Then the news spread from mouth to mouth as rapidly as the waves of our river during an inundation. The curious assembled in the public square, where the servants of M. le Marquis, who never were bothered with too much work, were the first to appear. They talked, they gesticulated, said heaps of foolish things, mixed with some words of common sense. Our master learned from public rumor that young Perdreau was suspected, and that he had disappeared. It can be easily understood that he was indignant at such a calumny, and generously offered to guarantee his innocence. Mademoiselle wept, Dame Berthe imitated her, and these two excellent ladies wished immediately to rush off to Jeannette, to console her in this great trial. But poor mademoiselle had to be content with her benevolent wishes, for neither coachman nor footman, nor even a simple groom, could be found; all had run off to the wood of Montreux in search of news.
As they were obliged to pass Muiceron to reach the wood, you may well imagine that more than one of the hurried crowd lagged behind to talk to the Ragauds, and thus they, in their turn, heard of the terrible affair. The consternation was unparalleled, for there, as at the château, no one would believe the wicked rumors afloat concerning Isidore. Jeannette, who cared but little for her intended husband, and had desired to be freed from her engagement, was indignant as soon as she thought he was in trouble, and defended him warmly, which made people believe she loved him devotedly. The truth was, this little creature's soul was generous and high-strung, and, like all such natures, she defended him, whom she willingly would have sent off the night before, only because she thought he was unfortunate.
But days passed, and each one brought new and overwhelming proofs of the truth. The police searched the neighborhood in vain, and soon all hope of seeing Isidore reappear (which would have pleaded in his justification) faded from the eyes of those who wished to defend him. M. le Marquis, after having conversed with M. Aubry, Michou, and the judicial authorities, was overcome with grief, and acknowledged that he could not conscientiously mix himself up with the affair. As for old Perdreau, he never recovered his consciousness, and died shortly after. They placed the seals on his house, where, later, they discovered the documents and correspondence which revealed his wicked life; and now you can judge if there was anything to gossip about in a commune as peaceable and tranquil as ours. In the memory of man there had never been such a terrible event, and nothing will ever happen again approaching to it, I devoutly wish.
Mademoiselle, who was not very well, was seriously injured by all this trouble; and as M. le Marquis loved her dearly, and, besides, heard the rumbling of the revolution in the capital which he had so long ardently desired, packed up, and was soon off, bag and baggage, for Paris, where he hoped to distract poor mademoiselle, and drive off mournful recollections.
TO BE CONTINUED.
THE LITTLE CHAPEL.
It stands within a narrow, quiet street,
And well-worn steps ascend at either side,
Where, all day long till twilight, pious feet
Softly and silently forsake the tide
Of feverish life, to rest a little space
Within its calm, and gaze upon his face.
The dead Christ, lying on his Mother's breast,
May not uplift those lifeless, closed eyes:
O helplessness divine! O sweet behest!
Rigid and white beneath the cross he lies,
That here, before this holy altar-stone,
Our miserable pride be overthrown.