“‘Remain,’ said Caderousse. ‘You can sleep here.’
“‘Yes; do stay,’ added La Carconte in a tremulous voice; ‘we will take every care of you.’
“‘No; I must sleep at Beaucaire. So, once more, good-night.’ Caderousse followed him slowly to the threshold. ‘I can see neither heaven nor earth,’ said the jeweller, who was outside the door. ‘Do I turn to the right, or to the left hand?’
“‘To the right,’ said Caderousse. ‘You cannot go wrong—the road is bordered by trees on both sides.’
“‘Good—all right,’ said a voice almost lost in the distance.
“‘Close the door,’ said La Carconte; ‘I do not like open doors when it thunders.’
“‘Particularly when there is money in the house, eh?’ answered Caderousse, double-locking the door.
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“He came into the room, went to the cupboard, took out the bag and pocket-book, and both began, for the third time, to count their gold and bank-notes. I never saw such an expression of cupidity as the flickering lamp revealed in those two countenances. The woman, especially, was hideous; her usual feverish tremulousness was intensified, her countenance had become livid, and her eyes resembled burning coals.
“‘Why,’ she inquired in a hoarse voice, ‘did you invite him to sleep here tonight?’
“‘Why?’ said Caderousse with a shudder; ‘why, that he might not have the trouble of returning to Beaucaire.’
“‘Ah,’ responded the woman, with an expression impossible to describe; ‘I thought it was for something else.’
“‘Woman, woman—why do you have such ideas?’ cried Caderousse; ‘or, if you have them, why don’t you keep them to yourself?’
“‘Well,’ said La Carconte, after a moment’s pause, ‘you are not a man.’
“‘What do you mean?’ added Caderousse.
“‘If you had been a man, you would not have let him go from here.’
“‘Woman!’
“‘Or else he should not have reached Beaucaire.’
“‘Woman!’
“‘The road takes a turn—he is obliged to follow it—while alongside of the canal there is a shorter road.’
“‘Woman!—you offend the good God. There—listen!’
And at this moment there was a tremendous peal of thunder, while the livid lightning illumined the room, and the thunder, rolling away in the distance, seemed to withdraw unwillingly from the cursed abode. ‘Mercy!’ said Caderousse, crossing himself.
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“At the same moment, and in the midst of the terrifying silence which usually follows a clap of thunder, they heard a knocking at the door. Caderousse and his wife started and looked aghast at each other.
“‘Who’s there?’ cried Caderousse, rising, and drawing up in a heap the gold and notes scattered over the table, and which he covered with his two hands.
“‘It is I,’ shouted a voice.
“‘And who are you?’
“‘Eh, pardieu! Joannes, the jeweller.’
“‘Well, and you said I offended the good God,’ said La Carconte with a horrid smile. ‘Why, the good God sends him back again.’ Caderousse sank pale and breathless into his chair.
“La Carconte, on the contrary, rose, and going with a firm step towards the door, opened it, saying, as she did so:
“‘Come in, dear M. Joannes.’
“‘Ma foi,’ said the jeweller, drenched with rain, ‘I am not destined to return to Beaucaire tonight. The shortest follies are best, my dear Caderousse. You offered me hospitality, and I accept it, and have returned to sleep beneath your friendly roof.’
“Caderousse stammered out something, while he wiped away the sweat that started to his brow. La Carconte double-locked the door behind the jeweller.”
Chapter 45. The Rain of Blood
As the jeweller returned to the apartment, he cast around him a scrutinizing glance—but there was nothing to excite suspicion, if it did not exist, or to confirm it, if it were already awakened. Caderousse’s hands still grasped the gold and bank-notes, and La Carconte called up her sweetest smiles while welcoming the reappearance of their guest.
“‘Well, well,’ said the jeweller, ‘you seem, my good friends, to have had some fears respecting the accuracy of your money, by counting it over so carefully directly I was gone.’
“‘Oh, no,’ answered Caderousse, ‘that was not my reason, I can assure you; but the circumstances by which we have become possessed of this wealth are so unexpected, as to make us scarcely credit our good fortune, and it is only by placing the actual proof of our riches before our eyes that we can persuade ourselves that the whole affair is not a dream.’
“The jeweller smiled. ‘Have you any other guests in your house?’ inquired he.
“‘Nobody but ourselves,’ replied Caderousse; ‘the fact is, we do not lodge travellers—indeed, our tavern is so near the town, that nobody would think of stopping here.’
“‘Then I am afraid I shall very much inconvenience you.’