Within an Inch of His Life Page 2

  II.

  In a straight line it is only a mile from Sauveterre to Valpinson; butthat mile is as long as two elsewhere. M. Seneschal, however, had a goodhorse, "the best perhaps in the county," he said, as he got into hiscarriage. In ten minutes they had overtaken the firemen, who had leftsome time before them. And yet these good people, all of them masterworkmen of Sauveterre, masons, carpenters, and tilers, hurried along asfast as they could. They had half a dozen smoking torches with them tolight them on the way: they walked, puffing and groaning, on the badroad, and pulling the two engines, together with the heavy cart on whichthey had piled up their ladders and other tools.

  "Keep up, my friends!" said the mayor as he passed them,--"keep up!"Three minutes farther on, a peasant on horseback appeared in the dark,riding along like a forlorn knight in a romance. M. Daubigeon orderedhim to halt. He stopped.

  "You come from Valpinson?" asked M. Seneschal.

  "Yes," replied the peasant.

  "How is the count?"

  "He has come to at last."

  "What does the doctor say?"

  "He says he will live. I am going to the druggist to get somemedicines." M. Galpin, to hear better, was leaning out of the carriage.He asked,--

  "Do they accuse any one?"

  "No."

  "And the fire?"

  "They have water enough," replied the peasant, "but no engines: so whatcan they do? And the wind is rising again! Oh, what a misfortune!"

  He rode off as fast as he could, while M. Seneschal was whipping hispoor horse, which, unaccustomed as it was to such treatment, insteadof going any faster, only reared, and jumped from side to side. Theexcellent man was in despair. He looked upon this crime as if it hadbeen committed on purpose to disgrace him, and to do the greatestpossible injury to his administration.

  "For after all," he said, for the tenth time to his companions, "is itnatural, I ask you, is it sensible, that a man should think of attackingthe Count and the Countess Claudieuse, the most distinguished and themost esteemed people in the whole county, and especially a lady whosename is synonymous with virtue and charity?"

  And, without minding the ruts and the stones in the road, M. Seneschalwent on repeating all he knew about the owners of Valpinson.

  Count Trivulce Claudieuse was the last scion of one of the oldestfamilies of the county. At sixteen, about 1829, he had entered the navyas an ensign, and for many years he had appeared at Sauveterre onlyrarely, and at long intervals. In 1859 he had become a captain, and wason the point of being made admiral, when he had all of a sudden sent inhis resignation, and taken up his residence at the Castle of Valpinson,although the house had nothing to show of its former splendor but twotowers falling to pieces, and an immense mass of ruin and rubbish. Fortwo years he had lived here alone, busy with building up the old houseas well as it could be done, and by great energy and incessant laborrestoring it to some of its former splendor. It was thought he wouldfinish his days in this way, when one day the report arose that he wasgoing to be married. The report, for once, proved true.

  One fine day Count Claudieuse had left for Paris; and, a few days later,his friends had been informed by letter that he had married the daughterof one of his former colleagues, Miss Genevieve de Tassar. The amazementhad been universal. The count looked like a gentleman, and was very wellpreserved; but he was at least forty-seven years old, and Miss Genevievewas hardly twenty. Now, if the bride had been poor, they would haveunderstood the match, and approved it: it is but natural that a poorgirl should sacrifice her heart to her daily bread. But here it was notso. The Marquis de Tassar was considered wealthy; and report said thathis daughter had brought her husband fifty thousand dollars.

  Next they had it that the bride was fearfully ugly, infirm, or at leasthunchback, perhaps idiotic, or, at all events, of frightful temper.

  By no means. She had come down; and everybody was amazed at her noble,quiet beauty. She had conversed with them, and charmed everybody.

  Was it really a love-match, as people called it at Sauveterre? Perhapsso. Nevertheless there was no lack of old ladies who shook their heads,and said twenty-seven years difference between husband and wife was toomuch, and such a match could not turn out well.

  All these dark forebodings came to nought. The fact was, that, for milesand miles around, there was not a happier couple to be found than theCount and the Countess Claudieuse; and two children, girls, who hadappeared at an interval of four years, seemed to have secured thehappiness of the house forever.

  It is true the count retained somewhat of the haughty manners, thereserve, and the imperious tone, which he had acquired during the timethat he controlled the destinies of certain important colonies. He was,moreover, naturally so passionate, that the slightest excitement madehim turn purple in his face. But the countess was as gentle and assweet as he was violent; and as she never failed to step in between herhusband and the object of his wrath, as both he and she were naturallyjust, kind to excess, and generous to all, they were beloved byeverybody. There was only one point on which the count was ratherunmanageable, and that was the game laws. He was passionately fond ofhunting, and watched all the year round with almost painful restlessnessover his preserves, employing a number of keepers, and prosecutingpoachers with such energy, that people said he would rather miss ahundred napoleons than a single bird.

  The count and the countess lived quite retired, and gave their wholetime, he to agricultural pursuits, and she to the education of herchildren. They entertained but little, and did not come to Sauveterremore than four times a year, to visit the Misses Lavarande, or the oldBaron de Chandore. Every summer, towards the end of July, they went toRoyan, where they had a cottage. When the season opened, and the countwent hunting, the countess paid a visit to her relatives in Paris, withwhom she usually stayed a few weeks.

  It required a storm like that of 1870 to overthrow so peaceful anexistence. When the old captain heard that the Prussians were on Frenchsoil, he felt all the instincts of the soldier and the Frenchman awakein his heart. He could not be kept at home, and went to headquarters.Although a royalist at heart, he did not hesitate a moment to offerhis sword to Gambetta, whom he detested. They made him colonel of aregiment; and he fought like a lion, from the first day to the last,when he was thrown down and trod under foot in one of those fearfulrouts in which a part of Chanzy's army was utterly destroyed. When thearmistice was signed, he returned to Valpinson; but no one except hiswife ever succeeded in making him say a word about the campaign. He wasasked to become a candidate for the assembly, and would have certainlybeen elected; but he refused, saying that he knew how to fight, but nothow to talk.

  The commonwealth attorney and the magistrate listened but verycarelessly to these details, with which they were perfectly familiar.Suddenly M. Galpin asked,--

  "Are we not getting near? I look and look; but I see no trace of afire."

  "We are in a deep valley," replied the mayor. "But we are quite nearnow, and, at the top of that hill before us, you will see enough."

  This hill is well known in the whole province, and is frequently calledthe Sauveterre Mountain. It is so steep, and consists of such hardgranite, that the engineers who laid out the great turnpike turned milesout of their way to avoid it. It overlooks the whole country; and, whenM. Seneschal and his companions had reached the top, they could notcontrol their excitement.

  "Horresco!" murmured the attorney.

  The burning house itself was hid by high trees; but columns of fire rosehigh above the tops, and illumined the whole region with their sombrelight. The whole country was in a state of excitement. The short, squaretower of Brechy sent the alarm from its big bell; and in the deep shadeon all sides was heard the strange sound of the huge shells whichthe people here use for signals, and for the summoning of laborers atmealtimes. Hurried steps were heard on all the high-roads and by-roads;and peasants were continuously rushing by, with a bucket in each hand.

  "It is too late for help," said M. Galpin.

&nb
sp; "Such a fine property!" said the mayor, "and so well managed!" Andregardless of danger, he dashed forward, down the hill; for Valpinsonlies in a deep valley, half a mile from the river. Here all was terror,disorder, and confusion; and yet there was no lack of hands or ofgood-will. At the first alarm, all the people of the neighborhood hadhurried up, and there were more coming every moment; but there was noone there to assume the command. They were mainly engaged in saving thefurniture. The boldest tried to get into the rooms, and in a kind ofrage, threw every thing they could lay hold on out of the window. Thusthe courtyard was already half full of beds and mattresses, chairs andtables, books, linen, and clothes.

  An immense clamor greeted the mayor and his companions.

  "Here comes the mayor!" cried the peasants, encouraged by his presence,and all ready to obey him.

  M. Seneschal took in the whole situation at a glance.

  "Yes, here I am, my friends," he said, "and I thank you for your zeal.Now we must try not to waste our efforts. The farm buildings andthe workshops are lost: we must give them up. Let us try to save thedwelling-house. The river is not far. We must form a chain. Everybody inline,--men and women! And now for water, water! Here come the engines!"

  They really came thundering up: the firemen appeared on the scene. Capt.Parenteau took the command. At last the mayor was at leisure to inquireafter Count Claudieuse.

  "Master is down there," replied an old woman, pointing at a littlecottage with a thatched roof. "The doctor has had him carried there."

  "Let us go and see how he is," said the mayor to his two companions.They stopped at the door of the only room of the cottage. It was a largeroom with a floor of beaten clay; while overhead the blackened beamswere full of working tools and parcels of seeds. Two beds with twistedcolumns and yellow curtains filled one side: on that on the left handlay a little girl, four years old, fast asleep, and rolled up in ablanket, watched over by her sister, who was two or three years older.On the other bed, Count Claudieuse was lying, or rather sitting; forthey had supported his back by all the pillows that had been saved fromthe fire. His chest was bare, and covered with blood; and a man, Dr.Seignebos, with his coat off, and his sleeves rolled up above theelbows, was bending over him, and holding a sponge in one hand and aprobe in the other, seemed to be engaged in a delicate and dangerousoperation.

  The countess, in a light muslin dress, was standing at the foot of herhusband's bed, pale but admirably composed and resigned. She was holdinga lamp, and moved it to and fro as the doctor directed. In a corner twoservant-women were sitting on a box, and crying, their aprons turnedover their heads.

  At last the mayor of Sauveterre overcame his painful impressions, andentered the room. Count Claudieuse was the first to perceive him, andsaid,--

  "Ah, here is our good M. Seneschal. Come nearer, my friend; come nearer.You see the year 1871 is a fatal year. It will soon leave me nothing buta few handfuls of ashes of all I possessed."

  "It is a great misfortune," replied the excellent mayor; "but, afterall, it is less than we apprehended. God be thanked, you are safe!"

  "Who knows? I am suffering terribly."

  The countess trembled.

  "Trivulce!" she whispered in a tone of entreaty. "Trivulce!"

  Never did lover glance at his beloved with more tenderness than CountClaudieuse did at his wife.

  "Pardon me, my dear Genevieve, pardon me, if I show any want ofcourage."

  A sudden nervous spasm seized him; and then he exclaimed in a loudvoice, which sounded like a trumpet,--

  "Sir! But sir! Thunder and lightning! You kill me!"

  "I have some chloroform here," replied the physician coldly.

  "I do not want any."

  "Then you must make up your mind to suffer, and keep quiet now; forevery motion adds to your pain."

  Then sponging a jet of blood which spurted out from under his knife, headded,--

  "However, you shall have a few minutes rest now. My eyes and my hand areexhausted. I see I am no longer young."

  Dr. Seignebos was sixty years old. He was a small, thin man, with a baldhead and a bilious complexion, carelessly dressed, and spending his lifein taking off, wiping, and putting back again his large gold spectacles.His reputation was widespread; and they told of wonderful cures whichhe had accomplished. Still he had not many friends. The common peopledisliked his bitterness; the peasants, his strictness in demanding hisfees; and the townspeople, his political views.

  There was a story that one evening, at a public dinner, he had gotten upand said, "I drink to the memory of the only physician of whose pure andchaste renown I am envious,--the memory of my countryman, Dr. Guillotinof Saintes!"

  Had he really offered such a toast? The fact is, he pretended to be afierce radical, and was certainly the soul and the oracle of the smallsocialistic clubs in the neighborhood. People looked aghast when hebegan to talk of the reforms which he thought necessary; and theytrembled when he proclaimed his convictions, that "the sword and thetorch ought to search the rotten foundations of society."

  These opinions, certain utilitarian views of like eccentricity, andstill stranger experiments which he openly carried on before the wholeworld, had led people more than once to doubt the soundness of his mind.The most charitable said, "He is an oddity." This eccentric man hadnaturally no great fondness for M. Seneschal, the mayor, a formerlawyer, and a legitimist. He did not think much of the commonwealthattorney, a useless bookworm. But he detested M. Galpin. Still he bowedto the three men; and, without minding his patient, he said to them,--

  "You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse is in a bad plight. He has beenfired at with a gun loaded with small shot; and wounds made in that wayare very puzzling. I trust no vital part has been injured; but I cannotanswer for any thing. I have often in my practice seen very smallinjuries, wounds caused by a small-sized shot, which, nevertheless,proved fatal, and showed their true character only twelve or fifteenhours after the accident had happened."

  He would have gone on in this way, if the magistrate had not suddenlyinterrupted him, saying,--

  "Doctor, you know I am here because a crime has been committed. Thecriminal has to be found out, and to be punished: hence I request yourassistance, from this moment, in the name of the Law."