Chapter 26
Never would a stranger who should have suddenly come into Daniel's chamber, upon seeing Crochard's attitude, have imagined that the wretch was accused of a capital crime, and was standing there before a magistrate, in presence of the man whom he had tried three times to assassinate.
Quite at home in the law, as far as it was studied at the galleys, he had instantly recognized that his situation was by no means so desperate as he had at first supposed; that, if the jury rendered a verdict of guilty of death, it would be against the instigator of the crime, and that he would probably get off with a few years' penal servitude.
Hence he had made up his mind about his situation with that almost bestial indifference which characterizes people who are ready for everything, and prepared for everything. He had recovered from that stupor which the discovery of his crime had produced in him, and from the rage in which he had been thrown by the loss of his bank-notes. Now there appeared, under the odious personage of the murderer, the pretentious and ridiculous orator of the streets and prisons, who is accustomed to make himself heard, and displays his eloquence with great pride.
He assumed a studied position; and it was evident that he was preparing himself for his speech, although, afterwards, a good many words escaped him which are found in no dictionary, but belong to the jargon of the lowest classes, and serve to express the vilest sentiments.
"It was," he began, "a Friday, an unlucky day,--a week, about, before 'The Conquest' sailed. It might have been two o'clock. I had eaten nothing; I had not a cent in my pockets and I was walking along the boulevards, loafing, and thinking how I could procure some money.
"I had crossed several streets, when a carriage stopped close to me; and I saw a very fine gentleman step out, a cigar in his mouth, a gold chain across his waistcoat, and a flower in his buttonhole. He entered a glove-shop.
"At once I said to myself, 'Curious! I have seen that head somewhere.'
"Thereupon, I go to work, and remain fixed to the front of the shop, a little at the side, though, you know, at a place where, without being seen myself, I could very well watch my individual, who laughed and talked, showing his white teeth, while a pretty girl was trying on a pair of gloves. The more I looked at him, the more I thought, 'Positively, Bagnolet, although that sweet soul don't look as if he were a member of your society, you know him.'
"However, as I could not put a name to that figure, I was going on my way, when suddenly my memory came back to me, and I said, 'Cretonne, it is an old comrade. I shall get my dinner.'
"After all, I was not positively sure; because why? Fifteen years make a difference in a man, especially when he does not particularly care to be recognized. But I had a little way of my own to make the thing sure.
"I waited, therefore, for my man; and, at the moment when he crossed the sidewalk to get into his carriage, I stepped up, and cried out, though not very loud, 'Eh, Chevassat!'
"The scamp! They might have fired a cannon at his ear, and he would not have jumped as he did when I spoke to him. And white he was,--as white as his collar. But, nevertheless, he was not without his compass, the screw. He puts up his eyeglass, and looks at me up and down; and then he says in his finest manner, 'What is it, my good fellow? Do you want to speak to me?'
"Thereupon, quite sure of my business now, I say, 'Yes, to you, Justin Chevassat. Don't you recall me? Evariste Crochard, surnamed Bagnolet; eh? Do you recollect now?' However, the gentleman continued to hold his head high, and to look at me. At last he says, 'If you do not clear out, I will call a policeman.' Well, the mustard got into my nose, and I began to cry, to annoy him, so as to collect a crowd,--
"'What, what! Policemen, just call them, please do! They will take us before a magistrate. If I am mistaken, they won't hang me; but, if I am not mistaken, they will laugh prodigiously. What have I to risk? Nothing at all; for I have nothing.'
"I must tell you, that, while I said all this, I looked at him fixedly with the air of a man who has nothing in his stomach, and who is bent upon putting something into it. He also looked at me fixedly; and, if his eyes had been pistols--but they were not. And, when he saw I was determined, the fine gentleman softened down.
"'Make no noise,' he whispered, looking with a frightened air at all the idlers who commenced to crowd around us. And pretending to laugh very merrily,--for the benefit of the spectators, you know,--he said, speaking very low and very rapidly,--
"'In the costume that you have on, I cannot ask you to get into my carriage; that would only compromise us both uselessly. I shall send my coachman back, and walk home. You can follow quietly; and, when we get into a quiet street, we will take a cab, and talk.'
"As I was sure I could catch him again, if he should try to escape, I approved the idea.
'All right. I understand.'"
The magistrate suddenly interrupted the accused. He thought it of great importance that Crochard's evidence should be written down, word for word; and he saw, that, for some little while, the clerk had been unable to follow.
"Rest a moment, Crochard," he said.
And when the clerk had filled up what was wanting, and the magistrate had looked it over, he said to the prisoner,--
"Now you can go on, but speak more slowly."
The wretch smiled, well pleased. This permission gave him more time to select his words, and this flattered his vanity; for even the lowest of these criminals have their weak point, in which their vanity is engaged.
"Don't let your soup get cold," he continued. "Chevassat said a few words to his coachman, who whipped the horse, and there he was, promenading down the boulevard, turning his cane this way, puffing out big clouds of smoke, as if he had not the colic at the thought that his friend Bagnolet was following on his heels.
"I ought to say that he had lots of friends, very genteel friends, who wished him good- evening as they passed him. There were some even who stopped him, shook hands with him, and offered to treat him; but he left them all promptly, saying, 'Excuse me, pray, I am in a hurry.'
"Why, yes, he was in a hurry; and I who was behind him, and saw and heard it all, I laughed in my sleeve most heartily."
Whatever advantage there may be in not interrupting a great talker, who warms up as he talks, and consequently forgets himself, the magistrate became impatient.
"Spare us your impressions," he said peremptorily.
This was not what Crochard expected. He looked hurt, and went on angrily,--
"In fine, my individual goes down the boulevard as far as the opera, turns to the right, crosses the open square, and goes down the first street to the left. Here a cab passes; he hails it; orders the driver to take us to Vincennes. We get in; and his first care is to let down the curtains. Then he looks at me with a smile, holds out his hand, and says, 'Well, old man! how are you?'
"At first, when I saw myself so well received, I was quite overcome. Then reflecting, I thought, 'It is not natural for him to be so soft. He is getting ready for some trick. Keep your eyes open, Bagnolet.'
"'Then you are not angry that I spoke to you; eh?' He laughs, and says, 'No.'
"Then I, 'However, you hadn't exactly a wedding-air when I spoke to you, and I thought you were looking for a way to get rid of me unceremoniously.' But he said very seriously, 'Look here, I am going to talk to you quite openly! For a moment I was surprised; but I was not annoyed. I have long foreseen something of the kind would happen; and I know that every time I go out I run the risk of meeting a former comrade. You are not the first who has recognized me, and I am prepared to save myself all annoyance. If I wanted to get rid of you, this very evening you would have lost all trace of me, thanks to a lit