he continued, “engaged in the business, have met with a bracelet in a Jew’s second-hand shop at Lyons, so exactly the same as madame’s that it only remains for it to be identified before we can claim it as madame’s property. My object in coming this evening is to ask madame to allow me to look at the other that I may be able to swear to the one at Lyons being its fellow.”
The baronne, overjoyed at the idea of recovering her lost property, tripped out of the room, and soon returned with the remaining bracelet. The inspector took it carefully in his hand and proceeded to examine it minutely.
“The bracelets are exactly alike?” he inquired of Madame de V———.
“Exactly,” repeated the baronne.
“I believe I have learnt the pattern thoroughly,” said the inspector, musingly, “yet there may be some difficulty in not having both bracelets together to compare them one with another.”
“Why not take this to Lyons, then?” suggested the baronne.
“Ah, madame, it would scarcely do to trust even a police inspector after having been deceived by an officer in disguise.”
“Oh!” laughed Madame de V———, “do you not think I would trust you, monsieur Inspecteur, after all the interest and trouble you have taken in the matter? Take the bracelet, and I hope you will bring me both back ere many days have passed.”
The inspector still hesitated, but at length consented to do as the baronne wished him, and went away, bearing the sparkling ornament with him. On her husband’s return the baronne, of course, told him of the joyful discovery.
A week, however, passed away without the inspector’s arriving with the stolen property. One morning, therefore, the baron called on the inspector to make inquiries respecting it. The latter seemed very much surprised on being asked if the bracelet had been brought from Lyons. “What does monsieur mean? never heard anything about the bracelet having been found at Lyons—it is surely a mistake. Monsieur has misunderstood madame la baronne.”
“You had better come yourself and have this strange mystery cleared up, M. Inspecteur,” answered the baron, sternly. “Madame is at home, and will be happy to assure you herself that it is no mistake, that you called and informed her of the diamonds’ having been traced to Lyons.”
The baron and the inspector repaired to the Rue des Champs Elysées, where they found Madame de V——— at home, as her husband had said. She confirmed what he had already said about the inspector having called one night at dusk and having informed her that the bracelet was supposed to be at a Jew’s second-hand shop at Lyons.
The inspector smiled incredulously as he said, “Does madame really think that I called at dusk, after business hours, when all the world is out, or enjoying itself with company at home? Bah! I do my business in business hours. The disguised officer most probably thought he could do another little stroke of business in an official uniform of another cut—the villain! Mais—I am afraid madame will never see either of her bracelets again after this.”
The inspector’s words came but too true. From that day to this madame la Baronne de V———’s diamond bracelets have never been heard of.
“SLAVE OR FREE?”
“Free, not a slave.” Therein a question lies.
Upon the verge of dim futurity
I stand, and try to pierce the gathering clouds
Of my perplexity.
I send a backward glance upon the past
And fairy dreams and woe-worn vigils rise,
And gleams of golden sunshine after storms,
Half blind mine eyes.
I see dark rocks ’gainst which the stream of time
Hath dashed me, or ’gainst which I steered my course.
Who knows if Destiny or Will hath been
The motive force?
Am I a puppet worked by leading strings,
And turned this way or that as Fate decrees,
Borne onward by a flood whose waters roll
To unknown seas?
Must I drift on? and are my struggles vain?
The hand I lift all powerless to control?
To fight and fail still be my maddening lot,
And lose my soul?
Why have a soul, if that its fate is fixed?
If that its noble impulses but serve
To carry on some fore-determined plan
Without the power to swerve?
Am I fore-doomed to tread a destined path?
Say, is the god-like found in such estate?
May I not rather and more nobly trust
My life to regulate?
If that the end is known, can I be free?
Does not that knowledge o’er me cast a chain?
Free and not free—an unsolved problem still
Must life remain.
Tell me, my soul, thou spark of the Divine
Breathed into me, am I a fettered slave?
Can I not shape the path that lies between
Me and the grave?
O curious life! O complicated web!
Thy tangled meshes subtly compass me.
Strange doubts perplex; yet still my soul asserts
The Will is free!
