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Programming for
Absolute Beginners
Using the JavaScript
Programming Language

Jonathan Bartlett
Programming for Absolute Beginners: Using the JavaScript Programming Language
Jonathan Bartlett
Tulsa, OK, USA

ISBN-13 (pbk): 978-1-4842-8750-7 ISBN-13 (electronic): 978-1-4842-8751-4


https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-8751-4
Copyright © 2023 by Jonathan Bartlett
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the
material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation,
broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information
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known or hereafter developed.
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every occurrence of a trademarked name, logo, or image we use the names, logos, and images only in an
editorial fashion and to the benefit of the trademark owner, with no intention of infringement of the
trademark.
The use in this publication of trade names, trademarks, service marks, and similar terms, even if they are not
identified as such, is not to be taken as an expression of opinion as to whether or not they are subject to
proprietary rights.
While the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication,
neither the authors nor the editors nor the publisher can accept any legal responsibility for any errors or
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Printed on acid-free paper
Most good programmers do programming not because
they expect to get paid or get adulation by the public,
but because it is fun to program.

—Linus Torvalds
Table of Contents
About the Author����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� xi

About the Technical Reviewer������������������������������������������������������������������������������� xiii

Acknowledgments���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������xv

Chapter 1: Introduction�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1
1.1 What You Will Learn����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1
1.2 How to Use This Book������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 3
1.3 For Younger Programmers������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 4

Part I: Computers, Data, and Communication.................................................. 5


Chapter 2: A Short History of Computers����������������������������������������������������������������� 7
2.1 The Prehistory of Computers�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 7
2.2 The Idea of a Computer����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 9
2.3 The Age of the Computer������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 10
2.4 Computers in the Age of Networks��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 13
2.4.1 Review�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 14
2.4.2 Apply What You Have Learned�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 15

Chapter 3: How Computers Communicate�������������������������������������������������������������� 17


3.1 The Layers of Internet Communication��������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 19
3.2 Communicating Using HTTP�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 22
3.3 Connecting with a Remote Server Manually������������������������������������������������������������������������� 26
3.4 How Computers Are Located on the Internet������������������������������������������������������������������������ 27
3.4.1 Review�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 29
3.4.2 Apply What You Have Learned�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 29

v
Table of Contents

Chapter 4: How a Computer Looks at Data������������������������������������������������������������� 31


4.1 What Computer Memory Looks Like������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 32
4.2 Using Numbers to Represent Data���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 35
4.3 Sequences in Data���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 37
4.4 Using Numbers to Represent Letters������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 38
4.5 What Is a File Format?���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 40
4.5.1 Review�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 42
4.5.2 Apply What You Have Learned�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 43

Chapter 5: How Computers Work��������������������������������������������������������������������������� 45


5.1 Parts of a Computer�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 46
5.2 A Simplified Paper Machine Simulation�������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 48
5.3 A Short Program: Multiplying by 2���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 5 2
5.3.1 Setting Up the Simulation��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 53
5.3.2 Running the Simulation������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 53
5.4 Adding a List of Numbers������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 56
5.5 Machine Opcode Tables�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 60
5.5.1 Review�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 65
5.5.2 Apply What You Have Learned�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 66

Part II: Basic Ingredients for Web Programming........................................... 67


Chapter 6: The HTML File Format��������������������������������������������������������������������������� 69
6.1 A Quick Introduction to HTML����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 69
6.2 The Parts of an HTML Document������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 72
6.3 Adding Attributes to Tags������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 76
6.4 Tags That Refer to Other Documents������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 76
6.5 Relative URLs������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 80
6.6 Other HTML Features������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 81
6.6.1 Entities�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 81
6.6.2 Lists������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 82
6.6.3 Table Tags��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 82
6.6.4 Form Tags��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 84
vi
Table of Contents

6.6.5 Standard Attributes������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 85


6.6.6 Comments, Declarations, Processing Instructions, and CDATA Blocks������������������������� 86
6.6.7 Review�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 88
6.6.8 Apply What You Have Learned�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 89

Chapter 7: Introduction to Cascading Style Sheets������������������������������������������������ 91


7.1 The Origin of Cascading Style Sheets����������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 91
7.2 The Structure of a CSS Document����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 93
7.3 Understanding Selectors������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 95
7.4 The CSS Box Model��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 98
7.5 Other Capabilities of CSS���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 101
7.5.1 Review������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 101
7.5.2 Apply What You Have Learned������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 102

Chapter 8: Your First JavaScript Program������������������������������������������������������������ 105


8.1 A Short History of JavaScript���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 105
8.2 A Simple JavaScript Program��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 107
8.3 Moving the JavaScript to Its Own File��������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 112
8.3.1 Review������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 114
8.3.2 Apply What You Have Learned������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 115

Part III: JavaScript Fundamentals............................................................... 117


Chapter 9: Basic JavaScript Syntax��������������������������������������������������������������������� 119
9.1 Elements of Syntax������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 119
9.2 Assignment Statements������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 121
9.3 Control Structures��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 123
9.3.1 The if Statement��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 123
9.3.2 The while Statement��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 126
9.3.3 The for Statement������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 128
9.3.4 Review������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 130
9.3.5 Apply What You Have Learned������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 131

vii
Table of Contents

Chapter 10: Introducing Functions and Scope����������������������������������������������������� 133


10.1 Your First Function������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 134
10.2 More Function Examples��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 136
10.3 Functions Calling Functions���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 138
10.4 Variable Scopes����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 138
10.4.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 141
10.4.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 142

Chapter 11: Grouping Values Together with Objects and Arrays�������������������������� 145
11.1 A Basic Introduction to Objects����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 146
11.2 Simplifying Object Creation����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 149
11.3 Storing Sequences of Values Using Arrays����������������������������������������������������������������������� 150
11.4 Using Arrays in Programs�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 151
11.5 Mixing Objects and Arrays������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 154
11.6 Object Methods����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 156
11.6.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 159
11.6.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 160

Chapter 12: Interacting with Web Pages�������������������������������������������������������������� 161


12.1 Using the JavaScript Console������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 161
12.2 Finding and Modifying Web Page Elements���������������������������������������������������������������������� 163
12.3 Creating New HTML Elements������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 165
12.4 Communicating with Input Fields������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 166
12.5 Adding Functionality to Buttons���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 169
12.6 Putting It All Together�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 170
12.7 Logging to the Console����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 172
12.7.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 174
12.7.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 175

viii
Table of Contents

Part IV: Intermediate JavaScript................................................................. 177


Chapter 13: Recursive Functions and the Stack��������������������������������������������������� 179
13.1 The Program Stack������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 179
13.2 Local Variables in the Stack���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 183
13.3 Recursive Functions���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 188
13.3.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 192
13.3.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 193

Chapter 14: Manipulating Functions and Scopes������������������������������������������������� 195


14.1 Functions as Parameters to Functions������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 195
14.2 Functions That Return Functions�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 198
14.3 Functions That Create Functions�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 198
14.4 Currying Functions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 204
14.5 Anonymous Functions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 205
14.5.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 206
14.5.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 207

Chapter 15: Intermediate Objects������������������������������������������������������������������������� 209


15.1 Attaching Functions to Objects����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 209
15.2 Using Objects Productively����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 213
15.3 Constructing Objects��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 215
15.3.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 216
15.3.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 217

Part V: Programming Applications.............................................................. 219


Chapter 16: Modernizing JavaScript�������������������������������������������������������������������� 221
16.1 Declaring Variables with let and const������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 221
16.2 Destructuring Assignments����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 223
16.3 Accessing Properties with Strings������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 225
16.4 Function Syntax��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 226
16.4.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 227
16.4.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 228

ix
Table of Contents

Chapter 17: Working with Remote Services (APIs)���������������������������������������������� 229


17.1 Getting an API Key������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 230
17.2 JSON: The Language of Data��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 231
17.3 Accessing the Network with JavaScript��������������������������������������������������������������������������� 232
17.4 The Query String��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 233
17.5 Interacting with a Web Page��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 235
17.6 A Few Other Bits to Note��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 237
17.6.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 239
17.6.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 240

Chapter 18: Writing Server-Side JavaScript��������������������������������������������������������� 241


18.1 Programming Languages�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 241
18.2 Using JavaScript Outside of the Browser�������������������������������������������������������������������������� 242
18.3 A Small Web Service Using Node�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 243
18.4 Why We Need Frameworks����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 244
18.5 Making Your Service Available������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 245
18.5.1 Review���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 246
18.5.2 Apply What You Have Learned���������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 246

Chapter 19: Conclusion����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 249

Appendix A: Glossary�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 251

Appendix B: Operating System and Browser Specifics���������������������������������������� 293


Appendix C: The JavaScript Toolbox on Docker��������������������������������������������������� 309

Appendix D: Character Encoding Issues��������������������������������������������������������������� 311

Appendix E: Additional Machine Language Programs������������������������������������������ 319

Index��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 323

x
About the Author
Jonathan Bartlett is a software developer, researcher, and
writer. His first book, Programming from the Ground Up, has
been required reading in computer science programs from
DeVry to Princeton. He has been the sole or lead author for
eight books on topics ranging from computer programming
to calculus. He is a senior software developer for McElroy
Manufacturing, spearheading projects in web, mobile, and
embedded software. He is now the author of several Apress
books including Electronics for Beginners and more.

xi
About the Technical Reviewer
Germán González-Morris is a polyglot software architect/engineer with more than 20
years in the field, with knowledge in Java(EE), Spring, Haskell, C, Python, and JavaScript,
among others. He works with web-distributed applications. Germán loves math
puzzles (including reading Knuth) and swimming. He has tech-reviewed several books,
including an application container book (Weblogic), as well as titles covering various
programming languages (Haskell, Typescript, WebAssembly, Math for coders, and
regexp). You can find more details at his blog site (https://devwebcl.blogspot.com/)
or Twitter account (@devwebcl).

xiii
Acknowledgments
I want to take a moment and thank everyone who helped me write this book. First, I want
to thank those who read and appreciated my first programming book, Programming
from the Ground Up. The encouragement I received from that book has given me the
encouragement to continue writing and educating throughout the years.
Next, I want to thank my homeschool summer co-op class for being guinea pigs
for this material. Your questions, your successes, and your difficulties all informed the
writing of this book. You were both my motivation to write in the first place and the first
proving ground for the material.
I would also like to thank my family, my friends, and my church, all of whom are
essential parts of my life. Thanks especially to my wife who puts up with me when I am
too focused on my writing to notice what the kids have been up to or to put a stop to
whatever trouble they have found themselves in!

xv
CHAPTER 1

Introduction
The modern world is filled with computers. Computers run our phones, our cars, and
even our refrigerators. Computers manage our businesses, our calendars, and our social
lives. With the world relying on computers for so many functions, it is important to know
how these devices work. Even if you never need to program a computer yourself, chances
are that, at some point in your life, you will be involved with software development.
You may be an accountant who needs to tell a computer programmer how you want
your purchasing system set up. You may be an engineer who needs to describe your
engineering process so that a programmer can automate it. In all such tasks as these, it
is important to know something about how computers are programmed, even if you are
not personally writing the software.

1.1 What You Will Learn


When programming computers, a programmer uses a programming language to tell
the computer how to do something. Because computers are not intelligent beings, they
can’t understand ordinary human languages. Computers understand a type of language
called machine language, which will be discussed further in Chapter 5. Machine
languages are very different from the kind of languages ordinary people use. Therefore,
programming languages were developed to meet programmers halfway—they are more
humanlike than machine language and more machinelike than human language.
Numerous programming languages have been developed over the years. Some that
you may have heard of include Java, JavaScript, Ruby, Python, C#, Go, Rust, and Swift.
Although each language looks different, they are all trying to do the same task of helping
you to interface with the machine in a way that is friendlier and easier to manage than
machine language. In fact, most programming languages are geared around very similar
concepts, and some of them even look similar. Therefore, learning any programming
language will help you more easily learn any other programming language. I have rarely

1
© Jonathan Bartlett 2023
J. Bartlett, Programming for Absolute Beginners, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-8751-4_1
Chapter 1 Introduction

hired people for my development team who already knew the programming language
that my team uses. If someone learns one programming language and practices until
they are good at it, then the effort to learn a new language is fairly minimal.
You may wonder why, if the languages are so similar, there are so many
programming languages to choose from. The fact is, when engineering anything, trade-­
offs have to be made. Sometimes in order to make one type of task easier, another type
of task has to be made harder. In my kitchen I have both a mixer and a blender. Both of
them operate on the same basic principles—you put food into the main container area,
an electric motor turns, and some attachment combines the food together. While these
tasks are very similar and operate on the same principles, there are many types of food
in the world and many ways that they need to be mixed, such that the mixer works better
for some tasks and the blender for others. Similarly, with programming languages, some
of them are better suited to different tasks. Also, the choice of programming language
is dependent on the programmer. Just as different types of cars suit the preferences and
tendencies of different types of drivers, so do different programming languages suit the
preferences and tendencies of different types of programmers. Because of these reasons,
there are numerous programming languages available for nearly any task you might
want to perform.
The programming language covered in this book is called JavaScript. I like to teach
JavaScript as a first language for several reasons. First of all, JavaScript was developed
to be a first language. One of the goals of the language was to make it easy for new
programmers to get started quickly. Even though JavaScript was designed to make
programming easier for new programmers, it is not any less powerful as a language.
Second, JavaScript has become the de facto programming language for website
interfaces. If you use a website that does anything besides link to other web pages,
JavaScript is probably involved. Therefore, learning JavaScript will have immediate
practical benefits in learning how the Web operates. Third, the tools for programming
JavaScript are available on every computer. You don’t need to download any special tools
to program JavaScript. If you have a computer with a web browser, you can program
JavaScript! Finally, JavaScript is very similar to other popular programming languages
such as C#, Java, and Swift. Therefore, knowing JavaScript will not only be immediately
beneficial for programming websites, it is also a language that makes it easy to transition
to other popular systems.
This book is for the first-time programmer. No prior programming experience is
assumed. This book does assume that you have a basic understanding of how to use your
computer and browse the Internet. That is all that you need!
2
Other documents randomly have
different content
up no visions of English parvenus, vulgar tourists, and Meurice’s
Table d’Hôte; you would not find a Galignani’s Messenger, or a cake
of Windsor soap throughout its entire range. No; all your thoughts
would be of doublets and pointed shoes—of rapiers and scholars of
Cluny; of anything, in fact, the reverse to what would suggest itself
on the other side of the river.
But our hobby is fairly running away with us over a course we
have before traversed; we must return once more to that which has
long past. In 1665 there stood at the corner of the Rue des
Mathurins and Rue de la Harpe, in the very heart of this venerable
division of Paris, the shop of ‘Maître Picard, chapelier.’ It was a
modest edifice, with one large window, in which were displayed hats
and caps of every age and style. For the students then, as now, held
prevalent fashions in great contempt, and dressed according to their
whims and finances, or in whatever they contrived to capture in
night skirmishes from the persons of the bourgeoisie.
To advertise his calling Maître Picard had erected a sign in front of
his house, over and above the intimation just mentioned. It was a
huge hat of red tin, gaily adorned with gilt edges, from which, on
certain festivals, bright ribbons floated in the draughts of wind that
whisked round the corner of the streets, to the great admiration of
the passers-by in general, coupled with wonder that it had remained
so long unmolested in such a precarious locality as the
neighbourhood of the Hôtel Dieu and Sorbonne. But this was
because it was a little too high up for them to clutch it; a few feet
lower, and long ago, Maître Picard would have been horrified some
fine morning at perceiving his sign had vanished: for, as we have
seen, the rotund little patrol was one of the marching watch; and
the same antipathie vouée which the student of the Quartier Latin at
the present time exhibits towards the Sergent de ville, existed quite
as forcibly two hundred years ago between the scholar of Cluny and
the Garde Bourgeois.
Since the rude treatment which Maître Picard had received from
the hands of his sworn persecutors at the ‘Lanterne,’ in the Rue
Mouffetard, he had neglected no opportunity of interfering with their
enjoyments, and various had been the schemes which Camille Theria
and Phillipe Glazer had planned for revenge. But they had all failed;
especially every enterprise against the hat, to which their designs
were principally directed. For they knew that the gigantic metal sign
was the pride of Maître Picard’s heart, and the glory of the Rue des
Mathurins—that its abstraction would crush his public spirit; and that
as such, no stone should be left unturned in effecting its destruction.
And indeed, as far as that went, they tried to carry out their
intentions in a very literal spirit, as the broken state of the rude
pavement below, and several large dents in the enormous hat
above, fully testified.
At last, by what appeared to be a fortunate chance for the
marauders, Jean Blacquart, the Gascon, took a lodging on the upper
floor of the house; being principally led to such a step by a feeling of
gratitude for the timely intercession of Maître Picard, when his
fellow-students were about to hang him. The instant this became
known, it was resolved that advantage should be taken of his
occupancy to carry off the hat. Blacquart, at first, plumply refused to
assist in such an irregular proceeding; but after Theria had assured
him that in the event of his non-compliance he would be dropped in
the Bièvre, or slowly roasted before the fire of the cabaret in the Rue
Mouffetard, the Gascon assented. A particular night was fixed upon
for the attempt, and a meeting of the ‘Gens de la Courte Epée’ called
at a tavern in the Rue des Cordeliers—the site of the present Rue de
l’École de Médecine—to effect this object.
That night Maître Picard, not being on guard, resolved upon
indulging in potent drinks and toothsome viands in his little parlour
behind the shop. He had closed his wareroom at an early hour; and
having invited Jean Blacquart to join him—for the Gascon was not of
the marauding party, although he had an indirect part to perform in
the outrage—was discussing hot wine with his lodger a little after
curfew, and listening to his rhodomontades connected with his
profession and deeds and actions generally.
Jean had told a great many narratives about encounters he had
won (which had never taken place) and enemies he had killed (who
were still alive), increasing the marvels of each with each cup of
wine, until the fulness of his heart, coupled with his fear of being
mixed up in the affair, led him to inform Maître Picard of the
intended attempt upon his hat to be made that very evening. The
apartment occupied by the Gascon was at the top of the house; it
had formerly been a granary—such as may still be seen in Paris—
and outside a small but strong wooden crane was fixed, hanging
over the doomed sign. To the rope of this a loop was to be made,
and then Camille Theria, who had taken the danger and the glory of
the enterprise to himself, was to be hauled up until he came within
reach of the hat, which he was to take from its fixings and bear off
in triumph.
The first feelings inspired in the breast of Maître Picard, as he
heard this bold scheme unfolded, were those of fright; the next
partook largely of revenge.
‘How many will there be?’ he asked.
‘Oh! a hundred,’ replied Blacquart. It was the ‘Gascon’ for twenty.
‘Bless me!’ said Maître Picard; ‘a great number—an awful number.
You have told me to-night that you once fought a score yourself; but
I don’t think you could face so many.’
‘I don’t think I could,’ said Blacquart. ‘I will try, if you please; only
if my courage led me into any rash attack, I might be fatally
wounded, and then what a scrape you would get into.’
‘True—true,’ said Maître Picard, wiping his face, and taking a long
draught of wine; ‘and it is the same with me. My frame is rather
round than large; but there is a great spirit at work within it, which I
cannot always command. I will call together the Garde Bourgeois.’
‘Will not their assembling alarm the others,’ said Blacquart.
‘Not at all—not at all,’ returned the chapelier. ‘We will have them
come by twos and threes, and hide in my shop.’
‘Excellent!’ said the Gascon.
‘Will you summons them, then?’ asked Maître Picard.
‘I think not,’ said Blacquart; ‘although they know me as a daring
and gallant coadjutor. My appearance in the streets might provoke
suspicion with any of the students I might meet.’
To the joy of the Gascon, who thought inside the house the safest
position with such an event about to come off, Maître Picard rose,
with some trouble, from his settle, and, puffing and blowing, started
out to summons his brother-guards. The Gascon remained to finish
the wine; which, having done, he felt so nerved that he sang bold
and warlike songs to himself, and then drawing his sword fought
imaginary duels with nobody, and slaughtered many chimerical
adversaries, concluding from mere want of breath, in high good
humour with himself and his prowess. He was yet panting from his
late courageous exertions, when his landlord returned with a few of
his brethren in the guard, and these were speedily followed by
others, who were stationed in the shop and parlour. Their presence
increased the Gascon’s valour to such a pitch that, when he saw
they had all arrived, he even offered to go and fight the students
himself. And had it not been for one of the guard, who, from sheer
wickedness, recommended Jean to do so, to his extreme terror,
there is no knowing to what lengths he might have gone, or what
wonderful actions he might have committed.
The curfew sounded; the lights disappeared in the Quartier Latin,
as the shops were closed, and the glimmer of the lanterns alone
illumined the thoroughfares. Maître Picard disposed the Garde
Bourgeois for a proper sortie, and then went up to Blacquart’s room,
accompanied by the student, whom he placed to keep a look out at
the window.
‘I think I hear them coming,’ said Jean, after he had been a short
time at his post.
‘They are marching in order,’ observed Maître Picard, with
breathless attention; ‘the students have mustered strongly.’
‘No; it is the Guet Royal,’ returned the Gascon, as the night-patrol
came round the corner of the Rue de la Harpe.
‘I think we had better call them in, too,’ said the affrighted little
hatter.
‘No—no,’ answered Jean; ‘the disturbance and the clank of their
arms will alarm the others. Beside, is there not enough to protect
you? You have me.’
‘Very true,’ said Maître Picard. But he said it as if he did not think it
was. However, he was resigned to his fate, and the Guet Royal
passed along the Rue des Mathurins, turning off towards the
Sorbonne.
‘They will not be back for half an hour,’ murmured Maître Picard,
as the last cresset disappeared round the corner.
‘Then they will be too late for our gentlemen,’ said the Gascon; ‘for
I hear them now coming in reality.’
In effect he was right. The students had evidently waited until the
patrol had passed, knowing they would thus be for a certain time
uninterrupted, and they now came quietly in front of the house. One
of them, whom Blacquart knew to be Camille Theria, clapped his
hands, and the Gascon replied to the signal.
‘They wanted to hang me the other night,’ said he; ‘but I mean to
succeed better with them than they did with me. And yet,’ he added
as he looked below, ‘there seems to be a great many of them.’
‘What are you waiting for?’ asked the chapelier.
‘Me? oh! nothing—nothing,’ said the Gascon. His blood was ebbing
down rapidly every instant. ‘Only I was thinking if you were to make
a speech from the window, and forgive them, how they would
esteem you; and perhaps it would save bloodshed.’
Theria, who was below, repeated the signal.
‘Lower down your rope,’ said Maître Picard, who was peeping over
the parapet.
‘Upon my honour, I don’t much like to do so,’ said Blacquart, as his
last atom of heroism evaporated.
‘If you don’t let the line down immediately, I will give you into
custody below as an accomplice,’ said the bourgeois, in wrathful
accents.
Another impatient signal from Theria was heard; and poor Jean, in
a terrible fright, proceeded to unwind the cord from its winch; whilst
the hatter kept looking just over the parapet to see what was going
on.
‘It is almost close to the ground,’ he said. ‘Now it touches it; and
that rascal Theria has got hold of the end. He puts his foot in it.
Huzza! huzza! now wind away; he is ours.’
And the rotund little man delivered himself up to the performance
of such joyful gymnastics, that at last his hat fell off and tumbled
into the street. A student, who saw it fall, thought it was Theria’s,
and cramming his casquette into his cloak-pocket, put it on, until the
other should come down.
‘Now, stop! for your life!’ said Maître Picard to the Gascon, who
kept winding away in great trepidation, but saying through it all that
he was easily accomplishing the work of six men. ‘Now stop! he is
on a level with the sign; let him remain there.’
Jean implicitly obeyed; the catch fell into the toothed wheel, and
he came to the window, whilst Maître Picard hurried down stairs very
rapidly, by reason of his gravity, and told his fellow police that it was
time to make their charge. They accordingly rushed into the street,
and were face to face with the students.
‘Trapped!’ ejaculated Theria, as he felt his progress stopped, and
saw the tumult below. ‘Oh, Master Blacquart, you shall pay for this.’
A terrible riot ensued. What the students wanted in numbers, they
made up in strength and daring. They wrested the partisans from
their opponents to turn against them, and in all probability would
have come off the conquerors, had not Maître Picard opened one of
his upper windows and discharged a blunderbus therefrom—not to
injure his enemies, but to give the alarm by the report of this novel
weapon, not long imported from Holland.9 It had the desired effect,
and in a few minutes brought back the Guet Royal.
Some of the students fled at once as they saw the night-patrol
advance, for they were men with whom there was no trifling. Those
who remained, being a small number, were now captured by the
bourgeois; and then Maître Picard emerged from his house, and
Theria was let down and seized.
‘Huzza!’ cried the little chapelier, giving way to fresh antics. ‘We
have caught you—eh? Take him away; to the guard-house with such
a brawler. Stop—no—the glory shall be with me. Gentlemen of the
Guet Royal, march on with your other prisoners; the Garde
Bourgeois will take charge of the ringleader. Mauvais sujet—ugh!’
Camille took no notice of Maître Picard’s address. He was,
however, chafing with anger inwardly at being thus caught.
‘To the guard-house!’ continued Maître Picard, ‘without loss of
time. I have rid Paris of a brigand—a cut-purse. En avant!’
Drawing his sword as well as his short arms and fat little body
permitted, Maître Picard placed himself before the prisoner, and two
of the others followed. In this state they started off, the hatter
leaving Blacquart in charge of his shop, and proceeded towards the
nearest corps du garde. But, as they were passing down the Rue de
la Harpe, Camille, who had been watching his opportunity, suddenly
tripped up the chapelier, and sent him rolling into the kennel that
rushed down the middle of the street, before he had time to save
himself. He then as rapidly dealt a couple of heavy blows to his
followers, and whilst they were aghast at the unexpected attack,
rushed down the Rue du Foin, in the obscurity of which he was
immediately lost. But we must follow him along it, leaving the two
guards, first to recover themselves and then to pick up Maître Picard,
in as sorry a plight as might well be.
Flying along the narrow thoroughfare, a few minutes brought
Camille to his abode in the Place Maubert. He went directly to the
apartment of Philippe Glazer, who was at home, and briefly told him
what had happened.
‘It will not stop here,’ said Theria. ‘That wretched bourgeois can
make a nasty business of it if he likes, and I must leave Paris at
once.’
‘Immediately?’ asked Glazer.
‘Directly. My studies, such as they have been, are nearly finished,
and Liège will do for me to settle at as well as anywhere else.
Besides, it is my home.’
‘Can I assist you in anything?’ asked Philippe.
‘In one thing only—a little money, for I am quite cleaned out by
mes camarades. In return, Philippe, I leave you everything—my
books, my rapier, and my Estelle—poor Estelle! Don’t ever part with
my rapier whatever you do.’
Glazer smiled at his friend’s speech, as he collected what little
money he had by him, and gave to the other.
‘Ten thousand thanks, Philippe,’ said Camille, ‘it shall be repaid
some day; we do not cheat one another.’
‘I will trust you,’ said Glazer; ‘is there anything else I can do for
you?’
‘One thing,’ said Camille, more seriously. ‘I am not one to boast of
favours bestowed, or even hint at them, but you will find a packet of
love-letters in my old escriban. Burn them all—they are from
Madame de Brinvilliers.’
Glazer uttered an exclamation of mingled incredulity and surprise.
‘It is true,’ said Camille; ‘she wrote them to me, telling me that I
was the only one she ever loved—that all the other attachments had
been madness—folly. Pshaw! each avowal was stereotyped, and did
for others as well as it will again do for the next. Burn them all.
Adieu! and tell Estelle to console herself.’
And, warmly shaking his friend by the hand, Theria flew down
stairs, leaving Glazer almost bewildered at the rapidity of the
interview and the avowal he had just heard.
CHAPTER XII.
EXILI SPREADS THE SNARE FOR SAINTE-CROIX, WHO FALLS INTO IT

The tower of the Bastille, which the Under-Governor had designated


as the Tour du Nord upon Sainte-Croix’s arrival, was generally known
as the Tour de la Liberté, which title, from the mockery of the
appellation, was not in frequent use. The Bastille, it may be known,
consisted at that time of eight towers. Two of these—the Tour du
Trésor, so called because it was chosen as the depot of the wealth
amassed by the sagacious Sully for Henry IV., and the Tour de la
Chapelle, were the most ancient, and had formerly been merely the
towers which flanked the entrance to Paris by the Faubourg St.
Antoine. Subsequently the Tour de la Liberté and the Tour de la
Bertandière were added opposite to those just spoken of—the latter
being the one chosen, some centuries afterwards, as the prison of
the unfortunate ‘Man in the Iron Mask.’ The Tour de la Liberté was at
this early period the most northern elevation—hence its second
name; and the entrance to the city lay between those four towers,
on the spot where the huge cast of the elephant, intended for the
fountain, may be recollected by the visitor on the way to Père la
Chaise. To those four towers Charles VI. added four others; about
1383 chambers were hewn in the thickness of the wall between
them, drawbridges were erected, a fosse dug around, and the
Bastille was completed.
All these towers contained the cells for the prisoners; and as a
portion of our story must now necessarily pass in the Bastille, we will
call the attention of the reader to them; but briefly as possible. In
each tower were five ranges of cells. The lowest of these, or
cachots,10 were the most horrible, receiving what little light they had
from the lower part of the fosse. The floor was covered with a
nauseous slime, perpetually oozing from the low grounds around,
and laden with rank and poisonous exhalations. Here noisome
reptiles—the toad, the lizard, and the rat, had their homes—
sweltering and crawling on the damp floor; from which the only
refuge allowed to the wretched prisoner was a species of bed,
formed by iron bars projecting from the wall, a few inches above the
ground. In many of these sinks, still greater misery was contrived for
the occupant. The lower part was a mere well, cut out in the form of
an inverted sugar-loaf, in which the prisoner was compelled to exist,
so that the feet found no level resting-place, nor could the body
repose.
Next in order of the chambres rigoureuses, were the iron cages.
They were above the cachots, and were formed of small beams of
wood plated with iron, being about six feet square. The next were
termed the calottes. These chambers were the highest, being built in
the summit of the towers, and so contrived that the prisoner could
only stand upright exactly in the middle, and there was scarcely
space in them for the length of a bed, although the depth of the
loopholes was ten feet, being the thickness of the wall. These were
small, admitting very little light, which was farther excluded by two
ranges of thick iron bars, within and without. Being close to the roof,
the heat of the sun in summer was insupportable, converting them
almost into ovens; in winter the cold was equally terrible, since there
was little space for a fire. In these rooms the victims were usually
confined who were destined for the oubliettes—the wheels armed
with cutting points, which, turning round, drew the sufferer between
them and cut or tore him to pieces.
The intermediate chambers were somewhat more comfortable.
They were fourteen or fifteen feet high; and, although the windows
were heavily barred and counter-barred, were tolerably well lighted;
whilst, from some of them, views could be obtained of the
boulevards and various parts of the city. The rooms were generally
numbered, and named after the towers in which they were situated.
The one that Gaudin de Sainte-Croix now entered was the Onzième
Liberté—and by the same title was the occupant known during his
sojourn in the prison.
The recognition, both on the part of Gaudin and Exili, was
instantaneous, and an expression of surprise burst from the lips of
the former as he discovered the falcon countenance of the physician.
But he directly recovered his composure, recollecting that the gaoler
was still in the room, and remained silent until Galouchet departed,
closing after him, one upon another, the three massy doors which,
covered with heavy locks, bolts, and iron studs, guarded each of the
chambers.
The first impression of Exili had been that some new punishment
was in store for him, upon seeing his late enemy enter, accompanied
by the functionary. But as the man left, and Gaudin, dashing his hat
upon the ground, threw himself in an old fauteuil at the foot of the
pallet destined for him, he perceived that he also was a prisoner. A
savage gleam of triumph passed across his livid countenance as he
bade Sainte-Croix welcome in a tone of mockery.
‘My prophecy has been speedily fulfilled,’ said Exili; ‘I gave you six
months—little more than thrice six hours have passed, and we meet
again. You may find good reason now to burn me as a sorcerer,
when you wish entirely to get rid of me.’
Gaudin smarted under the taunt; but his face betokened no trace
of the annoyance. He took the empty sheath of his sword, which still
hung at his side, and, smiling carelessly, played with the lace that
was fixed round his boot.
‘It is an odd rencontre,’ he said; ‘but you are no sorcerer, or you
would not have been here. On that score you are safe. We stand a
chance of being together for some time—perhaps we may become
better friends.’
‘Friends!’ replied Exili, with a short, dreary laugh. ‘Never: we are
not made of the stuff that can harbour such a dull sentiment. Crime
—purpose—common interest—might set up some tie between us;
but not friendship.’
‘I care not what you call it,’ said Gaudin; ‘our battle has become a
drawn game, and we must make the best of it. Yesterday I had my
revenge—to-night your turn has arrived. On the score of vengeance,
then, we are quits. At least towards each other,’ he added, after a
moment’s pause.
Exili had never taken his eyes from Sainte-Croix since he entered;
his piercing glance appeared to be scanning the thoughts that
prompted every word the other uttered. Gaudin’s last speech
appeared to have awakened fresh attention.
‘And to no one else?’ asked Exili emphatically, still looking fixedly
at him. ‘May I ask through whom you were sent here?’
‘Through the cause of all that can most wring and crush us, either
in this world or that which is to follow, for aught I know.’
‘A woman?’
‘Your divination is again right.’
‘And that woman is the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.’
‘I mentioned no name,’ said Sainte-Croix quickly.
‘You did not,’ replied Exili; ‘and yet I knew it. You cannot suppose
that I should remain ignorant of what has been the gossip of the
shops and carrefours of Paris throughout many a fine spring
afternoon this year.’
‘Her husband never knew it,’ said Sainte-Croix, for the minute
thrown off his guard, and admitting the truth of what had been a
random venture on the part of Exili.
‘In such case the husband is always the last,’ returned the
physician, ‘to credit his own dishonour. And yet it was not Antoine
Gobelin who sent you here.’
‘You are right once more,’ said Gaudin. ‘It was M. d’Aubray, the
lieutenant-civil, her father. Curses wither him!’
The features of Exili assumed an expression that was perfectly
fiendish, as he gazed upon Sainte-Croix, who was divesting himself
of his garments, and flinging them carelessly about the room here
and there, before lying down upon the truckle-bed. Not wishing to
extinguish the lamp, yet disliking the glare in his eyes, he had
removed it to the chimney-corner, near which was placed a rude
table.
‘It is cold!’ he said, as he endeavoured to warm his hands before
the dying embers.
‘So I thought last night,’ said Exili; ‘but I am already inured to it. It
is, however, a different change for you, from the Hôtel d’Aubray. I
am used to strange apartments; and I have no lady-love who may
play me false during my imprisonment.’
A spasmodic tremor passed through Sainte-Croix’s frame; his
hands were clenched and his lip quivered. The convulsion was slight
and rapid, but it was observed by Exili. He went on.
‘It is annoying, too, to dream that others may share her affections
whilst you are imprisoned here. Her years are but few—her blood is
young and vivid. The Marquis, too, neglects her—so goes report in
Paris—and she must have some one to attach herself to.’
‘No more!—no more!’ cried Gaudin, with a sudden and violent
outburst of passion. ‘Fiend! demon! what drives you thus to madden
me?’
‘These are harsh terms to christen me by,’ returned Exili, with a
ghastly smile; ‘especially when it is in my power to place in your
possession what you now desire above anything else the world could
bestow.’
‘And what is that?’ asked Gaudin, assuming an indifference
through his anger.
‘Vengeance!’ returned Exili, as he raised himself on the pallet, and
glared upon Sainte-Croix like a basilisk.
A scornful expression of contempt was Gaudin’s only reply.
But Exili saw that his prey was coquetting with the bait. He
continued—
‘There are dull moralists and fools who will tell you that revenge is
an ignoble passion, fitted only to those grovelling spirits who dare
not resent an injury, and yet are too sharply stung to pass it over.
Believe them not; it is a glorious triumph of retribution, although the
success of the cast will alone decide whether it will be called justice
or cowardice by the world. You are indebted for your present
position to Dreux d’Aubray; you burn for vengeance. If you fail the
world will call you pitiful, mean, lâche: succeed, and you become a
hero. Suppose I make that success certain!’
‘Pshaw! you are leading me on to some new toil,’ said Gaudin. ‘We
are powerless here; were we otherwise, I should mistrust you. This
is no place for bandying smooth phrases; nor are our relations
towards each other such as require them. You know my sentiments
towards you.’ Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, ‘What plan
do you propose?’
‘As I expected,’ thought Exili; ‘his curiosity is aroused.’ ‘It is full
late,’ he continued aloud, as the sound of the bell vibrated through
the building from the Tour de la Chapelle. ‘To-morrow your
excitement will have somewhat abated, and all will be explained.
Doubtless your couch will prove a trifle harder than the one you
have been accustomed to. Good-night; and may she visit you in your
dreams, for you will have little chance here of seeing her otherwise.’
And with this last observation, which had the full effect he
intended, the physician turned on his pallet and was soon asleep, or
affected to be so.
But it was long before Gaudin slumbered. The events of the
evening were in themselves enough to drive anything from his mind,
and the last conversation with Exili had added fresh wrath to the
mingled blaze of anger, jealousy, and impotent desire of revenge
that consumed him. At last the objects in the room imperceptibly
faded from his sight, or merged into the strange forms which his
half-slumbering senses conjured up; and in this state he lay for
upwards of an hour, with a consciousness of existence, but
motionless and silent.
Suddenly he awoke—if it could be called awaking from a state that
was scarcely a sleep—and cast his eyes across the room towards the
bed of his companion. Exili was awake as well. He had raised himself
in bed, and, by the light of the lamp which still burned in the
chimney-corner, was staring fixedly at Sainte-Croix, with the same
riveting gaze he had before directed towards him. It was not the
look of human intent—a serpent would have fascinated a bird with
the same expression, until the victim fell into its yawning mouth.
Gaudin quailed before it—he knew not why; but there was
something terrible in the unclosed and glaring eyes of the physician,
which almost precluded him from inquiring what he desired.
‘You need not be alarmed,’ replied Exili, in an unconcerned tone.
‘Whatever my wishes might have been towards you yesternight, at
all events, you are safe here. I was attracted by that curious bauble
hanging round your neck. Where did you get it?’
He directed Sainte-Croix’s attention to a small gold heart, about
the size of a walnut, which hung round his neck, and which he had
not laid aside in divesting himself of his clothes for the night.
‘It is an amulet,’ said Gaudin, ‘and contains a charm against an evil
eye. I have heard it will also yield visions of the future. I never put it
on one side.’
As he spoke, he opened the heart in its centre, and took out a
crystal of a reddish colour, set in a circle of silver. Exili gazed at it still
more earnestly than before.
‘It is a beryl!’ he exclaimed.
‘Eyes less piercing than yours might tell that,’ replied Sainte-Croix.
‘Your fool affected to expose one for sale on the Carrefour du
Châtelet but a short time since.’
‘I will tell you more,’ continued Exili, still fixing his scrutinising gaze
upon the amulet. ‘The names of the four angels are graven round it:
they come in order thus—Uriel, Raphael, Michael, Gabriel. I have
seen that stone before. Where did you get it?’
‘It matters little to you,’ replied Gaudin; ‘suffice it to say it is my
own.’
‘And you did not read your arrest on its surface?’
‘I have kept it merely as a charm,’ answered Gaudin.
‘Then you have abused its power,’ continued Exili. ‘Listen! do you
hear the night wind howling round the towers of the Bastille and
rushing down the chimney of our apartment? To common ears it is
but the wind—a viewless thing that comes and goes, hurrying on
around the world until its force is spent and it dies in nothingness.
To me it is far otherwise,’ he continued, as his eyes blazed with
unwonted fire, and he raised his arm on high. ‘Each gust is laden
with the wrath of some damned spirit waiting to be called upon to
make that beryl a mirror of the future, and you neglect the appeal.
Give me the stone, and let me read the fate you care not to know.’
Gaudin gazed at Exili with fixed astonishment. The physician
extended his hand, and the other took the amulet from his neck and
gave it to him.
‘It is the same!’ exclaimed Exili with a smothered exclamation of
surprise, as he again looked intently at Gaudin. Then, fixing his eye
on the stone, he continued—
‘Its surface is dull. I can see forms moving on it, but they are
indistinct, and dance from before my sight like motes, all except your
own, and that remains. You may yet triumph.’
Gaudin was awed by the manner of Exili; at another time he
would have laughed his predictions to scorn, but the circumstances,
the hour, and the place, combined to make him think very seriously
of his companion’s remarks.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘I will reply by putting another question,’ said Exili; ‘where did you
get this mineral?’
‘I have had it many years; let that suffice. Now, I claim to know
the import of your speech.’
‘You may yet triumph,’ repeated the Italian; ‘and by my means
alone. I am not, you see, the enemy you thought me. Again, I say,
wait until to-morrow.’
‘Nay, to-night,’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix. ‘I beseech you tell me what
you mean.’
‘The charm may be broken,’ continued the other; ‘it is not yet
time.’
The manner of the physician had worked upon Sainte-Croix’s
curiosity strangely. He again implored to know what the other
alluded to.
‘To-night—now—this instant!’ he exclaimed.
‘I will gratify you,’ replied Exili. ‘To-morrow they will bring me my
chemical glasses from the boat-mill, together with such dull
elements as the ground yields—simple and harmless—in order, as
they suppose, that I may practise alchemy. Fools! they little know
the change that paltry lamp can work in innocuous earths.’
‘What do you propose to do?’ asked Sainte-Croix.
‘To put you in possession of all I know myself,’ continued Exili, ‘and
bring Marie de Brinvilliers once more near you, unquestioned,
undisturbed. Seek no further. The life and death of those you love or
hate shall be alike within your grasp. The destroying angel shall
become your slave, and go abroad, obedient to your will alone. Your
bosom should now harbour but one thought—and that must be
revenge.’
Exili threw back the amulet to Sainte-Croix, and sank back on his
pillow; whilst Gaudin, finding he returned no reply to his questions,
once more sought to fly from himself, and the black thoughts that
haunted him, in sleep.
CHAPTER XIII.
GAUDIN LEARNS STRANGE SECRETS IN THE BASTILLE

It was not until Galouchet, the gaoler, entered the chamber of the
Tour de la Liberté the next morning that Sainte-Croix awoke from his
slumbers—from one of those bright dreams of freedom, triumph,
and happiness, albeit always tempered with some vague mistrust,
which haunt our sleeping existence; the fairer in their visioned
prospects, the more gloomy and hopeless the reality.
Exili had already risen. He was looking over the contents of a
small chest of carved wood, placed on the table before him. The
gaoler was apparently making preparations for breakfast, clattering
some metal plates upon the undraped and rude table; and in the
fireplace the dense smoke was creeping through some hissing pieces
of damp wood, as the sap sputtered and bubbled from their ends.
Gaudin stared about him confusedly. The last impression of his
dreams was mingled with his waking sensations, and he remained
silent for a few moments, after some incoherent words, to collect his
senses. Exili muttered some conventional salute, and then went on
with his scrutiny, whilst Galouchet, having put the table in order,
according to his own notions, offered his assistance towards
completing Sainte-Croix’s toilet.
‘What charge will monsieur choose to defray for his nourishment?’
asked the gaoler, as Gaudin rose from his pallet.
‘What do you expect?’ inquired Sainte-Croix.
‘Parbleu! we have all prices. You may live like a prince for fifty
livres a-day, or starve like a valet for two. This will include your
washing, if you are not over-fond of clean linen, and a candle a-
night. The firewood you must pay for separately.’
Gaudin looked towards the fireplace, and the struggling flame.
‘Ah!’ said Galouchet, divining his thoughts; ‘the wood is rather
damp, to be sure, but that makes it last the longer; and as you and
Monsieur Exili occupy the same room, it will come cheaper.’
‘Is there news in the city this morning, Galouchet?’ asked Exili.
‘But little,’ returned the functionary. ‘Pierre, the scullion, sleeps out
of the fortress, and tells me that an eboulement took place last
night, and the Bièvre burst into some of the carrières of St. Marcel;
and fell so rapidly, in consequence, that all the mills this side of St.
Medard were stopped for three hours.’
‘Was anybody lost?’ inquired the physician.
‘It is believed so. A party of Bras d’Acier’s gang were hunted out of
the vaults between the Cordelières and Montrouge, like rats in our
cachots, when the rains come; and one of the superintendents at
the Gobelins was fished up, half-drowned, from a shaft in the Rue
Mouffetard.’
‘Do you know his name?’ asked Sainte-Croix eagerly.
‘I can’t say I do,’ returned Galouchet. ‘What rate will you fix your
nourriture at, monsieur?’ he continued.
‘I care not,’ said Gaudin; ‘only let it be something that I can eat.’
The day passed on, but the hours lagged so tediously that Time
himself appeared to be a prisoner. Little conversation passed
between the two inmates of the cell. Exili was occupied in writing
nearly the whole day; and Gaudin, who could ill bear the
confinement, with his restless and excitable spirit, after the hour’s
exercise in the great court allowed to all the prisoners, obtained
permission to walk on the ramparts in front of the sentinels. This
position commanded a view along the Rue St. Antoine, as well as of
the houses in the Rue St. Paul. Towards this point were Gaudin’s
eyes constantly directed. He beheld people moving in the streets,
and over the plains in the immediate vicinity of the city walls—the
coup d’œil was alive with commerce—and the buzz of their voices
plainly reached his ear; but he envied them not, nor drew one
comparison between their freedom and his state of durance, except
when he saw them turn from the great thoroughfare into the small
street wherein the Hôtel d’Aubray was situated. He fancied he could
pick out the pointed roof of the mansion from amongst the others,
and once he imagined that he saw the delicate figure of the
Marchioness emerge from the Rue St. Paul, and pass towards the
city, without so much as throwing back a glance towards the fortress
in which she knew he was confined. And then the hell of jealousy
raged in his veins, and he felt the bitterness of captivity. He thought
of the circumstances under which he had found her with Theria the
preceding evening; then came back the recollection of the
impassioned interview, and her apparent devotion to him, until the
struggle of his conflicting feelings to establish what he hoped for,
over what he dreaded, nearly maddened him.
At length it got dusk, and he could see no more. The murmur of
the peopled city died away; the lights appeared in the embrasures of
the Bastille, and the night-wind chilled him. He descended once
more to his cell, and found his gaoler there.
‘I was coming to seek you, monsieur,’ he said, ‘for the curfew will
soon ring. Mass! your supper is nearly cold. Here is a slice of rôti, a
plate of eggs, and a salad; you could not fare better at home.’
‘Have any of my things come?’ asked Gaudin.
‘They are being overlooked in the corps du garde,’ replied the
man. ‘By the way, monsieur, my sweetheart, Françoise Roussel, gave
me this note for you, when I met her without the walls this
afternoon. She did not care that it should be read by the governor.’
Gaudin snatched the note, and discerned the handwriting of the
Marchioness. Hastily tearing it open, he read—

‘Be true and patient; all may yet be well, and you will be
revenged. Rely on me to aid you; we have gone too far to
retract. In life, and after it, yours only,
‘Marie.’

‘I must put out your light,’ said Galouchet. ‘Last night you were
brought in late, and nothing was said; but neither fire nor lamp can
be allowed between curfew and sunrise.’
‘You can have it, my good fellow,’ said Gaudin, still quivering with
the emotion which the letter had called up. ‘Here—here is some
money for you. I will keep your secret. You may retire.’
The man raked out the embers on the grate, and departed. As
soon as the clanking of the three doors that shut in the cell had
ceased, Exili, who till now had remained quiet, arose from his table,
and approaching Sainte-Croix in the darkness, said rapidly—
‘I will now show you some of the mysteries by which my career
has, up to yesterday, thriven. But, first—precaution!’
He took his cloak, and by the aid of the forks on the table fixed it
so that it covered the window, the position of which could be plainly
ascertained by the faint moonlight from without, and then he
returned towards the table at which he had been sitting.
‘The clods without think that our light and darkness is subservient
to their will alone; but the elements obey not such idiots. The ether
which percolates all things—vitalised and inorganic—setting up a
communion between them, reveals not itself to the uninitiated. With
me, the various elements are as abject slaves, whom I can summons
at my bidding.’
As he spoke, he dashed a small rod he held against the wall, and
a flame, so bright that Gaudin could hardly look upon it, burst from
its extremity. In another moment he had relighted the lamp, and he
then shook the blaze amongst the embers on the hearth, which
were presently rekindled. Sainte-Croix looked upon his companion
with the gaze of one bewildered. Exili read the expression of the
other’s features and continued, perceiving his advantage—
‘Life and death are equally within my grasp. Whom shall I call up?
Will you see the ghastly corpse of the Croce Bianca, at Milan?’
‘No! No!’ cried Gaudin, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he
dreaded to meet the horrid sight.
‘Will that serve to recall its memory as well?’ asked Exili, throwing
a phial upon the table.
A glance sufficed to show its nature to Sainte-Croix. It was a small
bottle of the terrible Aqua Tofana—the ‘Manna of St. Nicholas de
Barri.’
‘That menstruum is powerless, compared to what I am about to
show you. But first, look here.’
He stooped beneath the table, and pulled out a species of cage, in
which several rats were huddled together, fighting, and scrambling
over their fellows.
‘Where did you get those vermin from?’ inquired Gaudin.
‘There are more in the Bastille than are wanted,’ replied Exili.
‘They have been willingly granted by some poor wretch at the base
of our tower. Galouchet bought them. I told him they were to study
anatomy from.’
He plunged his hand fearlessly amongst them, and drew forth one
of the shrieking animals. Then squeezing its throat, he poured a
drop or two of the fluid down the mouth. The rat gave a few
convulsive throes, and he threw it down, dead, upon the table.
‘You see the effect of the potion,’ he continued. ‘Now, look here.’
Pouring the greater part of the remaining liquid of the phial into a
glass, he coolly drank it off before Gaudin could arrest his hand. But
no effect supervened. Instead of falling lifeless as Sainte-Croix had
anticipated, Exili gazed at him, and, with a short, hollow laugh,
threw the empty bottle amongst the embers.
‘Are you man or demon?’ asked Gaudin, scarcely trusting to his
senses.
‘Neither,’ said Exili. ‘I have lost the sympathies of the former; the
latter I may be hereafter. I have studied poisons, as you see; but I
have also studied their antidotes. Have you kept the small phial by
you, which you bought of me at Milan?’
‘It has never been out of my keeping until now,’ said Gaudin.
‘With that you could command twenty lives,’ said Exili; ‘and yet my
remedies could so blunt and weaken its malignity that I would take it
all at one draught. You shall learn more. Attend!’
From his box of carved wood he drew forth a series of test
glasses, and half-filled them with water from the prison cruche. He
next took a small flacon, and pinched a few atoms of the powder it
contained into the first glass, varying the addition in each. Then
dropping some colourless fluid into them, one after the other, a
precipitate fell down in all, in clouds of the brightest tints, but each
different.
‘See how completely these dull minerals do my bidding,’ he
exclaimed. ‘To you the potion offers no trace by which its nature
could be told; to me there is not an atom suspended in it, in its
invisible but imperishable form, which cannot be reproduced before
our eyes. Do you believe in me?’
‘I do—I do,’ returned Gaudin. ‘What price do you put upon the
revelation of these mysteries?’
‘Nothing—beyond your attention and secrecy.’
‘And yet you love revenge,’ said Sainte-Croix, eyeing him with
mistrust.
‘It is my life—my very blood,’ answered Exili. ‘And my revenge—
the deepest I can have—is to teach you all I know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Simply what I have said. You may call it good for evil if you
choose, but still it is my revenge. You have time and leisure before
you. Make the best of both.’
Again Exili gazed at Sainte-Croix with the expression of a vulture
hovering about its prey, as Gaudin advanced to the table, and, with
some curiosity, handled the apparatus which was spread about it.
The physician opened a drawer in the box, which was apparently
filled with sand. This, however, was but on a false top, which he
drew away, and discovered several small bottles, of the size of one’s
finger, which he took out.
‘These small messengers have worked great events in their time,’
he said. ‘This,’ taking up one, ‘was the terror of Rome, of Verona,
and Milan. I could add much to the records of the Scaliger and
Borromeo families, respecting its efficacy. This,’ he added, pointing
to another, ‘is so potent that a century and a half has not impaired
its power. It is the foam of a dying boar, slain by poison, collected as
you see, and was the scourge with which the Borgias swept away
their enemies.’
‘Why is one of the phials gilt?’ asked Gaudin.
‘Because its contents are the most precious,’ returned Exili. ‘Its
power baffled even the attempts at imitation of Spara and Tofana. It
was discovered by a monk in a convent at Palermo, and the secret
has remained with me alone.’
‘It is clear as water,’ observed Gaudin, holding it against the light.
‘And like water, without taste or odour. It aided many whose
hearts clung to one another,’ he continued, watching Sainte-Croix
with his eagle eyes; ‘by clearing away the obstacles that impeded
their union.’
Gaudin stretched out his hand, trembling with emotion, and
clutched the phial, which he regarded intently, his dilated pupil,
parted lips, and short, hurried breathing, showing the conflict of
passions that was going on within him. Exili passed a few more of
the phials in review before him. From one he let fall a few drops
upon the hearth; it hissed and boiled, and the stone remained black
where it had been; into another he dipped a piece of gold, and its
yellow and polished surface was changed to a dull gray by the
contact.
Then throwing out several of the allusions which he found had
most deeply stung his companion the night before, he placed himself
by the side of Gaudin, and proceeded to explain to him the rough
composition of the different articles the box contained. And as he
saw the intense attention, the almost gasping eagerness with which
Sainte-Croix followed his instructions, he exclaimed almost
unconsciously,
‘Mine—mine for ever!’
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CHATEAU IN THE COUNTRY—THE MEETING—LE PREMIER PAS

It was a dreary autumnal evening, sixteen months after the events


of the last chapter, and the twilight was fast coming upon a vast
forest in the province of l’Ile de France, now known as the
department of the Oise. The afternoon had been chill and
depressing. The wind moaned through the high branches of the
trees in a dismal and monotonous wailing, and the constant rustling
of the leaves as they fell to the ground showed that the season was
far advanced. There were few of the wild flowers left. Two or three,
here and there, in sheltered nooks, were all that remained to remind
one of the past summer. The delicate heath-bell trembled in the cold
breeze, as it rose amidst the dead foliage; but there were few
beside. The birds were silent; the tinkling of the cattle-bells on the
patches of pasture-land was hushed, as the animals huddled
together, shrinking from the first approach of cold; and no sound
was heard to disturb the general torpidity into which nature seemed
about to fall, except the echoing noise from the blows of the axe
with which the peasants were cutting down the limbs of the trees for
the winter store of firewood.
Yet was the Forêt de l’Aigue a pleasant place in summer, when the
sunlight danced upon the turf of its long avenues, darting through
the quivering foliage, and the ground was powdered with the bright
petals of its flowers, from the primroses spangling its sunny banks,
to the gentle violets clustering about the mossy bolls of the fantastic
trees, adding their odour to the scent-laden air that swept so warmly
through the branches. And during this season alone, it might have
been conceived that the chateaux, which were built widely apart
upon the forest, were inhabited; for the situation was indeed
desolate at other times. But although the autumn was, as we have
observed, far advanced, one of the largest of these country houses
that a man could come to in a long day’s walk, had not yet been
forsaken for the winter by its occupants. This was a large rambling
building, with many windows and turrets, surrounded by a neglected
garden, with a few mutilated stone statues, corroded by the rain of
many winters, and enclosed by a rude flint wall, with a broken
coping. The walks were overgrown with weeds; the ponds were
either dry or covered with slime and dead leaves; and water had
long ceased to come from the mouths of the misshapen dolphins
that formed the fountains. It was of a class of rural buildings which,
in France, always appear desolate and uncared for; but this one was
especially so.
In one of the large apartments of this house, a bare, uncarpeted
room, which the blazing pile of firewood upon the iron ‘dogs’ of the
large hearth could not render cheerful, were two persons—an elderly
man and a young female. The former was seated at an escritoire,
arranging a vast mass of papers bearing official seals and signatures
that lay before him. His companion was plunged in a large fauteuil at
the side of the fireplace, with her hands pressed against her face, as
if to shut out all impressions but her own thoughts. She might have
been supposed asleep, but for an occasional rapid shudder which
passed through her frame, induced by the vivid recollection of some
bygone scene of suffering. These two persons were M. d’Aubray, the
lieutenant-civil, and his daughter, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.
‘The wind is blowing sharply to-night, Marie,’ said the old man, as
a gust of unusual violence howled round the chateau, and shook the
rattling casements. ‘We must think about returning to Paris.’
‘I have no wish to go, mon père,’ replied his daughter,—‘to be
pointed at as an object of pity, scorn, or curiosity. I would sooner
remain here with you—for ever.’
She left the fire, and sinking on a low prie-dieu at her father’s
side, took his hand in her own, and looked up in his face with a gaze
of deep attachment.
‘You have nothing to fear in Paris,’ replied M. d’Aubray. ‘The court
has had a thousand objects for its slander since you left; and you
have been at Offemont long enough for the whole affair to be
forgotten. Besides, you will return acknowledged by me, and with
my countenance.’
‘Will the world believe that it is so, Monsieur?’
‘If I maintain it, they will, Marie. The dissolute life your husband is
now leading at Paris—his desperate play—the orgies nightly held at
his hôtel, which, if report be true, eclipse all others of the present
reign in debauchery, tend to prove that there was also deep blame
attached to him. The repentance—sincere, as I hope and trust it is—
of more than a year should disarm all future persecution.’
‘Antoine has been very cruel to me,’ continued the daughter. ‘I
should like to see my children; they must be much grown and
altered. It has appeared so long a time since they were taken away.’
Her voice faltered as she spoke. She covered her face with her
handkerchief, and for a few seconds remained silent, as if weeping.
There was not a finer actress on the stage than Marie d’Aubray.
‘Time will effect much, Marie,’ said her father, as he fondly passed
his hand over her white shoulder, and drew her towards him. ‘Your
husband’s anger will be less bitter against you; be satisfied at
present in knowing that your children are well and happy.’
‘And I am forgotten,’ added the Marchioness sadly.
‘I need not say,’ continued M. d’Aubray, ‘that the greatest caution
in your behaviour will be necessary on your return. The cause of all
this misery, M. Gaudin de Sainte-Croix, has been liberated from the
Bastille, and is once more free, at Paris. You must never speak to, or
recognise him again.’
‘You shall be obeyed, Monsieur: too willingly,’ replied Marie.
‘Bien—you understand me,’ said M. d’Aubray. ‘I have to rise early
to-morrow, and shall retire. When I ring, let Gervais bring up my
supper to my room. I have still some writings to arrange.’
‘I will see to it, mon père,’ replied the Marchioness. ‘I shall remain
up some time longer. I cannot sleep if I go to rest thus early, and
those long watchful nights are so terrible.’
She knelt upon the prie-dieu as her father kissed her fair
forehead, and then retired.
As soon as he had gone, and the sound of his departing footsteps
was no longer audible, Marie took the heavy candelabrum which was
on the table, and drawing aside a curtain of rustling and faded
serge, placed the light in the window. Then, watching the sulky beat
of a faded pendule, rich in shepherds and shepherdesses of
blackened gilding that was on a slab opposite the hearth, she
remained lost in thought, starting, however, at the least noise
without, although but the clatter of a falling leaf against the window.
An hour wore away. And then she became restless, pacing the
room with impatience, and constantly walking towards the window,
in the vain endeavour to penetrate the gloom without, unenlivened
by the presence of even a single star. Yet suspense was not the only
feeling expressed by her countenance. Her eyes sparkled, a
breathing glow of warmth and excitement flushed her face, and a
slight tremor pervaded her whole frame, extending also to her very
respiration. Suddenly these emotions ceased. A footstep was plainly
heard without upon the terrace of the parterre: it came nearer, and
then there was a light tap against the window. She rose slowly, and
opened the casement: in another moment Gaudin de Sainte-Croix
entered the apartment.
There was no spring—no eager rush into each other’s arms.
Despite the intense passion which had the instant previous filled her
silence and her thoughts, she now remained fixed, and mute as the
grave. Neither did Gaudin speak a word, as he found himself before
his mistress for the first time since his long and dreary immurement.
But the looks on either side were those which wrapped each other in
passion; and by degrees, yet still in silence and trembling, a hand or
foot stole forward, until the two forms which contained those
attached, but sinful souls, met in one long and clinging embrace.
‘Gaudin! my adored one!’ exclaimed Marie. But the concluding
accents were hushed by the lips of her lover.
At length they broke from their waking dream with the start and
unwelcome sense of reality that follows slumber. And then a sigh
rose to Marie’s lips far different from the acted sorrow and penitence
of the last hour. Passion stamped sincerity and truth upon it.
‘And can you mix grief, Marie, with the rapture of this moment?’
asked Sainte-Croix in tones of deprecation.
‘Gaudin!’ replied the Marchioness; ‘this must be henceforth the
only manner in which we can meet—this stealthy, miserable game at
hide-and-seek, the only way in which I can show my love, or repay
you for your suffering.’
The habitual distrust of Sainte-Croix’s mind led him to turn one
searching look upon Marie’s face. But all there was real and
confiding. All natures have their minutes of truth, however drilled
they may be into daily lying. He was satisfied.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘Do you remain here for ever?’
‘No, Gaudin,’ answered the Marchioness; ‘but my father requires,
as the price of his protection and countenance, that I should cease
to know you.’
The face of Sainte-Croix contracted so suddenly and fiercely that
Marie started.
‘What is it that frightens you?’ he asked suddenly.
She hesitated a moment, and then she answered slowly and
somewhat sadly—
‘Nothing.’
‘And yet there should—’ retorted Gaudin; but he paused as
abruptly as he had begun the sentence. ‘Have I not,’ he added in a
gentler and more tranquil tone—‘have I not suffered enough yet to
buy your devotion?’
There was ‘Bastille’ in his look. The wily woman was overcome by
the wilier man of the world, as though she had been a girl. She
clung to him, and pillowed her cheek on his bosom.
‘I will leave you, if it be your wish,’ said Sainte-Croix, as he put her
arms away. ‘One word of yours, and I leave you never to return,
until—’ and he paused slowly on the words, and uttered them
bitterly and deliberately—‘until his death!’
Again she started; but Gaudin noticed it not, or was determined
not to notice it.
‘Shall we part?’ he continued, and this time passion gave
eloquence to the few words—‘for ever? And yet, if what you have
told me of M. d’Aubray’s determination be true, it must be so.’
‘Never! never!’ cried Marie sobbing, as her clasp grew closer and
closer round his neck. Had it been possible for Exili’s soul to have
been then and there present, how it would have exulted in the
assurance of its second victim!
‘Nay, this is weak, Marie. Let us bear the yoke which the world
imposes with something like courage,’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix, with a
malignant expression strangely at variance with the silken accents of
his tongue.
‘You may, Gaudin, if you choose,’ said the Marchioness, ‘but I
cannot.’ And the tears were dried in her eyes as she spoke, as if by
the fire that blazed in them. ‘If it tramples upon me, I turn: if it
spurns me, I return loathing for loathing.’
‘And what good will that do you?’ asked Sainte-Croix, as a sneer
came to his lips, but vanished almost in its birth. Step by step he
was leading her on to his purpose. ‘See here,’ he continued, as he
took a packet from his cloak; ‘sixteen months ago I explained to you
the power of this paper’s contents; had you been then guided by
me, you could have averted my long and dreary imprisonment.’
‘Gaudin!’
‘You have deceived me, Marie. I imagined—fool—idiot that I was!
—that I was more to you than aught beside in the world; I now see
how we stand towards each other. Farewell!’ he added, with studied
unconcern; ‘Paris is wide, and its beauties at present require but
little courting. I release you from all ties—our liaison is over.’
He advanced towards the window as he spoke. The Marchioness
started forward, and caught him by the arm, exclaiming—
‘Oh! this is cruel, Sainte-Croix! Stop—but an instant. We have
arrived at the brink of a fearful precipice—a dark gulf is yawning at
our feet, whose depth we may not penetrate. We are doomed to fall
into it, but it shall be together. Give me the packet.’
Sainte-Croix placed it in her fevered hand as she spoke. And then
for some seconds not a word passed between them, and each
remained gazing at the other as if they would have looked through
each other’s eyes to discover what dark passions were rising in their
minds.
‘Hark!’ exclaimed the Marchioness, first breaking the silence in a
low hurried voice. ‘The servant is coming. You must leave me,
Gaudin. Leave all to me,—in a few days we shall be once more in
Paris.’

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