CHAPTER XLVI. A GLANCE AT THE ‘PREFECTURE DE POLICE’
Poor Mahon’s melancholy story made a deep impression upon me, and I returned to Paris execrating the whole race of spies and mouchards, and despising, with a most hearty contempt, a Government compelled to use such agencies for its existence. It seemed to me so utterly impossible to escape the snares of a system so artfully interwoven, and so vain to rely on innocence as a protection, that I felt a kind of reckless hardihood as to whatever might betide me, and rode into the cour of the Préfecture with a bold indifference as to my fate that I have often wondered at since.
The horse on which I was mounted was immediately recognised as I entered; and the obsequious salutations that met me showed that I was regarded as one of the trusty followers of the Minister; and in this capacity was I ushered into a large waiting-room, where a considerable number of persons were assembled, whose air and appearance, now that necessity for disguise was over, unmistakably pronounced them to be spies of the police. Some, indeed, were occupied in taking off their false whiskers and moustaches; others were removing shades from their eyes; and one was carefully opening what had been the hump on his back in search of a paper he was anxious to discover.
I had very little difficulty in ascertaining that these were all the very lowest order of mouchards, whose sphere of duty rarely led beyond the Faubourgs or the Batignolles, and indeed soon saw that my own appearance amongst them led to no little surprise and astonishment.
‘You are looking for Nicquard, monsieur?’ said one, ‘but he has not come yet.’
‘No; monsieur wants to see Boule-de-Fer,’ said another.
‘Here’s José can fetch him,’ cried a third.
‘He ‘ll have to carry him, then,’ growled out another, ‘for I saw him in the Morgue this morning!’ ‘What! dead?’ exclaimed several together.
‘As dead as four stabs in the heart and lungs can make a man! He must have been meddling where he had no business, for there was a piece of a lace ruffle found in his fingers.’
‘Ah, voilà!, cried another, ‘that comes of mixing in high society.’
I did not wait for the discussion that followed, but stole quietly away as the disputants were waxing warm. Instead of turning into the cour again, however, I passed out into a corridor, at the end of which was a door of green cloth. Pushing open this, I found myself in a chamber, where a single clerk was writing at a table.
‘You’re late to-day, and he’s not in a good-humour,’ said he, scarcely looking up from his paper. ‘Go in!’
Resolving to see my adventure to the end, I asked no further questions, but passed on to the room beyond. A person who stood within the doorway withdrew as I entered, and I found myself standing face to face with the Marquis de Maurepas, or, to speak more properly, the Minister Fouché. He was standing at the fireplace as I came in, reading a newspaper, but no sooner had he caught sight of me than he laid it down, and, with his hands crossed behind his back, continued steadily staring at me.
‘Diable! exclaimed he, at last, ‘how came you here?’ ‘Nothing more naturally, sir, than from the wish to restore what you were so good as to lend me, and express my sincere gratitude for a most hospitable reception.’ ‘But who admitted you?’
‘I fancy your saddle-cloth was my introduction, sir, for it was speedily recognised. Gesler’s cap was never held in greater honour.’
‘You are a very courageous young gentleman, I must say—very courageous, indeed,’ said he, with a sardonic grin that was anything but encouraging.
‘The better chance that I may find favour with Monsieur de Fouché,’ replied I.
‘That remains to be seen, sir,’ said he, seating himself in his chair, and motioning me to a spot in front of it. ‘Who are you?’
‘A lieutenant of the Ninth Hussars, sir; by name Maurice Tiernay.’
‘I don’t care for that,’ said he impatiently; ‘what’s your occupation?—how do you live?—with whom do you associate?’
‘I have neither means nor associates. I have been liberated from the Temple but a few days back; and what is to be my future, and where, are facts of which I know as little as does Monsieur de Fouché of my past history.’
‘It would seem that every adventurer, every fellow destitute of home, family, fortune, and position, thinks that his natural refuge lies in this Ministry, and that I must be his guardian.’
‘I never thought so, sir.’
‘Then why are you here? What other than personal reasons procures me the honour of this visit?’
‘As Monsieur de Fouché will not believe in my sense of gratitude, perhaps he may put some faith in my curiosity, and excuse the natural anxiety I feel to know if Monsieur de Maurepas has really benefited by the pleasure of my society.’
‘Hardi, monsieur, bien hardi,’ said the minister, with a peculiar expression of irony about the mouth that made me almost shudder. He rang a little hand-bell as he spoke, and a servant made his appearance.
‘You have forgotten to leave me my snuff-box, Geoffroy,’ said he mildly to the valet, who at once left the room, and speedily returned with a magnificently chased gold box, on which the initials of the First Consul were embossed in diamonds.
‘Arrange those papers, and place those books on the shelves,’ said the Minister. And then turning to me, as if resuming a previous conversation, went on—
‘As to that memoir of which we were speaking t’ other night, monsieur, it would be exceedingly interesting just now; and I have no doubt that you will see the propriety of confiding to me what you already promised to Monsieur de Maurepas.—That will do, Geoffroy; leave us.’
The servant retired, and we were once more alone.
‘I possess no secrets, sir, worthy the notice of the Minister of Police,’ said I boldly.
‘Of that I may presume to be the better judge,’ said Fouché calmly. ‘But waiving this question, there is another of some importance. You have, partly by accident, partly by a boldness not devoid of peril, obtained some little insight into the habits and details of this Ministry; at least, you have seen enough to suspect more, and misrepresent what you cannot comprehend. Now, sir, there is an almost universal custom in all secret societies of making those who intrude surreptitiously within their limits to take every oath and pledge of that society, and to assume every responsibility that attaches to its voluntary members——’
‘Excuse my interrupting you, sir; but my intrusion was purely involuntary; I was made the dupe of a police spy.’
‘Having ascertained which,’ resumed he coldly, ‘your wisest policy would have been to have kept the whole incident for yourself alone, and neither have uttered one syllable about it, nor ventured to come here, as you have done, to display what you fancy to be your power over the Minister of Police. You are a very young man, and the lesson may possibly be of service to you; and never forget that to attempt a contest of address with those whose habits have taught them every wile and subtlety of their fellow-men will always be a failure. This Ministry would be a sorry engine of government if men of your stamp could outwit it.’
I stood abashed and confused under a rebuke which at the same time I felt to be but half deserved.
‘Do you understand Spanish?’ asked he suddenly.
‘No, sir, not a word.’
‘I’m sorry for it; you should learn that language without loss of time. Leave your address with my secretary, and call here by Monday or Tuesday next.’
‘If I may presume so far, sir,’ said I, with a great effort to seem collected, ‘I would infer that your intention is to employ me in some capacity or other. It is, therefore, better I should say at once, I have neither the ability nor the desire for such occupation. I have always been a soldier. Whatever reverses of fortune I may meet with, I would wish still to continue in the same career. At all events, I could never become a—a—’
‘Spy. Say the word out; its meaning conveys nothing offensive to my ears, young man. I may grieve over the corruption that requires such a system, but I do not confound the remedy with the disease.’
‘My sentiments are different, sir,’ said I resolutely, as I moved towards the door. ‘I have the honour to wish you a good-morning.’
‘Stay a moment, Tiernay,’ said he, looking for something amongst his papers; ‘there are, probably, situations where all your scruples could find accommodation, and even be serviceable, too.’
‘I would rather not place them in peril, Monsieur le Ministre.’
‘There are people in this city of Paris who would not despise my protection, young man—some of them to the full as well supplied with the gifts of fortune as Monsieur Tiernay.’
‘And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it!’ said I sarcastically; for every moment now rendered me more courageous.
‘And, doubtless, more fitted to deserve it,’ repeated he after me, with a wave of the hand in token of adieu.
I bowed respectfully, and was retiring, when he called out in a low and gentle voice—
‘Before you go, Monsieur de Tiernay, I will thank you to restore my snuff-box.’
‘Your snuff-box, sir?’ cried I indignantly; ‘what do I know of it?’
‘In a moment of inadvertence, you may, probably, have placed it in your pocket,’ said he, smiling; ‘do me the favour to search there.’
‘This is unnecessary insult, sir,’ said I fiercely; ‘and you forget that I am a French officer!’
‘It is of more consequence that you should remember it,’ said he calmly. ‘And now, sir, do as I have told you.’
‘It is well, sir, that this scene has no witness,’ said I, boiling over with passion, ‘or, by Heaven, all the dignity of your station should not save you.’
‘Your observation is most just,’ said he, with the same coolness. ‘It is as well that we are quite alone; and for this reason I beg to repeat my request. If you persist in a refusal, and force me to ring that bell——’
‘You would not dare to offer me such an indignity,’ said I, trembling with rage.
‘You leave me no alternative, sir,’ said he, rising, and taking the hell in his hand. ‘My honour is also engaged in this question. I have preferred a charge—’
‘You have,’ cried I, interrupting, ‘and for whose falsehood I am resolved to hold you responsible.’
‘To prove which you must show your innocence.’
‘There, then—there are my pockets; here are the few things I possess. This is my pocket-book—my purse. Oh, heavens, what is this?’ cried I, as I drew forth the gold box, along with the other contents of my pocket; and then staggering back, I fell, overwhelmed with shame and sickness, against the wall. For some seconds I neither saw nor heard anything; a vague sense of ineffable disgrace—of some ignominy that made life a misery, was over me, and I closed my eyes with the wish never to open them more.’
‘The box has a peculiar value in my eyes, sir,’ said he—‘it was a present from the First Consul—otherwise I might have hesitated——’
‘Oh, sir, you cannot, you dare not, suppose me guilty of a theft. You seem bent on being my ruin; but, for mercy’s sake, let your hatred of me take some other shape than this. Involve me in what snares, what conspiracies you will, give me what share you please in any guilt, but spare me the degradation of such a shame!’
He seemed to enjoy the torments I was suffering, and actually revel in the contemplation of my misery; for he never spoke a word, but continued steadily to stare me in the face.
‘Sit down here, monsieur,’ said he, at length, while he pointed to a chair near him; ‘I wish to say a few words to you, in all seriousness, and in good faith also.’
I seated myself, and he went on.
‘The events of the last two days must have made such an impression on your mind that even the most remarkable incidents of your life could not compete with. You fancied yourself a great discoverer, and that, by the happy conjuncture of intelligence and accident, you had actually fathomed the depths of that wonderful system of police, which, more powerful than armies or councils, is the real government of France! I will not stop now to convince you that you have not wandered out of the very shallowest channels of this system. It is enough that you have been admitted to an audience with me, to suggest an opposite conviction, and give to your recital, when you repeat the tale, a species of importance. Now, sir, my counsel to you is, never to repeat it; and for this reason: nobody possessed of common powers of judgment will ever believe you! not one, sir! No one would ever believe that Monsieur Fouché had made so grave a mistake, no more than he would believe that a man of good name and birth, a French officer, could have stolen a snuff-box. You see, Monsieur de Tiernay, that I acquit you of this shameful act. Imitate my generosity, sir, and forget all that you have witnessed since Tuesday last. I have given you good advice, sir; if I find that you profit by it, we may see more of each other.’
Scarcely appreciating the force of his parable, and thinking of nothing save the vindication of my honour, I muttered a few unmeaning words, and withdrew, glad to escape a presence which had assumed, to my terrified senses, all the diabolical subtlety of Satanic influence. Trusting that no future accident of my life should ever bring me within such precincts, I hurried from the place as though it were contaminated and plague-stricken.