Upon returning to our inn I explained as best I could the history of this unfortunate acquaintance; but whether my companion was not at all satisfied by what I told her, or whether she may perhaps have been exceedingly annoyed by my
virtuous1 performance which deprived her of an adventure wherefrom she might have earned much, she waggled her tongue, the effects of which were only too plainly revealed by Bertrand's remarks upon the occasion of the deplorable
catastrophe2 I am going to relate to you in a moment; however, the
monk3 never did reappear, and we left Lyon.
Having quit the city late, we could get no further than Villefranche that day, and there we stopped for the night; 'twas in that town, Madame, there took place the horrible event which today causes me to appear before you in a criminal
guise4, although I was no more a
malefactor5 in that one of my life's fateful circumstances than in any other of those where you have observed me so unjustly assaulted by the blows of fate; and as in many another instance, so this time I was flung into the abyss by nothing other than the goodness of my heart and the wickedness of men.
Having made Villefranche toward six o'clock in the evening, we supped in haste and
retired6 directly, that we might be able to undertake a longer stage on the morrow; we had not been two hours in bed when a dreadful smell of smoke roused us from sleep; convinced the flames are near at hand, we get instantly from bed. Just Heaven! the
havoc7 wrought8 by the fire was already but too
frightful9; half-naked, we open our door and all around us hear nothing but the
fracas10 of
collapsing11 walls, the noise of burning timbers and woodwork and the
shrieks12 of those who had fallen into the blaze; surrounded by
devouring13 flames we have no idea in which direction to run; to escape their violence, we rush past them and soon find ourselves lost in a milling crush of
wretches14 who, like ourselves, are seeking
salvation15 in flight; at this point I remember that my conductress, more concerned for her own than for her child's safety, has not thought of preserving it from death; without a word to the woman, I fly to our
chamber16, having to pass through the
conflagration17 and to sustain burns in several places: I snatch up the poor little creature, spring forward to restore her to her mother: I advance along a half-consumed beam, miss my footing,
instinctively18 thrust out my hands, this natural reflex forces me to release the precious burden in my arms... it slips from my grasp and the unlucky child falls into the
inferno19 before its own mother's eyes; at this instant I am myself seized... carried away; too upset to be able to distinguish anything, I am
unaware20 whether 'tis aid or
peril21 which surrounds me but, to my grief, I am but too
fully22 enlightened when, flung into a post chaise, I discover myself beside Dubois who, clapping a pistol to my head, threatens to blow out my brains if I utter a
syllable23...
"Ah, little
villain24," says she, "I've got you now and this time for good."
"Oh, Madame! you?" I exclaim. "Here?"
"Everything that has just
transpired25 is my doing," the monster replies, " 'twas by
arson26 I saved your life; and by a fire you're going to lose it: in order to catch you I'd have followed you to Hell had it been necessary. Monseigneur was furious, believe me, when he found out you had escaped; I get two hundred louis for every girl I
procure27 him, and not only did he not want to pay me for Eulalie, but he menaced me with all his anger could produce were I to fail to bring you back. I discovered I'd missed you by two hours at Lyon; yesterday I reached Villefranche an hour after your arrival, I had the hotel burned by the henchmen I always have in my employ, I wanted to incinerate you or get you back; I've got you, I m returning you to a house your flight has
plunged28 into trouble and unquiet, and I'm taking you there, Therese, to be treated in a cruel manner. Monseigneur swore he'd not have tortures terrible enough for you, and we'll not step from this carriage until we are at his seat. Well, Therese, what is your present opinion of
Virtue29 ?"
"Oh, Madame! that it is very frequently crime's
prey30; that it is happy when
triumphant31; but that it ought to be the unique object of the Heavenly God's rewards even though human
atrocities32 bring about its downfall upon earth."
"You've not long to wait before you know, Therese, whether there is really a God who punishes or recompenses the deeds of mortals.... Ah! if, in the eternal inexistence you are shortly going to enter, if 'twere possible to
cogitate33 in that state of annihilation, how much you would regret the fruitless sacrifices your
inflexible34 stubbornness has forced you to make to
phantoms36 who have never
doled37 out any but the wages of sorrow.... Therese, there is yet time left to you: if you wish to be my
accomplice38 I'll save you, for, I
avow39, 'tis more than I can bear to see you break down ever and ever again upon Virtue's routes all
beset40 by
perils41. What? are you not yet
sufficiently42 punished for your good behavior and false principles? What kind of
misery43 do you have to know in order to be persuaded to mend your ways? What then are the examples you require in order to be convinced the attitude you have adopted is the worst of all and that, as I have told you a hundred times over, one must expect nothing but
calamity44 when, breasting the crowd's headlong stampede, one wishes to be virtuous and alone in a completely
corrupt45 society. You count upon an
avenging46 God; cease to be a
gull47, Therese,
disabuse48 yourself, the God you fabricate for yourself is but a fiction whose stupid existence is never found elsewhere but in the heads of the crazed; 'tis a
phantom35 invented by human wickedness; the
solitary49 purpose of this illusion is to deceive mankind or to create armed divisions among men. The service it were possible to render humankind would have been instantly to cut the throat of the first impostor who took it into his head to speak of God to men. How much blood that one murder would have spared the universe! Get on, get on with you, Therese, perpetually active Nature, Nature
acting50 always, has no need of a master for her government. And if indeed this master did exist, after all the faults and sins with which he has stuffed creation, would he, think you, would he merit anything from us but scorn and
outrage51? Ah, if he exists, your God, how I do hate him! Therese, how I
abhor52 him! Yes, were this existence
authentic53, I affirm that the
mere54 pleasure of perpetually irritating whatever I found that bore his impress or
bespoke55 his touch would become for me the most precious compensation for the necessity in which I would find myself to acknowledge some belief in him.... Once again, Therese, do you wish to become my confederate? A superb possibility presents itself, with courage we can execute the thing; I'll save your life if you'll undertake it. This Monseigneur to whose house we are going, and whom you know, lives alone in the country house where he gives his parties; their species, with which you are familiar, requires
isolation56; a single valet lives with him when he takes up residence there for the sake of his pleasures: the man riding ahead of the coach, you and I, dear girl, that's three of us against two; when that
libertine57 is
inflamed58 by his
lecheries59, I'll snatch away the saber with which he decapitates his victims, you'll hold him, we'll kill him, and meanwhile my man will have done in the valet. There's money hidden in that house; more than eight hundred thousand francs, Therese, I'm sure of it, the thing's well worth the trouble... Choose, clever creature, decide: death or an alliance; if you betray me, if you expose my plan to him, I'll accuse you of having
contrived60 it alone, and don't doubt for a moment that the confidence he has always had in me will tip the balance my way... think carefully before you give me your answer: this man is a villain; hence, by
assassinating61 him we merely aid the law whose rigorous treatment he deserves. A day does not go by, Therese, without this
rascal62 murdering a girl; is it then to outrage Virtue by punishing Crime? And does the reasonable proposition I make you still alarm your wild principles?"#p#分页标题#e#
"Be certain of it, Madame," I answered; "it is not with object of chastening crime you propose this deed, it is rather with the sole intention of committing one yourself; consequently there cannot be but great evil in doing what you suggest, and no
semblance63 of
legitimacy64 can appear thereupon; better still, even were you to intend to
avenge65 humanity for this man's horrors, you would still be committing evil by doing so, for this is not a problem which concerns you: there are laws decreed to punish the guilty; let those laws take their course, it is not unto our feeble hands the
Supreme66 Being has
entrusted67 their sword, never might we
wield68 that blade without
affronting69 justice."
"Well, then you'll have to die, worthless creature," retorted the furious Dubois, "you'll die; don't tease yourself with hopes of escaping your fate."
"What matters it to me?" I calmly answered, "I shall be delivered of all the ills that
assail70 me; death holds no terrors for me, 'tis life's last sleep, 'tis the downtrodden's
haven71 of
repose72...."
And, upon these words, that
savage73 beast sprang at me, I thought she was going to strangle me; she struck several blows upon my breast, but released me, however, immediately I cried out, for she feared lest the postilion hear me.
We were moving along at a brisk pace; the man who was riding ahead arranged for new horses and we stopped only long enough to change teams. As the new pair was being harnessed, Dubois suddenly raised her weapon and clapped it to my heart... what was she about to do?... Indeed, my
exhaustion74 and my situation had beaten me down to the point of preferring death to the
ordeal75 of keeping it at bay.
We were then preparing to enter Dauphine, of a sudden six horsemen,
galloping76 at top speed behind our coach, overtook it and, with
drawn77 cutlasses, forced our driver to halt. Thirty feet off the highway was a cottage to which these cavaliers, whom we soon identified as
constables78, ordered the driver to lead the carriage; when we were alongside it, we were told to get out, and all three of us entered the peasant's
dwelling79. With an
effrontery80 unthinkable in a woman soiled with unnumbered crimes, Dubois who found herself arrested, archly demanded of these officers whether she were known to them, and with what right they
comported81 themselves thus with a woman of her rank.