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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of
Paris V2, by Eugene Sue #14 in our series by
Eugene Sue
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**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla
Electronic Texts**
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Title: The Mysteries of Paris V2Author: Eugene Sue
Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6602] [Yes,
we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on December 30, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Produced by Beth L. Constantine, Juliet
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The surprised lapidary rose and opened the door.
Two men entered the garret. One of them was tall
and thin, with a face mean and pimpled,
surrounded by thick, grayish whiskers; he held in
his hand a stout loaded cane, and wore a
shapeless hat and a large green greatcoat,
covered with mud, and buttoned close up to the
neck; the black velvet collar, much worn, exposed
to view his long, bare, red throat, which resembled
a vulture's. This man was one Malicorne. The other
was short and thick-set, his countenance equally
mean, and his hair red. He was dressed with an
attempt at finery, quite ridiculous. Bright studs
fastened the front of his shirt, whose cleanliness
was more than doubtful; a long gold chain, passed
across his second-hand plaid stuff waistcoat, was
left to view by a velveteen jacket, of a yellowish-
gray color. This man's name was Bourdin.
"Oh, what a stink of misery and death is here!" said
Malicorne, stopping at the threshold.
"The fact is, it does not smell of musk. What
habits!" repeated Bourdin, turning up his nose in
disgust and disdain. He then advanced toward the
artisan, who looked at him with mingled surprise
and indignation.Through the half-open door was seen Hoppy's evil,
watchful, and cunning face, who, having followed
the strangers, unknown to them, was narrowly
watching and listening attentively.
"What do you want?" challenged the lapidary,
roughly, disgusted with the rudeness of the two
"Jerome Morel," responded Bourdin.
"I am he."
"Working jeweler?"
"The same."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Once more, I am that person; you annoy me—
what do you want? Explain, or leave the room!"
"Oh, you are coming the bounce, are you? I say,
Malicorne," said this man, turning toward his
companion, "there is no catch here; it is not like the
haul at Viscount de Saint-Remy's."
"No, but when there is much, the door is shut
against you, as we found in the Rue de—-. The
bird had watched the net, and would not be taken;
while such vermin as these stick to their cribs like a
snail to his shell."
"It is my opinion that they only require to be jugged
to cram themselves.""Still the costs will be more than ever the creditor
wolf will get here; however, that's his look-out."
"Hold!" said Morel with indignation; "if you were not
drunk, as you surely are, I should be very angry.
Instantly leave my room!"
"How very sharp you are this morning, old
lopsides!" cried Malicorne, insultingly alluding to the
deformity in the lapidary's person.
"Do you hear, Malicorne?—he has the impudence
to call this place a room—a hole where I would not
put my dog."
"For heaven's sake!" cried Madeleine, so alarmed,
that till then she had not spoken a word, "call for
assistance; perhaps they are thieves. Take care of
the diamonds!"
In truth, seeing these two strangers, of doubtful
appearance, approach nearer and nearer to the
bench on which lay the jewels, Morel, fearing some
evil intention, ran forward, and with both hands
covered the precious stones.
Hoppy, always on the watch, and listening, hearing
Madeleine's words, and seeing the movement of
the artisan, said to himself; "They say he is a cutter
of false stones; if so, he would not fear their being
stolen. Just as well to know that. I take! Then
again, Mother Mathieu, who comes here so often,
is a dealer in real; and those she has in her casket
are real diamonds. I will put the Owl up to this!"added Red Arm's son.
"If you do not leave this room instantly, I will call
the police," said Morel.
The children, frightened at this scene, began to
cry, while the old idiot started upright in her bed.
"If any one has a right to call the police, we're the
men. Do you hear, Mister Sideways?" said
"You'll see the police lend a hand to take you, if
you don't go quietly," added Malicorne; "we have
not the magistrate with us, it is true; but if you wish
to enjoy his society, you shall have a taste of one,
just out of his bed, quite hot and heavy. Bourdin
will go and fetch him."
"To prison! Me?" cried the astounded Morel.
"Yes, to Clichy."
"To Clichy!" repeated the artisan, with a wild look.
"Is he hard of hearing?" asked Malicorne.
"Well, then, to the debtor's prison, if you like that
better," explained Bourdin.
"You—you—are—can it be?—the lawyer! Oh, my
The artisan, pale as death, fell back on his stool,
unable to utter another word."We are the officers who are to take you, if we can;
do you understand now, old fellow?"
"Morel, it is for the bill in the hands of Louise's
master! We are all lost!" said Madeleine, with a
sorrowful voice.
"This is the warrant," said Malicorne, taking from
his dirty pocket-book a stamped writ.
After having mumbled over in the usual way a part
of this document, in a voice hardly intelligible, he
pronounced distinctly the last words, unfortunately
too well understood by the artisan.—
"As final judgment, the court condemns Jerome
Morel to pay to Pierre Petit-Jean,
merchant,[Footnote: The crafty notary incompetent
to proceed in his own name, had got from the
unfortunate Morel a blank acceptance, and had
introduced a third party's name.] by all his goods,
and even with his body, the sum of thirteen
hundred francs, with lawful interest, dated from the
day of the protest; and he is besides condemned
to pay all other and extra costs. Given and judged
at Paris, the 30th of September," etc., etc.
"And Louise, then? Louise!" cried Morel, almost
distracted, without appearing to have heard what
had just been read. "Where is she? She must have
left the lawyer, since he sends me to prison.
Louise! my child! what has become of her?"
"Who is this Louise?" said Bourdin."Let him alone," said Malicorne. "Don't you see
he's coming the artful?" Then, approaching Morel,
he added: "Come, to the right-about-face, march; I
want to breathe the air, I am poisoned here!"
"Morel, do not go!" said Madeleine, wildly. "Kill
them, the thieves! Oh, you are a coward! You will
let them take you, and abandon us to our fate."
"Act as though you were at home, madame," said
Bourdin, sarcastically; "but if your husband lifts his
hand against me, I will give him something to
remember it by," continued he, twisting his loaded
stick round and round.
Occupied solely with thoughts of Louise, Morel
heard nothing of what was said. Suddenly, an
expression of bitter joy lighting up his face, he cried
out, "Louise has quitted the lawyer's house. I shall
go to prison with a light heart!" But then, glancing
round him, he exclaimed, "But my wife, and her
mother, and my poor children—who will support
them? They will not trust me with stones to cut in
prison; for it will be supposed that my own
misconduct has sent me there. Does this lawyer
desire the death of all of us?"
"Once for all, let us be off!" said Bourdin; "I am sick
of all this.
Come, dress yourself and march."
"My good gentleman, forgive what I have just said
to you," cried Madeleine, still in bed; "you will not
have the cruelty to take away Morel; what do you
think will become of me, with my five children, and

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