The Barber of Paris Part 55

said the porters, in a jeering tone.

"A ceremony, what is it, my boys?"

"It is to give us all the silver and gold that you have about you. We'll relieve you of that."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"What is that you say? Scoundrels! Rascals!"

"Come, do as we bid you and no noise, or that will be worse for you."

As they gave this order, they flashed the blades of their swords before Chaudoreille's eyes, and he fell back in the bottom of the chair, unable to support himself. The two porters were obliged to draw him from the chair themselves. He glanced around him, but he was in a lonely, narrow road, surrounded by marshes, where n.o.body would venture so late. The robbers searched him, and despoiled him of all that he possessed, then they escaped with their sedan chair, leaving him lying beside a huge stone, half dead with fright.

CHAPTER VII

POOR URBAIN

The morning after Blanche's hurried and unexpected departure, old Marguerite left her room at her usual time. The good woman had heard nothing; she had slept soundly, for it was long since the pleasures and the pains of love had caused her to suffer from insomnia. Her first movement on arising was to go to her dear Blanche's room to kiss her, as she was in the habit of doing every morning. She found the door of the room half open; but Blanche was not there, and the extreme disorder of the apartment, the bed which had been slept in but had not been made, the clothing spread upon the furniture, all indicated that some extraordinary event had taken place. The young girl had never left her room without Marguerite, and the latter called Blanche, and receiving no answer and alarmed at this departure from her customary habits, and perhaps by a secret presentiment, went downstairs to see if the young girl was with her master, but the barber was alone in the lower room, and then Marguerite said, in a frightened tone,--

"O my G.o.d! where can the dear child be?"

"What is the matter, Marguerite," said Touquet, who was prepared for this scene.

"Blanche, monsieur, Blanche is not in her room. I have sought her vainly for a long time; someone has taken the dear child away from us."

"Taken her away!" exclaimed the barber, pretending to be struck with astonishment. He immediately went to Blanche's room, followed by the old servant, who went as quickly as her legs would permit. After a search, which Touquet knew would be fruitless, he threw himself on a seat, crying,--

"The wretch has fulfilled his threats!"

"Who do you mean, monsieur!"

"That man you saw here yesterday evening."

"I believe you're right, monsieur, it can be n.o.body except him."

"He was fascinated with Blanche, he ventured to ask her hand of me. I refused it to him and this is how he has revenged himself."

"But, monsieur, you must know where this man lives. He had the bearing of a great n.o.bleman. You can recover our dear child."

"I have very little hope of it. This wretch a.s.sumed a brilliant costume in the hope of seducing Blanche, but he is a schemer without name, without a roof, without position."

"A schemer," said Marguerite, looking at her master in astonishment; "but, monsieur, it seemed to me that he was the same friend that you were waiting for so late some time ago."

The barber was for an instant rendered uneasy by Marguerite's remark, but soon recovering himself, he resumed,--

"You are mistaken, it was not he; I forbid you to speak to anybody of that again."

"And Urbain, monsieur,--that poor Urbain--when he comes here this evening--"

"Urbain will unite his efforts with mine to recover her whom he was about to marry."

The barber went out and Marguerite then gave free course to her tears.

The good woman loved Blanche with a mother's tenderness. She could not bear to be deprived of her presence, and impatiently awaited Urbain's arrival; for it seemed to her that he would know better than anybody else how to discover and restore her lost darling.

Touquet was absent during a large part of the day. On his return, Marguerite inquired as to the success of his search, but he answered her coldly,--

"I have no hope of finding her." These words chilled the poor old woman's heart; she could not understand how anyone could be consoled at the loss of Blanche.

The hour drew near when Urbain could recompense himself for the day's absence.

"Only one day more," said he, as he approached the barber's house, "and she will be mine." He hurried, his heart palpitating with love, but on looking up at Blanche's window he saw no light, and this slight circ.u.mstance astonished him and rendered him uneasy; or rather a secret presentiment warned him of his misfortune, for, in love, presentiments are not chimeras.

Urbain knocked and Marguerite appeared, but the grief depicted on her face, her eyes filled with tears, announced that something had happened.

"Where is Blanche?" cried Urbain, looking fearfully at Marguerite.

The old woman could only sigh deeply, but Urbain was no longer near her, he ran, he flew to the room of his beloved, but that room was deserted, its charming occupant was gone. Marguerite slowly followed the young man.

"In mercy tell me," cried Urbain, "where is she? Hide nothing from me."

"My poor boy, collect all your courage. Last night somebody carried off our dear child."

Urbain remained motionless and overwhelmed, while Marguerite told him all that she knew. He listened without interrupting her, and seemed as if he could hardly yet realize his misfortune, but presently, dropping on Blanche's favorite seat, he yielded to the profoundest despair. The tears rolled down his face; at nineteen years of age one sheds them still in the troubles of life; one has not then that strength of mind which is later acquired in the school of misfortune.

Marguerite tried to calm Urbain by saying to him,--

"You will recover her, that dear child, for you are not capable of forgetting her, and coldly consoling yourself for her loss."

"I forget her?" said Urbain, pressing the hands of the good old woman.

"Ah, Marguerite, is not my life bound up in that of Blanche? I shall take no rest until she is with me again."

"That's right, my dear Urbain, to hear you speak thus renders me hopeful; besides, our poor little one has with her a talisman, and that lightens my anxiety a little."

"Tell me all the circ.u.mstances again; a man came here, you say?"

"Yes, he said he was sent by my master, and came to speak to Blanche."

"The scoundrel! and what did he say to her?"

"Oh, he merely paid her some compliments. He spoke like a great n.o.bleman, and he had the costume and bearing of one, although M. Touquet pretends that he is a wretch without position and without home."

"He knows him, then?"

"There's no doubt of it. I confess to you that I am afraid, although he did not have a wicked appearance, rather a look of pride, and an imperious tone. I was sorry at having opened the door for him, and Blanche, the poor little thing, trembled. But all this didn't last very long. He heard M. Touquet come in, and immediately the stranger took his mantle, saluted Blanche, and went down to monsieur. I followed him, but they sent me away, and I know nothing further."