WE HAVE SEEN how quietly Mademoiselle Danglars and Mademoiselle d'Armilly accomplished their transformation and flight; the fact being that every one was too much occupied in his or her own affairs to think of theirs. We will leave the banker contemplating the enormous magnitude of his debt before the phantom of bankruptcy, and follow the baroness, who after being momentarily crushed under the weight of the blow which had struck her, had gone to seek her usual adviser, Lucien Debray. The baroness had looked forward to this marriage as a means of ridding her of a guardianship which, over a girl of Eugénie's character, could not fail to be rather a troublesome undertaking; for in the tacit relations which maintain the bond of family union, the mother, to maintain her ascendancy over her daughter, must never fail to be a model of wisdom and a type of perfection.
Now, Madame Danglars feared Eugénie's sagacity and the influence of Mademoiselle d'Armilly; she had frequently observed the contemptuous expression with which her daughter looked upon Debray,--an expression which seemed to imply that she understood all her mother's amorous and pecuniary relationships with the intimate secretary; moreover, she saw that Eugénie detested Debray,--not only because he was a source of dissension and scandal under the paternal roof, but because she had at once classed him in that catalogue of bipeds whom Plato endeavors to withdraw from the appellation of men, and whom Diogenes designated as animals upon two legs without feathers.
Unfortunately, in this world of ours, each person views things through a certain medium, and so is prevented from seeing in the same light as others, and Madame Danglars, therefore, very much regretted that the marriage of Eugénie had not taken place, not only because the match was good, and likely to insure the happiness of her child, but because it would also set her at liberty. She ran therefore to Debray, who, after having like the rest of Paris witnessed the contract scene and the scandal attending it, had retired in haste to his club, where he was chatting with some friends upon the events which served as a subject of conversation for three-fourths of that city known as the capital of the world.
At the precise time when Madame Danglars, dressed in black and concealed in a long veil, was ascending the stairs leading to Debray's apartments,--notwithstanding the assurances of the concièrge that the young man was not at home,--Debray was occupied in repelling the insinuations of a friend, who tried to persuade him that after the terrible scene which had just taken place he ought, as a friend of the family, to marry Mademoiselle Danglars and her two millions. Debray did not defend himself very warmly, for the idea had sometimes crossed his mind; still, when he recollected the independent, proud spirit of Eugénie, he positively rejected it as utterly impossible, though the same thought again continually recurred and found a resting-place in his heart. Tea, play, and the conversation, which had become interesting during the discussion of such serious affairs, lasted till one o'clock in the morning.
Meanwhile Madame Danglars, veiled and uneasy, awaited the return of Debray in the little green room, seated between two baskets of flowers, which she had that morning sent, and which, it must be confessed, Debray had himself arranged and watered with so much care that his absence was half excused in the eyes of the poor woman.
At twenty minutes of twelve, Madame Danglars, tired of waiting, returned home. Women of a certain grade are like prosperous grisettes in one respect, they seldom return home after twelve o'clock. The baroness returned to the hotel with as much caution as Eugénie used in leaving it; she ran lightly up-stairs, and with an aching heart entered her apartment, contiguous, as we know, to that of Eugénie. She was fearful of exciting any remark, and believed firmly in her daughter's innocence and fidelity to the paternal roof. She listened at Eugénie's door, and hearing no sound tried to enter, but the bolts were in place. Madame Danglars then concluded that the young girl had been overcome with the terrible excitement of the evening, and had gone to bed and to sleep. She called the maid and questioned her.
"Mademoiselle Eugénie," said the maid, "retired to her apartment with Mademoiselle d'Armilly; they then took tea together, after which they desired me to leave, saying that they needed me no longer." Since then the maid had been below, and like every one else she thought the young ladies were in their own room; Madame Danglars, therefore, went to bed without a shadow of suspicion, and began to muse over the recent events. In proportion as her memory became clearer, the occurrences of the evening were revealed in their true light; what she had taken for confusion was a tumult; what she had regarded as something distressing, was in reality a disgrace. And then the baroness remembered that she had felt no pity for poor Mercédès, who had been afflicted with as severe a blow through her husband and son.
"Eugénie," she said to herself, "is lost, and so are we. The affair, as it will be reported, will cover us with shame; for in a society such as ours satire inflicts a painful and incurable wound. How fortunate that Eugénie is possessed of that strange character which has so often made me tremble！" And her glance was turned towards heaven, where a mysterious providence disposes all things, and out of a fault, nay, even a vice, sometimes produces a blessing. And then her thoughts, cleaving through space like a bird in the air, rested on Cavalcanti. This Andrea was a wretch, a robber, an assassin, and yet his manners showed the effects of a sort of education, if not a complete one; he had been presented to the world with the appearance of an immense fortune, supported by an honorable name. How could she extricate herself from this labyrinth? To whom would she apply to help her out of this painful situation? Debray, to whom she had run, with the first instinct of a woman towards the man she loves, and who yet betrays her,--Debray could but give her advice, she must apply to some one more powerful than he.
The baroness then thought of M. de Villefort. It was M. de Villefort who had remorselessly brought misfortune into her family, as though they had been strangers. But, no; on reflection, the procureur was not a merciless man; and it was not the magistrate, slave to his duties, but the friend, the loyal friend, who roughly but firmly cut into the very core of the corruption; it was not the executioner, but the surgeon, who wished to withdraw the honor of Danglars from ignominious association with the disgraced young man they had presented to the world as their son-in-law. And since Villefort, the friend of Danglars, had acted in this way, no one could suppose that he had been previously acquainted with, or had lent himself to, any of Andrea's intrigues. Villefort's conduct, therefore, upon reflection, appeared to the baroness as if shaped for their mutual advantage. But the inflexibility of the procureur should stop there; she would see him the next day, and if she could not make him fail in his duties as a magistrate, she would, at least, obtain all the indulgence he could allow. She would invoke the past, recall old recollections; she would supplicate him by the remembrance of guilty, yet happy days. M. de Villefort would stifle the affair; he had only to turn his eyes on one side, and allow Andrea to fly, and follow up the crime under that shadow of guilt called contempt of court. And after this reasoning she slept easily.
At nine o'clock next morning she arose, and without ringing for her maid or giving the least sign of her activity, she dressed herself in the same simple style as on the previous night; then running down-stairs, she left the hotel. walked to the Rue de Provence, called a cab, and drove to M. de Villefort's house. For the last month this wretched house had presented the gloomy appearance of a lazaretto infected with the plague. Some of the apartments were closed within and without; the shutters were only opened to admit a minute's air, showing the scared face of a footman, and immediately afterwards the window would be closed, like a gravestone falling on a sepulchre, and the neighbors would say to each other in a low voice, "Will there be another funeral to-day at the procureur's house?" Madame Danglars involuntarily shuddered at the desolate aspect of the mansion; descending from the cab, she approached the door with trembling knees, and rang the bell. Three times did the bell ring with a dull, heavy sound, seeming to participate, in the general sadness, before the concièrge appeared and peeped through the door, which he opened just wide enough to allow his words to be heard. He saw a lady, a fashionable, elegantly dressed lady, and yet the door remained almost closed.
"Do you intend opening the door?" said the baroness.
"First, madame, who are you?"
"Who am I? You know me well enough."
"We no longer know any one, madame."
"You must be mad, my friend," said the baroness.
"Where do you come from?"
"Oh, this is too much！"
"Madame, these are my orders; excuse me. Your name?"
"The baroness Danglars; you have seen me twenty times."
"Possibly, madame. And now, what do you want?"
"Oh, how extraordinary！ I shall complain to M. de Villefort of the impertinence of his servants."
"Madame, this is precaution, not impertinence; no one enters here without an order from M. d'Avrigny, or without speaking to the procureur."
"Well, I have business with the procureur."
"Is it pressing business?"
"You can imagine so, since I have not even brought my carriage out yet. But enough of this--here is my card, take it to your master."
"Madame will await my return?"
"Yes; go." The concièrge closed the door, leaving Madame Danglars in the street. She had not long to wait; directly afterwards the door was opened wide enough to admit her, and when she had passed through, it was again shut. Without losing sight of her for an instant, the concièrge took a whistle from his pocket as soon as they entered the court, and blew it. The valet de chambre appeared on the door-steps. "You will excuse this poor fellow, madame," he said, as he preceded the baroness, "but his orders are precise, and M. de Villefort begged me to tell you that he could not act otherwise."
In the court showing his merchandise, was a tradesman who had been admitted with the same precautions. The baroness ascended the steps; she felt herself strongly infected with the sadness which seemed to magnify her own, and still guided by the valet de chambre, who never lost sight of her for an instant, she was introduced to the magistrate's study. Preoccupied as Madame Danglars had been with the object of her visit, the treatment she had received from these underlings appeared to her so insulting, that she began by complaining of it. But Villefort, raising his head, bowed down by grief, looked up at her with so sad a smile that her complaints died upon her lips. "Forgive my servants," he said, "for a terror I cannot blame them for; from being suspected they have become suspicious."
Madame Danglars had often heard of the terror to which the magistrate alluded, but without the evidence of her own eyesight she could never have believed that the sentiment had been carried so far. "You too, then, are unhappy?" she said. "Yes, madame," replied the magistrate.
"Then you pity me！"
"Sincerely, madame."
"And you understand what brings me here?"
"You wish to speak to me about the circumstance which has just happened?"
"Yes, sir,--a fearful misfortune."
"You mean a mischance."
"A mischance?" repeated the baroness.
"Alas, madame," said the procureur with his imperturbable calmness of manner, "I consider those alone misfortunes which are irreparable."
"And do you suppose this will be forgotten?"
"Everything will be forgotten, madame," said Villefort. "Your daughter will be married to-morrow, if not to-day--in a week, if not to-morrow; and I do not think you can regret the intended husband of your daughter."
Madame Danglars gazed on Villefort, stupefied to find him so almost insultingly calm. "Am I come to a friend?" she asked in a tone full of mournful dignity. "You know that you are, madame," said Villefort, whose pale cheeks became slightly flushed as he gave her the assurance. And truly this assurance carried him back to different events from those now occupying the baroness and him. "Well, then, be more affectionate, my dear Villefort," said the baroness. "Speak to me not as a magistrate, but as a friend; and when I am in bitter anguish of spirit, do not tell me that I ought to be gay." Villefort bowed. "When I hear misfortunes named, madame," he said, "I have within the last few mouths contracted the bad habit of thinking of my own, and then I cannot help drawing up an egotistical parallel in my mind. That is the reason that by the side of my misfortunes yours appear to me mere mischances; that is why my dreadful position makes yours appear enviable. But this annoys you; let us change the subject. You were saying, madame"--
"I came to ask you, my friend," said the baroness, "what will be done with this impostor?"
"Impostor," repeated Villefort; "certainly, madame, you appear to extenuate some cases, and exaggerate others. Impostor, indeed！--M. Andrea Cavalcanti, or rather M. Benedetto, is nothing more nor less than an assassin！"
"Sir, I do not deny the justice of your correction, but the more severely you arm yourself against that unfortunate man, the more deeply will you strike our family. Come, forget him for a moment, and instead of pursuing him let him go."
"You are too late, madame; the orders are issued."
"Well, should he be arrested--do they think they will arrest him?"
"I hope so."
"If they should arrest him （I know that sometimes prisoners afford means of escape）， will you leave him in prison?"--The procureur shook his head. "At least keep him there till my daughter be married."
"Impossible, madame; justice has its formalities."
"What, even for me?" said the baroness, half jesting, half in earnest. "For all, even for myself among the rest," replied Villefort.
"Ah," exclaimed the baroness, without expressing the ideas which the exclamation betrayed. Villefort looked at her with that piercing glance which reads the secrets of the heart. "Yes, I know what you mean," he said; "you refer to the terrible rumors spread abroad in the world, that the deaths which have kept me in mourning for the last three months, and from which Valentine has only escaped by a miracle, have not happened by natural means."
"I was not thinking of that," replied Madame Danglars quickly. "Yes, you were thinking of it, and with justice. You could not help thinking of it, and saying to yourself, 'you, who pursue crime so vindictively, answer now, why are there unpunished crimes in your dwelling?'" The baroness became pale. "You were saying this, were you not?"
"Well, I own it."
"I will answer you."
Villefort drew his armchair nearer to Madame Danglars; then resting both hands upon his desk he said in a voice more hollow than usual: "There are crimes which remain unpunished because the criminals are unknown, and we might strike the innocent instead of the guilty; but when the culprits are discovered" （Villefort here extended his hand toward a large crucifix placed opposite to his desk）--"when they are discovered, I swear to you, by all I hold most sacred, that whoever they may be they shall die. Now, after the oath I have just taken, and which I will keep, madame, dare you ask for mercy for that wretch！"
"But, sir, are you sure he is as guilty as they say?"
"Listen; this is his description: 'Benedetto, condemned, at the age of sixteen, for five years to the galleys for forgery.' He promised well, as you see--first a runaway, then an assassin."
"And who is this wretch?"
"Who can tell?--a vagabond, a Corsican."
"Has no one owned him?"
"No one; his parents are unknown."
"But who was the man who brought him from Lucca?"
"Another rascal like himself, perhaps his accomplice." The baroness clasped her hands. "Villefort," she exclaimed in her softest and most captivating manner.
"For heaven's sake, madame," said Villefort, with a firmness of expression not altogether free from harshness--"for heaven's sake, do not ask pardon of me for a guilty wretch！ What am I?--the law. Has the law any eyes to witness your grief? Has the law ears to be melted by your sweet voice? Has the law a memory for all those soft recollections you endeavor to recall? No, madame; the law has commanded, and when it commands it strikes. You will tell me that I am a living being, and not a code--a man, and not a volume. Look at me, madame--look around me. Have mankind treated me as a brother? Have they loved me? Have they spared me? Has any one shown the mercy towards me that you now ask at my hands? No, madame, they struck me, always struck me！
"Woman, siren that you are, do you persist in fixing on me that fascinating eye, which reminds me that I ought to blush? Well, be it so; let me blush for the faults you know, and perhaps--perhaps for even more than those！ But having sinned myself,--it may be more deeply than others,--I never rest till I have torn the disguises from my fellow-creatures, and found out their weaknesses. I have always found them; and more,--I repeat it with joy, with triumph,--I have always found some proof of human perversity or error. Every criminal I condemn seems to me living evidence that I am not a hideous exception to the rest. Alas, alas, alas; all the world is wicked; let us therefore strike at wickedness！"
Villefort pronounced these last words with a feverish rage, which gave a ferocious eloquence to his words.
"But"' said Madame Danglars, resolving to make a last effort, "this young man, though a murderer, is an orphan, abandoned by everybody."
"So much the worse, or rather, so much the better; it has been so ordained that he may have none to weep his fate."
"But this is trampling on the weak, sir."
"The weakness of a murderer！"
"His dishonor reflects upon us."
"Is not death in my house?"
"Oh, sir," exclaimed the baroness, "you are without pity for others, well, then, I tell you they will have no mercy on you！"
"Be it so！" said Villefort, raising his arms to heaven.
"At least, delay the trial till the next assizes; we shall then have six months before us."
"No, madame," said Villefort; "instructions have been given, There are yet five days left; five days are more than I require. Do you not think that I also long for forgetfulness? While working night and day, I sometimes lose all recollection of the past, and then I experience the same sort of happiness I can imagine the dead feel; still, it is better than suffering."
"But, sir, he has fled; let him escape--inaction is a pardonable offence."
"I tell you it is too late; early this morning the telegraph was employed, and at this very minute"--
"Sir," said the valet de chambre, entering the room, "a dragoon has brought this despatch from the minister of the interior." Villefort seized the letter, and hastily broke the seal. Madame Danglars trembled with fear; Villefort started with joy. "Arrested！" he exclaimed; "he was taken at Compiègne, and all is over." Madame Danglars rose from her seat, pale and cold. "Adieu, sir," she said. "Adieu, madame," replied the king's attorney, as in an almost joyful manner he conducted her to the door. Then, turning to his desk, he said, striking the letter with the back of his right hand, "Come, I had a forgery, three robberies, and two cases of arson, I only wanted a murder, and here it is. It will be a splendid session！"
我们已看到腾格拉尔小姐和亚密莱小姐怎样从容不迫地完成她们的改装和逃亡的；因为当时每一个人都忙于他或她自己的事情，无暇去顾及别人。我们且让那位银行家面对着倒闭的幽灵，带着流满汗珠的脸去处理那些代表他的债务的巨额数字，而来跟踪男爵夫人。男爵夫人那时似乎已被她所受的那个打击所打倒了，不久她便去找她的老顾问吕西安·德布雷去了。她原来指望这桩婚事可以使她摆脱监护的责任，因为对于一个个性象欧热妮这样的一位姑娘，她的监护工作让人感到很头疼的；而且，要维持一个家庭的融洽，家庭里必须要有默契的谅解，一个母亲必师继续不断地在智慧和品德方面做一个典范，才会被她的女儿喜欢，但腾格拉尔夫人却害怕欧热妮的明察和亚密莱小姐给她女儿出的点子。她常常觉察到她的女儿带着鄙夷的目光看德布雷，——那种目光似乎表明她知道她的母亲与那位部长的私人秘书之间种种神秘的暧昧关系和金钱关系。但男爵夫人如果能再作敏锐和深刻的分析，她就会知道：事实正巧相反，欧热妮所以厌恶德布雷，决不是因为他是引起她父母失和与家庭流言的，而只是因为她象柏拉图一样，把他归类为一种无羽毛的两脚动物。
可惜的是，在这个世界里，每一个人都用自己的尺度去衡量事物，因为他们无法与旁人得到同样的见解；而从腾格拉尔夫人的观点上讲，她非常遗憾欧热妮的婚变，不但是因为那是一对好姻缘，看起来可以使她的孩子幸福，而且也因为这件婚姻可以使她得到自由。所以她赶快到德布雷寓所去。
但德布雷，象其他的巴黎人一样，在目击了那幕签约场上和那幕场面上所发生的丑事以后，早已赶回到他的俱乐部里，在那儿和几个人闲谈那件大事；在这个号称世界京都的城市里，这件事情已成了大部分人士闲谈的话题。当腾格拉尔夫人穿着黑衣服，戴着长面纱，不管德布雷的跟班再三声明他的主人不在家，仍径自走上楼梯，向德布雷的房间走去，德布雷正忙着在反驳一位朋友的建议；那位朋友劝他，在发生了刚才那可怕的一切以后，作为那个家庭的朋友，应该把腾格拉尔小姐和她的两百万娶过来。德布雷为自己辩护时的神情，象是一个极力想使自己被对方说服的人一样，因为那个念头常常在他的脑子里出现；但想起欧热妮那种傲慢不逊的性格，他便又采取了完全抗拒的态度，声称那件婚事从各方面看都是不可能的，但自己仍在偷偷地转那个坏念头，这一切，据所有的道德专家说，甚至最可敬和头脑最纯洁的人也是难免的，因为那种坏念头藏在他灵魂的深处，象魔鬼撒旦藏在十字架后面一样。喝茶、玩牌以及在讨论那件事情时愈来愈有趣的谈话，一直延续到早晨一点钟。
这会儿，腾格拉尔夫人戴着面纱，焦急地等在那绿色的小房间里，等候德布雷归来。她坐在两瓶鲜花之间，这些花是她早晨派人送来的，而我们必须承认，德布雷非常小心地亲自给花加水和插瓶，所以在那个可怜的女人看来，他的不在已得到了原谅。到十一点四十分，她终于等得不耐烦了，回家去了。某一阶层的女人有一点上很象那些正在谈恋爱的轻佻的女工，——她们极少在十二点钟以后回家。男爵夫人回到那座大厦去的时候，象欧热妮离开那座大厦时那样的小心；她轻轻地走到楼上，带着一颗痛楚的心走进她的房间。那个房间，我们知道，是在欧热妮的隔壁。她是那样害怕引起流言，从心底里坚信——可怜的女人，至少在那一点上，她是值得尊敬的——她女儿的无辜和她对家庭的一往情深，她在欧热妮的门口听了一会；然后，听到没有声音，她想进去，但门从里面闩住了的。腾格拉尔夫人认为晚上那场可怕的刺激已把她搞得精疲力尽，她已上床睡觉了。她把婢女叫来。
“欧热妮小姐，”那婢女答道，“和亚密莱小姐一同回到她的房间里。她们一同用茶，然后就吩咐我离开，说她们再没有事要我做了。”
从那时起，那个婢女就在楼下，同每一个人一样，她以为那两位小姐现在正在她们自己的房间里。所以腾格拉尔夫人毫不怀疑地上床；虽然躺在床上，她的脑子却依旧在想事情。随着思绪愈来愈清晰，签订婚约时发生的那件事情也就愈来愈大了。这不仅是一件丑闻。而且是一件轰动全城的大事。这已经不仅是一种羞辱，而且是一场声名扫地的侮辱。然后，男爵夫人又想起：当可怜的美塞苔丝因她的丈夫和儿子受到同样的严重的打击时，她并没有对她表示同情。
“欧热妮，”她对她自己说，“她是完了，但是我们也完了。这件事情一旦传扬出去，我们将羞于见人，因为在我们这样的社会里，别人的嘲笑会造成不可医治的痛苦和创伤。幸而上帝赋与欧热妮那种常常使我感到可怕的奇怪的性格！”于是她充满感激的目光望着天空，那儿，神秘的上帝早就安排好了一切，即使你有了一次过错，不，甚至做了一件罪恶，有时也能得到祝福。然后，她那飘忽不定的思想，又落到卡瓦尔康蒂身上。“那个安德烈是一个坏蛋、一个强盗、一个凶手，可是从他的神态上看，他曾受过相当好的教育，虽然或许他所受的教育并不完全。从外表上看，他似乎有庞大的财产，是名门贵族的子弟。”
她怎样才能摆脱让人无法忍受的困境？她该向谁去求援，帮助她脱离这个痛苦的境地呢？她曾带着一个女人求助于她所爱的男子的那种冲动去见德布雷，但德布雷只能给她一些忠告；她必须向一个比他更坚强的救援。男爵夫人于是想到维尔福先生。使她的家庭遭受这次不幸的，是维尔福呀。可是，不，仔细想一想，那位检察官不是一个无情无义的人。那位忠于他的职责的法官，那位忠心的朋友，粗鲁而坚决地在溃疡的地方割了一刀；他不是刽子手，而是外科医生，他是要保全腾格拉尔的名誉，割断那种妨碍他声誊的关系，免得那个罪犯做他们的女婿。腾格拉尔的朋友维尔福既然这样做，便谁都不会怀疑那位银行家曾经知道或帮助安德烈的任何阴谋。所以，仔细一想，男爵夫人觉得维尔福的举动似乎是以他们利益为出发点的。但检察官的铁面无私也应该到此为止了；她明天去见他，假如她不能使他放弃法官的职责，她至少可以要求尽量从宽办理。她将用陈旧的回忆，使他想起那些有罪的但却是甜蜜的日子来答应她的恳求。维尔福先生搁下这宗案子，或者至少他将把他的警戒转移到另一个方向，让安德烈逃走，事后以一张通缉令了案。想到这些以后，她安然入睡了。
第二天早晨九点钟，她起床以后，并不按铃唤她的婢女，也不让人知道她的来去，只是穿上昨天夜晚那套简单的服装，然后跑下楼梯，离开大厦，走到普罗旺斯路，叫了一辆出租马车，来到了维尔福先生的家里。最近一个月来，这座遭天诅咒的府邸始终呈现着阴郁的外表，象是一家收容着瘟疫病人的传染病院一样。有些房间的门关得紧紧的，只是偶然开一下百叶窗，透一道气。或许你可以看到在窗口露出一个仆人的惊惶的脸孔，但那扇窗立刻又关拢了，象是一块墓碑关闭了一座坟墓一样；邻居们相互窃窃私语说：“莫非我们今天又会看见一辆运棺材的车子离开检察官的家吗？”
腾格拉尔夫人一看到那座房子凄凉的外表，便情不自禁地打了一个寒颤。她从那辆出租马车上走下来，浑身颤抖地走近大门，拉了门铃。门铃发出一种迟钝重浊的声音，象是它也已经感受到抑郁的气氛似的。她接连拉了三次门铃，门房才出来开门，但他只把门开了一条缝，刚刚够说话声从中通过。他看见一位太太，一位高雅时髦的太太，可是那扇门却依旧裂开条缝。
“你不预备开门吗？”男爵夫人说。
“夫人，首先得问您是谁？”
“我是谁？应该知道的很清楚。”
“我们现在谁也不认识了，夫人。”
“我看您一定疯了，我的朋友。”男爵夫人说。
“您从哪儿来的？”
“噢！这太过份了！”
“夫人，我是遵命办事。请您原谅——请通报您的名字？”
“腾格拉尔男爵夫人，你见过我二十次啦。”
“可能吧，夫人。请问，你有什么事？”
“噢，瞧您真奇怪！我要告诉维尔福先生，他的手下人也太放肆了。”
“夫人，这不是放肆，也不是无礼，除非有阿夫里尼先生的命令，或有事跟检察官商量，否则都不能进门。”
“好吧！我是有事跟检察官商量。”
“是要紧的事情吗？”
“你自己想想吧，不然我现在早就又回到我的马车里去啦。够了，这是我的名片。拿它去通报你的主人吧。”
“夫人等我回来吗？”
“是的，去吧。”
那门房关上门，让腾格拉尔夫人站在街上。她并没有等多久；一会儿，门便开了一条较大的缝让她进去，她进去以后便又关上门。门房一面用眼睛看她，一面从口袋里摸出一只哨子，他们一进前院，他便吹起哨子来。仆人们应声在门廊下出现。
“请夫人原谅这位正直的人，”他一面说，一面给男爵夫人引路，“他接受过严格的命令，维尔福先生也让我转告夫人，他这种做法实在是出于不得已。”
前院里有一个供货商人，他也是经过同样的手续才进来的，现在有人正在检查他带的货物，男爵夫人走上台阶，她觉得自己强烈地感染到周围这种惨淡气氛；她跟那仆人到达了法官的书房里。腾格拉尔夫人一心想着这次访问的目的，但这些人们对她的态度是这样的不恭敬，她开始抱怨起来；然而当维尔福抬起他那被悲哀压低的头，带着那样一个惨淡的微笑望着她，她那到嘴边的怨气又压了下去。“请原谅我的仆人这种惊惶失措的样子，”他说，“他们因为受到猜疑，所以就特别多疑了。”
腾格拉尔夫人常常在社交场中听人说到法官家里的恐怖气氛，但在她不曾亲眼目睹以前，她无论如何也不能相信那种恐怖气氛竟然达到了这样的地步。“这么说，您也不快乐吗？”她说。
“是的，夫人。”法官回答。
“那么您是同情我的？”
“由衷地同情，夫人。”
“那您知道我是为什么到这儿来了吗？”
“您希望跟我谈一谈您所遇到的可怕事情，不是吗？”
“是的，阁下，那是一场可怕的灾难！”
“应该说那是不幸。”
“不幸！”男爵夫人喊道。
“唉！夫人，”检察官镇定地说，“我认为只有无法挽回的事情才是灾难。”
“您以为这件事情能被人遗忘吗？”
“任何事情都可能被人遗忘，夫人，”维尔福说，“令爱不久又会结婚的，不是今天，就是明天，——不是明天，反正就在一星期之内。我想您不会为令爱失去未婚夫表示遗憾吧。”
腾格拉尔夫人望着维尔福，她觉得这种态度是对她的侮辱。“谁说我见到了一位朋友？”她气愤地反问道。
“是的，夫人。”维尔福说，当他说这话的时候，他那苍白的脸红了一红。他刚才的话使他想起自己与男爵夫人过去的事情。
“嗯，那么热情一点吧，亲爱的维尔福，”男爵夫人说。
“不要用法官的态度对我说话，用一位朋友的态度说话，当我痛苦的时候，不要对我说我应该快乐。”
维尔福鞠了一躬。“最近几个月我染上了一种坏习惯，”他说，“每当我听到有人提到灾难的时候，我便想起我自己，我便情不自禁地要作出一个对比。我觉得，以我的灾难来比较，您的只是一件不幸。与我的境况相比，您的境况还是令人羡慕的。我知道这使您很不高兴，让我们换一个话题吧。你刚才说，夫人——”
“我是来问您，我的朋友，”男爵夫人说，“您打算怎么处置这个骗子？”
“骗子！”维尔福重复道，“夫人，您看来是把某些事情轻描淡写而又把某些事情夸大其辞了。骗子！安德烈·卡瓦尔康蒂先生，说得更准确些，贝尼代托先生，是一个不折不扣的暗杀犯。”
“阁下，我不否认您的改正更确切，但您对那个家伙处置得愈严厉，我的家庭蒙受的损失就愈厉害。啊，暂时忘掉他吧，不要去追捕他，让他逃走吧。”
“您来晚了，夫人，通辑令已经发出了。”
“哦，要是抓住了他？——您认为他们能抓到他吗？”
“我希望能够。”
“假如他们抓到了他，我知道监狱里有逃走的机会，您肯让他关在监狱里吗？”
检察官摇摇头。
“至少把他关到我女儿结婚以后再说吧。”
“不行，夫人，法院要按司法程序办事。”
“什么！甚至对我也不行！”男爵夫人半开玩笑半认真地反问。
“对所有的人都一样，甚至包括我在内。”维尔福答道。
“啊！”男爵夫人轻轻喊了一声，但并没有表示她是失望还是什么别的意思。
维尔福望着她。极力想看透男爵夫人的心思“是了，我知道您想说什么，”他说，“您指的是外界散布的那些可怕的流言蜚语，三个月来我家里的那些人不明不白死去，还有瓦朗蒂娜奇迹般地幸免于难。”
“我没有想到那个。”腾格拉尔夫人急忙回答。
“不，您想了，夫人，您这样想也无可厚非，您不能不那样想，您也许在心里说：‘你既然这样铁面无私地办理罪案，为什么有的罪犯却逍遥法外？’”男爵夫人的脸色发白。“您是这么想的，不是吗，夫人？”
“嗯，我承认我的确是这么想的”。
“让我来回答您吧。”维尔福把他的圈椅向腾格拉尔夫人的椅子挪过一些；然后，他两手支在桌子上，用一种比往常更暗哑的声音说，“是有犯罪未受惩罚，这是因为我还不知道罪犯是谁，我怕会错罚了无辜的人，一旦罪犯被发现，”说到这里，维尔福把他的手伸向他桌子对面的一个十字架，“一旦他们被发现，我面对上帝发誓，夫人，不论他们是谁，都得去死！现在，夫人，您要求我宽恕那个坏蛋吗？”
“但是，阁下，您能确定他是象别人所说的那样罪行严重吗？”
“听着，这儿是他的档案：‘贝尼代托，十六岁时因伪造钞票罪被判处苦役五年。后来，您看，——最初是越狱逃跑，然后又杀人。”
“这个可怜虫是谁？”
“谁知道？一个流浪汉，一个科西嘉人。”
“没有亲属来认他吗？”
“没有人认他，没有人知道他的父母是谁。”
“把他从卢卡带来的那个人是谁呢？”
“他一样是个流氓，也许就是他的同谋。”
男爵夫人双手合拢。“维尔福！”她用最温柔最甜蜜的音调叫道。
“算了吧，夫人，”维尔福用一种坚定得近乎于冷酷的声音回答道，——“算了吧，别再为一个罪犯向我求情了！我是什么人？我就是法律。法律可能有眼睛来看您的愁容吗？法律可能有耳朵来听您那甜蜜的声音吗？法律能回忆您竭力唤醒的那些柔情蜜意的往事吗？不，夫人，法律只知道命令，而当命令发出的时候，那就是无情的打击。您会告诉我，说我是一个有生命的人，不是一部法典，——是一个人，不是一部书。看看我，夫人，看看我的周围。人类象兄弟般待我吗？他们爱我吗？他们宽容过我吗？可有任何人曾以您现在向我要求的那种仁爱来对待我吗？不，夫人，他们打击我，只有无情的打击我！您用那种迷人的眼光盯着我，使我惭愧？就让我惭愧吧，为您所知道的我的过失——甚至其他更多的过失。尽管我自己也有罪，尽管我的罪也许比旁人更深重，但我却永不停止地去撕破我的伪装，找出他们的弱点。我始终在揭发他们，我可以进一步说，——当我发现那些人类的弱点或邪恶的证据时，我感到高兴，感到胜利，因为我每次判处一个犯人，我就似乎得到了一个活的证据，证明我不是比别人更坏些。唉，唉，唉！整个世界都充满邪恶。所以让我们来打击邪恶吧！”维尔福说最后这几句话的时候狂怒万分，以使他的话听来非常雄辩有力。
“但是，”腾格拉尔夫人说，她决心要做一次最后的努力，“这个青年人虽然是一个杀人犯，但他却是一个被人遗弃的孤儿呀。”
“那就更糟，或是，说得更贴切些，那就更妙，这是上帝的安排，这样就不会有谁为了他哭泣。”
“但这是蹂躏弱者的行为呀，阁下。”
“杀人的弱者！”
“他的坏名声会影响我的家庭。”
“死亡不也在影响我的家庭吗？”
“噢，阁下，”男爵夫人喊道，“您对旁人毫无怜悯心！嗯，那末，我告诉您，旁人也不会怜悯您的！”
“让它去吧！”维尔福把双手举向天空说。
“至少，拖延到下一次大审的时候再审判他吧，还有六个月的时间可以冲淡人们的记忆。”
“不，夫人，”维尔福说，“预审准备已经做好了。现在还有五天时间，其实五天已超过我的要求。您不知道我也是在盼着冲淡记忆吗？当我夜以继日地工作的时候，我便忘记了一切的往事，那时我体验到死者所感到的那种快乐，它比痛苦总还是要好一点。”
“但是，阁下，他已逃走了，让他逃走吧，——行动不利是一个可以原谅的过失。”
“我告诉您那已经太迟了，今天一早就用急报发出通辑令，这个时候——”
“老爷，”跟班走进房间里来说，“内政部的一个龙骑兵送来了这封信。”
维尔福抢过那封信，心急地拆开它。腾格拉尔夫人吓得直打哆嗦。维尔福则高兴地跳起来。“捉住了！”他喊道。“在贡比涅捉住他了。成功了！”
腾格拉尔夫人脸色苍白，浑身冰冷地站起身来。“告辞了，阁下！”她说。
“再会，夫人！”检察官一面回答，一面愉快送她出门。然后，他回到桌子前面，用右手拍着那封信说：“妙，我已经有了一件伪造钞票案，三件抢劫案和两件纵火案。我只缺一件谋杀案，现在它来了。这次开庭一定会大获成功。”