The Tricksters

There has always been in Paris (but, alas, found equally everywhere in the world), a class of men whose only job is to live at the expense of others; these bold schemers have many adept maneuvers; there is nothing they do not invent, nothing their minds cannot conceive to bring, either, as they say, "by hook or by crook," or by one means or another, their victim into their cursed nets. While the main bulk of this army works in Paris, their detachments flutter by like birds into the suburbs, scattered in the rural areas, where they travel mainly by cheap public transport; this sad fact firmly established, let us now focus our attention on a nieve young woman, whom it will soon pain us to relate the story of how she was taken in such bold circumstances.

Rosette De Flarville, daughter of a good, middle class merchant of Rouen, had finally obtained from her father permission to go spend the carnival in Paris, with a certain Messeur Mathieu, his uncle, a well-heeled moneylender who lived in the Rue Quincampoix. Rosette, although a little silly, was eighteen years old, with a charming figure: blonde, pretty blue eyes, dazzling complexion, and a beautiful neckline hidden, unfortunately, under a heavy wrapping; the latter announcing to any connoisseur of comeliness that what the girl was hiding was every bit as lovely, if not more so, than what was visible.

The separation had not been without tears: it was going to be the first time that Daddy, so noble, had ever been parted from his daughter; she was, of course, wise, fit and well-behaved; she would stay with a responsible older relative, and she had to come back at Easter; all this probably became grounds upon which to console him.

However, Rosette was very, very pretty; Rosette was, likewise, very confident; and she went to a city very dangerous for the fair sex of the province, who landed there with innocence and a lot of virtue to be sullied under the bootheels of the common ruffian or blackguard. However, the beautiful damoiselle soon departed, equipped with fine jewels and everything else she needed to socially shine in her own small circle; and, also, with many fine jewels and gifts for Uncle and his daughter's cousins.

Rosette was seen out to the coach, the father kissing her warmly; the coachman whipped his steeds impatiently, and everyone cried for their part, longingly; but, of course, it is necessary that the filial feelings of children are as tender as that of their fathers: nature will soon enough discover in such children, through the pleasures upon which they eventually stumble, (an often dissipated type of life, or the life of a wastrel), pleasures that involuntarily distance them from those that brought them into the world; pleasures which cool in their breasts those old feelings of tenderness; those feelings of all the more isolated, more ardent, and quite otherwise sincere love dwelling in the souls of their parents.

It is a killing indifference which makes youth insensitive to the old pleasures of their infancy; and it is only revived by those toys and other objects held sacred to childhood memory. It is only those sacred objects that can, often, revive them.

Rosette was no exception to this rule; she experienced the short grief of separation; but then, taken with the pleasures of Paris, her tears soon dried; indeed, she wished to experience the city with people who seemed to know it well.

Her first question was where Quincampoix Street was.

"This is my quarter, mademoiselle," answered a grand sturdy rogue, playing a game of dice; anyone could see, because of his outward tone and appearance, that he was a big shot in the rough underworld.

"How, Sir, Are you from Quincampoix Street ?"

"I've lived in it for over twenty years."

"Oh !"

"if that is true,," said Rosette, "then you must know my uncle Mathieu well?"

"Mr. Mathieu is your uncle, miss?"

"Certainly, sir, I am his niece ; I am going to see him, I am going to spend the winter with him and with my two cousins, Adelaide and Sophie, whom you must also know well."

"Oh! If I know them, mademoisell? And how would I not know Monsieur Mathieu, who is my closest neighbor, and mademoiselles his daughters; one of whom I have been in love with for more than five years?"

"You're in love with one of my cousins? It must be Sophie!"

"No actually, it's Adelaide; a charming figure."

"That's what they say in all Rouen. As for me, I have never actually seen them; it is for the first time in my life that I go to the capital."

"Ah ! you don't know your cousins, miss...and neither does Mr. Mathieu, no doubt." This last left Rosette confused.

"Oh my god no! Mr. Mathieu left Rouen the year my mother gave birth to me, he never returned there."

"He's a very honest man, I'm sure, and he'll be delighted to see you."

"A nice house, isn't it ?"

"Yes, but he rents a part of it, he only occupies the first apartment. And the ground floor. No one countervailing, and even some rooms upstairs, as I believe."

"Oh! He is a very rich man; but I will not dishonor him: wait, see, here are a hundred beautiful double louis that my father gave me to dress in fashion, so as not to shame my cousins, and nice gifts that I will also wear to see them; wait, see these earrings, they are well worth a hundred louis at least; well, it's for Adelaide, it's for your mistress; and this necklace that goes well with them, at least has the same value. It's for Sophie. That's not all. Here, see this gold box with the portrait of my mother? It was estimated yesterday to be worth more than fifty louis!

"It's for my uncle Mathieu," she continued. "It's a gift that my father made especially for him! Oh! I am sure that I have far more than say, five hundred louis on me. in silver, or in jewelry!"

"You did not need all this to be welcome from your uncle, mademoiselle," said the trickster peering at the lovely young lady and her small fortune.

"He will surely take more pleasure in seeing you than of all these fancy items."

"Hey, say whatever you like! My father is a man who does things right, and he doesn't want us to be despised because we live in the sticks!"

"In truth, mademoiselle, we have so much pleasure in your company that I wish that you would never leave Paris! I hope that Mr. Mathieu will give you his son in marriage!"

"His son doesn't have any love interest?"

"His nephew, I meant! A wonderful young man! Charles. Sacrebleu, the best of my friends!"

"What, you knew Charles too, sir?"

" You ask me if I have known him, mademoiselle? I know him still, and it is only to go to see him that I make the trip from Paris!"

"You are mistaken, sir, he is dead; I was destined for him from childhood; I did not know him, but I was told that he was charming ... The mania to be a soldier took him, though! He went to the war, and he was killed there."

The old rogue got a sly look in his eyes, and cracked a grin.

"Well, well, miss, I can see that my desires will, indeed, come true! You can be sure, we wanted to surprise you: Charles is not dead! !t was believed, six months ago, that he was! But he returned, and he writes to me that he is going to marry! And now think of it: you are sent to Paris. It is a surprise! Do not doubt it, mademoiselle! In four days you will be Charles ' wife, and what you wear are only wedding presents."

"Truly, sir, your conjectures seem very likely; by piecing together what you tell me, and knowing what I know of my father, memories coming back to me now, I see that what you suggest all seems very possible... What, I would marry in Paris? I would be a lady of Paris? Oh, Sir, what a pleasure! But if it is as you say, well then, you have to marry Adelaide at least! I will marry only so long as I determine my cousin and I will both make out equally well."

Such were the conversations of the sweet and good Rosette with the scoundrel who probed her while on the road, promising himself well in advance to make a good use of the novice who confided with him in so much candor. What a catch for the libertine gang! Five Hundred louis, and a pretty girl. (Tell me: Which one of the senses is not inflamed by such a find?)

As soon as they approached Pontoise:

"Mademoiselle," said the crook, "I have an idea. I am going to take some post horses here in order to go before you to your uncle's House, and to announce your arrival to him. They will all ride here to meet you, I am sure, and you will not be isolated at least by arriving in the great city."

The project was accepted, the gallant rode on horseback, and hurried to go to alert the other actors of this tragic comedy. Soon, he had instructed and warned them all; two coaches brought to St-Denis the phony family; they went down to the inn, the crook taking charge of the presentations.

Rosette found there Messeur Mathieu, and the great Charles, arriving from the army; and they kissed, the Norman handing over his letters.

The Good Mr. Mathieu wept hot tears of joy when he learned that his brother was healthy; Rosette did not wait in Paris to distribute the presents; too eager to assert the magnificence of her father, she hurried immediately to lavish the riches on her "family"; they embraced anew, gave new thanks, and everyone went to the Mathieu headquarters in the Rue Quincampoix.

It was a petit maison, but one of quite beautiful appearance.

Mademoiselle Flarville was settled. They carried her trunk into an adjoining room, and she sat herself down tiredly, where she was offered champagne; it is then she was made drunk; accustomed to drink only cider, she was persuaded that the fine champagne was the "apple juice of Paris."

Rosette did everything they wanted, finally so drunk she lost her senses; defenseless, she was stripped naked, and her"family," well-assured that she had nothing more on her body than the considerable attratctions lavished upon her by nature (and not wanting even to leave her those without destroying their purity), rejoiced vigorously and passionately all night, using her helpless, intoxicated form in whatever lewd, vulgar and shameful fashion they could conceive.

Content at last to have had from this poor girl all that it was possible to take, satisfied to have robbed her of her innocence and her honor, as well as her money, they clothed her in filthy rags, and before the dawn of day, they dropped her at the top of the steps of St-Roch. The unlucky child opened her eyes at the same time as the sun began to shine, troubled by the terrible state in which she found herself; felt her numb, aching, bruised body; questioned herself, and asked herself if she was dead, or if she was alive; the gutter snipes and street urchins surrounded her.

She was for long hours a cast-off toy by which the beggars and whores amused themselves; she was finally brought, at her pleading, to a commissioner of the police.

There she told her sad story, begging that they write to her father, and that they give him asylum somewhere near; the police commissioner saw so much candor and honesty in the responses of this unfortunate creature, that he took her into his own home; the good French bourgeois arrived and after many tears, shed by both father and daughter, took his dear, sweet child back to her home. Rosette afterward, it is said, had no desire for the rest of her life to ever see Paris again.

***

Reader! "Joy, salvation and health!" Or, so once said our good ancestors, after finishing their tale. Why fear imitating their frank politeness? So I will say, like them, "Reader, salvation, wealth and pleasure!" If my chatter has given you these, place me in a prominent place on your book shelf. If, instead, I have bored you, please accept my apologies and throw me into the fire!

The Marquis de Sade's "Adelaide of Brunswick". (link below)