The Mysteries of Paris. Эжен Сю
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to carry off a woman who resists."
"And they have a large dog with them," said Tortillard.
"Bah! bah! If it was only that, I could break the brute's skull with a blow of my shoe-heel," said the Chouette.
"Here they are," replied Tortillard, who was listening still to the echo of their footsteps. "They are coming down the hollow now."
"Why don't you speak, fourline?" said the Chouette to the Schoolmaster. "What is best to be done, long-headed as you are, eh? Are you grown dumb?"
"There's nothing to be done to-day," replied the miscreant.
"And the thousand 'bob' of the man in mourning," said the Chouette; "they are gone, then? I'd sooner—Your knife—your knife, fourline! I will stick the companion, that she may be no trouble to us; and, as to the young miss, Tortillard and I can make off with her."
"But the man in mourning does not desire that we should kill any one."
"Well, then, we must put the cold meat down as an extra in his bill. He must pay, for he will be an accomplice with us."
"Here they come—down the hill," said Tortillard, softly.
"Your knife, lad!" said the Chouette, in a similar tone.
"Ah, Chouette," cried Tortillard, in alarm, and extending his hands to the hag, "that is too bad—to kill. No!—oh, no!"
"Your knife, I tell you!" repeated the Chouette, in an undertone, without paying the least attention to Tortillard's supplication, and putting her shoes off hastily. "I have taken off my shoes," she added, "that I may steal on them quietly from behind. It is almost dark; but I can easily make out the little one by her cloak, and I will do for the other."
"No," said the felon; "to-day it is useless. There will be plenty of time to-morrow."
"What! you're afraid, old patterer, are you?" said the Chouette, with fierce contempt.
"Not at all," replied the Schoolmaster. "But you may fail in your blow and spoil all."
The dog which accompanied the country-woman, scenting the persons hidden in the hollow road, stopped short, and barked furiously, refusing to come to Fleur-de-Marie, who called him frequently.
"Do you hear their dog? Here they are! Your knife!—or, if not—" cried the Chouette, with a threatening air.
"Come and take it from me, then—by force," said the Schoolmaster.
"It's all over—it's too late," added the Chouette, after listening for a moment attentively; "they have gone by. You shall pay for that, gallows-bird," added she, furiously, shaking her fist at her accomplice. "A thousand francs lost by your stupidity!"
"A thousand—two thousand—perhaps three thousand gained," replied the Schoolmaster, in a tone of authority. "Listen, Chouette! Do you go back to Barbillon, and let him drive you to the place where you were to meet the man in mourning. Tell him that it was impossible to do anything to-day, but that to-morrow she shall be carried off. The young girl goes every evening to walk home with the priest, and it was only a chance which to-day led her to meet with any one. To-morrow we shall have a more secure opportunity. So to-morrow do you return and be with Barbillon at the cross-road in his coach at the same hour."
"But thou—thou?"
"Tortillard shall lead me to the farm where the young girl lives. I will cook up some tale—say we have lost our road, and ask leave to pass the night at the farm in a corner of the stable. No one could refuse us that. Tortillard will examine all the doors, windows, and ins and outs of the house. There is always money to be looked for amongst these farming people. You say the farm is situated in a lone spot; and, when once we know all the ways and outlets, we need only return with some safe friends, and the thing is done as easy—"
"Always 'downy!' What a head-piece!" said the Chouette, softening. "Go on, fourline."
"To-morrow morning, instead of leaving the farm, I will complain of a pain which prevents me from walking. If they will not believe me, I'll show them the wound which I have always had since I smashed the 'loop of my darbies,' and which is always painful to me. I'll say it is a burn I had from a red-hot bar when I was a workman, and they'll believe me. I'll remain at the farm part of the day, whilst Tortillard looks about him. When the evening comes on, and the little wench goes out as usual with the priest, I'll say I'm better, and fit to go away. Tortillard and I will follow the young wench at a distance, and await your coming to us here. As she will know us already, she will have no mistrust when she sees us. We will speak to her, Tortillard and I; and, when once within reach of my arms, I will answer for the rest. She's caught safe enough, and the thousand francs are ours. That is not all. In two or three days we can 'give the office' of the farm to Barbillon and some others, and share with them if they get any 'swag,' as it will be me who put them on the 'lay.'"
"Well done, No-Eyes! No one can come up to you," said the Chouette, embracing the Schoolmaster. "Your plan is capital! Tell you what, fourline, when you are done up and old, you must turn consulting 'prig'; you will earn as much money as a 'big-wig.' Come, kiss your old woman, and be off as quick as you may, for these joskins go to sleep with their poultry. I shall go to Barbillon; and to-morrow, at four o'clock, we will be at the cross-road with the 'trap,' unless he is nabbed for having assisted Gros-Boiteux and the Skeleton to 'do for' the milk-woman's husband in the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie. But if he can't come, another can, for the pretended hackney-coach belongs to the man in mourning who has used it before. A quarter of an hour after we get to the cross-road, I will be here and wait for you."
"All right! Good-by till to-morrow, Chouette."
"I had nearly forgot to give the wax to Tortillard, if there is any lock to get the print of at the farm. Here, chickabiddy, do you know how to use it?" said the one-eyed wretch to Tortillard, as she gave him a piece of wax.
"Yes, yes, my father showed me how to use it. I took for him the print of the lock of the little iron chest which my master, the quack doctor, keeps in his small closet."
"Ah, that's all right; and, that the wax may not stick, do not forget to moisten the wax after you have warmed it well in your hand."
"I know all about it," replied Tortillard.
"To-morrow, them, fourline," said the Chouette.
"To-morrow," replied the Schoolmaster.
The Chouette went towards the coach. The Schoolmaster and Tortillard quitted the hollow way, and bent their steps towards the farm, the lights which shone from the windows serving to guide them on their way.
Strange fatality, which again brought Anselm Duresnel under the same roof with his wife, who had not seen him since his condemnation to hard labour for life!
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