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The widow could no longer contain herself; not doubting the treason of Bras-Rouge, which she had prophesied, she cried, "I was sure that you sold my son who is at Toulon. There, Judas!" and she spat in his face. "You sell our heads; so be it; they will see handsome corpses-corpses of the real Martials!" "Yes; we will not budge before the scaffold," added Calabash, with savage pride.
As they are condemned to three months' imprisonment when they are caught on the Champs Elysees, and Goualeuse is still on the police lists, she will be arrested, and sent to Saint Lazare, where she will be as well guarded and concealed as in the cellar of Bras-Rouge. 'But, replied La Chouette, 'the Goualeuse will not suffer herself to be arrested; once at the guard-house, she will tell all, she will denounce us.
"Besides, Bras-Rouge and Barbillon have need of us of themselves they can do nothing." "It is true; for while one does the business, Red-Arm must remain outside his tavern to watch, and Barbillon is not strong enough to drag the broker into the cellar alone; this old woman will kick." "Did not La Chouette tell us, laughingly, that she kept the Maitre d'Ecole as a boarder in this cellar?"
"And what of the Schoolmaster, this man so dangerous, so strong, and so ferocious, who was always with La Chouette? one of the old hands of the Lapin Blanc?" "The Schoolmaster?" said Bras-Rouge, feigning astonishment. "Yes, a galley-slave escaped from Rochefort, named Anselme Duresnel, condemned for life. He has disfigured himself so as not to be recognized. Have you no information of him?"
He has consumed all his prison money, and I believe he has none left." "I say, look out; he's broke his ticket-of-leave." "I know it well; but I can't get rid of him. I believe he is after something. Little Tortillard, the son of Bras-Rouge, came here the other night with Barbillon, to look for him. I am afraid he will do some harm to my good lodgers that damnable Robin.
The son of Bras-Rouge, protecting his light with the hollow of his hand, and preceding the old woman, descended slowly a flight of steep stone steps, leading to the entrance of the cellar. Arrived at the foot, Tortillard appeared to hesitate about following La Chouette. "Well! lazybones, go on," said she, turning round.
I know I am accused of this; and it is afflicting, my good M. Narcisse," replied Bras-Rouge, giving to his weasel face an expression of hypocritical sorrow. "But I hope that to-day they will render me justice, and that my good faith will be certainly acknowledged." "We shall see." "How can I be suspected? Have I not given proofs?
The worst of all is, that her old beau, Bras-Rouge, is also arrested. I told you there was a real earthquake in the house." "What! Bras-Rouge also arrested?" "Yes; in his tavern on the Champs-Elysees. All are boxed, even to his son Tortillard, the wicked little cripple.
"Tortillard, call your father!" cried La Chouette, in a breathless, exhausted tone. "Help, help!" "Turn out that old woman! turn her out! We can't hear," said the little cripple, screaming with laughter. "Silence! out with her!" The cries of La Chouette could not reach the upper apartments. The wretch, seeing she had no aid to expect from the son of Bras-Rouge, tried a last effort.
For instance, when a man as cunning, as adroit, as courageous as you are, is for a long time on the tracks of a nest of robbers; follows them from place to place from house to house, with a good bloodhound like your servant Bras-Rouge, and he succeeds in getting them into a trap from which not one can escape, acknowledge, M. Narcisse, that there is great pleasure in it a huntsman's joy without counting the service rendered to justice," added the landlord of the "Bleeding Heart."
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