Chapter 75. A Signed Statement
Noirtier was prepared to receive them, dressed in black, and installedin his armchair. When the three persons he expected had entered, helooked at the door, which his valet immediately closed.
“Listen,” whispered Villefort to Valentine, who could not conceal herjoy; “if M. Noirtier wishes to communicate anything which would delayyour marriage, I forbid you to understand him.”
Valentine blushed, but did not answer. Villefort, approached Noirtier.
“Here is M. Franz d’Épinay,” said he; “you requested to see him. We haveall wished for this interview, and I trust it will convince you how ill-formed are your objections to Valentine’s marriage.”
Noirtier answered only by a look which made Villefort’s blood run cold.He motioned to Valentine to approach. In a moment, thanks to her habitof conversing with her grandfather, she understood that he asked for akey. Then his eye was fixed on the drawer of a small chest between thewindows. She opened the drawer, and found a key; and, understanding thatwas what he wanted, again watched his eyes, which turned toward an oldsecretaire which had been neglected for many years and was supposed tocontain nothing but useless documents.
“Shall I open the secretaire?” asked Valentine.
“Yes,” said the old man.
“And the drawers?”
“Yes.”
“Those at the side?”
“No.”
“The middle one?”
“Yes.”
Valentine opened it and drew out a bundle of papers. “Is that what youwish for?” asked she.
“No.”
She took successively all the other papers out till the drawer wasempty. “But there are no more,” said she. Noirtier’s eye was fixed onthe dictionary.
“Yes, I understand, grandfather,” said the young girl.
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She pointed to each letter of the alphabet. At the letter S the old manstopped her. She opened, and found the word “secret.”
“Ah! is there a secret spring?” said Valentine.
“Yes,” said Noirtier.
“And who knows it?” Noirtier looked at the door where the servant hadgone out.
“Barrois?” said she.
“Yes.”
“Shall I call him?”
“Yes.”
Valentine went to the door, and called Barrois. Villefort’s impatienceduring this scene made the perspiration roll from his forehead, andFranz was stupefied. The old servant came.
“Barrois,” said Valentine, “my grandfather has told me to open thatdrawer in the secretaire, but there is a secret spring in it, which youknow—will you open it?”
Barrois looked at the old man. “Obey,” said Noirtier’s intelligent eye.Barrois touched a spring, the false bottom came out, and they saw abundle of papers tied with a black string.
“Is that what you wish for?” said Barrois.
“Yes.”
“Shall I give these papers to M. de Villefort?”
“No.”
“To Mademoiselle Valentine?”
“No.”
“To M. Franz d’Épinay?”
“Yes.”
Franz, astonished, advanced a step. “To me, sir?” said he.
“Yes.”
Franz took them from Barrois and casting a glance at the cover, read:
“‘To be given, after my death, to General Durand, who shall bequeath thepacket to his son, with an injunction to preserve it as containing animportant document.’
“Well, sir,” asked Franz, “what do you wish me to do with this paper?”
“To preserve it, sealed up as it is, doubtless,” said the procureur.
“No,” replied Noirtier eagerly.
“Do you wish him to read it?” said Valentine.
“Yes,” replied the old man.
“You understand, baron, my grandfather wishes you to read this paper,”said Valentine.
“Then let us sit down,” said Villefort impatiently, “for it will takesome time.”
“Sit down,” said the old man. Villefort took a chair, but Valentineremained standing by her father’s side, and Franz before him, holdingthe mysterious paper in his hand. “Read,” said the old man. Franz untiedit, and in the midst of the most profound silence read:
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“‘Extract of the report of a meeting of the Bonapartist Club in the RueSaint-Jacques, held February 5th, 1815.’”
Franz stopped. “February 5th, 1815!” said he; “it is the day my fatherwas murdered.” Valentine and Villefort were dumb; the eye of the old manalone seemed to say clearly, “Go on.”
“But it was on leaving this club,” said he, “my father disappeared.”
Noirtier’s eye continued to say, “Read.” He resumed:—
“‘The undersigned Louis-Jacques Beaurepaire, lieutenant-colonel ofartillery, Étienne Duchampy, general of brigade, and Claude Lecharpal,keeper of woods and forests, declare, that on the 4th of February, aletter arrived from the Island of Elba, recommending to the kindness andthe confidence of the Bonapartist Club, General Flavien de Quesnel, whohaving served the emperor from 1804 to 1814 was supposed to be devotedto the interests of the Napoleon dynasty, notwithstanding the title ofbaron which Louis XVIII. had just granted to him with his estate ofÉpinay.
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“‘A note was in consequence addressed to General de Quesnel, begging himto be present at the meeting next day, the 5th. The note indicatedneither the street nor the number of the house where the meeting was tobe held; it bore no signature, but it announced to the general thatsomeone would call for him if he would be ready at nine o’clock. Themeetings were always held from that time till midnight. At nine o’clockthe president of the club presented himself; the general was ready, thepresident informed him that one of the conditions of his introductionwas that he should be eternally ignorant of the place of meeting, andthat he would allow his eyes to be bandaged, swearing that he would notendeavor to take off the bandage. General de Quesnel accepted thecondition, and promised on his honor not to seek to discover the roadthey took. The general’s carriage was ready, but the president told himit was impossible for him to use it, since it was useless to blindfoldthe master if the coachman knew through what streets he went. “What mustbe done then?” asked the general.—“I have my carriage here,” said thepresident.
“‘“Have you, then, so much confidence in your servant that you canintrust him with a secret you will not allow me to know?”
“‘“Our coachman is a member of the club,” said the president; “we shallbe driven by a State-Councillor.”
“‘“Then we run another risk,” said the general, laughing, “that of beingupset.” We insert this joke to prove that the general was not in theleast compelled to attend the meeting, but that he came willingly. Whenthey were seated in the carriage the president reminded the general ofhis promise to allow his eyes to be bandaged, to which he made noopposition. On the road the president thought he saw the general make anattempt to remove the handkerchief, and reminded him of his oath. “Sureenough,” said the general. The carriage stopped at an alley leading outof the Rue Saint-Jacques. The general alighted, leaning on the arm ofthe president, of whose dignity he was not aware, considering him simplyas a member of the club; they went through the alley, mounted a flightof stairs, and entered the assembly-room.
“‘The deliberations had already begun. The members, apprised of the sortof presentation which was to be made that evening, were all inattendance. When in the middle of the room the general was invited toremove his bandage, he did so immediately, and was surprised to see somany well-known faces in a society of whose existence he had till thenbeen ignorant. They questioned him as to his sentiments, but hecontented himself with answering, that the letters from the Island ofElba ought to have informed them——’”
Franz interrupted himself by saying, “My father was a royalist; theyneed not have asked his sentiments, which were well known.”
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“And hence,” said Villefort, “arose my affection for your father, mydear M. Franz. Opinions held in common are a ready bond of union.”
“Read again,” said the old man.
Franz continued:
“‘The president then sought to make him speak more explicitly, but M. deQuesnel replied that he wished first to know what they wanted with him.He was then informed of the contents of the letter from the Island ofElba, in which he was recommended to the club as a man who would belikely to advance the interests of their party. One paragraph spoke ofthe return of Bonaparte and promised another letter and further details,on the arrival of the Pharaon belonging to the shipbuilder Morrel, ofMarseilles, whose captain was entirely devoted to the emperor. Duringall this time, the general, on whom they thought to have relied as on abrother, manifested evidently signs of discontent and repugnance. Whenthe reading was finished, he remained silent, with knitted brows.
“‘“Well,” asked the president, “what do you say to this letter,general?”
“‘“I say that it is too soon after declaring myself for Louis XVIII. tobreak my vow in behalf of the ex-emperor.” This answer was too clear topermit of any mistake as to his sentiments. “General,” said thepresident, “we acknowledge no King Louis XVIII., or an ex-emperor, buthis majesty the emperor and king, driven from France, which is hiskingdom, by violence and treason.”
“‘“Excuse me, gentlemen,” said the general; “you may not acknowledgeLouis XVIII., but I do, as he has made me a baron and a field-marshal,and I shall never forget that for these two titles I am indebted to hishappy return to France.”
“‘“Sir,” said the president, rising with gravity, “be careful what yousay; your words clearly show us that they are deceived concerning you inthe Island of Elba, and have deceived us! The communication has beenmade to you in consequence of the confidence placed in you, and whichdoes you honor. Now we discover our error; a title and promotion attachyou to the government we wish to overturn. We will not constrain you tohelp us; we enroll no one against his conscience, but we will compel youto act generously, even if you are not disposed to do so.”
“‘“You would call acting generously, knowing your conspiracy and notinforming against you, that is what I should call becoming youraccomplice. You see I am more candid than you.”’”
“Ah, my father!” said Franz, interrupting himself. “I understand now whythey murdered him.” Valentine could not help casting one glance towardsthe young man, whose filial enthusiasm it was delightful to behold.Villefort walked to and fro behind them. Noirtier watched the expressionof each one, and preserved his dignified and commanding attitude. Franzreturned to the manuscript, and continued:
“‘“Sir,” said the president, “you have been invited to join thisassembly—you were not forced here; it was proposed to you to comeblindfolded—you accepted. When you complied with this twofold requestyou well knew we did not wish to secure the throne of Louis XVIII., orwe should not take so much care to avoid the vigilance of the police. Itwould be conceding too much to allow you to put on a mask to aid you inthe discovery of our secret, and then to remove it that you may ruinthose who have confided in you. No, no, you must first say if youdeclare yourself for the king of a day who now reigns, or for hismajesty the emperor.”
“‘“I am a royalist,” replied the general; “I have taken the oath ofallegiance to Louis XVIII., and I will adhere to it.” These words werefollowed by a general murmur, and it was evident that several of themembers were discussing the propriety of making the general repent ofhis rashness.
“‘The president again arose, and having imposed silence, said,—“Sir, youare too serious and too sensible a man not to understand theconsequences of our present situation, and your candor has alreadydictated to us the conditions which remain for us to offer you.” Thegeneral, putting his hand on his sword, exclaimed,—“If you talk ofhonor, do not begin by disavowing its laws, and impose nothing byviolence.”
“‘“And you, sir,” continued the president, with a calmness still moreterrible than the general’s anger, “I advise you not to touch yoursword.” The general looked around him with slight uneasiness; however hedid not yield, but calling up all his fortitude, said,—“I will notswear.”
“‘“Then you must die,” replied the president calmly. M. d’Épinay becamevery pale; he looked round him a second time, several members of theclub were whispering, and getting their arms from under their cloaks.“General,” said the president, “do not alarm yourself; you are among menof honor who will use every means to convince you before resorting tothe last extremity, but as you have said, you are among conspirators,you are in possession of our secret, and you must restore it to us.” Asignificant silence followed these words, and as the general did notreply,—“Close the doors,” said the president to the door-keeper.
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“‘The same deadly silence succeeded these words. Then the generaladvanced, and making a violent effort to control his feelings,—“I have ason,” said he, “and I ought to think of him, finding myself amongassassins.”
“‘“General,” said the chief of the assembly, “one man may insultfifty—it is the privilege of weakness. But he does wrong to use hisprivilege. Follow my advice, swear, and do not insult.” The general,again daunted by the superiority of the chief, hesitated a moment; thenadvancing to the president’s desk,—“What is the form, said he.
“‘“It is this:—‘I swear by my honor not to reveal to anyone what I haveseen and heard on the 5th of February, 1815, between nine and teno’clock in the evening; and I plead guilty of death should I everviolate this oath.’” The general appeared to be affected by a nervoustremor, which prevented his answering for some moments; then, overcominghis manifest repugnance, he pronounced the required oath, but in so lowa tone as to be scarcely audible to the majority of the members, whoinsisted on his repeating it clearly and distinctly, which he did.
“‘“Now am I at liberty to retire?” said the general. The president rose,appointed three members to accompany him, and got into the carriage withthe general after bandaging his eyes. One of those three members was thecoachman who had driven them there. The other members silentlydispersed. “Where do you wish to be taken?” asked thepresident.—“Anywhere out of your presence,” replied M. d’Épinay.“Beware, sir,” replied the president, “you are no longer in theassembly, and have only to do with individuals; do not insult themunless you wish to be held responsible.” But instead of listening, M.d’Épinay went on,—“You are still as brave in your carriage as in yourassembly because you are still four against one.” The president stoppedthe coach. They were at that part of the Quai des Ormes where the stepslead down to the river. “Why do you stop here?” asked d’Épinay.
“‘“Because, sir,” said the president, “you have insulted a man, and thatman will not go one step farther without demanding honorablereparation.”
“‘“Another method of assassination?” said the general, shrugging hisshoulders.
“‘“Make no noise, sir, unless you wish me to consider you as one of themen of whom you spoke just now as cowards, who take their weakness for ashield. You are alone, one alone shall answer you; you have a sword byyour side, I have one in my cane; you have no witness, one of thesegentlemen will serve you. Now, if you please, remove your bandage.” Thegeneral tore the handkerchief from his eyes. “At last,” said he, “Ishall know with whom I have to do.” They opened the door and the fourmen alighted.’”
Franz again interrupted himself, and wiped the cold drops from his brow;there was something awful in hearing the son read aloud in tremblingpallor these details of his father’s death, which had hitherto been amystery. Valentine clasped her hands as if in prayer. Noirtier looked atVillefort with an almost sublime expression of contempt and pride.
Franz continued:
“‘It was, as we said, the fifth of February. For three days the mercuryhad been five or six degrees below freezing and the steps were cover
edwith ice. The general was stout and tall, the president offered him theside of the railing to assist him in getting down. The two witnessesfollowed. It was a dark night. The ground from the steps to the riverwas covered with snow and hoarfrost, the water of the river looked blackand deep. One of the seconds went for a lantern in a coal-barge near,and by its light they examined the weapons. The president’s sword, whichwas simply, as he had said, one he carried in his cane, was five inchesshorter than the general’s, and had no guard. The general proposed tocast lots for the swords, but the president said it was he who had giventhe provocation, and when he had given it he had supposed each would usehis own arms. The witnesses endeavored to insist, but the president badethem be silent. The lantern was placed on the ground, the twoadversaries took their stations, and the duel began. The light made thetwo swords appear like flashes of lightning; as for the men, they werescarcely perceptible, the darkness was so great.
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“‘General d’Épinay passed for one of the best swordsmen in the army, buthe was pressed so closely in the onset that he missed his aim and fell.The witnesses thought he was dead, but his adversary, who knew he hadnot struck him, offered him the assistance of his hand to rise. Thecircumstance irritated instead of calming the general, and he rushed onhis adversary. But his opponent did not allow his guard to be broken. Hereceived him on his sword and three times the general drew back onfinding himself too closely engaged, and then returned to the charge. Atthe third he fell again. They thought he slipped, as at first, and thewitnesses, seeing he did not move, approached and endeavored to raisehim, but the one who passed his arm around the body found it wasmoistened with blood. The general, who had almost fainted, revived.“Ah,” said he, “they have sent some fencing-master to fight with me.”The president, without answering, approached the witness who held thelantern, and raising his sleeve, showed him two wounds he had receivedin his arm; then opening his coat, and unbuttoning his waistcoat,displayed his side, pierced with a third wound. Still he had not evenuttered a sigh. General d’Épinay died five minutes after.’”
Franz read these last words in a voice so choked that they were hardlyaudible, and then stopped, passing his hand over his eyes as if todispel a cloud; but after a moment’s silence, he continued:
“‘The president went up the steps, after pushing his sword into hiscane; a track of blood on the snow marked his course. He had scarcelyarrived at the top when he heard a heavy splash in the water—it was thegeneral’s body, which the witnesses had just thrown into the river afterascertaining that he was dead. The general fell, then, in a loyal duel,and not in ambush as it might have been reported. In proof of this wehave signed this paper to establish the truth of the facts, lest themoment should arrive when either of the actors in this terrible sceneshould be accused of premeditated murder or of infringement of the lawsof honor.
“‘Signed, Beaurepaire, Duchampy, and Lecharpal.’”
When Franz had finished reading this account, so dreadful for a son;when Valentine, pale with emotion, had wiped away a tear; whenVillefort, trembling, and crouched in a corner, had endeavored to lessenthe storm by supplicating glances at the implacable old man,—
“Sir,” said d’Épinay to Noirtier, “since you are well acquainted withall these details, which are attested by honorable signatures,—since youappear to take some interest in me, although you have only manifested ithitherto by causing me sorrow, refuse me not one final satisfaction—tellme the name of the president of the club, that I may at least know whokilled my father.”
Villefort mechanically felt for the handle of the door; Valentine, whounderstood sooner than anyone her grandfather’s answer, and who hadoften seen two scars upon his right arm, drew back a few steps.
“Mademoiselle,” said Franz, turning towards Valentine, “unite yourefforts with mine to find out the name of the man who made me an orphanat two years of age.” Valentine remained dumb and motionless.
“Hold, sir,” said Villefort, “do not prolong this dreadful scene. Thenames have been purposely concealed; my father himself does not know whothis president was, and if he knows, he cannot tell you; proper namesare not in the dictionary.”
“Oh, misery,” cried Franz: “the only hope which sustained me and enabledme to read to the end was that of knowing, at least, the name of him whokilled my father! Sir, sir,” cried he, turning to Noirtier, “do what youcan—make me understand in some way!”
“Yes,” replied Noirtier.
“Oh, mademoiselle, mademoiselle!” cried Franz, “your grandfather says hecan indicate the person. Help me,—lend me your assistance!”
Noirtier looked at the dictionary. Franz took it with a nervoustrembling, and repeated the letters of the alphabet successively, untilhe came to M. At that letter the old man signified “Yes.”
“M,” repeated Franz. The young man’s finger, glided over the words, butat each one Noirtier answered by a negative sign. Valentine hid her headbetween her hands. At length, Franz arrived at the word MYSELF.
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“Yes!”
“You!” cried Franz, whose hair stood on end; “you, M. Noirtier—youkilled my father?”
“Yes!” replied Noirtier, fixing a majestic look on the young man. Franzfell powerless on a chair; Villefort opened the door and escaped, forthe idea had entered his mind to stifle the little remaining life in theheart of this terrible old man.