It was summer-time in Paris; and late one night during the year 1817, lights still burned in the office of Derville, the famous lawyer, betokening that work was still proceeding in one spot of the gay city, in spite of the fact that thousands of pleasure-seekers paced the streets and filled the theatres, and that no reasonable person could possibly have the desire to be cooped up in a close room until midnight when the soft warm air of a June evening was to be enjoyed outside.
But Derville, the lawyer, was the fashion; and he had so many clients and so many interesting cases to conduct that his offices were often open until a late hour. Not that Derville himself was to be found there of an evening; for he was a young man, who, though clever and shrewd in his profession, yet desired to enjoy the good things of life and sought pleasure whilst he might. But his two clerks toiled on unceasingly, preparing deeds and documents against the return of their master at midnight, when they might retire to rest and Derville himself would take his turn, remaining up until early dawn to con the papers they had left for him.
Old Boucard, the elder clerk, would grumble now and again because of the late hours he was compelled to keep; but Godeschal, his companion, never complained, for he was an old soldier and afraid of no hardships. He was glad of the work to occupy his mind, after the troubles and vicissitudes he had been through as a sergeant in Napoleon\'s army.
Napoleon was now in exile at St Helena; but though peaceful days were at present his lot, Godeschal oft looked back with regret to the stirring past and sighed for the days when he had fought side by side with Chabert, his beloved Colonel. How he had loved Chabert; and how grief-stricken he had been when the brave Colonel had fallen at the battle of Eylau!
Nor was he alone in his grief—for when the news of Colonel Chabert\'s death was brought to Paris, there was general grief for the loss of so gallant a man; and his fair young wife, Rosine, became the chief object of sympathy in Parisian society, and, later on, its petted favourite.
In a very short time, however, Chabert was forgotten, and Rosine became the wife of the fascinating young Comte Ferraud, a peer of France. The pair had a deep love for one another; and when two children were born to them as the years went by, their happiness was complete.
And now, on this hot night in June, ten years after the battle of Eylau, their happiness was about to be shattered.
For Chabert was not dead, as had been believed; and he was even now entering Derville\'s office, with the object of proving his identity and claiming his wife. He had been struck down at Eylau, fearfully wounded, and after the battle his unconscious body had been taken up for dead and cast into a huge grave or charnel pit with the other slain; but later, on recovering consciousness and realising his awful position, he had managed by almost superhuman efforts to free himself. Then, as he lay on the top of the ground, he had been found by a poor peasant woman, who gave him shelter in her hut until his wounds were healed.
Better for him would it have been had he never effected so miraculous an escape from burial alive, for when at length, after many weary months, he went forth to tell his tale and seek assistance to return to his wife and home, no one would believe his story, and all laughed to scorn the idea that the gaunt, disfigured and ragged beggar before them could be the gallant Chabert, whom they knew to have been slain and buried at Eylau.
Stunned by the helplessness of his position, Chabert lost his senses for a time, and was locked up in a mad-house for declaring himself to be the dead Colonel; and then, finally securing his release by giving up his claim and calling himself instead Hyacinth the Beggar, he began to wander on foot through many towns and country wilds, frequently writing letters to his wife imploring her aid on his behalf, to none of which he received any reply.
Many further disasters fell upon him, for he was often imprisoned as a vagabond, since no one would believe his tale or give him help; but, at last, after ten years\' weary wanderings, he earned sufficient money to enable him to make his way back to Paris—there to learn the despairing news that his beloved Rosine was now the happy wife of another man.
Though full of grief at this additional crushing blow, Chabert yet determined to establish his identity at all costs, and to claim his wife; and for this purpose he sought the assistance of the most famous lawyer in Paris.
Nearly a dozen times that day had he called at the offices of Derville, only to find the great man absent, or engaged; and when he finally appeared again as midnight was about to strike, old Boucard was highly indignant, and wished to deny him admission, since he did not approve of his wild and wretched looks and his beggarly garments.
Godeschal, however, was interested in the stranger, and bade him enter; and as the haggard client came forward with feverish eagerness, the ex-sergeant stared at him curiously, trying to chase some elusive recollection as to where he had seen those scarred and worn features before, since he felt sure the man was no stranger to him, though he could not yet place him in his book of memory. His musings, however, were cut short by the entrance of Derville, who sent both clerks into an adjoining room, and sat down at once to interview his strange client.
No sooner did the ragged late-comer declare himself to be the famous Chabert so long believed to be dead, than the young lawyer became intensely interested; for the beautiful Comtesse Rosine, the supposed widow of Chabert and the wife of Comte Ferraud, was also his client, and one of the most fascinating of his many lady admirers. He, therefore, invited the unhappy man before him to tell him his whole story; and by the time the heart-rending recital had come to an end, he felt entirely convinced that the stranger was indeed the Chabert who had been mourned as dead.
At this moment, Godeschal entered to inform his master that the Comtesse Rosine had unexpectedly arrived and desired an immediate interview; and upon hearing that his beloved one was about to enter the room, Chabert became violently agitated, forgetting, for the instant, that she was now the wife of another man, and only longing to clasp her in his arms.
Derville, however, though now more than ever satisfied as to the truth of the story which had been told to him, thrust Chabert into an adjoining chamber, bidding him to possess himself in patience a little while longer; and then he gave orders for the Comtesse to be admitted, at the same time scolding Godeschal for staring after the mysterious ragged stranger—for the old sergeant had started violently on hearing the raised voice of Chabert, and it had brought back to him a flood of recollections. Half dazed, he admitted the Comtesse Rosine, retiring from the room as she entered; and Derville turned readily to receive his beautiful client, kissing her hand with his usual charming courtesy and leading her to a seat.
That Rosine was agitated, he could easily perceive; and though she began her interview by an attempted flirtation with the handsome young lawyer, Derville skillfully evaded her advances and led her to relate her troubles to him.
He was not greatly surprised to learn that Chabert was the cause of her late visit; and he soon discovered that, though terrified, Rosine desired him to believe that she was merely annoyed by the threats of a blackmailer. She declared that an impostor calling himself Chabert had written to her many letters, in which he claimed to be her first husband who had had a wonderful escape from death and burial; and she added that this person had now come to Paris and begun to haunt her house.
Derville\'s quick brain instantly realised that the Comtesse secretly believed the so-called impostor to be indeed her first husband, since she had, doubtless, recognised his handwriting on the letters, but that she was determined to refuse to acknowledge his identity; and the truth of his surmise was instantly forthcoming, for Chabert, unable to restrain himself longer, now burst into the room, and seizing Rosine\'s trembling hands in his, greeted her as his wife in passionate tones of love.
Rosine turned deadly pale, and, thus taken unawares, unconsciously proved to the watchful Derville the identity of Chabert by her instant shrinking away from his embrace, and by the hoarse murmur of his name under her breath; but the next moment, full of despair at the thought of losing her beloved Ferraud, she passionately denounced him as an impostor and utterly repudiated the idea that she had ever beheld him before.
Chabert, crushed again by her unexpected denial of him, feverishly recounted to her all that he had done for her in the past—how he had found her, an orphaned, destitute young girl, on the banks of the Seine, about to drown herself; how he had saved her, and, loving her from the first, had married her; and how, until the time of his departure to the wars, he had loaded her with every kindness and sought nothing but her happiness.
To all this, Rosine still stubbornly refused to admit any confirmation whatever; but, in spite of her repudiation, undeniable proof of the stranger\'s identity was again accorded by the sudden entry of old Godeschal, ............