# Memoirs of Vidocq, Volume III/Chapter 41

A short time after the difficult affair which proved so fatal to the cooper, I was employed to detect the authors of a nocturnal robbery, committed by climbing and forcible entry in the apartments of the Prince de Condé, in the Palais Bourbon. Glasses of a vast size had disappeared, and their abstraction was effected with so much precaution, that the sleep of two Cerberi, who supplied the place of a watchman, had not been for a moment disturbed. The frames in which these glasses had been were not at all injured; and I was at first tempted to believe that they had been taken out by looking-glass makers or cabinet makers; but in Paris these workmen are so numerous, that I could not pitch on any one of them whom I knew with any certainty of suspicion. Yet I was resolved to detect the guilty, and to effect this I commenced my inquiries.
The keeper of a sculpture-gallery, near the quincaux of the invalids, gave me the first information by which ​I was guided. About three o'clock in the morning, he had seen near his door several glasses, in the care of a young man, who pretended to have been obliged to station them there whilst waiting for the return of his porters, who had broken their hand-barrow. Two hours afterwards, the young man having found two messengers, had made them carry off the glasses, and had directed them to the side of the fountain of the invalids. According to the keeper, the person he saw was about twenty-three years of age, and about five feet and an inch (french measure.) He was clothed in an iron-grey great coat, and had a very good countenance. This information was not immediately useful to me, but it led me to find the messenger, who, the day after the robbery, had carried some glasses of large size to the Rue Saint-Dominique, and left them at the little Hotel Caraman. These were, in all probability, the glasses stolen, and if they were, who could say that they had not changed domicile and owner? I had the person who had received them pointed out to me, and determined on introducing myself to her; and that my presence might not inspire her with fear, it was in the guise of a cook that I introduced myself to her notice. The light jacket and cotton night-cap are the ensigns of the profession; I clothed myself in such attire, and fully entering into the spirit of my character, went to the little Hotel de Caraman, where I ascended to the first floor. The door was closed; I knocked, and it was opened to me by a very good-looking young fellow, who asked me what I wanted. I gave him an address, and told him that having learnt that he was in want of a cook, I had taken the liberty of offering my services to him.
"My dear fellow, you are under a mistake," he replied, "the address you have given me is not mine, but as there are two Rues Saint-Dominique, it is most probably to the other that you should go."
All Ganymedes have not been carried off to Olympus, and the handsome youth who spoke to me had manners, ​gestures, and language, which, united to his appearance, convinced me in an instant with whom my business lay. I instantly assumed the tone of an initiate in the mysteries of the ultra-philanthropists, and after some signs which he perfectly understood, I told him how very sorry I was that he did not want me.
"Ah sir," I said to him, "I would rather remain with you, even if you only gave me half what I should get elsewhere; if you only knew how miserable I am; I have been six months out of place, and I do not get a dinner every day. Would you believe that thirty-six hours have elapsed, and I have not taken anything?"
"You pain me, my good fellow; what, are you still fasting? Come, come, you shall dine here."
I had really an appetite capable of giving the lie I had just uttered all the semblance of truth; a two-pound loaf, half a fowl, cheese, and a bottle of wine, which he produced, did not make long sojourn on the table. Once filled, I began again to talk of my unfortunate condition.
"See sir," said I, "if it be possible to be in a more pitiable situation, I know four trades, and out of the whole four cannot get employ in one, tailor, hatter, cook; I know a little of all, and yet cannot get on. My first start was as a looking-glass setter."
"A looking-glass setter!" said he abruptly: and without giving him time to reflect on the imprudence of such an exclamation, I went on.
"Yes, a looking-glass setter, and I know that trade the best of the four; but business is so dead, that there is really nothing now stirring in it."
"Here my friend," said the young man, presenting to me a small glass, "this is brandy, it will do you good; you know not how much you interest me, I can give you work for several days."
"Ah! sir, you are too good, you restore me to life: how, if you please, do you intend to employ me?"
"As a looking-glass framer."
"If you have glasses to fit, pier, Psyche, light of day, ​joy of Narcissus, or any others, you have only to intrust me with them, and I will give you a cast of my craft."
"I have glasses of great beauty, they were at my country-house, whence I sent for them, lest the gentlemen Cossacks should take a fancy to break them."
"You did quite right; but may I see them?"
"Yes, my friend."
He took me into a room, and at the first glance I recognised the glasses of the Palais Bourbon. I was ecstatic in their praise, their size, &c.; and after having examined them with the minute attention of a man who understands what he is about, I praised the skill of the workman who unframed them, without injury to the silvering.
"The workman, my friend," said he, "the workman was myself; I would not allow any other person to touch them, not even to load them in the carriage."
"Ah! sir, I am sorry to give you the lie, but what you tell me is impossible; a man must have been a workman to undertake such work, and even the best he of the craft might not have succeeded."
In spite of my observation, he persisted in asserting that he had no help, and as it would not have answered my purpose to have contradicted him, I dropped the subject.
A lie was an accusation at which he might have been angry, but he did not speak with less amenity, and after having given me his instructions, desired me to come early next day, and begin my work as early as possible.
"Do not forget to bring your diamond, as I wish you to remove those arches, which are no longer fashionable."
He had no more to say to me, and I had no more to learn. I left him, and went to join my two agents, to whom I gave the description of his person, and desired them to follow him if he should go out. A warrant was necessary to effect his apprehension, which I pro​cured, and soon afterwards, having changed my dress, I returned with the commissary of police and my agents to the house of the amateur of glasses, who did not expect me so soon. He did not know me at first, and it was only at the termination of our search, that, examining me more closely, he said to me:—
"I think I recognise you, are you not a cook?"
"Yes, sir," I replied; "I am cook, tailor, hatter, looking-glass setter, and, moreover, a spy, at your service."
My coolness so much disconcerted him, that he could not utter another word.
This gentleman was named Alexandre Paruitte. Besides the two glasses, and two chimeras in gilt bronze, which he had stolen from the Palais Bourbon, many other articles were found in his apartments, the produce of various robberies. The inspectors who had accompanied me in this expedition undertook to conduct Paruitte to the depot, but, on the way, were careless enough to allow him to escape, nor was it until ten days afterwards that I contrived to get sight of him, at the gate of the ambassador of his highness the Sultan Mahmoud, and I apprehended him at the moment he got into the carriage of a Turk, who apparently had sold his odalisques.
I am still at a loss to explain how, in spite of obstacles, which the most expert robbers judged insurmountable, Paruitte effected the robbery which twice compelled me to see him. He was steadfast in his assertion of having no companions, for on his trial, when sentenced to irons and imprisonment, no indication, not even the slightest, could be elicited, encouraging the idea that he had any participators.
About the time when Paruitte carried off the glasses from the Palais Bourbon, some thieves effected an entrance in the Rue de Richelieu, No. 17, in the hotel de Valois, when they carried off considerable property, belonging to Marechal Boucher, valued at thirty thousand francs. All was fish that came to net, from the ​plain cotton-handkerchief to the glittering uniform of the general. These gentlemen, accustomed to clear off all before them, had even carried off the linen intended for the laundress. This system, which has its rise in a desire not to leave a fraction of any thing to the person robbed, is very dangerous for the thieves, for it compels them to make minute researches, and occasions delays which sometimes terminate most unpropitiously. But on this occasion they had worked with perfect security; the presence of the general in his apartment had been a guarantee that they would not be troubled in their enterprise, and they had emptied the wardrobes and trunks with the same security as a broker who is making an inventory after a death. How, I shall be asked, could the general be present? Alas! he was—but when one plays an active part at a good dinner, can the result be doubted! Without hatred, without fear, without suspicion, we pass gaily from Beaune to Chambertin, from Chambertin to Clos-Vougeot, from Clos-Vougeot to Romanée; then after having thus overrun all the wines of Burgundy and discussing their various merits, we come to Champagne and the flatulent Ai, and but too happy is that guest, who, full of the joys of the delicious pilgrimage, does not get so far muddled as to be unable to find his way home. The general, after a banquet of this kind, had still preserved his reasoning powers entire, at least I think so, but he had returned excessively sleepy; and as in that state one is more anxious to tumble into bed, than to close a window, he had left his open for the convenience of comers and goers. What imprudence! I know not if he had agreeable dreams, but I remember, that in his statement of the transaction, he deposed that he had awakened from his sleep like a little St. John.
Who were the persons that had committed the depredation? It was not easy to discover them, and at the moment all that could be done or said with certainty was, that they had what is called the toupet, since they had disgracefully profaned the brevets of the ge​neral, in a way that must be guessed at, but cannot be mentioned, but which proved that they took him for the most profound sleeper in France.
I was very desirous of detecting the insolents who had perpetrated a robbery attended with circumstances so aggravating. In the absence of all indications by which I might endeavour to trace a path for myself, I allowed myself to be led by that inspiration which has so seldom deceived me. The idea suddenly struck me, that the thieves who had introduced themselves at the general's, might belong to the gang of one Perrin, a blacksmith, who had long been pointed out to me as a most audacious fence. I began by surveying the approaches to Perrin's domicile, which was in the Rue de la Sonnerie, No. 1; but after several days' watching, nothing occurred to guide me, and I felt convinced that to arrive at any satisfactory result, I must have recourse to stratagem.
I could not go direct to Perrin as he knew me, but I instructed one of my agents, who would not be suspected. He went to see him, and they conversed on various topics; at length, touching on robberies,—
"I' faith," said Perrin, "no bold hits are now made."
"What do you mean?" replied the agent. "I think those who were at the general's, in the hotel de Valois, have no cause for complaint; when I learn that in his full-dress uniform there was concealed a sum of twenty-five thousand francs in bank notes."
Perrin had so much cupidity and avarice, that if he had been possessor of the dress, this lie, which revealed to him riches of which he had not dreamt, would necessarily make an impression of joy, which he would be unable to dissemble; if the uniform had passed into other hands, and he had already disposed of it, a contrary feeling would betray itself. I had foreseen the alternative. Perrin's eyes did not sparkle, no smile was seen upon his lips; in vain did he seek to disguise his trouble, the feeling of his loss so sorely smote him, that he began to dash the floor with his foot, and tear his hair most ​furiously, "Ah mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" he cried, "these events always befall me, must I be for ever wretched?"
"Well, what do you mean? Did you buy it?"
"Yes, yes, I bought it, as you ask me, but I sold it again."
"Do you know to whom?"
"Certainly I do: to a man in the Rue Feydeau, that he might burn the lace."
"Oh, do not despair, there is a remedy still left, if the melter be an honest man."
Perrin gave a jump. "Twenty-five thousand francs burnt! Twenty-five thousand francs! That is not picked up every day; why was I in such haste about it?"
"Well, if I were you, I should try to get back the embroidery before it is put in the melting-pot. If you like, I will go to the melter, and tell him that having had a good offer for it from one of the theatres, you are desirous of buying it back again. I will offer him a premium, and probably he will not make any difficulty about it."
Perrin thought the plan admirable, accepted the proposition with eagerness, and the agent, desirous of rendering him a service, ran to give me an account of what had passed. Then, taking search warrants, I made a descent upon the melter. The embroidery was untouched; I gave them to the agent to convey to Perrin, and at the instant when he, impatient to seize on the notes, gave the first cut with his scissors to release the presumed treasure, I appeared with the commissary. We found at Perrin's evidences of the illicit trade which he carried on; an abundance of stolen property was found in his stores. Conducted to the depot, he was examined; but, at first, only gave very vague replies, whence no intelligence could be collected.
After his imprisonment in La Force, I went to see him, and ask him for information, but could only get from him some few indications; he knew not, he asserted, ​the names of the persons who constantly dealt with him. However, the little he told me aided me in forming suspicions that were plausible, and in converting my suspicions to realities. I had a considerable number of suspicious characters marched out before him, and, on his detection of them, they were put on their trials. Twenty-two were sentenced to irons, and amongst them was one of the authors of the robbery on General Boucher. Perrin was tried and convicted of receiving the stolen booty, but in consequence of the utility of the information he had given, only the minimum of punishment was pronounced against him.
A short time afterwards, two other fences, the brothers Perrot, in the hopes of clemency from the judge, followed the example of Perrin, not only in making confessions, but deciding several other prisoners on pointing out their accomplices. From their statements I brought into the power of justice two famous robbers, named Valentin and Rigaudi, alias Grindesi.
Never, perhaps, were there so many of those gentry, who unite the professions of thief and chevalier d'industrie, as in the year of the first restoration. One of the most skilful and most enterprising was Winter de Sarre-Louis.
Winter was only twenty-six, and was one of those handsome brown fellows, whose arched eye-brows, long lashes, prominent nose, and rakish air, have such charms for a certain class of females. Winter had, moreover, that good carriage, and peculiar look, which belongs to an officer of light cavalry, and he, therefore, assumed a military costume, which best displayed the graces of his person. One day he was a hussar, the next a lancer, and then again in some fancy uniform. At will he was chief of a squadron, commandant, aide-de-camp, colonel, &c; and to command more consideration, he did not fail to give himself a respectable parentage; he was by turns the son of the valiant Lasalle, of the gallant Winter, colonel of the grenadiers of the imperial horse-guard; nephew of the general Comte ​de Lagrange, and cousin-german to Rapp; in fact, there was no name which he did not borrow, no illustrious family to which he did not belong. Born of parents in a decent situation of life, Winter had received an education sufficiently brilliant to enable him to aspire to all these metamorphoses; the elegance of his manner, and a most gentlemanly appearance, completed the illusion.
Few men had made a better début than Winter. Thrown early into the career of arms, he obtained very rapid promotion; but when an officer he soon lost the esteem of his superiors; who, to punish his misconduct, sent him to the Isle of Ré, to one of the colonial battalions. There he so conducted himself as to inspire a belief that he had entirely reformed. But no sooner was he raised a step, than committing some fresh peccadillo, he was compelled to desert in order to avoid punishment. He came thence to Paris, where his exploits as swindler and pickpocket procured him the unenviable distinction of being pointed out to the police as one of the most skilful in his twofold profession.
Winter, who was what is termed a downy one, plucked a multitude of gulpins even in the most elevated classes of society. He visited princes, dukes, the sons of ancient senators, and it was on them or the ladies of their circle that he made the experiments of his misapplied talents. The females, particularly, however squeamish they were, were never sufficiently so to prevent themselves from being plundered by him. For several months the police were on the look out for this seducing young man, who, changing his dress and abode incessantly, escaped from their clutch at the moment when they thought they had him securely, when I received orders to commence the chase after him, to attempt his capture.
Winter was one of those Lovelaces who never deceive a woman without robbing her. I thought that amongst his victims I could find at least one, who, from a spirit of revenge, would be disposed to put me on the ​scent of this monster. By dint of searching, I thought I had met with a willing auxiliary, but as these Ariadnes, however ill used or forsaken they may be, yet shrink from the immolation of their betrayer, I determined to accost the damsel I met with cautiously. It was necessary, before I ventured my bark, to take soundings, and I took care not to manifest any hostility towards Winter, and not to alarm that residue of tenderness, which, despite ill usage, always remains in a sensitive heart. I made my appearance in the character of almoner of the regiment of which he was thought to command, and as such introduced to the ci-devant mistress of the pretended colonel. The costume, the language, the manner I assumed were in perfect unison with the character I was about to play, and I obtained to my wish the confidence of the fair forsaken one, who gave me unwittingly all the information I required. She pointed out to me her favoured rival, who, already ill-treated by Winter, had still the weakness to see him, and could not forbear making fresh sacrifices for him.
I became acquainted with this charming lady, and to obtain favour in her eyes, announced myself as a friend of her lover's family. The relatives of the young giddy pate had empowered me to pay his debts; and if she could contrive an interview with him for me, she might rely on being satisfied with the result of the first. Madame *** was not sorry to have an opportunity of repairing the dilapidations made on her property, and one morning sent me a note, stating that she was going to dine with her lover the next day at the Boulevard du Temple, at La Galiote. At four o'clock I went, disguised as a messenger, and stationed myself at the door of the restaurant's; and after two hours' watch, I saw a colonel of hussars approach. It was Winter, attended by two servants. I went up to him, and offered to take care of the horses, which proffer was accepted. Winter alighted, he could not escape me, but his eyes met mine, and with one jump he flung himself on his horse, spurred him, and disappeared.
​I thought I had him, and my disappointment was great; but I did not despair of catching my gentleman. Some time afterwards I learnt that he was to be at the Café Hardi, in the Boulevard des Italiens. I went thither with some of my agents, and when he arrived all was so well arranged, that he had only to get into a hackney-coach, of which I paid the fare. Led before a commissary of police, he asserted that he was not Winter; but, despite the insignia of the rank he had conferred on himself, and the long string of orders hanging on his breast, he was properly and officially identified as the individual mentioned in the warrant which I had for his apprehension.
Winter was sentenced to eight years' imprisonment, and would now be at liberty but for a forgery which he committed while at Bicêtre, which, bringing on him a fresh sentence of eight years at the galleys, he was conducted to the Bagne at the expiration of his original sentence, and is there at present.
This adventurer does not want wit: he is, I am told, the author of a vast many songs, much in fashion with the galley-slaves, who consider him as their Anacreon. I append one of his productions:—
Winter, when I apprehended him, had many associates in Paris, and the Tuileries was the notorious place where the most daring and celebrated thieves assembled, who recommended themselves to public veneration by impudently bedecking themselves with all the crosses of the orders of knighthood. In the eyes of an observer who can discern accurately, the Chateau was then less a royal residence than a haunt infested by these thieves. There congregated a crowd of galley-slaves, pickpockets, and swindlers of every class, who presented themselves as the old companions in arms of Charette, La Roche-Jaquelin, Stoflet, Cadoudal, &c. The days of review and court assemblies witnessed the gathering of these pretended heroes. In my office of superior agent of police, I judged it my duty to keep a strict look-out after these royalists of circumstances. I ​stationed myself in their way, either in or out of the apartments, and was soon fortunate enough to restore several of them to the Bagne.
One Sunday, accompanied by one of my auxiliaries, I was on the watch on the Place du Carousel; we saw, going out from the Pavillon de Flore, a person whose costume, not less rich than elegant, attracted the attention of every person. This personage must be a great lord: had he not been covered with orders, he would have been recognized by the delicacy of his embroidery, the grace of his feather, the sparkling knot of his sword; but in the eyes of a police officer all is not gold that glitters. The agent with me, in drawing my attention to this splendid signor, observed that there was a striking likeness between him and one Chambreuil, with whom he had been at the Bagne at Toulon. I had seen Chambreuil, and I went to station myself so as to see this person face to face; and in spite of the dress à la Française, the breeches à l'Angleterre, the laced neckerchief and ruffles, I instantly recognized the ex-galley-slave: it was, in fact, Chambreuil, a notorious forger, who had obtained much celebrity by his escapes from the galleys. His first sentence was about the period of the successful campaigns in Italy. At this time he followed the army, that he might the more easily imitate the signatures of the purveyors. He had a decided talent for this kind of imitation; but having been too prodigal of his abilities in this way, he had ended by procuring for himself three years' imprisonment. Three years soon pass away. Chambreuil could not, however, reconcile himself to his prison; he escaped, and fled to Paris, where he put into circulation a vast many notes of his own fabrication. This industry was converted into a crime; and, again placed on his trial, he was found guilty, and sent to Brest, where, by virtue of his sentence, he should have passed eight years. Chambreuil again escaped; but as forgery was his constant resource, he was apprehended a third time, and appended to the chain, which was sent to Toulon. ​Scarcely had he arrived there, when he again endeavoured to elude the vigilance of his keepers; but apprehended and sent back to the Bagne, he was placed in the too celebrated room, No. 3, where he passed his time, increased by three years.
During this detention, he endeavoured to amuse himself by dividing his leisure between denouncement and swindling, which were no less to his taste than his other pursuit. His choice, however, was forged letters, which, on his leaving the Bagne, brought on him two years' imprisonment in the prison of Embrun.
Chambreuil had just arrived there, when S. A. R. le Duc d'Angoulême passing through this city, he caused a petition to be presented to this prince, in which he stated that he was an old Vendean, a devoted servant, whose royalism had drawn down persecution upon him. Chambreuil was immediately set at liberty, and soon afterwards began to use his freedom as heretofore.
When we recognised him, it was easy to judge by the figure he cut that he was in a good vein of fortune. We followed him an instant, to convince ourselves that it was indeed he; and as soon as all doubt was removed, I accosted him, declaring that he was my prisoner. Chambreuil thought then to impose upon me, by spitting in my face a tremendous series of qualities and titles, which he asserted belonged to him. He was nothing less than director of the police of the Chateau, and chief of the royal stud of France; whilst I was an insolent scoundrel, whom he was to punish instantly. In spite of threats, I persisted in making him get into a hackney-coach; and as he made some difficulty about it, we compelled him by main force.
In presence of M. Henry, M. le director of the police of the Chateau was not at all disconcerted; on the contrary, he assumed a tone of arrogant superiority, which actually alarmed the chief of the prefecture. They all thought that I had committed a blunder.
"I will never put up with such an audacious insult," cried Chambreuil; "it is an outrage for which I will ​have ample reparation. I will let you know who I am, and we will see if you will dare to use towards me those arbitrary measures, which even the minister would not venture to employ."
I actually thought the moment had arrived when they would apologize to him, and reprimand me. They did not doubt but that Chambreuil was an old galley-slave, but they were afraid they had offended in him some powerful man, on whom court favours were lavished. However, I asserted, with so much energy, that he was only an impostor, that they could not avoid giving a warrant to search his residence. I was to assist the commissary in this operation, at which Chambreuil was to be present; and on the road he whispered to me,—
"My dear Vidocq, there are in my secretary some papers, which it is important to me to keep from inspection; promise me that you will get them, and you shall have no cause to repent it."
"I promise you."
"You will find them under a double lock, of which I will tell you the secret."
He told me how I was to proceed; and I found the papers in the place he had pointed out, which I kept to add to those which confirmed the propriety of his apprehension. Never had a forger so carefully arranged the materials of his swindling. There were found at his house a quantity of printed papers, some with this inscription, Haras de France, others with the Police du Roi; sheets à la Tellière bearing the titles of the minister of war, statements of services, brevets, diplomas, and a register of correspondence, always open as if by accident, that any looker-in might the more easily be deceived,—were among the documents, proving the high functions which Chambreuil took upon himself. He was supposed to be on terms of intimacy with the most distinguished personages; princes and princesses wrote to him: their letters and his were transcribed beside each other, and what appears very strange is, that he was in correspondence with the ​préfet of police, whose reply was to be found in his lying register, on the margin of one of his missives.
The light afforded by the search so well corroborated my assertions respecting Chambreuil, that they did not hesitate sending him to La Force, there to await his trial.
Before the tribunal it was impossible to induce him to confess that he was a galley-slave, which I persisted in calling him. He produced, on the contrary, authentic certificates, which stated that he had not left La Vendée since the year 2. The judges were for a time in doubt how to decide between him and me, but I added so many and such powerful proofs in support of my assertions, that, his identity being recognised, he was sentenced to hard labour for life, and imprisoned in the Bagne of L'Orient, where he was not slow in resuming his old profession of denouncer. At the period of the assassination of the Duc de Berry, in concert with one Gerard Carette, he wrote to the police that he had information to give respecting this fearful transaction. Chambreuil was known, and not credited; but some persons, absurd enough to believe that Louvel had accomplices, demanded that Carette should be brought to Paris. This was complied with, and Carette came, but nothing was elicited from him which threw any additional light on the subject.
The year 1814 was one of the most remarkable of my life, principally on account of the important captures which followed one another. Some of them gave rise to most whimsical incidents, and as I am in a vein I will relate one or two.
During a period of three years, a man of almost gigantic stature had been pointed out as the author of a vast many robberies committed in Paris. By the portraits which the sufferers drew of this individual, he could be no other than Sablin, an excessively skilful and enterprising thief, who, freed from many successive sentences, (two of which were in fetters,) had resumed his old trade with all the experience of the prisons. ​Many warrants were issued against Sablin, and the cleverest agents of police set upon him, but in vain; he escaped all pursuit, and if they had notice that he had appeared in any spot, by the time they arrived no trace of him remained. All the police officers, being wearied by the useless pursuit of this invisible person, the task devolved on me to seek out and secure him, if possible. For fifteen months I neglected no opportunity of endeavouring to meet him, but he never made his appearance in Paris for more than a few hours at a time, and as soon as the robbery was effected he was away again without our being able in any way to trace him.
Sablin was in a manner known only to me, and I, therefore, was the person whom he most feared to meet. As he could see me afar off, he took good care to keep out of my way, and I never once got sight even of his shadow.
However, as lack of perseverance is not my fault, I at length learnt that Sablin had just taken up his residence at Saint Cloud, where he had hired an apartment. At this news, I set out from Paris so as not to reach there until nightfall. It was in the month of November, and the weather very bad. When I entered Saint Cloud, all my clothes were wringing wet: I did not take the trouble of drying them, and in my impatience to learn if I had been put on a false scent, I obtained, on talking about new comers, some news, which was that a female, whose husband, a foreign merchant, was five feet ten inches, (French measure,) had recently occupied a certain house pointed out to me.
Five feet ten inches (French) is not a common height even for Patagonians; and I no longer doubted but that I had at last found the actual domicile of Sablin. But, as it was too late to present myself, I deferred my visit until the next day; and that I might be certain that my man did not escape me, I resolved, in spite of the rain, to pass the night before his house. I was in ambuscade with one of my agents, and at break of day, the door being opened, I glided quickly into the house ​that I might take a survey, and see if it were time to commence work. Scarcely had I put a foot on the first stair, when I paused,—some one was descending. It was a woman whose features and painful step betokened a state of suffering. On seeing me, she shrieked and went back again: I followed, and entering with her into an apartment of which she had a key, heard myself announced in these words, pronounced in accents of horror, "Here is Vidocq." The bed was in an inner room, towards which I darted. A man was in bed—he raised his head—'twas Sablin;—I flung myself upon him, and before he could recognize me I had handcuffed him.
During this operation the lady, having fallen into a chair, groaned very bitterly; she writhed, and appeared tormented by horrid pains.
"What is the matter with your wife?" I inquired of Sablin.
"Do you not see that she is in labour? All night she has been in the same state. When you met her, she was going out to mother Tire-monde's (the midwife)."
At that moment the groans redoubled.
"My God! my God! I can move no longer, I am dying; pray have pity on me: relieve my sufferings! give me help!"
Soon only half-choked sounds were heard. Not to be touched at such a situation would have evinced a heart of marble. But what could I do? It was evident that a midwife was needed, but who was to go in search of her? Two were not too many to guard a fellow of Sablin's strength. I could not go out, nor could I determine on leaving a woman to die; and between humanity and duty, I was the most embarrassed man in the world. Suddenly an historical anecdote, well told by Madame de Genlis, occurred to me: I recalled to mind the "Grand Monarque" performing the office of accoucheur to Lavallière. Why, said I, should I be more delicate than he? Come quick a doctor; I am ​one. I immediately took off my coat, and in less than twenty-five minutes Madame Sablin was delivered: it was a boy, a fine boy, to which she gave birth. I swaddled the infant, after having made this toilet of his first ingress or first egress, for I believe that in this instance the two expressions are synonymous; and when the ceremony was over, on looking at my work, I had the satisfaction to find that both mother and child were doing "as well as could be expected".
Then I had to fulfil a form, the entry of the little newcome on the register of the civil magistrates; we were all anxious: I offered to be subscribing witness; and when I had signed, Madame Sablin said to me,
"Ah! Monsieur Jules, since you are here, there is another service you could render us."
"What?"
"I dare scarcely name it."
"Speak, if it be in my power———."
"We have no godfather; would you be kind enough to stand for the boy?"
"Certainly, as well as another; where is the godmother?"
Madame Sablin begged us to call in one of her neighbours; and as soon as all was in readiness, we went to church, accompanied by Sablin, whose escape I had rendered impossible. The honors of this sponsorship did not cost me less than fifty francs, and yet there was no christening feast.
In spite of the vexation which Sablin necessarily experienced, he was so deeply penetrated by my proceedings, that he could not forbear testifying his gratitude.
After a good breakfast, which was brought to us in the chamber of the lying-in lady, I conducted her husband to Paris, where he was sentenced to five years' imprisonment. Being master turnkey at La Force, where he underwent his sentence, Sablin found in this employment, not only a means of living well, but also that of saving, at the expense of the prisoners and the ​persons who visited them, a small fortune, which he proposed to share with his wife; but at the period of his liberation, my friend Madame Sablin, who also had a partiality for the property of others, was expiating her crime at Saint-Lazare. In the isolation consequent on the incarceration of his mate, Sablin, like many others, turned to evil courses, that is, having one evening in his pocket the fruits of his savings, which he had turned into specie, he went to the gambling table and lost the whole. Two days afterwards, he was found suspended in the wood of Boulogne: he had selected as the instrument of his death one of the trees in the Allée des Voleurs.
It was not, as may have been seen, without much trouble that I was able to render Sablin up to justice. Certainly if all my searches had been of necessity as tedious and difficult, I could not have accomplished them: but success generally attended me, and sometimes was so close at hand, that I myself was amazed at it.
A few days after my adventure in Saint-Cloud, the Sieur Sebillotte, a vintner in the Rue de Charenton, No. 145, complained of having been robbed. According to his statement, the thieves had effected an entrance by climbing, between seven and eight o'clock in the evening; had carried off twelve thousand francs in cash, two gold watches, and six silver spoons. There had been force used externally and internally. All the circumstances were so extraordinary, that the veracity of M. Sebillotte was somewhat doubted, and I was ordered to clear the affair up. A conversation I had with him convinced me that his complaint comprehended only plain facts.
M. Sebillotte was a landlord; he was in easy circumstances, and out of debt; consequently I could not detect in his situation a shadow of a motive which might lead me to believe that the robbery of which he complained was false; and yet it was of such a nature, that, to commit it, the persons of the house must have ​been perfectly well known to the thieves. I asked M. Sebillotte what persons frequented his cabaret; and when he had mentioned some, he said,
"That is nearly all, except chance customers, and those strangers who cured my wife: on my word we were very lucky to have met with them! the poor thing had been suffering these three years, and they have given her a remedy which has done her much good."
"Do you often see these strangers?"
"They used to come here, but since my wife is better, we only see them occasionally."
"Do you know what they are? Perhaps they may have observed—"
"Ah! Sir!" cried Madame Sebillotte, who joined in the conversation, "do not suspect them, they are honest, I have proof of that."
"Yes, yes!" added the husband, "she has proof, which she will tell you: you will hear. Tell the gentleman, my dear."
Then Madame Sebillotte began her recital in these terms:—
"Yes, sir, they are honest, or I will be burnt alive. Well, you must know, it is not more than a fortnight ago, it was just a week after the term, I was counting out some money, when one of the females who is with them came in; it was she who had given me the remedy, from which I have had so much relief; and, I must tell you, she would not accept a sous for it, quite the contrary. You must suppose that I was very much pleased at seeing her; I made her sit down beside me, and whilst I was laying out the money in parcels of a hundred francs, she saw one on which was a large man leaning on two young ones, with a skin on his shoulders like a savage, holding a club: 'Ah!' said she, 'have you many like these?' 'Why?' said I. 'Because, you must know, that it worth a hundred and four sous. As many as you have, my husband will take at that price, if you will lay them aside.' ​I thought she was jesting; but in the evening I was never more surprised than to see her return with her husband. We looked over the money together, and as we found amongst it three hundred pieces of a hundred sous, like those she had pointed out, I let him have them, and he gave me a premium of sixty francs. You may judge after that if they are honest people or not, since they might, if they had liked, have had them coin for coin."
By the work we know the workmen. The last sentence of Madame Sebillotte informed me what sort of people were those honest creatures whose eulogy she made; nor did I need more to be assured, that the robbery, the authors of which I sought to detect, had been committed by the Bohémiens. The matter of exchange was quite in their way; and then Madame Sebillotte, in describing them, only confirmed me more and more in my preconceived opinion.
I soon left the couple, and from that moment all dark complexions were looked at by me with suspicion. I was thinking how and where I should be most likely to fall in with some of the persons I wanted, when, passing along the Boulevard du Temple, I saw, seated in a cabaret, called La Maison Rustique, two persons, whose copper-hued skin and foreign look awoke in my mind reminiscences of my sojourn at Malines. I entered; who should I see but Christian, with one of his pals, whom I also knew. I went up to them, and presenting my hand to Christian, saluted him by the name of Coroin. He looked at me for a moment, and then, my features becoming known to him, "Ah," he cried, jumping on my neck with transport, "my old friend."
So long a period had passed since we met, that, of course, after the customary compliments, we had many questions to ask and reply to mutually. He wanted to know why I left Malines; and without intimating my intention to him, I trumped up a story which passed current.
"All right, all right," said he; "whether true or ​not, I credit it: besides, I find you again, and that is the main point. Ah! all our old cronies will rejoice to see you. They are all in Paris. Caron, Langarin, Ruffler, Martin, Sisque, Mich, Litle; even old mother Lavio is with us; and Betche too, little Betche."
"Ah, yes, your wife."
"How pleased she will be to see you. If you will be here at six o'clock the union will be complete; we are to meet here, and go to the theatre together. You shall be of the party; but we will not part now. You have not dined?"
"No."
"Nor I either; we will go to Capucin."
"If you like; it is close at hand."
"Yes, only two steps, at the corner of the Rue d'Angoulême."
This vintner and cook, whose establishment bears a grotesque image of a disciple of Saint Francis as a sign, then enjoyed the favour of the public, in whose eyes quantity is always more valued than quality; and then for the holiday keepers on Sunday and Saint Monday,—for those jolly fellows, who carry on the war the whole week, is it not very pleasant to have a place where, without faring badly or offending any person, they may appear in all sorts of garbs, with any growth of beard, and in every state of intoxication?
Such were the advantages which offered themselves at Capucin's, without mentioning the large snuff-box always open on the citizen's counter, at the service of whosoever, in passing, wished to refresh his nostrils with a pinch. It was four o'clock when we installed ourselves in this spot of liberty and joy. The space was long till six o'clock. I was impatient to return to the Maison Rustique, where Christian's companions were to meet. After the repast we rejoined them; there were six, in accosting whom Christian spoke in their peculiar language. They instantly surrounded, hailed, embraced, welcomed me with acclamation; pleasure sparkled in their eyes.
​"No play, no play," cried the wanderers, with unanimous voice.
"You are right," said Christian, "no play; we will go to the theatre another time; let us drink, my boys, let us drink."
"Let us drink," echoed the Bohémiens. Wine and punch circulated freely. I drank, laughed, talked, and carried on my trade. I watched their countenances, motions, actions, and nothing escaped me. I recalled to myself some indications furnished by Monsieur and Madame Sebillotte; and the history of the hundred sous pieces, which had only been the first slight groundwork of a conjecture, became the basis of confirmed conviction.
Christian, or his mates, I could no longer doubt were the authors of the robbery announced to the police. How did I commend the casual glance made so à propos at the interior of La Maison Rustique! But it was not all to have detected the guilty; I waited until their brains were properly heated by the alcoholic applications; and when the whole party was in a state when one candle was enough to show two persons, I went out, and, running hastily to the Theatre de la Gaîté, informed the officer on duty that I was with some thieves, and arranged with him that in an hour or two at latest he should apprehend us all, men and women.
These instructions given, I returned quickly. My absence had not been remarked; but at ten o'clock the house was visited, the peace-officer presented himself, and with him a formidable body of gendarmes and agents. They secured each of us separately, and then conducted us to the guard-house.
The commissary had preceded us; he ordered a general search. Christian, who called himself Hirch, in vain endeavoured to conceal M. Sebillotte's six silver spoons; and his companion, Madame Villemain, (the title the lady gave herself,) could not preserve in secret, from the rigid search she underwent, the two gold watches mentioned in the complaint. The others were ​also compelled to produce money and jewels, which were taken from them.
I was anxious to know the opinion of my ancient comrades on this matter. I thought I read in their eyes that they did not in the least distrust me; nor was I mistaken, for scarcely had we reached the violon, (the watch-house,) than they made me excuses for having been the involuntary cause of my arrest.
"It was not purposely done," said Christian, "but who the devil could have expected such a thing? You were quite right to say you knew nothing about us: be quiet, and we will not say a word to the contrary; and, as nothing has been found on your person to put you in any danger, you may be certain they will not long detain you."
Christian then recommended discretion to me, as to his real name, as well as those of his companions;
"Although," he added, "the recommendation is superfluous, since you are not less interested than we, in keeping silence on this score."
"I offered to the gipsies to use the first moments of my liberty in their service; and in the hope that I should not be kept long in durance, they told me their domicile, so that in getting out I might inform their comrades. About midnight the commissary sent for me, under pretence of examining me, and we instantly went to the Marché Lenoir, where dwelt the famous Duchesse and three other pals of Christian, whom we apprehended by virtue of a warrant, and after a search, which produced all necessary proofs for their conviction.
This band consisted of twelve persons, six men and six women; they were all condemned, the former to irons, the latter to close confinement. The vintner of the Rue de Charenton recovered his jewellery, plate, and the greater portion of his money.
Madame Sebillotte was overjoyed. The specific of the Bohémiens had the effect of rendering her health less precarious, the information of the twelve thousand francs regained perfectly restored it, and doubtless the ​experience she had was not lost upon her; she remembered that, once in her life, she had nearly been a great loser, by having sold five-franc pieces for a hundred and four sous. "A burnt child dreads the fire."
This meeting with the Bohémiens was almost miraculous; but in the course of eighteen years that I have been attached to the police, it has happened more than once that I have been casually brought in contact with persons whom in my early days I had known.
A propos of occurrences of this kind, I cannot resist the desire of mentioning in this chapter one of the thousand absurd complaints which it was my lot to receive daily; this in particular procured for me a very singular renewal of acquaintance.
One morning whilst I was occupied in drawing up a report, I was told that a lady of respectable appearance desired to see me; she has, was added, to speak with you on an affair of importance. I ordered that she should be admitted instantly. She entered.
"I have to beg pardon for disturbing you; you are Monsieur Vidocq? It is to Monsieur Vidocq that I have the honour of addressing myself?"
"Yes, madame; and in what can I be of service to you?"
"Oh, you can aid me materially, sir; you can restore to me appetite and sleep. I neither rest nor eat.—Ah, how wretched is it to be gifted with excessive sensibility. Ah! sir, how I pity persons of our sentiment! I swear to you that it is the most distressing qualification that Heaven can bestow!—He was so well brought up, so interesting.—If you had known him you could not have forborne loving him—Poor dear!
"But, madame, condescend to explain: you may perhaps suffer by a causeless delay, and lose precious time."
"He was my only comfort—"
"Well, madame, what is it?"
"I have not power to tell you."
She put her hand into her reticule, and thence pro​duced a paper which she gave me with averted eyes, saying, "Read, read."
"These are printed papers you have given me; you must have made some mistake."
"Would that I did, sir; would to heaven that I did. I beseech you to cast your eyes over the number 32,740; my grief forbids me to utter more! Ah! how cruel is my fate.—(Tears fell from her eyes, the word expired upon her lips, she was convulsed by sobs, and could with apparent difficulty prevent them suffocating her.) I am strangled! I am choking! I feel something swelling in my throat.—Ah! ah! ah! ah!"
I handed a seat to the lady, and whilst she abandoned herself to her sorrow, I turned over two or three leaves, until I reached No. 32,740, under the head of lost property; the page was moist with tears; I read:
"A small spaniel, with long silvery silky hair, dropping ears; he is perfectly trimmed; a mark of fire above each eye: physiognomy excessively animated, the tail trumpet-fashion, forming the bird of paradise. His natural disposition is very endearing; will eat nothing but the white of a chicken, and answers to the name of Garçon, pronounced with mildness. His mistress is in despair; fifty francs reward will be given to whosoever will bring him to the Rue de Turenne, No. 23."
"Well, madame! what am I to do for Garçon? Dogs are not under my control. I see that he was a most amiable creature."
"Ah! sir, amiable! that is the exact word," sighed the lady, in accents that penetrated the very heart; "and his intelligence could not be surpassed; he never left me.—Dearest Garçon! Would you believe it, that during the holy exercises, he had a more devout look than myself? In truth, he was generally admired, his appearance alone was a lesson to mankind.—Alas! alas! on Sunday last we were going together to the sacrament, I was carrying him under my arm; you know ​these little creatures have perpetual wants—at the moment we were entering the church, I put him on the ground, that he might do as he wished; I went onwards, not to disturb him, and when I returned—no Garçon.—I called Garçon, Garçon!—he had disappeared. I left the Benedictine to run after him; and—judge of my misery—I could not find him. This is the business that has induced me to trouble you to day, to entreat that you would have the excessive kindness to have a search made for him. I will pay all that is needful; but take care he is not ill-used. I am sure the fault has not been his."
"Indeed, madame, whether he is in fault or not is no concern of mine; your complaint is not of that nature to which I am allowed to attend; if we were to give our time to dogs, cats, and birds, there would be endless work."
"Well, sir; since you take that tone, I shall address his excellency. If there is no respect shown to persons who think well—Do you know I belong to the congregation, and that—"
"You may belong to the devil for me—"
I could not finish my speech: a deformity which I observed suddenly in the devout mistress of Garçon, produced from me a sudden fit of laughter, which entirely disconcerted her.
"Am not I an object of mirth?" said she, "laugh away, sir, laugh away."
When my sudden gaiety had a little abated, I said:—
"Forgive, madame, this impulse, which I could not control; I did not know at first with whom I was conversing, but now I know how I should behave. Do you really deplore the loss of Garçon?"
"Ah! sir, I cannot survive it."
"You have never then experienced a loss which more sensibly affected you?"
"No, sir."
"Yet you have had a husband in this world, you had a son, you have had lovers—"
​"I, sir! how dare you—"
"Yes, Madame Duflos, you have had lovers; you have really had them. Do you remember a certain night at Versailles?"
At these words, she looked at me attentively for a moment; the colour came to her cheek.
"Eugene!" she cried, and instantly hastened from the room.
Madame Duflos was a milliner whose clerk I had been for some time when, to hide from the search of the police at Arras, I had concealed myself in Paris. She was a droll sort of woman; she had a fine head, bold eye, good eyebrow, majestic forehead; her mouth, elevated at the corners, was large, but adorned with thirty-two teeth of dazzling whiteness; hair of a beautiful black, and aquiline nose, above a tolerably well-furnished moustache, gave to her physiognomy an air which would have been imposing, if her bosom placed between two humps, and her neck plunged into these double shoulders had not suggested the idea of a female Punch.
She was about forty when I first saw her: her appearance was most studiously attended to, and she gave herself the airs of a queen; but from the height of the chair whereon she was perched, so that her knees were elevated above the counter, she seemed less like a Semiramis than the grotesque idol of some Indian pagoda. When I saw her on this species of throne, I had much difficulty to be serious; but I preserved the gravity which circumstances demanded, and had just sufficient command over myself to convert into salutations of the most respectful kind a strong disposition to do entirely otherwise. Madame Duflos took from her bosom a large eye-glass, through which she viewed me, and when she had taken my dimensions from head to foot,
"What is your pleasure, sir?" she said.
I was about to reply, but a clerk who had undertaken to present me, having told her that I was the young man of whom he had spoken, she looked at me again, ​and asked me what I knew of business. Of business I was utterly ignorant; I was silent; she repeated the question, and as she evinced some impatience, I was forced to explain.
"Madame," I said, "I know nothing of the business of fashions, but with zeal and perseverance, I hope to give you satisfaction, particularly if assisted by your advice."
"Well, I like that; I wish people to be frank with me. I receive you; you shall fill Theodore's situation."
"I am at your orders as soon as you please, madame."
"Well then, I engage you at once; from this very day, you may begin on trial."
My installation was at once effected. In my situation as junior clerk, I had the task of arranging the magazine and work room, where about twenty young girls, all very pretty, were employed in fashioning gewgaws, destined to tempt the provincial coquettes. Thrown amongst this bed of beauties, I thought myself transported to a seraglio, and, looking sometimes at the brown and sometimes at the fair, I thought of circulating the handkerchief pretty freely when, on the morning of the fourth day, Madame Duflos, who had no doubt seen something not quite to her satisfaction, sent for me to her room.
"M. Eugene," she said, "I am much displeased with you; you have been here but a very short time, and already begin to form criminal designs upon my young people. I tell you that will not do for me at all, at all, at all."
Overwhelmed by this merited reproach and unable to imagine how she had guessed my intentions, I could only stammer out a few unconnected words.
"You would have considerable difficulty in justifying yourself," she added, "but I know very well that at your age we cannot repress our inclinations: but these girls must not be thought of in any way; in the first place, they are too young; then, again, they have no ​fortune; a young man should have some person who can assist him, some person of sense and reason."
During this moral lesson, Madame Duflos, carelessly extended on an easy couch, rolled about her eyes in a way that would infallibly have led to an overpowering burst of laughter from me, had not her head-woman entered very opportunely to tell her that she was wanted in the work-room.
Thus terminated this interview, which proved to me the necessity of being on my guard. Without renouncing my intentions, I only appeared to look on the young women with indifference and was skilful enough to set her penetration at default; she watched me incessantly, spied my gestures, my words, my looks: but she was only astonished at one thing,—the rapidity of my progress. I had only passed one month's apprenticeship and could already sell a shawl, a fancy gown, a cap, or a bonnet, as well as the most experienced hand. Madame was delighted, and had even the kindness to say, that, if I continued as attentive to her lessons, she did not despair of making me the cock of the mode, (le coq de la nouveauté).
"But," she added, "mind, no familiarity with the pullets; you understand me, M. Eugene; you understand me. And I have also another thing to recommend to you, that is, not to neglect your personal appearance; nothing is so genteel as a well-dressed man. Besides, I will undertake to provide your dress for the present; let me do so, and you will see if I will not make a little Love of you."
I thanked Madame Duflos, but as I feared that with her extraordinary taste she might make of me some such a Cupid as she was herself a Venus, I told her that I wished to spare her the care of a metamorphosis that appeared to me impossible; but, that if she would confine herself to her kind advice, I should receive it with gratitude and seek to profit by it.
Some time afterward, (four days before Saint Louis,) Madame Duflos told me, that intending as usual to go ​to the fair of Versailles with some goods, she had decided that I should attend her. We started the next day, and forty-eight hours afterward were established at the Champ-de-Foire. A servant who had attended us slept in the shop; as for me, I lodged with madame, at the auberge; we had ordered two rooms, but in consequence of the influx of strangers, we could only have one: resignation was compulsory. In the evening, madame had a large screen brought, with which she divided the room into two, so that we each had our own apartment. Before we went to bed, she preached to me for an hour. Afterward, we went up stairs; madame entered her division, I wished her good evening, and in two minutes was in bed. Soon sighs began to escape her, doubtless caused by the fatigue she had experienced during the day; she sighed again, but the candle was out, and I went to sleep. Suddenly, I was interrupted in my first nap, I thought someone pronounced my name; I listened.
"Eugene."
It was the voice of Madame Duflos. I made no reply.
"Eugene," she called again, "have you closed the door properly?"
"Yes, madame."
"I think you mistake; look I beg of you, and see if the bolt is properly secured; we cannot be too careful in these auberges."
I did as desired and returned to my bed. Scarcely was I laid once more on my left side than madame began to complain.
"What a miserable bed! I am eaten up by the bugs, it is impossible to close an eye! And you, Eugene, have you any of these insupportable insects?"
I turned a deaf ear to the question.
"Eugene, answer me; have you any of these bugs, as I have?
"On my word, madame, I have not yet found any."
"You are very fortunate then, and I congratulate you; as for me, I am devoured by them, I have bites of such ​a size! If it goes on in this way, I shall pass a sleepless night."
I kept silence, but was compelled to break it when Madame Duflos, exasperated by her sufferings and not knowing how, between the biting and itching, to relieve herself, began to cry out with all her strength.
"Eugene! Eugene! do get up, I beseech you, and be so good as to ask the innkeeper for a light, that we may drive away these cursed animals. Make haste I entreat you, my friend, for I am in hell."
I went down and came up again with a lighted candle, which I put on the table near the lady's bed. As I was but lightly clad, that is to say, with my flags flying in the wind, I retired as quickly as possible, as well out of respect to the modesty of Madame Duflos, as to escape the seductions of an elegant negligé, in which there appeared to me to be some design. But scarcely had I got around the screen when Madame Duflos gave a piteous shriek.
"Ah! what a size, what a monster, I can never have the courage to kill it: how it runs, it will get away. Eugene! Eugene! come here, I supplicate you."
I could not retreat, but, like a second Theseus, I risked all, and approached the bed.
"Where, where," said I, "is this Minotaur, let me exterminate him?"
"I conjure you, Eugene, not to jest in that way—there, there, see how it runs; did you see it on the pillow? how it goes down the bed—what swiftness! It seems to know the fate you have in store for it."
In vain did I use all diligence; I could neither catch nor even see the dangerous animal. I looked and felt every where to discover its hiding place. I made every possible exertion to find it, but in vain. Sleep overpowered us in our endeavours; and if, on waking, by a return to the past, I was led to reflect that Madame Duflos had been more fortunate than Potiphar's wife, I had the pain of thinking that I had not had all the virtue of Joseph.
​From this time I had the job of watching every night that madame was not tormented by bugs. My service by day was rendered much easier. Considerations, anticipations, little presents—nothing was spared; I was, like the conscript of Charlet, nourished, shod, clothed, and put to bed at the expense of the princess. Unfortunately, the princess was somewhat jealous, and her rule a little despotic. Madame Duflos asked nothing more but that, in more senses than one, I should arouse myself like a hump-backed man; but she went into the most tremendous fits of rage if I even glanced at another woman. At last, worn out by this tyranny, I declared one evening that I would free myself from it.
"Ah! you will leave me then," said she, "we will see about that."
Then arming herself with a knife, she darted at me to plunge it into my heart. I seized her arm, and her rage being appeased, I agreed to remain, on condition that she would be more reasonable. She promised; but, from the next day, curtains of green taffety were placed over the windows of the room in which I was placed, as madame had thought it fit to entrust me exclusively with keeping her books. This proceeding was the more vexatious, as I had then no prospect of any control over the work-room.
Madame Duflos was most ingenious in isolating me from the rest of the world; every day there was a new precaution for my security. At last, my slavery was so rigorous that every person saw through the tenderness of which I was the object. The shop girls, who liked nothing better than teasing madame, came to speak to me every instant, sometimes with one excuse, sometimes another; poor Madame Duflos was tormented to death by it! how pitiable! Every hour in the day she poured forth her reproaches on me, and never gave one instant's intermission. I could not for any length of time remain easy under such despotism. To avoid a burst, which, in my situation, might have involved ​me (I had then just escaped from the Bagne) I secretly took a place by the diligence and absconded.
How little did I then think that, after a lapse of twenty years, I should meet again in the police office, my little Humpina of the Rue Saint Martin: the proverb would have it so: two mountains never meet.
* ↑ Evening in Paris.
* ↑ A good booty.
* ↑ Chamber.
* ↑ Full of goods.
* ↑ Money in the pocket.
* ↑ Without fear or uneasiness.
* ↑ Without care.
* ↑ An increase.
* ↑ A handsome mistress.
* ↑ Drinking wine without water.
* ↑ Unadulterated wine.
* ↑ Stockings.
* ↑ Lace.
* ↑ Laced hat.
* ↑ Clad.
* ↑ Citizen.
* ↑ A gold watch.
* ↑ Dance.
* ↑ Following him in the boulevard.
* ↑ I stun him.
* ↑ I take off his shirt.
* ↑ I steal his watch, clothes, and shoes.
* ↑ The receiving house.
* ↑ Coward.
* ↑ Enters a shop.
* ↑ Steals money.
* ↑ They call for the guard.
* ↑ I fly.
* ↑ Taken in the fact.
* ↑ The commissary questions him.
* ↑ Denounces his accomplices.
* ↑ Tell a falsehood.
* ↑ They tie me.
* ↑ My fine bed, my loves.
* ↑ The dock.
* ↑ They condemn me to the galleys.
* ↑ To exposure.
* ↑ Old.
* ↑ Rouge.
* ↑ In this world.
* ↑ Whatever people say.
* ↑ Lot.
* ↑ Twelve yean of fetters.
* ↑ Fool.