have the preference!

But how could she ascertain what she wished to know? Ah! she saw but one way⁠—a very disagreeable, but a sure way. She, herself, would play the spy.

This idea took such possession of her mind that, after dinner was concluded, and twilight had enveloped the earth in a mantle of gray, she summoned Aunt Medea.

“Get your cloak, quickly, aunt,” she commanded. “I am going for a walk, and you must accompany me.”

Aunt Medea extended her hand to the bell-rope, but her niece stopped her.

“You will dispense with the services of your maid,” said she. “I do not wish anyone in the château to know that we have gone out.”

“Are we going alone?”

“Alone.”

“Alone, and on foot, at night⁠—”

“I am in a hurry, aunt,” interrupted Blanche, “and I am waiting for you.”

In the twinkling of an eye Aunt Medea was ready.

The marquis had just been put to bed, the servants were at dinner, and Blanche and Aunt Medea reached the little gate leading from the garden into the open fields without being observed.

“Good heavens! Where are we going?” groaned Aunt Medea.

“What is that to you? Come!”

Mme. Blanche was going to the Borderie.

She could have followed the banks of the Oiselle, but she preferred to cut across the fields, thinking she would be less likely to meet someone.

The night was still, but very dark, and the progress of the two women was often retarded by hedges and ditches. Twice Blanche lost her way. Again and again, Aunt Medea stumbled over the rough ground, and bruised herself against the stones; she groaned, she almost wept, but her terrible niece was pitiless.

“Come!” she said, “or I will leave you to find your way as best you can.”

And the poor dependent struggled on.

At last, after a tramp of more than an hour, Blanche ventured to breathe. She recognized Chanlouineau’s house, and she paused in the little grove of which Chupin had spoken.

“Are we at our journey’s end?” inquired Aunt Medea, timidly.

“Yes, but be quiet. Remain where you are, I wish to look about a little.”

“What! you are leaving me alone? Blanche, I entreat you! What are you going to do? Mon Dieu! you frighten me. I am afraid, Blanche!”

But her niece had gone. She was exploring the grove, seeking Chupin. She did not find him.

“I knew the wretch was deceiving me,” she muttered through her set teeth. “Who knows but Martial and Marie-Anne are there in that house now, mocking me, and laughing at my credulity?”

She rejoined Aunt Medea, whom she found half dead with fright, and both advanced to the edge of the woods, which commanded a view of the front of the house.

A flickering, crimson light gleamed through