Various - Stories of Mystery

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Whilst the ambitious and love-sick barrister was thus pining in
unwelcome obscurity, his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet, had been
acquiring an undesirable notoriety. There was nothing really bad in
Jacques; but having been bred up a democrat, with a hatred of the
nobility, he could not easily accommodate his rough humor to treat them
with civility when it was no longer safe to insult them. The liberties
he allowed himself whenever circumstances brought him into contact
with the higher classes of society, had led him into many scrapes, out
of which his father's money had in one way or another released him;
but that source of safety had now failed. Old Rollet, having been too
busy with the affairs of the nation to attend to his business, had died
insolvent, leaving his son with nothing but his own wits to help him
out of future difficulties; and it was not long before their exercise
was called for.

Claudine Rollet, his sister, who was a very pretty girl, had attracted
the attention of Mademoiselle de Bellefonds's brother, Alphonse; and
as he paid her more attention than from such a quarter was agreeable
to Jacques, the young men had had more than one quarrel on the subject,
on which occasion they had each, characteristically, given vent to
their enmity, the one in contemptuous monosyllables, and the other in
a volley of insulting words. But Claudine had another lover, more
nearly of her own condition of life; this was Claperon, the
deputy-governor of the Rouen jail, with whom she had made acquaintance
during one or two compulsory visits paid by her brother to that
functionary. Claudine, who was a bit of a coquette, though she did not
altogether reject his suit, gave him little encouragement, so that,
betwixt hopes and fears and doubts and jealousies, poor Claperon led
a very uneasy kind of life.

Affairs had been for some time in this position, when, one fine morning,
Alphonse de Bellefonds was not to be found in his chamber when his
servant went to call him; neither had his bed been slept in. He had
been observed to go out rather late on the previous evening, but whether
he had returned nobody could tell. He had not appeared at supper, but
that was too ordinary an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm
was excited till several hours had elapsed, when inquiries were
instituted and a search commenced, which terminated in the discovery
of his body, a good deal mangled, lying at the bottom of a pond which
had belonged to the old brewery.

Before any investigation had been made, every person had jumped to the
conclusion that the young man had been murdered, and that Jacques
Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong presumption in favor of
that opinion, which further perquisitions tended to confirm. Only the
day before, Jacques had been heard to threaten Monsieur de Bellefonds
with speedy vengeance. On the fatal evening, Alphonse and Claudine had
been seen together in the neighborhood of the now dismantled brewery;
and as Jacques, betwixt poverty and democracy, was in bad odor with
the respectable part of society, it was not easy for him to bring
witnesses to character or to prove an unexceptionable _alibi_. As for
the Bellefonds and De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in general, they
entertained no doubt of his guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming
to the same opinion, Jacques Rollet was committed for trial at the next
assizes, and as a testimony of good-will, Antoine de Chaulieu was
selected by the injured family to conduct the prosecution.

Here, at last, was the opportunity he had sighed for. So interesting
a case, too, furnishing such ample occasion for passion, pathos,
indignation! And how eminently fortunate that the speech which he set
himself with ardor to prepare would be delivered in the presence of
the father and brother of his mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself.
The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was altogether presumptive;
there was no proof whatever that he had committed the crime; and for
his own part, he stoutly denied it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained
no doubt of his guilt, and the speech he composed was certainly well
calculated to carry that conviction into the bosom of others. It was
of the highest importance to his own reputation that he should procure
a verdict, and he confidently assured the afflicted and enraged family
of the victim that their vengeance should be satisfied.

Under these circumstances, could anything be more unwelcome than a
piece of intelligence that was privately conveyed to him late on the
evening before the trial was to come on, which tended strongly to
exculpate the prisoner, without indicating any other person as the
criminal. Here was an opportunity lost. The first step of the ladder
on which he was to rise to fame, fortune, and a wife was slipping from
under his feet.

Of course so interesting a trial was anticipated with great eagerness
by the public; the court was crowded with all the beauty and fashion
of Rouen, and amongst the rest, doubly interesting in her mourning,
sat the fair Natalie, accompanied by her family.

The young advocate's heart beat high; he felt himself inspired by the
occasion; and although Jacques Rollet persisted in asserting his
innocence, founding his defence chiefly on circumstances which were
strongly corroborated by the information that had reached De Chaulieu
the preceding evening, he was nevertheless convicted.

In spite of the very strong doubts he privately entertained respecting
the justice of the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the first flush
of success, amidst a crowd of congratulating friends and the approving
smiles of his mistress, felt gratified and happy; his speech had, for
the time being, not only convinced others but himself; warmed with his
own eloquence, he believed what he said. But when the glow was over,
and he found himself alone, he did not feel so comfortable. A latent
doubt of Rollet's guilt now pressed strongly on his mind, and he felt
that the blood of the innocent would be on his head. It was true there
was yet time to save the life of the prisoner; but to admit Jacques
innocent, was to take the glory out of his own speech, and turn the
sting of his argument against himself. Besides, if he produced the
witness who had secretly given him the information, he should be
self-condemned, for he could not conceal that he had been aware of the
circumstance before the trial.

Matters having gone so far, therefore, it was necessary that Jacques
Rollet should die; and so the affair took its course; and early one
morning the guillotine was erected in the court-yard of the gaol, three
criminals ascended the scaffold, and three heads fell into the basket,
which were presently afterward, with the trunks that had been attached
to them, buried in a corner of the cemetery.

Antoine de Chaulieu was now fairly started in his career, and his
success was as rapid as the first step toward it had been tardy. He
took a pretty apartment in the Hotel Marboeuf, Rue Grange Bateliere,
and in a short time was looked upon as one of the most rising young
advocates in Paris. His success in one line brought him success in
another; he was soon a favorite in society, and an object of interest
to speculating mothers; but his affections still adhered to his old
love, Natalie de Bellefonds, whose family now gave their assent to the
match,--at least prospectively,--a circumstance which furnished such
additional incentive to his exertions, that in about two years from
his first brilliant speech he was in a sufficiently flourishing
condition to offer the young lady a suitable home.

In anticipation of the happy event, he engaged and furnished a suite
of apartments in the Rue de Helder; and as it was necessary that the
bride should come to Paris to provide her trousseau, it was agreed that
the wedding should take place there, instead of at Bellefonds, as had
been first projected,--an arrangement the more desirable, that a press
of business rendered Monsieur de Chaulieu's absence from Paris
inconvenient.

Brides and bridegrooms in France, except of the very high classes, are
not much in the habit of making those honeymoon excursions so universal
in this country. A day spent in visiting Versailles, or St. Cloud, or
even the public places of the city, is generally all that precedes the
settling down into the habits of daily life. In the present instance,
St. Denis was selected, from the circumstance of Natalie's having a
younger sister at school there, and also because she had a particular
desire to see the Abbey.

The wedding was to take place on a Thursday; and on the Wednesday
evening, having spent some hours most agreeably with Natalie, Antoine
de Chaulieu returned to spend his last night in his bachelor apartments.
His wardrobe and other small possessions had already been packed up,
and sent to his future home; and there was nothing left in his room
now but his new wedding suit, which he inspected with considerable
satisfaction before he undressed and lay down to sleep.

Sleep, however, was somewhat slow to visit him, and the clock had struck
one before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was broad
daylight, and his first thought was, had he overslept himself? He sat
up in bed to look at the clock, which was exactly opposite; and as he
did so, in the large mirror over the fireplace, he perceived a figure
standing behind him. As the dilated eyes met his own, he saw it was
the face of Jacques Rollet. Overcome with horror, he sank back on his
pillow, and it was some minutes before he ventured to look again in
that direction; when he did so, the figure had disappeared.

The sudden revulsion of feeling which such a vision was calculated to
occasion in a man elate with joy may be conceived. For some time after
the death of his former foe, he had been visited by not infrequent
twinges of conscience; but of late, borne along by success and the hurry
of Parisian life, these unpleasant remembrances had grown rarer, till
at length they had faded away altogether. Nothing had been further from
his thoughts than Jacques Rollet when he closed his eyes on the
preceding night, or when he opened them to that sun which was to shine
on what he expected to be the happiest day of his life. Where were the
high-strung nerves now, the elastic frame, the bounding heart?

Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed, for it was time to do so;
and with a trembling hand and quivering knees he went through the
processes of the toilet, gashing his cheek with the razor, and spilling
the water over his well-polished boots. When he was dressed, scarcely
venturing to cast a glance in the mirror as he passed it, he quitted
the room and descended the stairs, taking the key of the door with him,
for the purpose of leaving it with the porter; the man, however, being
absent, he laid it on the table in his lodge, and with a relaxed hand
and languid step he proceeded to the carriage which quickly conveyed
him to the church, where he was met by Natalie and her friends.

How difficult it was now to look happy, with that pallid face and
extinguished eye!

"How pale you are! Has anything happened? You are surely ill?" were
the exclamations that assailed him on all sides.

He tried to carry the thing off as well as he could, but he felt that
the movements he would have wished to appear alert were only convulsive,
and that the smiles with which he attempted to relax his features were
but distorted grimaces. However, the church was not the place for
further inquiries; and whilst Natalie gently pressed his hand in token
of sympathy, they advanced to the altar, and the ceremony was
performed; after which they stepped into the carriages waiting at the
door, and drove to the apartments of Madame de Bellefonds, where an
elegant _dejeuner_ was prepared.

"What ails you, my dear husband?" inquired Natalie, as soon as they
were alone.

"Nothing, love," he replied; "nothing, I assure you, but a restless
night and a little overwork, in order that I might have to-day free
to enjoy my happiness."

"Are you quite sure? Is there nothing else?"

"Nothing, indeed, and pray don't take notice of it; it only makes me
worse."

Natalie was not deceived, but she saw that what he said was
true,--notice made him worse; so she contented herself with observing
him quietly and saying nothing; but as he felt she was observing him,
she might almost better have spoken; words are often less embarrassing
things than too curious eyes.

When they reached Madame de Bellefonds' he had the same sort of scrutiny
to undergo, till he grew quite impatient under it, and betrayed a degree
of temper altogether unusual with him. Then everybody looked astonished;
some whispered their remarks, and others expressed them by their
wondering eyes, till his brow knit, and his pallid cheeks became flushed
with anger.

Neither could he divert attention by eating; his parched mouth would
not allow him to swallow anything but liquids, of which he indulged
in copious libations; and it was an exceeding relief to him when the
carriage which was to convey them to St. Denis, being announced,
furnished an excuse for hastily leaving the table.

Looking at his watch, he declared it was late; and Natalie, who saw
how eager he was to be gone, threw her shawl over her shoulders, and
bidding her friends good morning they hurried away.

It was a fine sunny day in June; and as they drove along the crowded
boulevards and through the Porte St. Denis, the young bride and
bridegroom, to avoid each other's eyes, affected to be gazing out of
the windows; but when they reached that part of the road where there
was nothing but trees on each side, they felt it necessary to draw in
their heads, and make an attempt at conversation.

De Chaulieu put his arm round his wife's waist, and tried to rouse
himself from his depression; but it had by this time so reacted upon
her, that she could not respond to his efforts; and thus the
conversation languished, till both felt glad when they reached their
destination, which would, at all events, furnish them something to talk
about.

Having quitted the carriage and ordered a dinner at the Hotel de
l'Abbaye, the young couple proceeded to visit Mademoiselle de
Bellefonds, who was overjoyed to see her sister and new brother-in-law,
and doubly so when she found that they had obtained permission to take
her out to spend the afternoon with them.

As there is little to be seen at St. Denis but the Abbey, on quitting
that part of it devoted to education, they proceeded to visit the church
with its various objects of interest; and as De Chaulieu's thoughts
were now forced into another direction, his cheerfulness began
insensibly to return. Natalie looked so beautiful, too, and the
affection betwixt the two young sisters was so pleasant to behold! And
they spent a couple of hours wandering about with Hortense, who was
almost as well informed as the Suisse, till the brazen doors were open
which admitted them to the royal vault.

Satisfied at length with what they had seen, they began to think of
returning to the inn, the more especially as De Chaulieu, who had not
eaten a morsel of food since the previous evening, confessed to being
hungry; so they directed their steps to the door, lingering here and
there as they went to inspect a monument or a painting, when happening
to turn his head aside to see if his wife, who had stopped to take a
last look at the tomb of King Dagobert, was following, he beheld with
horror the face of Jacques Rollet appearing from behind a column. At
the same instant his wife joined him and took his arm, inquiring if
he was not very much delighted with what he had seen. He attempted to
say yes, but the word died upon his lips; and staggering out of the
door, he alleged that a sudden faintness had overcome him.

They conducted him to the hotel, but Natalie now became seriously
alarmed; and well she might. His complexion looked ghastly, his limbs
shook, and his features bore an expression of indescribable horror and
anguish. What could be the meaning of so extraordinary a change in the
gay, witty, prosperous De Chaulieu, who, till that morning, seemed not
to have a care in the world? For, plead illness as he might, she felt
certain, from the expression of his features, that his sufferings were
not of the body, but of the mind; and unable to imagine any reason for
such extraordinary manifestations, of which she had never before seen
a symptom, but a sudden aversion to herself, and regret for the step
he had taken, her pride took the alarm, and, concealing the distress
she really felt, she began to assume a haughty and reserved manner
toward him, which he naturally interpreted into an evidence of anger
and contempt.

The dinner was placed upon the table, but De Chaulieu's appetite, of
which he had lately boasted, was quite gone; nor was his wife better
able to eat. The young sister alone did justice to the repast; but
although the bridegroom could not eat, he could swallow champagne in
such copious draughts that erelong the terror and remorse which the
apparition of Jacques Rollet had awakened in his breast were drowned
in intoxication.

Amazed and indignant, poor Natalie sat silently observing this elect
of her heart, till, overcome with disappointment and grief, she quitted
the room with her sister, and retired to another apartment, where she
gave free vent to her feelings in tears.

After passing a couple of hours in confidences and lamentations, they
recollected that the hours of liberty, granted as an especial favor
to Mademoiselle Hortense, had expired; but ashamed to exhibit her
husband in his present condition to the eyes of strangers, Natalie
prepared to reconduct her to the Maison Royal herself. Looking into
the dining-room as they passed, they saw De Chaulieu lying on a sofa,
fast asleep, in which state he continued when his wife returned. At
length the driver of their carriage begged to know if monsieur and
madame were ready to return to Paris, and it became necessary to arouse
him.

The transitory effects of the champagne had now subsided; but when De
Chaulieu recollected what had happened, nothing could exceed his shame
and mortification. So engrossing, indeed, were these sensations, that
they quite overpowered his previous ones, and, in his present vexation,
he for the moment forgot his fears. He knelt at his wife's feet, begged
her pardon a thousand times, swore that he adored her, and declared
that the illness and the effect of the wine had been purely the
consequences of fasting and overwork.

It was not the easiest thing in the world to reassure a woman whose
pride, affection, and taste had been so severely wounded; but Natalie
tried to believe, or to appear to do so, and a sort of reconciliation
ensued, not quite sincere on the part of the wife, and very humbling
on the part of the husband. Under these circumstances it was impossible
that he should recover his spirits or facility of manner; his gayety
was forced, his tenderness constrained; his heart was heavy within him;
and ever and anon the source whence all this disappointment and woe
had sprung would recur to his perplexed and tortured mind.

Thus mutually pained and distrustful, they returned to Paris, which
they reached about nine o'clock. In spite of her depression, Natalie,
who had not seen her new apartments, felt some curiosity about them,
whilst De Chaulieu anticipated a triumph in exhibiting the elegant home
he had prepared for her. With some alacrity, therefore, they stepped
out of the carriage, the gates of the hotel were thrown open, the
_concierge_ rang the bell which announced to the servants that their
master and mistress had arrived; and whilst these domestics appeared
above, holding lights over the balusters, Natalie, followed by her
husband, ascended the stairs.

But when they reached the landing-place of the first flight, they saw
the figure of a man standing in a corner, as if to make way for them.
The flash from above fell upon his face, and again Antoine de Chaulieu
recognized the features of Jacques Rollet.

From the circumstance of his wife preceding him, the figure was not
observed by De Chaulieu till he was lifting his foot to place it on
the top stair: the sudden shock caused him to miss the step, and without
uttering a sound, he fell back, and never stopped until he reached the
stones at the bottom.

The screams of Natalie brought the _concierge_ from below and the maids
from above, and an attempt was made to raise the unfortunate man from
the ground; but with cries of anguish he besought them to desist.

"Let me," he said, "die here. O God! what a dreadful vengeance is thine!
Natalie, Natalie," he exclaimed to his wife, who was kneeling beside
him, "to win fame, and fortune, and yourself, I committed a dreadful
crime. With lying words I argued away the life of a fellow-creature,
whom, whilst I uttered them, I half believed to be innocent; and now,
when I have attained all I desired and reached the summit of my hopes,
the Almighty has sent him back upon the earth to blast me with the sight.
Three times this day--three times this day! Again! Again! Again!" And
as he spoke, his wild and dilated eyes fixed themselves on one of the
individuals that surrounded him.

"He is delirious," said they.

"No," said the stranger, "what he says is true enough, at least in
part." And, bending over the expiring man, he added, "May Heaven
forgive you, Antoine de Chaulieu! I am no apparition, but the veritable
Jacques Rollet, who was saved by one who well knew my innocence. I may
name him, for he is beyond the reach of the law now: it was Claperon,
the jailer, who, in a fit of jealousy, had himself killed Alphonse de
Bellefonds."

"But--but there were three," gasped Antoine.

"Yes, a miserable idiot, who had been so long in confinement for a
murder that he was forgotten by the authorities, was substituted for
me. At length I obtained, through the assistance of my sister, the
position of _concierge_ in the Hotel Marboeuf, in the Rue Grange
Bateliere. I entered on my new place yesterday evening, and was desired
to awaken the gentleman on the third floor at seven o'clock. When I
entered the room to do so, you were asleep; but before I had time to
speak, you awoke, and I recognized your features in the glass. Knowing
that I could not vindicate my innocence if you chose to seize me, I
fled, and seeing an omnibus starting for St. Denis, I got on it with
a vague idea of getting on to Calais and crossing the Channel to England.
But having only a franc or two in my pocket, or indeed in the world,
I did not know how to procure the means of going forward; and whilst
I was lounging about the place, forming first one plan and then another,
I saw you in the church, and, concluding that you were in pursuit of
me, I thought the best way of eluding your vigilance was to make my
way back to Paris as fast as I could; so I set off instantly, and walked
all the way; but having no money to pay my night's lodging, I came here
to borrow a couple of livres of my sister Claudine, who is a _brodeuse_
and resides _au cinquieme_."

"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the dying man, "that sin is off my soul.
Natalie, dear wife, farewell! Forgive--forgive all."

These were the last words he uttered; the priest, who had been summoned
in haste, held up the cross before his failing sight; a few strong
convulsions shook the poor bruised and mangled frame; and then all was
still.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE BIRTHMARK.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

In the latter part of the last century there lived a man of science,
an eminent proficient in every branch of natural philosophy, who not
long before our story opens had made experience of a spiritual affinity
more attractive than any chemical one. He had left his laboratory to
the care of an assistant, cleared his fine countenance from the
furnace-smoke, washed the stain of acids from his fingers, and
persuaded a beautiful woman to become his wife. In those days, when
the comparatively recent discovery of electricity and other kindred
mysteries of Nature seemed to open paths into the region of miracle,
it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love of woman
in its depth and absorbing energy. The higher intellect, the
imagination, the spirit, and even the heart might all find their
congenial aliment in pursuits which, as some of their ardent votaries
believed, would ascend from one step of powerful intelligence to
another, until the philosopher should lay his hand on the secret of
creative force and perhaps make new worlds for himself. We know not
whether Aylmer possessed this degree of faith in man's ultimate control
over nature. He had devoted himself, however, too unreservedly to
scientific studies ever to be weaned from them by any second passion.
His love for his young wife might prove the stronger of the two; but it
could only be by intertwining itself with his love of science and
uniting the strength of the latter to its own.

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