In the Name of Liberty: A Story of the Terror by Owen Johnson
VIII
THE MOTHER OF LOUISON
Barabant, baffled and incensed at Nicole's desertion, vowed that hewould be through with such a coquette. Where pride begins there is alimit to gratitude, and that limit she had overstepped. He washed hishands of her. So, having decided--irrevocably decided--that Nicole hadremoved herself from any interest of his, and that it was a matter ofindifference to him whether or not he saw her again, he determined tobring her to reason by paying attention to Louison.
Accordingly he contrived to meet her in the passageway the morningafter his unceremonious desertion by Nicole.
"Salutations, Citoyen Barabant," Louison cried. "No luck this morning.Nicole has already left."
"Nicole is out of the question," he retorted.
"What!" Louison opened her eyes in astonishment.
"I say, we have nothing to do with Nicole," he replied coolly. "Whereare you bound?"
"To the flower-market."
"I understand the route is dangerous at this time of day."
"Exceedingly dangerous."
"Then I had better accompany you."
"I think you had."
With this light introduction, they set out through the stirring city,greeted by the slamming of opening shutters, and escaping the clouds ofdust that rose from the brooms of concierges. Louison was the first tospeak.
"Well, comrade, and how goes it with you?"
Barabant affected ignorance.
"What, is it not serious with you and Nicole?"
"Serious is a big word," he answered, resolved not to yield an inch.
"I see, a little interest, but not--not the grand passion, violent andsacred!" She added, with a false sigh, "Poor Nicole, it is serious withher."
"Of course."
"I know it."
"You imagine it."
"I know it by one sign: she is jealous. There you are!" She laughed."She is always jealous of me when it's serious. This time, though,there is no cause. I shall not interfere." She placed a flower to herlips and shot a quick glance up at him. "Though I met you the first."
"Do I count for nothing--or my preference?"
"Nini!" She shook one finger slowly back and forth. "Let us talk ofother things. I might unconsciously break my promise."
The air grew fragrant as they entered a square blotted out with tents.Masses of red and pink, of white and yellow, met the eye through suddenlanes in the petticoat crowd.
"Leave me now to my bargaining," she said. Stopping in the perfumedalley at a tent, where the swinging sign-board bore the name la MereBoboche, she cried tartly: "Good morning, citoyenne. The flowers arevery stale this morning."
A thin, bent woman turned her one good eye, and recognizing a dailyopponent, rose, drawing in her lips and nodding.
"Eh, they are dear this morning, but you have brought your muscadin.You can pay well to-day after the way you cheated me yesterday."
"He is my brother," Louison said coldly, turning over the flowers.
"Oui da!" La Mere Boboche dropped an anxious glance at her counter."Isn't he handsome, though, her muscadin? What arms, what a chest, eh?Solid that!"
Louison, observing that Barabant was uneasy under this chaffing, wasabout to interpose when a shrill voice rose in taunt from the oppositestall.
"What a monster of immorality! Allons, la mere, it's time you forgotsuch things."
Instantly the two enemies let loose at each other floods ofvituperation.
"Listen to the evil tongue!"
"Hark to the old hen, what a cackle!"
"Corrupter of youth!"
"Cheat!"
"Impostor!"
Louison, profiting by the outcry, selected her flowers and escaped thefray.
"Now for some white ones and I am done. Aie, what a jam!"
She took his arm, and as they entered the press of the main alley, onceor twice was swept up against him with great force.
"Pardon; aie, aie, pardon! What a scramble this morning!" She was swungface to face with her protector, her eyes matching his in height. Theyfreed themselves and reached another shop.
"Thanks, citoyen; your arm is strong."
Louison, giving a look of admiration at his limbs, began herbargaining. Barabant, though aware of the artifices, resisted weaklythe direct attack. With a new interest he studied the liberty-capthat flamed in the black, sinewy wave of her hair. She was dressed ina yellow bodice, falling to a short skirt of light-blue fustian. Theankles thus revealed were shapely, and attracted the eye with theirbright bit of red stocking. He began to ask himself if she were notreally beautiful, as he watched the figure, unusually erect, everymotion of which was made with grace and ease.
Louison, observing Barabant's study, from time to time turned her headto send him a smile over her shoulder. Occasionally she frowned and, asthough to discourage his examination, shook her head.
Barabant forgot the curious impression she first had made upon him.He saw only a face with great capabilities of expression: mobile,flexible, obeying the capricious thought. The eyes more than everarrested his attention and baffled it. They opened to him a way; butwhen he looked it was as though penetrating into a vast darkness.
"Why do you look at me so?"
Barabant recovered to find Louison at his elbow, her purchase made,regarding him with amusement.
"You mystify me," he said frankly. "There is something about you Icannot place. What is it?"
She shook her head.
"Don't. Besides--Nicole."
"You have been very solicitous to leave me to Nicole," he said, with asmile. "You choose excellent means to gain your end."
He had expected to catch her confused and blushing. Instead, shediscovered a row of white teeth, and nodding her head, said:
"Eh, you are not so slow after all." Before he could reply, sheexclaimed, "Hello, there's mama!"
She indicated a wig-maker's, where, on the door-step, a woman of aboutthirty-five or-six was sitting, carding a wig. Despite the differenceof ages, Barabant noticed a similarity in the color of the hair and inthe span of the eyebrows.
"Good morning, mother!"
The woman raised her head, but as her glance reached them started back,as though from a feeling of repulsion, and immediately dropped her head.
"Thank you, I am well," Louison cried mockingly. "Good day, mother, wecan't stop." She turned in perfect good humor to Barabant. "There's amodel mother for you; no trouble at all!"
"And your father?" Barabant inquired, as much struck at her philosophicattitude as at the maternal indifference.
"There's the trouble, voila." She held her thumb-nail against her teethand clicked it. "She has never been willing to tell me his name." Sheshrugged her shoulders. "That's stupid, isn't it? Why not?"
Barabant asked her curiously how long they had been parted.
"Since I was five years old. I only remember some dreadful scene athome,--I don't know what,--and all at once her manner changed to me.The next day she drove me out."
"At five?"
"Nothing extraordinary in that," Louison answered, surprised at hisastonishment. "Ah, you do not know our Paris. She married soon after;perhaps it was for that, but I think not." She was silent a moment. "Ithink she discovered something about my father: that he was an abbe oran aristocrat."
"And you?"
"I begged. I found a corner in the cellar at la Mere Corniche's. Youhave never been in that pleasant abode?" She made a wry face. "Thereare rats; you don't get much sleep. Then it smells bad and it is black;though of course at night that makes no difference. I did not staythere long."
"What did you do?"
"Oh, I passed from corner to corner." She stopped in the square andseated herself on a bench. She emptied her flowers and held them out toBarabant. "Hold these while I make my cockades. I passed from family tofamily. I was well treated. They gave me a crust or a bone, and let mecrawl into a corner at night. Of course I worked. It was interest
"What a life! It must have been rough at times?" Barabant asked thequestion not without a mixture of curiosity in his pity.
"Yes, at first." She returned thoughtfully over her history. "But Istabbed a fellow who was annoying me. He lived, but the result was justas good. They are all afraid of my temper, and there is no protectionlike that." She rose, having finished the cockades, and faced him witha smile in which struggled a temptation. "You know I have a temper; oh,but a temper--a temper to make your hair stand on end!"
"I can believe it," Barabant said, studying her.
"Would you like to see?" she asked mischievously.
Without waiting a reply, she halted, caught her breath a little, anddrew back. The mouth dropped open, the eyes fixed themselves. Then bythe sheer power of her will she banished the blood from her face. Thelips closed in a thin, cruel line, the nostrils dilated, while in theeyes glowed such malignant, tigerish hatred that Barabant, with anoath, sprang backward, placing the bench between them.
Immediately a low laugh rang out. The features changed from thehideousness of wrath to a look of amusement, and Louison, again erect,sidled up to him with a smile lurking in the corners of her lips.
"Did I frighten you? I like to do that." Her face had regained itscomposure, but it was a cold constraint; she was still pale from theforce of the emotion. "It is so amusing to frighten people. You see, Iam able to protect myself."
"That I can believe," Barabant cried, finding his voice. "It isunpleasant!"
"Don't be frightened; I reserve that for my enemies. I know how toplease, also."
She laughed, amused at his horror.
"And now I must get to selling my cockades. You can return with me onlyas far as the Seine. A companion such as you, you understand, wouldnever do; it would not be professional."
Arranging her cockades in the basket, which she transferred to her arm,she retraced her steps.
"Ah, there's mama again," she exclaimed, as they neared thewig-maker's. "Let's see if she'll greet us more cordially."
Suddenly she stopped and, with a gleam of mischief, caught his arm.
"I have an idea. Follow me. I'll make her speak."
They approached the woman on the step, who, after the first quickglance, abased her head without further recognition.
"Good morning, mother."
The woman continued silently to card the wig.
"Eh, Mother Baudrier! It is I, your daughter--Louison. You won'tanswer? Good-by, then." Louison turned as though to leave, callingback: "By the way, I've discovered my father."
The woman, with a cry, staggered to her feet, and, choking forutterance, fell back against the house; while in her eyes was the wildlight of abject terror. Then perceiving by Louison's mocking laugh thatit was a trick, without a word she gained the doorway and tottered intothe house.
Louison, amazed and perplexed, remained fastened to the ground.
"Bon Dieu," she said at last, thoughtfully, "extraordinary! Who couldhe have been?"
Barabant echoed the question, while the memory of the scene sank intohis mind, and with it a silent resolve to investigate the mysteryfurther.