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your lawyers live……your politicians……your intriguers……your men of the
Exchange？'
He kept his small smooth hand in constant requisition； as if it were a
witness to his gentility that had often done him good service before。
'Two years ago I came to Marseilles。 I admit that I was poor； I had been
ill。 When your lawyers； your politicians； your intriguers； your men of
the Exchange fall ill； and have not scraped money together； they bee
poor。 I put up at the Cross of Gold；……kept then by Monsieur Henri
Barronneau……sixty…five at least； and in a failing state of health。 I had
lived in the house some four months when Monsieur Henri Barronneau had
the misfortune to die；……at any rate； not a rare misfortune； that。 It
happens without any aid of mine； pretty often。'
John Baptist having smoked his cigarette down to his fingers' ends；
Monsieur Rigaud had the magnanimity to throw him another。 He lighted the
second at the ashes of the first； and smoked on； looking sideways at his
panion； who； preoccupied with his own case； hardly looked at him。
'Monsieur Barronneau left a widow。 She was two…and…twenty。 She had
gained a reputation for beauty； and （which is often another thing） was
beautiful。 I continued to live at the Cross of Gold。 I married Madame
Barronneau。 It is not for me to say whether there was any great
disparity in such a match。 Here I stand； with the contamination of a
jail upon me； but it is possible that you may think me better suited to
her than her former husband was。'
He had a certain air of being a handsome man……which he was not； and
a certain air of being a well…bred man……which he was not。 It was mere
swagger and challenge； but in this particular； as in many others；
blustering assertion goes for proof； half over the world。
'Be it as it may； Madame Barronneau approved of me。 That is not to
prejudice me； I hope？'
His eye happening to light upon John Baptist with this inquiry； that
little man briskly shook his head in the negative； and repeated in an
argumentative tone under his breath； altro； altro； altro； altro……an
infinite number of times。
'Now came the difficulties of our position。 I am proud。 I say nothing
in defence of pride； but I am proud。 It is also my character to govern。
I can't submit； I must govern。 Unfortunately； the property of Madame
Rigaud was settled upon herself。 Such was the insane act of her late
husband。 More unfortunately still； she had relations。 When a wife's
relations interpose against a husband who is a gentleman； who is proud；
and who must govern； the consequences are inimical to peace。 There
was yet another source of difference between us。 Madame Rigaud was
unfortunately a little vulgar。 I sought to improve her manners and
ameliorate her general tone； she （supported in this likewise by her
relations） resented my endeavours。 Quarrels began to arise between us；
and； propagated and exaggerated by the slanders of the relations of
Madame Rigaud； to bee notorious to the neighbours。 It has been said
that I treated Madame Rigaud with cruelty。 I may have been seen to slap
her face……nothing more。 I have a light hand； and if I have been seen
apparently to correct Madame Rigaud in that manner； I have done it
almost playfully。'
If the playfulness of Monsieur Rigaud were at all expressed by his smile
at this point； the relations of Madame Rigaud might have said that
they would have much preferred his correcting that unfortunate woman
seriously。
'I am sensitive and brave。 I do not advance it as a merit to be
sensitive and brave； but it is my character。 If the male relations of
Madame Rigaud had put themselves forward openly； I should have known how
to deal with them。 They knew that； and their machinations were conducted
in secret； consequently； Madame Rigaud and I were brought into frequent
and unfortunate collision。 Even when I wanted any little sum of money
for my personal expenses； I could not obtain it without collision……and
I； too； a man whose character it is to govern！ One night； Madame Rigaud
and myself were walking amicably……I may say like lovers……on a height
overhanging the sea。 An evil star occasioned Madame Rigaud to advert to
her relations； I reasoned with her on that subject； and remonstrated on
the want of duty and devotion manifested in her allowing herself to be
influenced by their jealous animosity towards her husband。 Madame Rigaud
retorted； I retorted； Madame Rigaud grew warm； I grew warm； and provoked
her。 I admit it。 Frankness is a part of my character。 At length； Madame
Rigaud； in an access of fury that I must ever deplore； threw herself
upon me with screams of passion （no doubt those that were overheard
at some distance）； tore my clothes； tore my hair； lacerated my hands；
trampled and trod the dust； and finally leaped over； dashing herself to
death upon the rocks below。 Such is the train of incidents which
malice has perverted into my endeavouring to force from Madame Rigaud
a relinquishment of her rights； and； on her persistence in a refusal to
make the concession I required； struggling with her……assassinating her！'
He stepped aside to the ledge where the vine leaves yet lay strewn
about； collected two or three； and stood wiping his hands upon them；
with his back to the light。
'Well；' he demanded after a silence； 'have you nothing to say to all
that？'
'It's ugly；' returned the little man； who had risen； and was brightening
his knife upon his shoe； as he leaned an arm against the wall。
'What do you mean？' John Baptist polished his knife in silence。
'Do you mean that I have not represented the case correctly？'
'Al…tro！' returned John Baptist。 The word was an apology now； and stood
for 'Oh； by no means！'
'What then？'
'Presidents and tribunals are so prejudiced。'
'Well；' cried the other； uneasily flinging the end of his cloak over his
shoulder with an oath； 'let them do their worst！'
'Truly I think they will；' murmured John Baptist to himself； as he bent
his head to put his knife in his sash。
Nothing more was said on either side； though they both began walking
to and fro； and necessarily crossed at every turn。 Monsieur Rigaud
sometimes stopped； as if he were going to put his case in a new light；
or make some irate remonstrance； but Signor Cavalletto continuing to
go slowly to and fro at a grotesque kind of jog…trot pace with his eyes
turned downward； nothing came of these inclinings。
By…and…by the noise of the key in the lock arrested them both。 The sound
of voices succeeded； and the tread of feet。 The door clashed； the voices
and the feet came on； and the prison…keeper slowly ascended the stairs；
followed by a guard of soldiers。
'Now； Monsieur Rigaud；' said he； pausing for a moment at the grate； with
his keys in his hands； 'have the goodness to e out。'
'I am to depart in state； I see？' 'Why； unless you did；' returned the
jailer； 'you might depart in so many pieces that it would be difficult
to get you together again。 There's a crowd； Monsieur Rigaud； and it
doesn't love you。'
He passed on out of sight； and unlocked and unbarred a low door in the
corner of the chamber。 'Now；' said he； as he opened it and appeared
within； 'e out。'
There is no sort of whiteness in all the hues under the sun at all like
the whiteness of Monsieur Rigaud's face as it was then。 Neither is there
any expression of the human countenance at all like that expression in
every little line of which the frightened heart is seen to beat。 Both
are conventionally pared with death； but the difference is the whole
deep gulf between the struggle done； and the fight at its most desperate
extremity。
He lighted another of his paper cigars at his panion's； put it
tightly between his teeth； covered his head with a soft slouched hat；
threw the end of his cloak over his shoulder again； and walked out into
the side gallery on which the door opened； without taking any further
notice of Signor Cavalletto。 As to that little man himself； his whole
attention had bee absorbed in getting near the door and looking out
at it。 Precisely as a beast might approach the opened gate of his den
and eye the freedom beyond； he passed those few moments in watching and
peering； until the door was closed upon him。
There was an officer in mand of the soldiers； a stout； serviceable；
profoundly calm man； with his drawn sword in his hand； smoking a cigar。
He very briefly directed the placing of Monsieur Rigaud in the midst of
the party； put himself with consummate indifference at their head； gave
the word 'march！' and so they all went jingling down the staircase。 The
door clashed……the key turned……and a ray of unusual light； and a breath
of unusual air； seemed to have passed through the jail； vanishing in a
tiny wreath of smoke from the cigar。
Still； in his captivity； like a lower animal……like some impatient ape；
or roused bear of the smaller species……the prisoner； now left solitary；
had jumped upon the ledge； to lose no glimpse of this departure。 As he
yet stood clasping the grate with both hands； an uproar broke upon his
hearing； yells； shrieks； oaths； threats； execrations； all prehended
in it； though （as in a storm） nothing but a raging swell of sound
distinctly heard。
Excited