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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25955-0.txt b/25955-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b37ffda --- /dev/null +++ b/25955-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13330 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bronze Eagle, by Emmuska Orczy, Baroness +Orczy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bronze Eagle + A Story of the Hundred Days + + +Author: Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + + + +Release Date: July 3, 2008 [eBook #25955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + + * * * * * + +By BARONESS ORCZY + +THE BRONZE EAGLE +A BRIDE OF THE PLAINS +THE LAUGHING CAVALIER +"UNTO CAESAR" +EL DORADO +MEADOWSWEET +THE NOBLE ROGUE +THE HEART OF A WOMAN +PETTICOAT RULE + +GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY +NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +A Story of the Hundred Days + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + +Author of "The Laughing Cavalier," "The Scarlet Pimpernel," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + +New York +George H. Doran Company + +Copyright, 1915, +by Baroness Orczy +Copyright, 1915, +by George H. Doran Company + +This novel was published serially, under the title of "Waterloo" + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + THE LANDING AT JOUAN 9 +I. THE GLORIOUS NEWS 14 +II. THE OLD RÉGIME 49 +III. THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR 85 +IV. THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS 138 +V. THE RIVALS 196 +VI. THE CRIME 221 +VII. THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL 236 +VIII. THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT 261 +IX. THE TARPEIAN ROCK 285 +X. THE LAST THROW 305 +XI. THE LOSING HANDS 338 +XII. THE WINNING HAND 370 + + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + + +THE LANDING AT JOUAN + + +The perfect calm of an early spring dawn lies over headland and +sea--hardly a ripple stirs the blue cheek of the bay. The softness of +departing night lies upon the bosom of the Mediterranean like the dew +upon the heart of a flower. + +A silent dawn. + +Veils of transparent greys and purples and mauves still conceal the +distant horizon. Breathless calm rests upon the water and that awed hush +which at times descends upon Nature herself when the finger of Destiny +marks an eventful hour. + +But now the grey and the purple veils beyond the headland are lifted one +by one; the midst of dawn rises upwards like the smoke of incense from +some giant censers swung by unseen, mighty hands. + +The sky above is of a translucent green, studded with stars that blink +and now are slowly extinguished one by one: the green has turned to +silver, and the silver to lemon-gold: the veils beyond the upland are +flying in the wake of departing Night. + +The lemon-gold turns to glowing amber, anon to orange and crimson, and +far inland the mountain peaks, peeping shyly through the mist, blush a +vivid rose to find themselves so fair. + +And to the south, there where fiery sea blends and merges with fiery +sky, a tiny black speck has just come into view. Larger and larger it +grows as it draws nearer to the land, now it seems like a bird with +wings outspread--an eagle flying swiftly to the shores of France. + +In the bay the fisher folk, who are making ready for their day's work, +pause a moment as they haul up their nets: with rough brown hands held +above their eyes they look out upon that black speck--curious, +interested, for the ship is not one they have seen in these waters +before. + +"'Tis the Emperor come back from Elba!" says someone. + +The men laugh and shrug their shoulders: that tale has been told so +often in these parts during the past year: the good folk have ceased to +believe in it. It has almost become a legend now, that story that the +Emperor was coming back--their Emperor--the man with the battered hat +and the grey redingote: the people's Emperor, he who led them from +victory to victory, whose eagles soared above every capital and every +tower in Europe, he who made France glorious and respected: her +citizens, men, her soldiers, heroes. + +And with stately majesty the dawn yields to day, the last tones of +orange have faded from the sky: it is once more of a translucent green +merging into sapphire overhead. And the great orb in the east rises from +out the trammels of the mist, and from awakening Earth and Sea comes the +great love-call, the triumphant call of Day. And far away upon the +horizon to the south, the black speck becomes more distinct and more +clear; it takes shape, substance, life. + +It divides and multiplies, for now there are three or four specks +silhouetted against the sky--not three or four, but five--no! six--no! +seven! Seven black specks which detach themselves one by one, one from +another and from the vagueness beyond--experienced eyes scan the horizon +with enthusiasm and excitement which threaten to blur the clearness of +their vision. Anyone with an eye for sea-going craft can distinguish +that topsail-schooner there, well ahead of the rest of the tiny fleet, +skimming the water with swift grace, and immediately behind her the +three-masted polacca--hm! have we not seen her in these waters +before?--and the two graceful feluccas whose lateen sails look so like +the outspread wings of a bird! + +But it is on the schooner that all eyes are riveted now: she skips along +so fast that within an hour her pennant is easily distinguishable--red +and white! the flag of Elba, of that diminutive toy-kingdom which for +the past twelve months has been ruled over by the mightiest conqueror +this modern world has ever known. + +The flag of Elba! then it is the Emperor coming back! + +A crowd had gathered on the headland now--a crowd made up of bare-footed +fisher-folk, men, women, children, and of the labourers from the +neighbouring fields and vineyards: they have all come to greet the +Emperor--the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote, the +curious, flashing eyes and mouth that always spoke genial words to the +people of France! + +Traitors turned against him--Ney! de Marmont! Bernadotte! those on whom +he had showered the full measure of his friendship, whom he had loaded +with honours, with glory and with wealth. Foreign armies joined in +coalition against France and forced the people's Emperor to leave his +country which he loved so well, had sent him to humiliation and to +exile. But he had come back, as all his people had always said that he +would! He had come back, there was the topsail-schooner that was +bringing him home so swiftly now. + +Another hour and the schooner's name can be deciphered quite +easily--_L'Inconstant_, and that of the polacca _Le Saint-Esprit_ . . . +and beyond these _L'Etoile_ and _Saint Joseph_, _Caroline_. And the +entire little fleet flies the flag of Elba. + +The Emperor has come back! Bare-footed fisherfolk whisper it among +themselves, the labourers in the valley call the news to those upon the +hills. + +Why! after another hour or so, there are those among the small knot who +stand congregated on the highest point of the headland, who swear that +they can see the Emperor--standing on the deck of the _L'Inconstant_. + +He wears a black bicorne hat, and his grey redingote: he is pacing up +and down the deck of the schooner, his hands held behind his back in the +manner so familiar to the people of France. And on his hat is pinned the +tricolour of France. Everyone on shore who is on the look-out for the +schooner now can see the tricolour quite plainly. A mighty shout escapes +the lusty throats of the men on the beach, the women are on the verge of +tears from sheer excitement, and that shout is repeated again and again +and sends its ringing echo from cliff to cliff, and from fort to fort as +the red and white pennant of the kingdom of Elba is hauled down from the +ship's stern and the tricolour flag--the flag of Liberty and of +regenerate France--is hoisted in its stead. + +The soft breeze from the south unfurls its folds and these respond to +his caress. The red, white and blue make a trenchant note of colour now +against the tender hues of the sea: flaunting its triumphant message in +the face of awakening nature. + +The eagle has left the bounds of its narrow cage of Elba: it has taken +wing over the blue Mediterranean! within an hour, perhaps, or two, it +will rest on the square church tower of Antibes--but not for long. Soon +it will take to its adventurous flight again, and soar over valley and +mountain peak, from church belfry to church belfry until it finds its +resting-place upon the towers of Notre Dame. + +One hour after noon the curtain has risen upon the first act of the most +adventurous tragedy the world has ever known. + +Napoleon Bonaparte has landed in the bay of Jouan with eleven hundred +men and four guns to reconquer France and the sovereignty of the world. +Six hundred of his old guard, six score of his Polish light cavalry, +three or four hundred Corsican chasseurs: thus did that sublime +adventurer embark upon an expedition the most mad, the most daring, the +most heroic, the most egotistical, the most tragic and the most glorious +which recording Destiny has ever written in the book of this world. + +The boats were lowered at one hour after noon, and the landing was +slowly and methodically begun: too slowly for the patience of the old +guard--the old "growlers" with grizzled moustache and furrowed cheeks, +down which tears of joy and enthusiasm were trickling at sight of the +shores of France. They were not going to wait for the return of those +boats which had conveyed the Polish troopers on shore: they took to the +water and waded across the bay, tossing the salt spray all around them +as they trod the shingle, like so many shaggy dogs enjoying a bath; and +when six hundred fur bonnets darkened the sands of the bay at the foot +of the Tower of la Gabelle, such a shout of "Vive l'Empereur" went forth +from six hundred lusty throats that the midday spring air vibrated with +kindred enthusiasm for miles and miles around. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GLORIOUS NEWS + + +I + +Where the broad highway between Grenoble and Gap parts company from the +turbulent Drac, and after crossing the ravine of Vaulx skirts the +plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and +mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle on the +left and in wayward curves continues its length through the woods +upwards to the hamlet of Vaulx and the shrine of Notre Dame. + +Far away to the west the valley of the Drac lies encircled by the +pine-covered slopes of the Lans range, whilst towering some seven +thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Moucherolle +glistens like a sea of myriads of rose-coloured diamonds under the kiss +of the morning sun. + +There was more than a hint of snow in the sharp, stinging air this +afternoon, even down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the +northeast whipped up the faces of the two riders as they turned their +horses at a sharp trot up the bridle path. + +Though it was not long since the sun had first peeped out above the +forests of Pelvoux, the riders looked as if they had already a long +journey to their credit; their horses were covered with sweat and +sprinkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered +with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But +despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and +unconscious grace which marks the man accustomed to hard and constant +riding, though--to the experienced eye--there would appear a vast +difference in the style and manner in which each horseman handled his +mount. + +One of them had the rigid precision of bearing which denotes military +training: he was young and slight of build, with unruly dark hair +fluttering round the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and +escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of +the neck; he held himself very erect and rode his horse on the curb, the +reins gathered tightly in one gloved hand, and that hand held closely +and almost immovably against his chest. + +The other sat more carelessly--though in no way more loosely--in his +saddle: he gave his horse more freedom, with a chain-snaffle and reins +hanging lightly between his fingers. He was obviously taller and +probably older than his companion, broader of shoulder and fairer of +skin; you might imagine him riding this same powerful mount across a +sweep of open country, but his friend you would naturally picture to +yourself in uniform on the parade ground. + +The riders soon left the valley of the Drac behind them; on ahead the +path became very rocky, winding its way beside a riotous little mountain +stream, whilst higher up still, peeping through the intervening trees, +the white-washed cottages of the tiny hamlet glimmered with dazzling +clearness in the frosty atmosphere. At a sharp bend of the road, which +effectually revealed the foremost of these cottages, distant less than +two kilometres now, the younger of the two men drew rein suddenly, and +lifting his hat with outstretched arm high above his head, he gave a +long sigh which ended in a kind of exultant call of joy. + +"There is Notre Dame de Vaulx," he cried at the top of his voice, and +hat still in hand he pointed to the distant hamlet. "There's the spot +where--before the sun darts its midday rays upon us--I shall hear great +and glorious and authentic news of _him_ from a man who has seen him as +lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the +sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope in his eyes. +Oh!" he went on speaking with extraordinary volubility, "it is all too +good to be true! Since yesterday I have felt like a man in a dream!--I +haven't lived, I have scarcely breathed, I . . ." + +The other man broke in upon his ravings with a good-humoured growl. + +"You have certainly behaved like an escaped lunatic since early this +morning, my good de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that--as +we shall have to mix again with our fellow-men presently--you might try +to behave with some semblance of reasonableness." + +But de Marmont only laughed. He was so excited that his lips trembled +all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed just as if some inward +fire was burning deep down in his soul. + +"No! I can't," he retorted. "I want to shout and to sing and to cry +'Vive l'Empereur' till those frowning mountains over there echo with my +shouts--and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and +curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will--an escaped +lunatic--if to be mad with joy be a proof of insanity. Clyffurde, my +dear friend," he added more soberly, "I am honestly sorry for you +to-day." + +"Thank you," commented his companion drily. "May I ask how I have +deserved this genuine sympathy?" + +"Well! because you are an Englishman, and not a Frenchman," said the +younger man earnestly; "because you--as an Englishman--must desire +Napoleon's downfall, his humiliation, perhaps his death, instead of +exulting in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him, +following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my +nationality or my patriotism demanded that I should fight against +Napoleon, that I should hate him, or vilify him, I firmly believe that I +would turn my sword against myself, so shamed should I feel in my own +eyes." + +It was the Englishman's turn to laugh, and he did it very heartily. His +laugh was quite different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it, +more good temper, more appreciation of everything that tends to gaiety +in life and more direct defiance of what is gloomy. + +He too had reined in his horse, presumably in order to listen to his +friend's enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his +merry, pleasant eyes a quaint look of half contemptuous tolerance +tempered by kindly humour. + +"Well, you see, my good de Marmont," he said, still laughing, "you +happen to be a Frenchman, a visionary and weaver of dreams. Believe me," +he added more seriously, "if you had the misfortune to be a prosy, +shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just +because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would +realise soberly and calmly that while Napoleon Bonaparte is allowed to +rule over France--or over any country for the matter of that--there will +never be peace in the world or prosperity in any land." + +The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his +face--a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait +for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a +warning finger. + +Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more: + +"Shall we," he said, "go slowly on now as far as the village? It is not +yet ten o'clock. Emery cannot possibly be here before noon." + +He put his horse to a walk, de Marmont keeping close behind him, and in +silence the two men rode up the incline toward Notre Dame de Vaulx. On +ahead the pines and beech and birch became more sparse, disclosing the +great patches of moss-covered rock upon the slopes of Pelvoux. On +Taillefer the eternal snows appeared wonderfully near in the brilliance +of this early spring atmosphere, and here and there on the roadside +bunches of wild crocus and of snowdrops were already visible rearing +their delicate corollas up against a background of moss. + +The tiny village still far away lay in the peaceful hush of a Sunday +morning, only from the little chapel which holds the shrine of Notre +Dame came the sweet, insistent sound of the bell calling the dwellers of +these mountain fastnesses to prayer. + +The northeasterly wind was still keen, but the sun was gaining power as +it rose well above Pelvoux, and the sky over the dark forests and +snow-crowned heights was of a glorious and vivid blue. + + +II + +The words "Auberge du Grand Dauphin" looked remarkably inviting, written +in bold, shiny black characters on the white-washed wall of one of the +foremost houses in the village. The riders drew rein once more, this +time in front of the little inn, and as a young ostler in blue blouse +and sabots came hurriedly and officiously forward whilst mine host in +the same attire appeared in the doorway, the two men dismounted, +unstrapped their mantles from their saddle-bows and loudly called for +mulled wine. + +Mine host, typical of his calling and of his race, rubicund of cheek, +portly of figure and genial in manner, was over-anxious to please his +guests. It was not often that gentlemen of such distinguished appearance +called at the "Auberge du Grand Dauphin," seeing that Notre Dame de +Vaulx lies perdu on the outskirts of the forests of Pelvoux, that the +bridle path having reached the village leads nowhere save into the +mountains and that La Motte is close by with its medicinal springs and +its fine hostels. + +But these two highly-distinguished gentlemen evidently meant to make a +stay of it. They even spoke of a friend who would come and join them +later, when they would expect a substantial _déjeuner_ to be served with +the best wine mine host could put before them. Annette--mine host's +dark-eyed daughter--was all a-flutter at sight of these gallant +strangers, one of them with such fiery eyes and vivacious ways, and the +other so tall and so dignified, with fair skin well-bronzed by the sun +and large firm mouth that had such a pleasant smile on it; her eyes +sparkled at sight of them both and her glib tongue rattled away at truly +astonishing speed. + +Would a well-baked omelette and a bit of fricandeau suit the +gentlemen?--Admirably? Ah, well then, that could easily be done!--and +now? in the meanwhile?--Only good mulled wine? That would present no +difficulty either. Five minutes for it to get really hot, as Annette had +made some the previous day for her father who had been on a tiring +errand up to La Mure and had come home cold and starved--and it was +specially good--all the better for having been hotted up once or twice +and the cloves and nutmeg having soaked in for nearly four and twenty +hours. + +Where would the gentlemen have it--Outside in the sunshine? . . . Well! +it was very cold, and the wind biting . . . but the gentlemen had +mantles, and she, Annette, would see that the wine was piping hot. . . . +Five minutes and everything would be ready. . . . + +What? . . . the tall, fair-skinned gentleman wanted to wash? . . . what +a funny idea! . . . hadn't he washed this morning when he got up? . . . +He had? Well, then, why should he want to wash again? . . . She, +Annette, managed to keep herself quite clean all day, and didn't need +to wash more than once a day. . . . But there! strangers had funny ways +with them . . . she had guessed at once that Monsieur was a stranger, he +had such a fair skin and light brown hair. Well! so long as Monsieur +wasn't English--for the English, she detested! + +Why did she detest the English? . . . Because they made war against +France. Well! against the Emperor anyhow, and she, Annette, firmly +believed that if the English could get hold of the Emperor they would +kill him--oh, yes! they would put him on an island peopled by cannibals +and let him be eaten, bones, marrow and all. + +And Annette's dark eyes grew very round and very big as she gave forth +her opinion upon the barbarous hatred of the English for "l'Empereur!" +She prattled on very gaily and very volubly, while she dragged a couple +of chairs out into the open, and placed them well in the lee of the wind +and brought a couple of pewter mugs which she set on the table. + +She was very much interested in the tall gentleman who had availed +himself of her suggestion to use the pump at the back of the house, +since he was so bent on washing himself; and she asked many questions +about him from his friend. + +Ten minutes later the steaming wine was on the table in a huge china +bowl and the Englishman was ladling it out with a long-handled spoon and +filling the two mugs with the deliciously scented cordial. Annette had +disappeared into the house in response to a peremptory call from her +father. The chapel bell had ceased to ring long ago, and she would miss +hearing Mass altogether to-day; and M. le curé, who came on alternate +Sundays all the way from La Motte to celebrate divine service, would be +very angry indeed with her. + +Well! that couldn't be helped! Annette would have loved to go to Mass, +but the two distinguished gentlemen expected their friend to arrive at +noon, and the _déjeuner_ to be ready quite by then; so she comforted her +conscience with a few prayers said on her knees before the picture of +the Holy Virgin which hung above her bed, after which she went back to +her housewifely duty with a light heart; but not before she had decided +an important point in her mind--namely, which of those two handsome +gentlemen she liked the best: the dark one with the fiery eyes that +expressed such bold admiration of her young charms, or the tall one with +the earnest grey eyes who looked as if he could pick her up like a +feather and carry her running all the way to the summit of Taillefer. + +Annette had indeed made up her mind that the giant with the soft brown +hair and winning smile was, on the whole, the more attractive of the +two. + + +III + +The two friends, with mantles wrapped closely round them, sat outside +the "Grand Dauphin" all unconscious of the problem which had been +disturbing Annette's busy little brain. + +The steaming wine had put plenty of warmth into their bones, and though +both had been silent while they sipped their first mug-full, it was +obvious that each was busy with his own thoughts. + +Then suddenly the young Frenchman put his mug down and leaned with both +elbows upon the rough deal table, because he wanted to talk +confidentially with his friend, and there was never any knowing what +prying ears might be about. + +"I suppose," he said, even as a deep frown told of puzzling thoughts +within the mind, "I suppose that when England hears the news, she will +up and at him again, attacking him, snarling at him even before he has +had time to settle down upon his reconquered throne." + +"That throne is not reconquered yet, my friend," retorted the Englishman +drily, "nor has the news of this mad adventure reached England so far, +but . . ." + +"But when it does," broke in de Marmont sombrely, "your Castlereagh will +rave and your Wellington will gather up his armies to try and crush the +hero whom France loves and acclaims." + +"Will France acclaim the hero, there's the question?" + +"The army will--the people will----" + +Clyffurde shrugged his shoulders. + +"The army, yes," he said slowly, "but the people . . . what people?--the +peasantry of Provence and the Dauphiné, perhaps--what about the town +folk?--your mayors and _préfets_?--your tradespeople? your shopkeepers +who have been ruined by the wars which your hero has made to further his +own ambition. . . ." + +"Don't say that, Clyffurde," once more broke in de Marmont, and this +time more vehemently than before. "When you speak like that I could +almost forget our friendship." + +"Whether I say it or not, my good de Marmont," rejoined Clyffurde with +his good-humoured smile, "you will anyhow--within the next few +months--days, perhaps--bury our friendship beneath the ashes of your +patriotism. No one, believe me," he added more earnestly, "has a greater +admiration for the genius of Napoleon than I have; his love of France is +sublime, his desire for her glory superb. But underlying his love of +country, there is the love of self, the mad desire to rule, to conquer, +to humiliate. It led him to Moscow and thence to Elba, it has brought +him back to France. It will lead him once again to the Capitol, no +doubt, but as surely too it will lead him on to the Tarpeian Rock whence +he will be hurled down this time, not only bruised, but shattered, a +fallen hero--and you will--a broken idol, for posterity to deal with in +after time as it lists." + +"And England would like to be the one to give the hero the final push," +said de Marmont, not without a sneer. + +"The people of England, my friend, hate and fear Bonaparte as they have +never hated and feared any one before in the whole course of their +history--and tell me, have we not cause enough to hate him? For fifteen +years has he not tried to ruin us, to bring us to our knees? tried to +throttle our commerce? break our might upon the sea? He wanted to make a +slave of Britain, and Britain proved unconquerable. Believe me, we hate +your hero less than he hates us." + +He had spoken with a good deal of earnestness, but now he added more +lightly, as if in answer to de Marmont's glowering look: + +"At the same time," he said, "I doubt if there is a single English +gentleman living at the present moment--let alone the army--who would +refuse ungrudging admiration to Napoleon himself and to his genius. But +as a nation England has her interests to safeguard. She has suffered +enough--and through him--in her commerce and her prosperity in the past +twenty years--she must have peace now at any cost." + +"Ah! I know," sighed the other, "a nation of shopkeepers. . . ." + +"Yes. We are that, I suppose. We are shopkeepers . . . most of us. +. . ." + +"I didn't mean to use the word in any derogatory sense," protested +Victor de Marmont with the ready politeness peculiar to his race. "Why, +even you . . ." + +"I don't see why you should say 'even you,'" broke in Clyffurde quietly. +"I am a shopkeeper--nothing more. . . . I buy goods and sell them again. +. . . I buy the gloves which our friend M. Dumoulin manufactures at +Grenoble and sell them to any London draper who chooses to buy them +. . . a very mean and ungentlemanly occupation, is it not?" + +He spoke French with perfect fluency, and only with the merest suspicion +of a drawl in the intonation of the vowels, which suggested rather than +proclaimed his nationality; and just now there was not the slightest +tone of bitterness apparent in his deep-toned and mellow voice. Once +more his friend would have protested, but he put up a restraining hand. + +"Oh!" he said with a smile, "I don't imagine for a moment that you have +the same prejudices as our mutual friend M. le Comte de Cambray, who +must have made a very violent sacrifice to his feelings when he admitted +me as a guest to his own table. I am sure he must often think that the +servants' hall is the proper place for me." + +"The Comte de Cambray," retorted de Marmont with a sneer, "is full up to +his eyes with the prejudices and arrogance of his caste. It is men of +his type--and not Marat or Robespierre--who made the revolution, who +goaded the people of France into becoming something worse than +man-devouring beasts. And, mind you, twenty years of exile did not sober +them, nor did contact with democratic thought in England and America +teach them the most elementary lessons of commonsense. If the Emperor +had not come back to-day, we should be once more working up for +revolution--more terrible this time, more bloody and vengeful, if +possible, than the last." + +Then as Clyffurde made no comment on this peroration, the younger man +resumed more lightly: + +"And--knowing the Comte de Cambray's prejudices as I do, imagine my +surprise--after I had met you in his house as an honoured guest and on +what appeared to be intimate terms of friendship--to learn that you +. . . in fact . . ." + +"That I was nothing more than a shopkeeper," broke in Clyffurde with a +short laugh, "nothing better than our mutual friend M. Dumoulin, +glovemaker, of Grenoble--a highly worthy man whom M. le Comte de Cambray +esteems somewhat lower than his butler. It certainly must have surprised +you very much." + +"Well, you know, old de Cambray has a horror of anything that pertains +to trade, and an avowed contempt for everything that he calls +'bourgeois.'" + +"There's no doubt about that," assented Clyffurde fervently. + +"Perhaps he does not know of your connection with . . ." + +"Gloves?" + +"With business people in Grenoble generally." + +"Oh, yes, he does!" replied the Englishman quietly. + +"Well, then?" queried de Marmont. + +Then as his friend sat there silent with that quiet, good-humoured smile +lingering round his lips, he added apologetically: + +"Perhaps I am indiscreet . . . but I never could understand it . . . and +you English are so reserved . . ." + +"That I never told you how M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Order du Lys, Hereditary +Grand Chamberlain of France, etc., etc., came to sit at the same table +as a vendor and buyer of gloves," said Clyffurde gaily. "There's no +secret about it. I owe the Comte's exalted condescension to certain +letters of recommendation which he could not very well disregard." + +"Oh! as to that . . ." quoth de Marmont with a shrug of the shoulders, +"people like the de Cambrays have their own codes of courtesy and of +friendship." + +"In this case, my good de Marmont, it was the code of ordinary gratitude +that imposed its dictum even upon the autocratic and aristocratic Comte +de Cambray." + +"Gratitude?" sneered de Marmont, "in a de Cambray?" + +"M. le Comte de Cambray," said Clyffurde with slow emphasis, "his +mother, his sister, his brother-in-law and two of their faithful +servants, were rescued from the very foot of the guillotine by a band of +heroes--known in those days as the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"I knew that!" said de Marmont quietly. + +"Then perhaps you also knew that their leader was Sir Percy Blakeney--a +prince among gallant English gentlemen and my dead father's friend. When +my business affairs sent me to Grenoble, Sir Percy warmly recommended me +to the man whose life he had saved. What could M. le Comte de Cambray do +but receive me as a friend? You see, my credentials were exceptional and +unimpeachable." + +"Of course," assented de Marmont, "now I understand. But you will admit +that I have had grounds for surprise. You--who were the friend of +Dumoulin, a tradesman, and avowed Bonapartist--two unpardonable crimes +in the eyes of M. le Comte de Cambray," he added with a return to his +former bitterness, "you to be seated at his table and to shake him by +the hand. Why, man! if he knew that I have remained faithful to the +Emperor . . ." + +He paused abruptly, and his somewhat full, sensitive lips were pressed +tightly together as if to suppress an insistent outburst of passion. + +But Clyffurde frowned, and when he turned away from de Marmont it was in +order to hide a harsh look of contempt. + +"Surely," he said, "you have never led the Comte to suppose that you are +a royalist!" + +"I have never led him to suppose anything. But he has taken my political +convictions for granted," rejoined de Marmont. + +Then suddenly a look of bitter resentment darkened his face, making it +appear hard and lined and considerably older. + +"My uncle, Marshal de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, was an abominable +traitor," he went on with ill-repressed vehemence. "He betrayed his +Emperor, his benefactor and his friend. It was the vilest treachery that +has ever disgraced an honourable name. Paris could have held out easily +for another four and twenty hours, and by that time the Emperor would +have been back. But de Marmont gave her over wilfully, scurvily to the +allies. But for his abominable act of cowardice the Emperor never would +have had to endure the shame of his temporary exile at Elba, and Louis +de Bourbon would never have had the chance of wallowing for twelve +months upon the throne of France. But that which is a source of +irreparable shame to me is a virtue in the eyes of all these royalists. +De Marmont's treachery against the Emperor has placed all his kindred in +the forefront of those who now lick the boots of that infamous Bourbon +dynasty, and it did not suit the plans of the Bonapartist party that +we--in the provinces--should proclaim our faith too openly until such +time as the Emperor returned." + +"And if the Comte de Cambray had known that you are just an ardent +Bonapartist? . . ." suggested Clyffurde calmly. + +"He would long before now have had me kicked out by his lacqueys," broke +in de Marmont with ever-increasing bitterness as he brought his clenched +fist crashing down upon the table, while his dark eyes glowed with a +fierce and passionate resentment. "For men like de Cambray there is only +one caste--the _noblesse_, one religion--the Catholic, one +creed--adherence to the Bourbons. All else is scum, trash, beneath +contempt, hardly human! Oh! if you knew how I loathe these people!" he +continued, speaking volubly and in a voice shaking with suppressed +excitement. "They have learnt nothing, these aristocrats, nothing, I +tell you! the terrible reprisals of the revolution which culminated in +that appalling Reign of Terror have taught them absolutely nothing! They +have not learnt the great lesson of the revolution, that the people will +no longer endure their arrogance and their pretensions, that the old +regime is dead--dead! the regime of oppression and pride and +intolerance! They have learnt nothing!" he reiterated with ever-growing +excitement, "nothing! 'humanity begins with the _noblesse_' is still +their watchword to-day as it was before the irate people sent hundreds +of them to perish miserably on the guillotine--the rest of mankind, to +them, is only cattle made to toil for the well-being of their class. Oh! +I loathe them, I tell you! I loathe them from the bottom of my soul!" + +"And yet you and your kind are rapidly becoming at one with them," said +Clyffurde, his quiet voice in strange contrast to the other man's +violent agitation. + +"No, we are not," protested de Marmont emphatically. "The men whom +Napoleon created marshals and peers of France have been openly snubbed +at the Court of Louis XVIII. Ney, who is prince of Moskowa and next to +Napoleon himself the greatest soldier of France, has seen his wife +treated little better than a chambermaid by the Duchesse d'Angoulême and +the ladies of the old _noblesse_. My uncle is marshal of France, and Duc +de Raguse and I am the heir to his millions, but the Comte de Cambray +will always consider it a mesalliance for his daughter to marry me." + +The note of bitter resentment, of wounded pride and smouldering hatred +became more and more marked while he spoke: his voice now sounded hoarse +and his throat seemed dry. Presently he raised his mug to his lips and +drank eagerly, but his hand was shaking visibly as he did this, and some +of the wine was spilled on the table. + +There was silence for a while outside the little inn, silence which +seemed full of portent, for through the pure mountain air there was +wafted the hot breath of men's passions--fierce, dominating, +challenging. Love, hatred, prejudices and contempt--all were portrayed +on de Marmont's mobile face: they glowed in his dark eyes and breathed +through his quivering nostrils. Now he rested his elbow on the table and +his chin in his hand, his nervy fingers played a tattoo against his +teeth, clenched together like those of some young feline creature which +sees its prey coming along and is snarling at the sight. + +Clyffurde, with those deep-set, earnest grey eyes of his, was silently +watching his friend. His hand did not shake, nor did the breath come any +quicker from his broad chest. Yet deep down behind the wide brow, behind +those same overshadowed eyes, a keen observer would of a surety have +detected the signs of a latent volcano of passions, all the more strong +and virile as they were kept in perfect control. It was he who presently +broke the silence, and his voice was quite steady when he spoke, though +perhaps a trifle more toneless, more dead, than usual. + +"And," he said, "what of Mlle. Crystal in all this?" + +"Crystal?" queried the other curtly, "what about her?" + +"She is an ardent royalist, more strong in her convictions and her +enthusiasms than women usually are." + +"And what of that?" rejoined de Marmont fiercely. "I love Crystal." + +"But when she learns that you . . ." + +"She shall not learn it," rejoined the other cynically. "We sign our +marriage contract to-night: the wedding is fixed for Tuesday. Until then +I can hold my peace." + +An exclamation of hot protest almost escaped the Englishman's lips: his +hand which rested on the table became so tightly clenched that the hard +knuckles looked as if they would burst through their fetters of sinew +and skin, and he made no pretence at concealing the look of burning +indignation which flashed from his eyes. + +"But man!" he exclaimed, "a deception such as you propose is cruel and +monstrous. . . . In view, too, of what has occurred in the past few days +. . . in view of what may happen if the news which we have heard is true +. . ." + +"In view of all that, my friend," retorted de Marmont firmly, "the old +regime has had its nine days of wonder and of splendour. The Emperor has +come back! we, who believe in him, who have remained true to him in his +humiliation and in his misfortunes may once more raise our heads and +loudly proclaim our loyalty. The return of the Emperor will once more +put his dukes and his marshals in their rightful place on a level with +the highest nobility of France. The Comte de Cambray will realise that +all his hopes of regaining his fortune through the favours of the +Bourbons have by force of circumstances come to naught. Like most of the +old _noblesse_ who emigrated he is without a sou. He may choose to look +on me with contempt, but he will no longer desire to kick me out of his +house, for he will be glad enough to see the Cambray 'scutcheon regilt +with de Marmont gold." + +"But Mademoiselle Crystal?" insisted Clyffurde, almost appealingly, for +his whole soul had revolted at the cynicism of the other man. + +"Crystal has listened to that ape, St. Genis," replied de Marmont drily, +"one of her own caste . . . a marquis with sixteen quarterings to his +family escutcheon and not a sou in his pockets. She is very young, and +very inexperienced. She has seen nothing of the world as yet--nothing. +She was born and brought up in exile--in England, in the midst of that +narrow society formed by impecunious _émigrés_. . . ." + +"And shopkeeping Englishmen," murmured Clyffurde, under his breath. + +"She could never have married St. Genis," reiterated Victor de Marmont +with deliberate emphasis. "The man hasn't a sou. Even Crystal realised +from the first that nothing ever could have come of that boy and girl +dallying. The Comte never would have consented. . . ." + +"Perhaps not. But she--Mademoiselle Crystal--would she ever have +consented to marry you, if she had known what your convictions are?" + +"Crystal is only a child," said de Marmont with a light shrug of the +shoulders. "She will learn to love me presently when St. Genis has +disappeared out of her little world, and she will accept my convictions +as she has accepted me, submissive to my will as she was to that of her +father." + +Once more a hot protest of indignation rose to Clyffurde's lips, but +this too he smothered resolutely. What was the use of protesting? Could +he hope to change with a few arguments the whole cynical nature of a +man? And what right had he even to interfere? The Comte de Cambray and +Mademoiselle Crystal were nothing to him: in their minds they would +never look upon him even as an equal--let alone as a friend. So the +bitter words died upon his lips. + +"And you have been content to win a wife on such terms!" was all that he +said. + +"I have had to be content," was de Marmont's retort. "Crystal is the +only woman I have ever cared for. She will love me in time, I doubt not, +and her sense of duty will make her forget St. Genis quickly enough." + +Then as Clyffurde made no further comment silence fell once more between +the two men. Perhaps even de Marmont felt that somehow, during the past +few moments, the slender bond of friendship which similarity of tastes +and a certain similarity of political ideals had forged between him and +the stranger had been strained to snapping point, and this for a reason +which he could not very well understand. He drank another draught of +wine and gave a quick sigh of satisfaction with the world in general, +and also with himself, for he did not feel that he had done or said +anything which could offend the keenest susceptibilities of his friend. + +He looked with a sudden sense of astonishment at Clyffurde, as if he +were only seeing him now for the first time. His keen dark eyes took in +with a rapid glance the Englishman's powerful personality, the square +shoulders, the head well erect, the strong Anglo-Saxon chin firmly set, +the slender hands always in repose. In the whole attitude of the man +there was an air of will-power which had never struck de Marmont quite +so forcibly as it did now, and a virility which looked as ready to +challenge Fate as it was able to conquer her if she proved adverse. + +And just now there was a curious look in those deep-set eyes--a look of +contempt or of pity--de Marmont was not sure which, but somehow the look +worried him and he would have given much to read the thoughts which were +hidden behind the high, square brow. + +However, he asked no questions, and thus the silence remained unbroken +for some time save for the soughing of the northeast wind as it whistled +through the pines, whilst from the tiny chapel which held the shrine of +Notre Dame de Vaulx came the sound of a soft-toned bell, ringing the +midday Angelus. + +Just then round that same curve in the road, where the two riders had +paused an hour ago in sight of the little hamlet, a man on horseback +appeared, riding at a brisk trot up the rugged, stony path. + +Victor de Marmont woke from his rêverie: + +"There's Emery," he cried. + +He jumped to his feet, then he picked up his hat from the table where he +had laid it down, tossed it up into the air as high as it would go, and +shouted with all his might: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + + +IV + +The man who now drew rein with abrupt clumsiness in front of the auberge +looked hot, tired and travel-stained. His face was covered with sweat +and his horse with lather, the lapel of his coat was torn, his breeches +and boots were covered with half-frozen mud. + +But having brought his horse to a halt, he swung himself out of the +saddle with the brisk air of a boy who has enjoyed his first ride across +country. Surgeon-Captain Emery was a man well over forty, but to-day his +eyes glowed with that concentrated fire which burns in the heart at +twenty, and he shook de Marmont by the hand with a vigour which made the +younger man wince with the pain of that iron grip. + +"My friend, Mr. Clyffurde, an English gentleman," said Victor de Marmont +hastily in response to a quick look of suspicious enquiry which flashed +out from under Emery's bushy eyebrows. "You can talk quite freely, +Emery; and for God's sake tell us your news!" + +But Emery could hardly speak. He had been riding hard for the past three +hours, his throat was parched, and through it his voice came up hoarse +and raucous: nevertheless he at once began talking in short, jerky +sentences. + +"He landed on Wednesday," he said. "I parted from him on Friday . . . at +Castellane . . . you had my message?" + +"This morning early--we came at once." + +"I thought we could talk better here--first--but I was spent last +night--I had to sleep at Corps . . . so I sent to you. . . . But now, in +Heaven's name, give me something to drink. . . ." + +While he drank eagerly and greedily of the cold spiced wine which +Clyffurde had served out to him, he still scrutinised the Englishman +closely from under his frowning and bushy eyebrows. + +Clyffurde's winning glance, however, seemed to have conquered his +mistrust, for presently, after he had put his mug down again, he +stretched out a cordial hand to him. + +"Now that our Emperor is back with us," he said as if in apology for his +former suspicions, "we, his friends, are bound to look askance at every +Englishman we meet." + +"Of course you are," said Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured +smile as he grasped Surgeon-Captain Emery's extended hand. + +"It is the hand of a friend I am grasping?" insisted Emery. + +"Of a personal friend, if you will call him so," replied Clyffurde. +"Politically, I hardly count, you see. I am just a looker-on at the +game." + +The surgeon-captain's keen eyes under their bushy brows shot a rapid +glance at the tall, well-knit figure of the Englishman. + +"You are not a fighting man?" he queried, much amazed. + +"No," replied Clyffurde drily. "I am only a tradesman." + +"Your news, Emery, your news!" here broke in Victor de Marmont, who +during the brief colloquy between his two friends had been hardly able +to keep his excitement in check. + +Emery turned away from the other man in silence. Clearly there was +something about that fine, noble-looking fellow--who proclaimed himself +a tradesman while that splendid physique of his should be at his +country's service--which still puzzled the worthy army surgeon. + +But he was primarily very thirsty and secondly as eager to impart his +news as de Marmont was to hear it, so now without wasting any further +words on less important matter he sat down close to the table and +stretched his short, thick legs out before him. + +"My news is of the best," he said with lusty fervour. "We left Porto +Ferrajo on Sunday last but only landed on Wednesday, as I told you, for +we were severely becalmed in the Mediterranean. We came on shore at +Antibes at midday of March 1st and bivouacked in an olive grove on the +way to Cannes. That was a sight good for sore eyes, my friends, to see +him sitting there by the camp fire, his feet firmly planted upon the +soil of France. What a man, Sir, what a man!" he continued, turning +directly to Clyffurde, "on board the _Inconstant_ he had composed and +dictated his proclamation to the army, to the soldiers of France! the +finest piece of prose, Sir, I have ever read in all my life. But you +shall judge of it, Sir, you shall judge. . . ." + +And with hands shaking with excitement he fumbled in the bulging pocket +of his coat and extracted therefrom a roll of loose papers roughly tied +together with a piece of tape. + +"You shall read it, Sir," he went on mumbling, while his trembling +fingers vainly tried to undo the knot in the tape, "you shall read it. +And then mayhap you'll tell me if your Pitt was ever half so eloquent. +Curse these knots!" he exclaimed angrily. + +"Will you allow me, Sir?" said Clyffurde quietly, and with steady hand +and firm fingers he undid the refractory knots and spread the papers out +upon the table. + +Already de Marmont had given a cry of loyalty and of triumph. + +"His proclamation!" he exclaimed, and a sigh of infinite satisfaction +born of enthusiasm and of hero-worship escaped his quivering lips. + +The papers bore the signature of that name which had once been +all-powerful in its magical charm, at sound of which Europe had trembled +and crowns had felt insecure, the name which men had breathed--nay! +still breathed--either with passionate loyalty or with bitter +hatred:--"Napoleon." + +They were copies of the proclamation wherewith the heroic +adventurer--confident in the power of his diction--meant to reconquer +the hearts of that army whom he had once led to such glorious victories. + +De Marmont read the long document through from end to end in a +half-audible voice. Now and again he gave a little cry--a cry of loyalty +at mention of those victories of Austerlitz and Jena, of Wagram and of +Eckmühl, at mention of those imperial eagles which had led the armies of +France conquering and glorious throughout the length and breadth of +Europe--or a cry of shame and horror at mention of the traitor whose +name he bore and who had delivered France into the hands of strangers +and his Emperor into those of his enemies. + +And when the young enthusiast had read the proclamation through to the +end he raised the paper to his lips and fervently kissed the imprint of +the revered name: "Napoleon." + +"Now tell me more about him," he said finally, as he leaned both elbows +on the table and fastened his glowing eyes upon the equally heated face +of Surgeon-Captain Emery. + +"Well!" resumed the latter, "as I told you we bivouacked among the olive +trees on the way to Cannes. The Emperor had already sent Cambronne on +ahead with forty of his grenadiers to commandeer what horses and mules +he could, as we were not able to bring many across from Porto Ferrajo. +'Cambronne,' he said, 'you shall be in command of the vanguard in this +the finest campaign which I have ever undertaken. My orders are to you, +that you do not fire a single unnecessary shot. Remember that I mean to +reconquer my imperial crown without shedding one drop of French blood.' +Oh! he is in excellent health and in excellent spirits! Such a man! such +fire in his eyes! such determination in his actions! Younger, bolder +than ever! I tell you, friends," continued the worthy surgeon-captain as +he brought the palm of his hand flat down upon the table with an +emphatic bang, "that it is going to be a triumphal march from end to end +of France. The people are mad about him. At Roccavignon, just outside +Cannes, where we bivouacked on Thursday, men, women and children were +flocking round to see him, pressing close to his knees, bringing him +wine and flowers; and the people were crying 'Vive l'Empereur!' even in +the streets of Grasse." + +"But the army, man? the army?" cried de Marmont, "the garrisons of +Antibes and Cannes and Grasse? did the men go over to him at once?--and +the officers?" + +"We hadn't encountered the army yet when I parted from him on Friday," +retorted Emery with equal impatience, "we didn't go into Antibes and we +avoided Cannes. You must give him time. The people in the towns wouldn't +at first believe that he had come back. General Masséna, who is in +command at Marseilles, thought fit to spread the news that a band of +Corsican pirates had landed on the littoral and were marching +inland--devastating villages as they marched. The peasants from the +mountains were the first to believe that the Emperor had really come, +and they wandered down in their hundreds to see him first and to spread +the news of his arrival ahead of him. By the time we reached Castellane +the mayor was not only ready to receive him but also to furnish him with +5,000 rations of meat and bread, with horses and with mules. Since then +he has been at Digue and at Sisteron. Be sure that the garrisons of +those cities have rallied round his eagles by now." + +Then whilst Emery paused for breath de Marmont queried eagerly: + +"And so . . . there has been no contretemps?" + +"Nothing serious so far," replied the other. "We had to abandon our guns +at Grasse, the Emperor felt that they would impede the rapidity of his +progress; and our second day's march was rather trying, the mountain +passes were covered in snow, the lancers had to lead their horses +sometimes along the edge of sheer precipices, they were hampered too by +their accoutrements, their long swords and their lances; others--who had +no mounts--had to carry their heavy saddles and bridles on those +slippery paths. But _he_ was walking too, stick in hand, losing his +footing now and then, just as they did, and once he nearly rolled down +one of those cursed precipices: but always smiling, always cheerful, +always full of hope. At Antibes young Casabianca got himself arrested +with twenty grenadiers--they had gone into the town to requisition a few +provisions. When the news reached us some of the younger men tried to +persuade the Emperor to march on the city and carry the place by force +of arms before Casabianca's misfortune got bruited abroad: 'No!' he +said, 'every minute is precious. All we can do is to get along faster +than the evil news can travel. If half my small army were captive at +Antibes, I would still move on. If every man were a prisoner in the +citadel, I would march on alone.' That's the man, my friends," cried +Emery with ever-growing enthusiasm, "that's our Emperor!" + +And he cast a defiant look on Clyffurde, as much as to say: "Bring on +your Wellington and your armies now! the Emperor has come back! the +whole of France will know how to guard him!" Then he turned to de +Marmont. + +"And now tell me about Grenoble," he said. + +"Grenoble had an inkling of the news already last night," said de +Marmont, whose enthusiasm was no whit cooler than that of Emery. +"Marchand has been secretly assembling his troops, he has sent to +Chambéry for the 7th and 11th regiment of the line and to Vienne for the +4th Hussars. Inside Grenoble he has the 5th infantry regiment, the 4th +of artillery and 3rd of engineers, with a train squadron. This morning +he is holding a council of war, and I know that he has been in constant +communication with Masséna. The news is gradually filtering through into +the town: people stand at the street corners and whisper among +themselves; the word 'l'Empereur' seemed wafted upon this morning's +breeze. . . ." + +"And by to-night we'll have the Emperor's proclamation to his people +pinned up on the walls of the Hôtel de Ville!" exclaimed Emery, and with +hands still trembling with excitement he gathered the precious papers +once more together and slipped them back into his coat pocket. Then he +made a visible effort to speak more quietly: "And now," he said, "for +one very important matter which, by the way, was the chief reason for my +asking you, my good de Marmont, to meet me here before my getting to +Grenoble." + +"Yes? What is it?" queried de Marmont eagerly. + +Surgeon-Captain Emery leaned across the table; instinctively he dropped +his voice, and though his excitement had not abated one jot, though his +eyes still glowed and his hands still fidgeted nervously, he had forced +himself at last to a semblance of calm. + +"The matter is one of money," he said slowly. "The Emperor has some +funds at his disposal, but as you know, that scurvy government of the +Restoration never handed him over one single sou of the yearly revenue +which it had solemnly agreed and sworn to pay to him with regularity. +Now, of course," he continued still more emphatically, "we who believe +in our Emperor as we believe in God, we are absolutely convinced that +the army will rally round him to a man. The army loves him and has +never ceased to love him, the army will follow him to victory and to +death. But the most loyal army in the world cannot subsist without +money, and the Emperor has little or none. The news of his triumphant +march across France will reach Paris long before he does, it will enable +His Most Excellent and Most Corpulent Majesty King Louis to skip over to +England or to Ghent with everything in the treasury on which he can lay +his august hands. Now, de Marmont, do you perceive what the serious +matter is which caused me to meet you here--twenty-five kilomètres from +Grenoble, where I ought to be at the present moment." + +"Yes! I do perceive very grave trouble there," said de Marmont with +characteristic insouciance, "but one which need not greatly worry the +Emperor. I am rich, thank God! and . . ." + +"And may God bless you, my dear de Marmont, for the thought," broke in +Emery earnestly, "but what may be called a large private fortune is as +nothing before the needs of an army. Soon, of course, the Emperor will +be in peaceful possession of his throne and will have all the resources +of France at his command, but before that happy time arrives there will +be much fighting, and many days--weeks perhaps--of anxiety to go +through. During those weeks the army must be paid and fed; and your +private fortune, my dear de Marmont, would--even if the Emperor were to +accept your sacrifice, which is not likely--be but as a drop in the +mighty ocean of the cost of a campaign. What are two or even three +millions, my poor, dear friend? It is forty, fifty millions that the +Emperor wants." + +De Marmont this time had nothing to say. He was staring moodily and +silently before him. + +"Now, that is what I have come to talk to you about," continued Emery +after a few seconds' pause, during which he had once more thrown a +quick, half-suspicious glance on the impassive, though obviously +interested face of the Englishman, "always supposing that Monsieur here +is on our side." + +"Neither on your side nor on the other, Captain," said Bobby Clyffurde +with a slight tone of impatience. "I am a mere tradesman, as I have had +the honour to tell you: a spectator at this game of political conflicts. +M. de Marmont knows this well, else he had not asked me to accompany him +to-day nor offered me a mount to enable me to do so. But if you prefer +it," he added lightly, "I can go for a stroll while you discuss these +graver matters." + +He would have risen from the table only that Emery immediately detained +him. + +"No offence, Sir," said the surgeon-captain bluntly. + +"None, I give you my word," assented the Englishman. "It is only natural +that you should wish to discuss such grave matters in private. Let me go +and see to our _déjeuner_ in the meanwhile. I feel sure that the +fricandeau is done to a turn by now. I'll have it dished up in ten +minutes. I pray you take no heed of me," he added in response to +murmured protestations from both de Marmont and Emery. "I would much +prefer to know nothing of these grave matters which you are about to +discuss." + +This time Emery did not detain him as he rose and turned to go within in +order to find mine host or Annette. The two Frenchmen took no further +heed of him: wrapped up in the all engrossing subject-matter they +remained seated at the table, leaning across it, their faces close to +one another, their eyes dancing with excitement, questions and +answers--as soon as the stranger's back was turned--already tumbling out +in confusion from their lips. + +Clyffurde turned to have a last look at them before he went into the +house, and while he did so his habitual, pleasant, gently-ironical smile +still hovered round his lips. But anon a quickly-suppressed sigh chased +the smile away, and over his face there crept a strange shadow--a look +of longing and of bitter regret. + +It was only for a moment, however, the next he had passed his hand +slowly across his forehead, as if to wipe away that shadow and smooth +out those lines of unspoken pain. + +Soon his cheerful voice was heard, echoing along the low rafters of the +little inn, loudly calling for Annette and for news of the baked +omelette and the fricandeau. + + +V + +"You really could have talked quite freely before Mr. Clyffurde, my good +Emery," said de Marmont as soon as Bobby had disappeared inside the inn. +"He really takes no part in politics. He is a friend alike of the Comte +de Cambray and of glovemaker Dumoulin. He has visited our Bonapartist +Club. Dumoulin has vouched for him. You see, he is not a fighting man." + +"I suppose that you are equally sure that he is not an English spy," +remarked Emery drily. + +"Of course I am sure," asserted de Marmont emphatically. "Dumoulin has +known him for years in business, though this is the first time that +Clyffurde has visited Grenoble. He is in the glove trade in England: his +interests are purely commercial. He came here with introductions to the +Comte de Cambray from a mutual friend in England who seems to be a +personage of vast importance in his own country and greatly esteemed by +the Comte--else you may be sure that that stiff-necked aristocrat would +never have received a tradesman as a guest in his house. But it was in +Dumoulin's house that I first met Bobby Clyffurde. We took a liking to +one another, and since then have ridden a great deal together. He is a +splendid horseman, and I was very glad to be able to offer him a mount +at different times. But our political conversations have never been +very heated or very serious. Clyffurde maintains a detached impersonal +attitude both to the Bonapartist and the royalist cause. I asked him to +accompany me this morning and he gladly consented, for he dearly loves a +horse. I assure you, you might have said anything before him." + +"_Eh bien!_ I'm sorry if I've been obstinate and ungracious," said the +surgeon-captain, but in a tone that obviously belied his words, "though, +frankly, I am very glad that we are alone for the moment." + +He paused, and with a wave of his thick, short-fingered hand he +dismissed this less important subject-matter and once more spoke with +his wonted eagerness on that which lay nearest his heart. + +"Now listen, my good de Marmont," he said, "do you recollect last April +when the Empress--poor wretched, misguided woman--fled so precipitately +from Paris, abandoning the capital, France and her crown at one and the +same time, and taking away with her all the Crown diamonds and money and +treasure belonging to the Emperor? She was terribly ill-advised, of +course, but . . ." + +"Yes, I remember all that perfectly well," broke in de Marmont +impatiently. + +"Well, then, you know that that abominable Talleyrand sent one of his +emissaries after the Empress and her suite . . . that this +emissary--Dudon was his name--reached Orleans just before Marie Louise +herself got there. . . ." + +"And that he ordered, in Talleyrand's name, the seizure of the Empress' +convoy as soon as it arrived in the city," broke in de Marmont again. +"Yes. I recollect that abominable outrage perfectly. Dudon, backed by +the officers of the gendarmerie, managed to rob the Empress of +everything she had, even to the last knife and fork, even to the last +pocket handkerchief belonging to the Emperor and marked with his +initials. Oh! it was monstrous! hellish! devilish! It makes my blood +boil whenever I think of it . . . whenever I think of those fatuous, +treacherous Bourbons gloating over those treasures at the Tuileries, +while our Empress went her way as effectually despoiled as if she had +been waylaid by so many brigands on a public highway." + +"Just so," resumed Emery quietly after de Marmont's violent storm of +wrath had subsided. "But I don't know if you also recollect that when +the various cases containing the Emperor's belongings were opened at the +Tuileries, there was just as much disappointment as gloating. Some of +those fatuous Bourbons--as you so rightly call them--expected to find +some forty or fifty millions of the Emperor's personal savings +there--bank-notes and drafts on the banks of France, of England and of +Amsterdam, which they were looking forward to distributing among +themselves and their friends. Your friend the Comte de Cambray would no +doubt have come in too for his share in this distribution. But M. de +Talleyrand is a very wise man! always far-seeing, he knows the +improvidence, the prodigality, the ostentation of these new masters whom +he is so ready to serve. Ere Dudon reached Paris with his booty, M. de +Talleyrand had very carefully eliminated therefrom some five and twenty +million francs in bank-notes and bankers' drafts, which he felt would +come in very usefully once for a rainy day." + +"But M. de Talleyrand is immensely rich himself," protested de Marmont. + +"Ah! he did not eliminate those five and twenty millions for his own +benefit," said Emery. "I would not so boldly accuse him of theft. The +money has been carefully put away by M. de Talleyrand for the use of His +Corpulent Majesty Louis de Bourbon, XVIIIth of that name." + +Then as Emery here made a dramatic pause and looked triumphantly across +at his companion, de Marmont rejoined somewhat bewildered: + +"But . . . I don't understand . . ." + +"Why I am telling you this?" retorted Emery, still with that triumphant +air. "You shall understand in a moment, my friend, when I tell you that +those five and twenty millions were never taken north to Paris, they +were conveyed in strict secrecy south to Grenoble!" + +"To Grenoble?" exclaimed de Marmont. + +"To Grenoble," reasserted Emery. + +"But why? . . . why such a long way?--why Grenoble?" queried the young +man in obvious puzzlement. + +"For several reasons," replied Emery. "Firstly both the préfet of the +department and the military commandant are hot royalists, whilst the +province of Dauphiné is not. In case of any army corps being sent down +there to quell possible and probable revolt, the money would have been +there to hand: also, if you remember, there was talk at the time of the +King of Naples proving troublesome. There, too, in case of a campaign on +the frontier, the money lying ready to hand at Grenoble could prove very +useful. But of course I cannot possibly pretend to give you all the +reasons which actuated M. de Talleyrand when he caused five and twenty +millions of stolen money to be conveyed secretly to Grenoble rather than +to Paris. His ways are more tortuous than any mere army-surgeon can +possibly hope to gauge. Enough that he did it and that at this very +moment there are five and twenty millions which are the rightful +property of the Emperor locked up in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +at Grenoble." + +"But . . ." murmured de Marmont, who still seemed very bewildered at all +that he had heard, "are you sure?" + +"Quite sure," affirmed Emery emphatically. "Dumoulin brought news of it +to the Emperor at Elba several months ago, and you know that he and his +Bonapartist Club always have plenty of spies in and around the +préfecture. The money is there," he reiterated with still greater +emphasis, "now the question is how are we going to get hold of it." + +"Easily," rejoined de Marmont with his habitual enthusiasm, "when the +Emperor marches into Grenoble and the whole of the garrison rallies +around him, he can go straight to the Hôtel de Ville and take everything +that he wants." + +"Always supposing that M. le préfet does not anticipate the Emperor's +coming by conveying the money to Paris or elsewhere before we can get +hold of it," quoth Emery drily. + +"Oh! Fourier is not sufficiently astute for that." + +"Perhaps not. But we must not neglect possibilities. That money would be +a perfect godsend to the Emperor. It was originally his too, _par Dieu!_ +Anyhow, my good de Marmont, that is what I wanted to talk over quietly +with you before I get into Grenoble. Can you think of any means of +getting hold of that money in case Fourier has the notion of conveying +it to some other place of safety?" + +"I would like to think that over, Emery," said de Marmont thoughtfully. +"As you say, we of the Bonapartist Club at Grenoble have spies inside +the Hôtel de Ville. We must try and find out what Fourier means to do as +soon as he realises that the Emperor is marching on Grenoble: and then +we must act accordingly and trust to luck and good fortune." + +"And to the Emperor's star," rejoined Emery earnestly; "it is once more +in the ascendant. But the matter of the money is a serious one, de +Marmont. You will deal with it seriously?" + +"Seriously!" ejaculated de Marmont. + +Once more the unquenchable fire of undying devotion to his hero glowed +in the young man's eyes. + +"Everything pertaining to the Emperor," he said fervently, "is serious +to me. For a whim of his I would lay down my life. I will think of all +you have told me, Emery, and here, beneath the blue dome of God's sky, +I swear that I will get the Emperor the money that he wants or lose mine +honour and my life in the attempt. + +"Amen to that," rejoined Emery with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You +are a brave man, de Marmont, would to heaven every Frenchman was like +you. And now," he added with sudden transition to a lighter mood, "let +Annette dish up the fricandeau. Here's our friend the tradesman, who was +born to be a soldier. M. Clyffurde," he added loudly, calling to the +Englishman who had just appeared in the doorway of the inn, "my grateful +thanks to you--not only for your courtesy, but for expediting that +delicious _déjeuner_ which tickles my appetite so pleasantly. I pray you +sit down without delay. I shall have to make an early start after the +meal, as I must be inside Grenoble before dark." + +Clyffurde, good-humoured, genial, quiet as usual, quickly responded to +the surgeon-captain's desire. He took his seat once more at the table +and spoke of the weather and the sunshine, the Alps and the snows the +while Annette spread a cloth and laid plates and knives and forks before +the distinguished gentlemen. + +"We all want to make an early start, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" ejaculated +de Marmont gaily. "We have serious business to transact this night with +M. le Comte de Cambray, and partake too of his gracious hospitality, +what?" + +Emery laughed. + +"Not I forsooth," he said. "M. le Comte would as soon have Satan or +Beelzebub inside his doors. And I marvel, my good de Marmont, that you +have succeeded in keeping on such friendly terms with that royalist +ogre." + +"I?" said de Marmont, whose inward exultation radiated from his entire +personality, "I, my dear Emery? Did you not know that I am that royalist +ogre's future son-in-law? _Par Dieu!_ but this is a glorious day for me +as well as a glorious day for France! Emery, dear friend, wish me joy +and happiness. On Tuesday I wed Mademoiselle Crystal de +Cambray--to-night we sign our marriage contract! Wish me joy, I say! +she's a bride well worth the winning! Napoleon sets forth to conquer a +throne--I to conquer love. And you, old sober-face, do not look so +glum!" he added, turning to Clyffurde. + +And his ringing laugh seemed to echo from end to end of the narrow +valley. + +After which a lighter atmosphere hung around the table outside the +"Auberge du Grand Dauphin." There was but little talk of the political +situation, still less of party hatred and caste prejudices. The hero's +name was still on the lips of the two men who worshipped him, and +Clyffurde, faithful to his attitude of detachment from political +conflicts, listened quite unmoved to the impassioned dithyrambs of his +friends. + +But so absorbed were these two in their conversation and their joy that +they failed to notice that Clyffurde hardly touched the excellent +_déjeuner_ set before him and left mine host's fine Burgundy almost +untasted. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE OLD REGIME + + +I + +On that same day and at about the same time when Victor de Marmont and +his English friend first turned their horses up the bridle path and +sighted Notre Dame de Vaulx (when, if you remember, the young Frenchman +drew rein and fell to apostrophising the hamlet, the day, the hour and +the glorious news which he was expecting to hear) at about that +self-same hour, I say, in the Château de Brestalou, situate on the right +bank of the Isère at a couple of kilomètres from Grenoble, the big +folding doors of solid mahogany which lead from the suite of vast +reception rooms to the small boudoir beyond were thrown open and Hector +appeared to announce that M. le Comte de Cambray would be ready to +receive Mme. la Duchesse in the library in a quarter of an hour. + +Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen thereupon closed the gilt-edged, +much-bethumbed Missal which she was reading--since this was Sunday and +she had been unable to attend Mass owing to that severe twinge of +rheumatism in her right knee--and placed it upon the table close to her +elbow; then with delicate, bemittened hand she smoothed out one unruly +crease in her puce silk gown and finally looked up through her round, +bone-rimmed spectacles at the sober-visaged, majestic personage who +stood at attention in the doorway. + +"Tell M. le Comte, my good Hector," she said with slow deliberation, +"that I will be with him at the time which he has so graciously +appointed." + +Hector bowed himself out of the room with that perfect decorum which +proclaims the well-trained domestic of an aristocratic house. As soon as +the tall mahogany doors were closed behind him, Mme. la Duchesse took +her spectacles off from her high-bred nose and gave a little sniff, +which caused Mademoiselle Crystal to look up from her book and mutely to +question Madame with those wonderful blue eyes of hers. + +"Ah ça, my little Crystal," was Madame's tart response to that eloquent +enquiry, "does Monsieur my brother imagine himself to be a second +Bourbon king, throning it in the Tuileries and granting audiences to the +ladies of his court? or is it only for my edification that he plays this +magnificent game of etiquette and ceremonial and other stupid +paraphernalia which have set me wondering since last night? M. le Comte +will receive Mme. la Duchesse in a quarter of an hour forsooth," she +added, mimicking Hector's pompous manner; "_par Dieu!_ I should think +indeed that he would receive his own sister when and where it suited her +convenience--not his." + +Crystal was silent for a moment or two: and in those same expressive +eyes which she kept fixed on Madame's face, the look of mute enquiry had +become more insistent. It almost seemed as if she were trying to +penetrate the underlying thoughts of the older woman, as if she tried to +read all that there was in that kindly glance of hidden sarcasm, of +humour or tolerance, or of gentle contempt. Evidently what she read in +the wrinkled face and the twinkling eyes pleased and reassured her, for +now the suspicion of a smile found its way round the corners of her +sensitive mouth. + +There are some very old people living in Grenoble at the present day +whose mothers or fathers have told them that they remembered +Mademoiselle Crystal de Cambray quite well in the year that M. le Comte +returned from England and once more took possession of his ancestral +home on the bank of the Isère, which those awful Terrorists of '92 had +taken away from him. Louis XVIII., the Benevolent king, had promptly +restored the old château to its rightful owner, when he himself, after +years of exile, mounted the throne of his fathers, and the usurper +Bonaparte was driven out of France by the armies of Europe allied +against him, and sent to cool his ambitions in the island fastnesses of +Elba. + +Mademoiselle de Cambray was just nineteen in that year 1814 which was so +full of grace for the Bourbon dynasty and all its faithful adherents, +and in February of the following year she attained her twentieth +birthday. Of course you know that she was born in England, and that her +mother was English, for had not M. le Comte been obliged to fly before +the fury of the Terrorists, whose dreaded Committee of Public Safety had +already arrested him as a "suspect" and condemned him to the guillotine. +He had contrived to escape death by what was nothing short of a miracle, +and he had lived for twenty years in England, and there had married a +beautiful English girl from whom Mademoiselle Crystal had inherited the +deep blue eyes and brilliant skin which were the greatest charm of her +effulgent beauty. + +I like to think of her just as she was on that memorable day early in +March of the year 1815--just as she sat that morning on a low stool +close to Mme. la Duchesse's high-backed chair, and with her eyes fixed +so enquiringly upon Madame's kind old face. Her fair hair was done up in +the quaint loops and curls which characterised the mode of the moment: +she had on a white dress cut low at the neck and had wrapped a soft +cashmere shawl round her shoulders, for the weather was cold and there +was no fire in the stately open hearth. + +Having presumably arrived at the happy conclusion that Madame's wrath +was only on the surface, Crystal now said gently: + +"Father loves all this etiquette, _ma tante_; it brings back memories of +a very happy past. It is the only thing he has left now," she added with +a little sigh, "the only bit out of the past which that awful revolution +could not take away from him. You will try to be indulgent to him, aunt +darling, won't you?" + +"Indulgent?" retorted the old lady with a shrug of her shoulders, "of +course I'll be indulgent. It's no affair of mine and he does as he +pleases. But I should have thought that twenty years spent in England +would have taught him commonsense, and twenty years' experience in +earning a precarious livelihood as a teacher of languages in . . ." + +"Hush, aunt, for pity's sake," broke in Crystal hurriedly, and she put +up her hands almost as if she wished to stop the words in the old lady's +mouth. + +"All right! all right! I won't mention it again," said Mme. la Duchesse +good-humouredly. "I have only been in this house four and twenty hours, +my dear child, but I have already learned my lesson. I know that the +memory of the past twenty years must be blotted right out of our +minds--out of the minds of every one of us. . . ." + +"Not of mine, aunt, altogether," murmured Crystal softly. + +"No, my dear--not altogether," rejoined Mme. la Duchesse as she placed +one of her fine white hands on the fair head of her niece; "your +beautiful mother belongs to the unforgettable memories, of those twenty +years. . . ." + +"And not only my beautiful mother, aunt dear. There are men living in +England to-day whose names must remain for ever engraved upon my +father's heart, as well as on mine--if we should ever forget those +names and neglect for one single day our prayers of gratitude for their +welfare and their reward, we should be the meanest and blackest of +ingrates." + +"Ah!" said Madame, "I am glad that Monsieur my brother remembers all +that in the midst of his restored grandeur." + +"Have you been wronging him in your heart all this while, _ma tante_?" +asked Crystal, and there was a slight tone of reproach in her voices +"you used not to be so cynical once upon a time." + +"Cynical!" exclaimed the Duchesse, "bless the child's heart! Of course I +am cynical--at my age what can you expect?--and what can I expect? But +there, don't distress yourself, I am not wronging your father--far from +it--only this grandeur--the state dinner last night--his gracious +manner--all that upset me. I am not used to it, my dear, you see. Twenty +years in that diminutive house in Worcester have altered my tastes, I +see, more than they did your father's . . . and these last ten months +which he seems to have spent in reviving the old grandeur of his +ancestral home, I spent, remember, with the dear little Sisters of Mercy +at Boulogne, praying amidst very humble surroundings that the future may +not become more unendurable than the past." + +"But you are glad to be back at Brestalou again? and you _will_ remain +here with us--always?" queried Crystal, and with tender eagerness she +clasped the older woman's hands closely in her own. + +"Yes, dear," replied Madame gently. "I am glad to be back in the old +château--my dear old home--where I was very happy and very young +once--oh, so very long ago! And I will remain with your father and look +after him all the time that his young bird is absent from the nest." + +Again she stroked her niece's soft, wavy hair with a gesture which +apparently was habitual with her, and it seemed as if a note of sadness +had crept into her brisk, sharp voice. Over Crystal's cheeks a wave of +crimson had quickly swept at her aunt's last words: and the eyes which +she now raised to Madame's kindly face were full of tears. + +"It seems so terribly soon now, _ma tante_," she said wistfully. + +"Hm, yes!" quoth Mme. la Duchesse drily, "time has a knack now and then +of flying faster than we wish. Well, my dear, so long as this day brings +you happiness, the old folk who stay at home have no right to grumble." + +Then as Crystal made no reply and held her little head resolutely away, +Madame said more insistently: + +"You are happy, Crystal, are you not?" + +"Of course I am happy, _ma tante_," replied Crystal quickly, "why should +you ask?" + +But still she would not look straight into Madame's eyes, and the tone +of Madame's voice sounded anything but satisfied. + +"Well!" she said, "I ask, I suppose, because I want an answer . . . a +satisfactory answer." + +"You have had it, _ma tante_, have you not?" + +"Yes, my dear. If you are happy, I am satisfied. But last night it +seemed to me as if your ideas of your own happiness and those of your +father on the same subject were somewhat at variance, eh?" + +"Oh no, _ma tante_," rejoined Crystal quietly, "father and I are quite +of one mind on that subject." + +"But your heart is pulling a different way, is that it?" + +Then as Crystal once more relapsed into silence and two hot tears +dropped on the Duchesse's wrinkled hands, the old woman added softly: + +"St. Genis, who hasn't a sou, was out of the question, I suppose." + +Crystal shook her head in silence. + +"And that young de Marmont is very rich?" + +"He is his uncle's heir," murmured Crystal. + +"And you, child, are marrying a kinsman of that abominable Duc de Raguse +in order to regild our family escutcheon." + +"My father wished it so very earnestly," rejoined Crystal, who was +bravely swallowing her tears, "and I could not bear to run counter to +his desire. The Duc de Raguse has promised father that when I am a de +Marmont he will buy back all the forfeited Cambray estates and restore +them to us: Victor will be allowed to take up the name of Cambray and +. . . and . . . Oh!" she exclaimed passionately, "father has had such a +hard life, so much sorrow, so many disappointments, and now this poverty +is so horribly grinding. . . . I couldn't have the heart to disappoint +him in this!" + +"You are a good child, Crystal," said Madame gently, "and no doubt +Victor de Marmont will prove a good husband to you. But I wish he wasn't +a Marmont, that's all." + +But this remark, delivered in the old lady's most uncompromising manner, +brought forth a hot protest from Crystal: + +"Why, aunt," she said, "the Duc de Raguse is the most faithful servant +the king could possibly wish to have. It was he and no one else who +delivered Paris to the allies and thus brought about the downfall of +Bonaparte, and the restoration of our dear King Louis to the throne of +France." + +"Tush, child, I know that," said Madame with her habitual tartness of +speech, "I know it just as well as history will know it presently, and +methinks that history will pass on the Duc de Raguse just about the same +judgment as I passed on him in my heart last year. God knows I hate that +Bonaparte as much as anyone, and our Bourbon kings are almost as much a +part of my religion as is the hierarchy of saints, but a traitor like +de Marmont I cannot stomach. What was he before Bonaparte made him a +marshal of France and created him Duc de Raguse?--An out-at-elbows +ragamuffin in the ranks of the republican army. To Bonaparte he owed +everything, title, money, consideration, even the military talents which +gave him the power to turn on the hand that had fed him. Delivered Paris +to the allies indeed!" continued the Duchesse with ever-increasing +indignation and volubility, "betrayed Bonaparte, then licked the boots +of the Czar of Russia, of the Emperor, of King Louis, of all the deadly +enemies of the man to whom he owed his very existence. Pouah! I hate +Bonaparte, but men like Ney and Berthier and de Marmont sicken me! Thank +God that even in his life-time, de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, has already +an inkling of what posterity will say of him. Has not the French +language been enriched since the capitulation of Paris with a new word +that henceforth and for all times will always spell disloyalty: and +to-day when we wish to describe a particularly loathsome type of +treachery, do we not already speak of a 'ragusade'?" + +Crystal had listened in silence to her aunt's impassioned tirade. Now +when Madame paused--presumably for want of breath--she said gently: + +"That is all quite true, _ma tante_, but I am afraid that father would +not altogether see eye to eye with you in this. After all," she added +naively, "a pagan may become converted to Christianity without being +called a traitor to his false gods, and the Duc de Raguse may have +learnt to hate the idol whom he once worshipped, and for this profession +of faith we should honour him, I think." + +"Yes," grunted Madame, unconvinced, "but we need not marry into his +family." + +"But in any case," retorted Crystal, "poor Victor cannot help what his +uncle did." + +"No, he cannot," assented the Duchesse decisively, "and he is very rich +and he loves you, and as your husband he will own all the old Cambray +estates which his uncle of ragusade fame will buy up for him, and +presently your son, my darling, will be Comte de Cambray, just as if +that awful revolution and all that robbing and spoliation had never +been. And of course everything will be for the best in the best possible +world, if only," concluded the old lady with a sigh, "if only I thought +that you would be happy." + +Crystal took care not to meet Madame's kindly glance just then, for of a +surety the tears would have rushed in a stream to her eyes. But she +would not give way to any access of self-pity: she had chosen her part +in life and this she meant to play loyally, without regret and without +murmur. + +"But of course, _ma tante_, I shall be happy," she said after a while; +"as you say, M. de Marmont is very kind and good and I know that father +will be happy when Brestalou and Cambray and all the old lands are once +more united in his name. Then he will be able to do something really +great and good for the King and for France . . . and I too, perhaps. +. . ." + +"You, my poor darling!" exclaimed Madame, "what can you do, I should +like to know." + +A curious, dreamy look came into the girl's eyes, just as if a +foreknowledge of the drama in which she was so soon destined to play the +chief _rôle_ had suddenly appeared to her through the cloudy and distant +veils of futurity. + +"I don't know, _ma tante_," she said slowly, "but somehow I have always +felt that one day I might be called upon to do something for France. +There are times when that feeling becomes so strong that all thoughts of +myself and of my own happiness fade from my knowledge, and it seems as +if my duty to France and to the King were more insistent than my duty to +God." + +"Poor France!" sighed Madame. + +"Yes! that is just what I feel, _ma tante_. Poor France! She has +suffered so much more than we have, and she has regained so much less! +Enemies still lurk around her; the prowling wolf is still at her gate: +even the throne of her king is still insecure! Poor, poor France! our +country, _ma tante_! she should be our pride, our glory, and she is weak +and torn and beset by treachery! Oh, if only I could do something for +France and for the King I would count myself the happiest woman on God's +earth." + +Now she was a woman transformed. She seemed taller and stronger. Her +girlishness, too, had vanished. Her cheeks burned, her eyes glowed, her +breath came and went rapidly through her quivering nostrils. Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen looked down on her niece with naive admiration. + +"_Hé_ my little Joan of Arc!" she said merrily, "_par Dieu_, your +eloquence, _ma mignonne_, has warmed up my old heart too. But, please +God, our dear old country will not have need of heroism again." + +"I am not so sure of that, _ma tante_." + +"You are thinking of that ugly rumour which was current in Grenoble +yesterday." + +"Yes!" + +"If that Corsican brigand dares to set his foot again upon this land +. . ." began the old lady vehemently. + +"Let him come, _ma tante_," broke in Crystal exultantly, "we are ready +for him. Let him come, and this time when God has punished him again, it +won't be to Elba that he will be sent to expiate his villainies!" + +"Amen to that, my child," concluded Madame fervently. "And now, my dear, +don't let me forget the hour of my audience. Hector will be back in a +moment or two, and I must not lose any more time gossiping. But before I +go, little one, will you tell me one thing?" + +"Of course I will, _ma tante_." + +"Quite frankly?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Well then, I want to know . . . about that English friend of yours. +. . ." + +"Mr. Clyffurde, you mean?" asked Crystal. "What about him?" + +"I want to know, my dear, what I ought to make of this Mr. Clyffurde." + +Crystal laughed lightly, and looked up with astonished, inquiring, +wide-open eyes to her aunt. + +"What should you want to make of him, _ma tante_?" she asked, wholly +unperturbed under the scrutinising gaze of Madame. + +"Nothing," said the Duchesse abruptly. "I have had my answer, thank you, +dear." + +Evidently she had no intention of satisfying the girl's obvious +curiosity, for she suddenly rose from her chair, gathered her lace shawl +round her shoulders, and said with abrupt transition: + +"The hour for my audience is at hand. Not one minute must I keep my +august brother waiting. I can hear Hector's footsteps in the corridor, +and I will not have him see me in a fluster." + +Crystal looked as if she would have liked to question Madame a little +more closely about her former cryptic utterance, but there was something +in the sarcastic twinkle of those sharp eyes which caused the young girl +to refrain from too many questions, and--very wisely--she decided to +hold her peace. + +Madame la Duchesse threw a quick glance into the gilt-framed mirror +close by. She smoothed a stray wisp of hair which had escaped from under +her lace cap: she gave a tug to her fichu and a pat to her skirts. Then, +as the folding doors were once more thrown open, and Hector--stiff, +solemn and pompous--appeared under the lintel, Madame threw back her +head in the grand manner pertaining to the old days at Versailles. + +"Precede me, Hector," she said with consummate dignity, "to M. le +Comte's audience chamber." + +And with hands folded before her, her aristocratic head very erect, her +mouth and eyes composed to reposeful majesty, she sailed out through the +mahogany doors in a style which no one who had never curtsied to the +Bien-aimé Monarque could possibly hope to imitate. + + +II + +For some little while after her aunt had sailed out of the room Crystal +remained where she was sitting on the low stool beside the high-backed +chair just vacated by the Duchess. + +Her eyes were still glowing with the enthusiasm which had excited the +admiration of the older woman a while ago, and the high colour in her +cheeks, the tremor of her nostrils showed that that same enthusiasm +still kept her nerves on the quiver and caused the young, hot blood to +course swiftly through her veins. + +But something of the lightness of her mood had vanished, something of +the exultant joy of the heroine had given place to the calmer +resignation of the potential martyr. Gradually the colour faded from her +cheeks, the light died slowly out of her eyes, and the young fair head +so lately tossed triumphantly in the ardour of patriotism sunk gradually +upon the still heaving breast. + +Crystal was alone, and she was not ashamed to let the tears well up to +her eyes. Despite her proud profession of faith the insistent longing +for happiness, which is the inalienable share of youth, knocked at the +portals of her heart. + +Not even to the devoted aunt who had brought her up, who had known her +every childish sorrow and gleaned her every childish tear, not even to +her would she show what it cost her to sink her individuality, her +longings, her hopes of happiness into that overwhelming sense of duty to +her father's wishes and to the demands of her name, her country and her +caste. + +She had repeated it to herself often and often that her father had +suffered so much for the sake of his convictions, had endured poverty +and exile where opportunism would have dictated submission to the +usurper Bonaparte and the acceptance of riches and honours at his hands, +he had remained loyal in his beliefs, steadfast to his King through +twenty years of misery, akin to squalor, the remembrance of which would +for ever darken the rest of his life, but he had endured all that +without bitterness, scarcely without a murmur. And now that twenty years +of self-abnegation were at last finding their reward, now that the King +had come into his own, and the King's faithful friends were being +compensated in accordance with the length of the King's purse, would it +not be arrant cowardice and disloyalty for her--an only child--to oppose +her father's will in the ordering of her own future, to refuse the rich +marriage which would help to restore dignity and grandeur to the ancient +name and to the old home? + +Crystal de Cambray was born in England: she had lived the whole of her +life in a small provincial town in this country. But she had been +brought up by her aunt, the Duchesse douairière d'Agen, and through that +upbringing she had been made to imbibe from her earliest childhood all +the principles of the old regime. These principles consisted chiefly of +implicit obedience by the children to the parents' decrees anent +marriage, of blind worship of the dignity of station, and of duty to +name and caste, to king and country. + +The thought would never have entered Crystal's head that she could have +the right to order her own future, or to demand from life her own +special brand of happiness. + +Now her fate had been finally decided on by her father, and she was on +the point of taking--at his wish--the irrevocable step which would bind +her for ever to a man whom she could never love. But she did not think +of rebellion, she had no thought of grumbling at Fate or at her father: +Crystal de Cambray had English blood in her veins, the blood that makes +men and women accept the inevitable with set teeth and a determination +to do the right thing even if it hurts. Crystal, therefore, had no +thought of rebellion; she only felt an infinity of regret for something +sweet and intangible which she had hardly realised, hardly expected, +which had been too elusive to be called hope, too remote to be termed +happiness. She gave herself the luxury of this short outburst of +tears--since nobody was near and nobody could see: there was a fearful +pain in her heart while she rested her head against the cushion of the +stiff high-backed chair and cried till it seemed that she never could +cry again whatever sorrow life might still have in store for her. + +But when that outburst of grief had subsided she dried her eyes +resolutely, rose to her feet, arranged her hair in front of the mirror, +and feeling that her eyes were hot and her head heavy, she turned to the +tall French window, opened it and stepped out into the garden. + + +It had suffered from years of neglect, the shrubs grew rank and stalky, +the paths were covered with weeds, but there was a slight feeling of +spring in the air, the bare branches of the trees seemed swollen with +the rising sap, and upon the edge of the terrace balustrade a +red-breasted robin cocked its mischievous little eye upon her. + +At the bottom of the garden there was a fine row of ilex, with here and +there a stone seat, and in the centre an old stone fountain moss-covered +and overshadowed by the hanging boughs of the huge, melancholy trees. +Crystal was very fond of this avenue; she liked to sit and watch the +play of sunshine upon the stone of the fountain: the melancholy quietude +of the place suited her present mood. It was so strange to look on these +big evergreen trees and on the havoc caused by weeds and weather on the +fine carving of the fountain, and to think of their going on here year +after year for the past twenty years, while that hideous revolution had +devastated the whole country, while men had murdered each other, +slaughtered women and children and committed every crime and every +infamy which lust of hate and revenge can engender in the hearts of men. +The old trees and the stone fountain had remained peaceful and still the +while, unscathed and undefiled, grand, dignified and majestic, while the +owner of the fine château of the gardens and the fountain and of half +the province around earned a precarious livelihood in a foreign land, +half-starved in wretchedness and exile. + +She, Crystal, had never seen them until some ten months ago, when her +father came back into his own, and leading his daughter by the hand, had +taken her on a tour of inspection to show her the magnificence of her +ancestral home. She had loved at once the fine old château with its +lichen-covered walls, its fine portcullis and crenelated towers, she had +wept over the torn tapestries, the broken furniture, the family +portraits which a rough and impious rabble had wilfully damaged, she had +loved the wide sweep of the terrace walls, the views over the Isère and +across the mountain range to the peaks of the Grande Chartreuse, but +above all she had loved this sombre row of ilex trees, the broken +fountain, the hush and peace which always lay over this secluded portion +of the neglected garden. + +The earth was moist and soft under her feet, the cheeky robin, curious +after the manner of his kind, had followed her and was flying from seat +to seat ahead of her watching her every movement. + +"Crystal!" + +At first she thought that it was the wind sighing through the trees, so +softly had her name been spoken, so like a sigh did it seem as it +reached her ears. + +"Crystal!" + +This time she could not be mistaken, someone had called her name, +someone was walking up the avenue rapidly, behind her. She would not +turn round, for she knew who it was that had called and she would not +allow surprise to resuscitate the outward signs of regret. But she stood +quite still while those hasty footsteps drew nearer, and she made a +great and successful effort to keep back the tears which once more +threatened to fill her eyes. + +A minute later she felt herself gently drawn to the nearest stone seat, +and she sank down upon it, still trying very hard to remain calm and +above all not to cry. + +"Oh! why, why did you come, Maurice?" she said at last, when she felt +that she could look with some semblance of composure on the +half-sitting, half-kneeling figure of the young man beside her. Despite +her obstinate resistance he had taken her hand in his and was covering +it with kisses. + +"Why did you come," she reiterated pleadingly, "you must know that it is +no use. . . ." + +"I can't believe it. I won't believe it," he protested passionately. +"Crystal, if you really cared you would not send me away from you." + +"If I really cared?" she said dully. "Maurice, sometimes I think that if +_you_ really cared you would not make it so difficult for me. Can't you +see," she added more vehemently, "that every time you come you make me +more wretched, and my duty seem more hard? till sometimes I feel as if I +could not bear it any longer--as if in the struggle my poor heart would +suddenly break." + +"And because your father is so heartless . . ." he began vehemently. + +"My father is not heartless, Maurice," she broke in firmly, "but you +must try and see for yourself how impossible it was for him to give his +consent to our marriage even if he knew that my happiness was bounded by +your love. . . . Just think it over quietly--if you had a sister who was +all the world to you, would _you_ consent to such a marriage? . . ." + +"With a penniless, out-at-elbows, good-for-nothing, you mean?" he said, +with a kind of resentful bitterness. "No! I dare say I should not. +Money!" he cried impetuously as he jumped to his feet, and burying his +hands in the pockets of his breeches he began pacing the path up and +down in front of her. "Money! always money! Always talk of duty and of +obedience . . . always your father and his sorrows and his desires . . . +do I count for nothing, then? Have I not suffered as he has suffered? +did I not live in exile as he did? Have I not made sacrifices for my +king and for my ideals? Why should I suffer in the future as well as in +the past? Why, because my king is powerless or supine in giving me back +what was filched from my father, should that be taken from me which +alone gives me incentive to live . . . you, Crystal," he added as once +again he knelt beside her. He encircled her shoulders with his arms, +then he seized her two hands and covered them with kisses. "You are all +that I want in this world. After all, we can live in poverty . . . we +have been brought up in poverty, you and I . . . and even then it is +only a question of a few years . . . months, perhaps . . . the King must +give us back what that abominable Revolution took from us--from us who +remained loyal to him and because we were loyal. My father owned rich +lands in Burgundy . . . the King must give those back to me . . . he +must . . . he shall . . . he will . . . if only you will be patient, +Crystal . . . if only you will wait. . . ." + +The fiery blood of his race had rushed into Maurice de St. Genis' head. +He was talking volubly and at random, but he believed for the moment +everything that he said. Tears of passion and of fervour came to his +eyes and he buried his head in the folds of Crystal's white gown and +heavy sobs shook his bent shoulders. She, moved by that motherly +tenderness which is seldom absent from a good woman's love, stroked with +soothing fingers the matted hair from his hot forehead. For a while she +remained silent while the paroxysm of his passionate revolt spent itself +in tears, then she said quite softly: + +"I think, Maurice, that in your heart you do us all an injustice--to me, +to father, to yourself, even to the King. The King cannot give you that +which is not his; your property--like ours--was confiscated by that +awful revolutionary government because your father and mine followed +their king into exile. The rich lands were sold for the benefit of the +nation: the nation presumably has spent the money, but the people who +bought the lands in good faith cannot be dispossessed by our King +without creating bitter ill-feeling against himself, as you well know, +and once more endangering his throne. Those are the facts, Maurice, +against which no hot-blooded argument, no passionate outbursts can +prevail. The King gave my father back this dear old castle, because it +happened to have proved unsaleable, and was still on the nation's hands. +Our rich lands--like yours--can never be restored to us: that hard fact +has been driven into poor father's head for the past ten months, and now +it has gone home at last. These grey walls, this neglected garden, a few +sticks of broken furniture, a handful of money from an over-generous +king's treasury is all that Fate has rescued for him from out the ashes +of the past. My father is every whit as penniless as you are yourself, +Maurice, as penniless as ever he was in England, when he gave French and +drawing lessons to a lot of young ragamuffins in a middle-class school. +But Victor de Marmont is rich, and his money--once I am his wife--will +purchase back all the estates which have been in our family for +hundreds of years. For my father's sake, for the sake of the name which +I bear, I must give my hand to Victor de Marmont, and pray to God that +some semblance of peace, the sense of duty accomplished, will compensate +me for the happiness to which I shall bid good-bye to-day." + +"And you are willing to be sold to young de Marmont for the price of a +few acres of land!" retorted Maurice de St. Genis hotly. "Oh! it's +monstrous, Crystal, monstrous! All the more monstrous as you seem quite +unconscious of the iniquity of such a bargain." + +"Women of our caste, Maurice," she said in her turn with a touch of +bitterness, "have often before now been sacrificed for the honour of +their name. Men have been accustomed to look to them for help when their +own means of gilding their escutcheons have failed." + +"And you are willing, Crystal, to be sold like this?" he insisted. + +"My father wishes me to marry Victor de Marmont," she replied with calm +dignity, "and after all that he has suffered for the honour and dignity +of our name, I should deem myself craven and treacherous if I refused to +obey him in this." + +Maurice de St. Genis once more rose to his feet. All his vehemence, his +riotous outbreak of rebellion seemed to have been smothered beneath a +pall of dreary despair. His young, good-looking face appeared sombre and +sullen, his restless, dark eyes wandered obstinately from Crystal's fair +bent head to her stooping shoulders, to her hands, to her feet. It +seemed as if he was trying to engrave an image of her upon his turbulent +brain, or that he wished to force her to look on him again before she +spoke the last words of farewell. + +But she wouldn't look at him. She kept her head resolutely averted, +looking far out over the undulating lands of Dauphiné and Savoie to +where in the far distant sky the stately Alps reared their snow-crowned +heads. At last, unable to bear her silence any longer, he said dully: + +"Then it is your last word, Crystal?" + +"You know that it must be, Maurice," she murmured in reply. "My marriage +contract will be signed to-night, and on Tuesday I go to the altar with +Victor de Marmont." + +"And you mean to tear your love for me out of your heart?" + +"Yes!" + +"Were its roots a little deeper, a little stronger, you could not do it, +Crystal. But they are not so deep as those of your love for your +father." + +She made no reply . . . perhaps something in her heart told her that +after all he might be right, that, unbeknown to herself even, there were +tendrils of affection in her that bound her, ivylike, and so closely--to +her father that even her girlish love for Maurice de St. Genis--the +first hint of passion that had stirred the smooth depths of her young +heart--could not tear her from that bulwark to which she clung. + +"This is the last time that I shall see you, Crystal," said Maurice with +a sigh, seeing that obviously she meant to allow his taunt to pass +unchallenged. + +"You are going away?" she asked. + +"How can I stay--here, under this roof, where anon--in a few +hours--Victor de Marmont will have claims upon you which, if he +exercised them before me would make me wish to kill him or myself. I +shall leave to-morrow--early . . ." he added more quietly. + +"Where will you go?" + +"To Paris--or abroad--or the devil, I don't know which," he replied +moodily. + +"Father will be sorry if you go?" she murmured under her breath, for +once again the tears were very insistent, and she felt an awful pain in +her heart, because of the misery which she had to inflict upon him. + +"Your father has been passing kind to me. He gave me a home when I was +homeless, but it is not fitting that I should trespass any longer upon +his hospitality." + +"Have you made any plans?" + +"Not yet. But the King will give me a commission. There will be some +fighting now . . . there was a rumour in Grenoble last night that +Bonaparte had landed at Antibes, and was marching on Paris." + +"A false rumour as usual, I suppose," she said indifferently. + +"Perhaps," he replied. + +There was silence between them for awhile after that, silence only +broken by the twitter of birds wakening to the call of spring. The word +"good-bye" remained unspoken: neither of them dared to say it lest it +broke the barrier of their resolve. + +"Will you not go now, Maurice?" said Crystal at last in pitiable +pleading, "we only make each other hopelessly wretched, by lingering +near one another after this." + +"Yes, I will go, Crystal," he replied, and this time he really forced +his voice to tones of gentleness, although his inward resentment still +bubbled out with every word he spoke, "I wish I could have left this +house altogether--now--at once--but your father would resent it--and he +has been so kind . . . I wish I could go to-day," he reiterated +obstinately, "I dread seeing Victor de Marmont in this house, where the +laws of chivalry forbid my striking him in the face." + +"Maurice!" she exclaimed reproachfully. + +"Nay! I'll not say it again: I have sufficient reason left in me, I +think, to show these parvenus how we, of the old regime, bear every blow +which fate chooses to deal to us. They have taken everything from us, +these new men--our lives, our lands, our very means of subsistence--now +they have taken to filching our sweethearts--curse them! but at least +let us keep our dignity!" + +But again she was silent. What was there to say that had not been +said?--save that unspoken word "good-bye." And he asked very softly: + +"May I kiss you for the last time, Crystal?" + +"No, Maurice," she replied, "never again." + +"You are still free," he urged. "You are not plighted to de Marmont +yet." + +"No--not actually--not till to-night. . . ." + +"Then . . . mayn't I?" + +"No, Maurice," she said decisively. + +"Your hand then?" + +"If you like." He knelt down close to her; she yielded her hand to him +and he with his usual impulsiveness covered it with kisses into which he +tried to infuse the fervour of a last farewell. + +Then without another word he rose to his feet and walked away with a +long and firm stride down the avenue. Crystal watched his retreating +figure until the overhanging branches of the ilex hid him from her view. + +She made no attempt now to restrain her tears, they flowed +uninterruptedly down her cheeks and dropped hot and searing upon her +hands. With Maurice's figure disappearing down the dark avenue, with the +echo of his footsteps dying away in the distance, the last chapter of +her first book of romance seemed to be closing with relentless finality. + +The afternoon sun was hidden behind a bank of grey clouds, the northeast +wind came whistling insistently through the trees:--even that feeling of +spring in the air had vanished. It was just a bleak grey winter's day +now. Crystal felt herself shivering with cold. She drew her shawl more +closely round her shoulders, then with eyes still wet with tears, but +small head held well erect, she rose to her feet and walked rapidly back +to the house. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse had in the meanwhile followed Hector along the +corridor and down the finely carved marble staircase. At a monumental +door on the ground floor the man paused, his hand upon the massive +ormolu handle, waiting for Madame la Duchesse to come up. + +He felt a little uncomfortable at her approach for here in the big +square hall the light was very clear, and he could see Madame's keen, +searching eyes looking him up and down and through and through. She even +put up her lorgnon and though she was not very tall, she contrived to +look Hector through them straight between the eyes. + +"Is M. le Comte in there?" Madame la Duchesse deigned to ask as she +pointed with her lorgnon to the door. + +"In the small library beyond, Madame la Duchesse," replied Hector +stiffly. + +"And . . ." she queried with sharp sarcasm, "is the antechamber very +full of courtiers and ladies just now?" + +A quick, almost imperceptible blush spread over Hector's impassive +countenance, and as quickly vanished again. + +"M. le Comte," he said imperturbably, "is disengaged at the present +moment. He seldom receives visitors at this hour." + +On Madame's mobile lips the sarcastic curl became more marked. "And I +suppose, my good Hector," she said, "that since M. le Comte has only +granted an audience to his sister to-day, you thought it was a good +opportunity for putting yourself at your ease and wearing your patched +and mended clothes, eh?" + +Once more that sudden wave of colour swept over Hector's solemn old +face. He was evidently at a loss how to take Mme. la Duchesse's +remark--whether as a rebuke or merely as one of those mild jokes of +which every one knew that Madame was inordinately fond. + +Something of his dignity of attitude seemed to fall away from him as he +vainly tried to solve this portentous problem. His mouth felt dry and +his head hot, and he did not know on which foot he could stand with the +least possible discomfort, and how he could contrive to hide from Madame +la Duchesse's piercing eyes that very obvious patch in the right knee of +his breeches. + +"Madame la Duchesse will forgive me, I hope," he stammered painfully. + +But already Madame's kind old face had shed its mask of raillery. + +"Never mind, Hector," she said gently, "you are a good fellow, and +there's no occasion to tell me lies about the rich liveries which are +put away somewhere, nor about the numerous retinue and countless number +of flunkeys, all of whom are having unaccountably long holidays just +now. It's no use trying to throw dust in my eyes, my poor friend, or put +on that pompous manner with me. I know that the carpets are not all +temporarily rolled up or the best of the furniture at a repairer's in +Grenoble--what's the use of pretending with me, old Hector? Those days +at Worcester are not so distant yet, are they? when all the family had +to make a meal off a pound of sausages, or your wife Jeanne, God bless +her! had to pawn her wedding-ring to buy M. le Comte de Cambray a +second-hand overcoat." + +"Madame la Duchesse, I humbly pray your Grace . . ." entreated Hector +whose wrinkled, parchment-like face had become the colour of a peony, +and who, torn between the respect which he had for the great lady and +his horror at what she said was ready to sink through the floor in his +confusion. + +"Eh what, man?" retorted the Duchesse lightly, "there is no one but +these bare walls to hear me; and my words, you'll find, will clear the +atmosphere round you--it was very stifling, my good Hector, when I +arrived. There now!" she added, "announce me to M. le Comte and then go +down to Jeanne and tell her that I for one have no intention of +forgetting Worcester, or the pawned ring, or the sausages, and that the +array of Grenoble louts dressed up for the occasion in moth-eaten +liveries dragged up out of some old chests do not please me half as much +round a dinner table as did her dear old, streaming face when she used +to bring us the omelette straight out of the kitchen." + +She dropped her lorgnon, and folding her aristocratic hands upon her +bosom, she once more assumed the grand manner pertaining to Versailles, +and Hector having swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, threw +open the huge, folding doors and announced in a stentorian voice: + +"Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen!" + + +IV + +M. le Comte de Cambray was at this time close on sixty years of age, and +the hardships which he had endured for close upon a quarter of a century +had left their indelible impress upon his wrinkled, careworn face. + +But no one--least of all a younger man--could possibly rival him in +dignity of bearing and gracious condescension of manner. He wore his +clothes after the old-time fashion, and clung to the powdered peruque +which had been the mode at the Tuileries and Versailles before these +vulgar young republicans took to wearing their own hair in its natural +colour. + +Now as he advanced from the inner room to meet Mme. la Duchesse, he +seemed a perfect presentation or rather resuscitation of the courtly and +vanished epoch of the Roi Soleil. He held himself very erect and walked +with measured step, and a stereotyped smile upon his lips. He paused +just in front of Mme. la Duchesse, then stopped and lightly touched with +his lips the hand which she held out to him. + +"Tell me, Monsieur my brother," said Madame in her loudly-pitched voice, +"do you expect me to make before you my best Versailles curtsey, +for--with my rheumatic knee--I warn you that once I get down, you might +find it very difficult to get me up on my feet again." + +"Hush, Sophie," admonished M. le Comte impatiently, "you must try and +subdue your voice a little, we are no longer in Worcester remember--" + +But Madame only shrugged her thin shoulders. + +"Bah!" she retorted, "there's only good old Hector on the other side of +the door, and you don't imagine you are really throwing dust in _his_ +eyes do you? . . . good old Hector with his threadbare livery and his +ill-fed belly. . . ." + +"Sophie!" exclaimed M. le Comte who was really vexed this time, "I must +insist. . . ." + +"All right, all right my dear André. . . . I won't say anything more. +Take me to your audience chamber and I'll try to behave like a lady." + +A smile that was distinctly mischievous still hovered round Madame's +lips, but she forced her eyes to look grave: she held out the tips of +her fingers to her brother and allowed him to lead her in the correct +manner into the next room. + +Here M. le Comte invited her to sit in an upright chair which was placed +at a convenient angle close to his bureau while he himself sat upon a +stately throne-like armchair, one shapely knee bent, the other slightly +stretched forward, displaying the fine silk stocking and the set of his +well-cut, satin breeches. Mme. la Duchesse kept her hands folded in +front of her, and waited in silence for her brother to speak, but he +seemed at a loss how to begin, for her piercing gaze was making him +feel very uncomfortable: he could not help but detect in it the twinkle +of good-humoured sarcasm. + +Madame of course would not help him out. She enjoyed his obvious +embarrassment, which took him down somewhat from that high altitude of +dignity wherein he delighted to soar. + +"My dear Sophie," he began at last, speaking very deliberately and +carefully choosing his words, "before the step which Crystal is about to +take to-day becomes absolutely irrevocable, I desired to talk the matter +over with you, since it concerns the happiness of my only child." + +"Isn't it a little late, my good André," remarked Madame drily, "to talk +over a question which has been decided a month ago? The contract is to +be signed to-night. Our present conversation might have been held to +some purpose soon after the New Year. It is distinctly useless to-day." + +At Madame's sharp and uncompromising words a quick blush had spread over +the Comte's sunken cheeks. + +"I could not consult you before, Sophie," he said coldly, "you chose to +immure yourself in a convent, rather than come back straightaway to your +old home as we all did when our King was restored to his throne. The +post has been very disorganised and Boulogne is a far cry from +Brestalou, but I did write to you as soon as Victor de Marmont made his +formal request for Crystal's hand. To this letter I had no reply, and I +could not keep him waiting in indefinite uncertainty." + +"Your letter did not reach me until a month after it was written, as I +had the honour to tell you in my reply." + +"And that same reply only reached me a fortnight ago," retorted the +Comte, "when Crystal had been formally engaged to Victor de Marmont for +over a month and the date for the signature of the contract and the +wedding-day had both been fixed. I then sent a courier at great expense +and in great haste immediately to you," he added with a tone of +dignified reproach, "I could do no more." + +"Or less," she assented tartly. "And here I am, my dear brother, and I +am not blaming you for delays in the post. I merely remarked that it was +too late now to consult me upon a marriage which is to all intents and +purposes, an accomplished fact already." + +"That is so of course. But it would be a great personal satisfaction to +me, my good Sophie, to hear your views upon the matter. You have brought +Crystal up from babyhood: in a measure, you know her better than even +I--her father--do and therefore you are better able than I am to judge +whether Crystal's marriage with de Marmont will be conducive to her +permanent happiness." + +"As to that, my good André," quoth Madame, "you must remember that when +our father and mother decided that a marriage between me and M. le Duc +d'Agen was desirable, my personal feelings and character were never +consulted for a moment . . . and I suppose that--taking life as it is--I +was never particularly unhappy as his wife." + +"And what do you adduce from those reminiscences, my dear Sophie?" +queried the Comte de Cambray suavely. + +"That Victor de Marmont is not a bad fellow," replied Madame, "that he +is no worse than was M. le Duc d'Agen and that therefore there is no +reason to suppose that Crystal will be any more unhappy than I was in my +time." + +"But . . ." + +"There is no 'but' about it, my good André. Crystal is a sweet girl and +a devoted daughter. She will make the best, never you fear! of the +circumstances into which your blind worship of your own dignity and of +your rank have placed her." + +"My good Sophie," broke in the Count hotly, "you talk _par Dieu_, as if +I was forcing my only child into a distasteful marriage." + +"No, I do not talk as if you were forcing Crystal into a distasteful +marriage, but you know quite well that she only accepted Victor de +Marmont because it was your wish, and because his millions are going to +buy back the old Cambray estates, and she is so imbued with the sense of +her duty to you and to the family escutcheon, that she was willing to +sacrifice every personal feeling in the fulfilment of that duty." + +"By 'personal feeling' I suppose that you mean St. Genis." + +"Well, yes . . . I do," said Madame laconically. + +"Crystal was very much in love with him at one time." + +"She still is." + +"But even you, my dear sister, must admit that a marriage with St. Genis +was out of the question," retorted the Count in his turn with some +acerbity. "I am very fond of Maurice and his name is as old and great as +ours, but he hasn't a sou, and you know as well as I do by now that the +restoration of confiscated lands is out of the question . . . parliament +will never allow it and the King will never dare. . . ." + +"I know all that, my poor André," sighed Madame in a more conciliatory +spirit, "I know moreover that you yourself haven't a sou either, in +spite of your grandeur and your prejudices. . . . Money must be got +somehow, and our ancient family 'scutcheon must be regilt at any cost. I +know that we must keep up this state pertaining to the old regime, we +must have our lacqueys and our liveries, sycophants around us and gaping +yokels on our way when we sally out into the open. . . . We must blot +out from our lives those twenty years spent in a democratic and +enlightened country where no one is ashamed either of poverty or of +honest work--and above all things we must forget that there has ever +been a revolution which sent M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Ordre du Lys, Seigneur of +Montfleury and St. Eynard, hereditary Grand Chamberlain of France, to +teach French and drawing in an English Grammar School. . . ." + +"You wrong me there, Sophie, I wish to forget nothing of the past twenty +years." + +"I thought that you had given your memory a holiday." + +"I forget nothing," he reiterated with dignified emphasis, "neither the +squalid poverty which I endured, nor the bitter experiences which I +gleaned in exile." + +"Nor the devotion of those who saved your life." + +"And yours . . ." he interposed. + +"And mine, at risk of their own." + +"Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that not a day goes by but +Crystal and I speak of Sir Percy Blakeney, and of his gallant League of +the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Well! we owe our lives to them," said Madame with deep-drawn sigh. "I +wonder if we shall ever see any of those fine fellows again!" + +"God only knows," sighed M. le Comte in response. "But," he continued +more lightly, "as you know the League itself has ceased to be. We saw +very little of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney latterly for we were too poor +ever to travel up to London. Crystal and I saw them, before we left +England, and I then had the opportunity of thanking Sir Percy Blakeney +for the last time, for the many valuable French lives which his plucky +little League had saved." + +"He is indeed a gallant gentleman," said Mme. la Duchesse gently, even +whilst her bright, shrewd eyes gazed straight out before her as if on +the great bare walls of her own ancestral home, the ghostly hand of +memory had conjured up pictures of long ago:--her own, her husband's and +her brother's arrest here in this very room, the weeping servants, the +rough, half-naked soldiery--then the agony of a nine days' imprisonment +in a dark, dank prison-cell filled to overflowing with poor wretches in +the same pitiable plight as herself--the hasty trial, the insults, the +mockery:--her husband's death in prison and her own thoughts of +approaching death! + +Then the gallant deed!--after all these years she could still see +herself, her brother and Jeanne, her faithful maid, and poor devoted +Hector all huddled up in a rickety tumbril, being dragged through the +streets of Paris on the road to death. On ahead she had seen the weird +outline of the guillotine silhouetted against the evening sky, whilst +all around her a howling, jeering mob sang that awful refrain: "Cà ira! +Cà ira! les aristos à la lanterne!" + +Then it was that she had felt unseen hands snatching her out of the +tumbril, she had felt herself being dragged through that yelling crowd +to a place where there was silence and darkness and where she knew that +she was safe: thence she was conveyed--she hardly realised how--to +England, where she and her brother and Jeanne and Hector, their faithful +servants, had found refuge for over twenty years. + +"It was a gallant deed!" whispered Mme. la Duchesse once again, "and one +which will always make me love every Englishman I meet, for the sake of +one who was called The Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Then why should you attribute vulgar ingratitude to me?" retorted the +Comte reproachfully. "My feelings I imagine are as sensitive as your +own. Am I not trying my best to be kind to that Mr. Clyffurde, who is an +honoured guest in my house--just because it was Sir Percy Blakeney who +recommended him to me?" + +"It can't be very difficult to be kind to such an attractive young man," +was Mme. la Duchesse's dry comment. "Recommendation or no recommendation +I liked your Mr. Clyffurde and if it were not so late in the day and +there was still time to give my opinion, I should suggest that Mr. +Clyffurde's money could quite well regild our family 'scutcheon. He is +very rich too, I understand." + +"My good Sophie!" exclaimed the Comte in horror, "what can you be +thinking of?" + +"Crystal principally," replied the Duchesse. "I thought Clyffurde a far +nicer fellow than de Marmont." + +"My dear sister," said the Comte stiffly, "I really must ask you to +think sometimes before you speak. Of a truth you make suggestions and +comments at times which literally stagger one." + +"I don't see anything so very staggering in the idea of a penniless +aristocrat marrying a wealthy English gentleman. . . ." + +"A gentleman! my dear!" exclaimed the Comte. + +"Well! Mr. Clyffurde is a gentleman, isn't he?" + +"His family is irreproachable, I believe." + +"Well then?" + +"But . . . Mr. Clyffurde . . . you know, my dear. . . ." + +"No! I don't know," said Madame decisively. "What is the matter with Mr. +Clyffurde?" + +"Well! I didn't like to tell you, Sophie, immediately on your arrival +yesterday," said the Comte, who was making visible efforts to mitigate +the horror of what he was about to say: "but . . . as a matter of fact +. . . this Mr. Clyffurde whom you met in my house last night . . . who +sat next to you at my table . . . with whom you had that long and +animated conversation afterwards . . . is nothing better than a +shopkeeper!" + +No doubt M. le Comte de Cambray expected that at this awful +announcement, Mme. la Duchesse's indignation and anger would know no +bounds. He was quite ready even now with a string of apologies which he +would formulate directly she allowed him to speak. He certainly felt +very guilty towards her for the undesirable acquaintance which she had +made in her brother's own house. Great was his surprise therefore when +Madame's wrinkled face wreathed itself into a huge smile, which +presently broadened into a merry laugh, as she threw back her head, and +said still laughing: + +"A shopkeeper, my dear Comte? A shopkeeper at your aristocratic table? +and your meal did not choke you? Why! God forgive you, but I do believe +you are actually becoming human." + +"I ought to have told you sooner, of course," began the Comte stiffly. + +"Why bless your heart, I knew it soon enough." + +"You knew it?" + +"Of course I did. Mr. Clyffurde told me that interesting fact before he +had finished eating his soup." + +"Did he tell you that . . . that he traded in . . . in gloves?" + +"Well! and why not gloves?" she retorted. "Gloves are very nice things +and better manufactured at Grenoble than anywhere else in the world. The +English coquettes are very wise in getting their gloves from Grenoble +through the good offices of Mr. Clyffurde." + +"But, my dear Sophie . . . Mr. Clyffurde buys gloves here from Dumoulin +and sells them again to a shop in London . . . he buys and sells other +things too and he does it for profit. . . ." + +"Of course he does. . . . You don't suppose that any one would do that +sort of thing for pleasure, do you? Mr. Clyffurde," continued Madame +with sudden seriousness, "lost his father when he was six years old. His +mother and four sisters had next to nothing to live on after the bulk of +what they had went for the education of the boy. At eighteen he made up +his mind that he would provide his mother and sisters with all the +luxuries which they had lacked for so long and instead of going into the +army--which had been the burning ambition of his boyhood--he went into +business . . . and in less than ten years has made a fortune." + +"You seem to have learnt a great deal of the man's family history in so +short a time." + +"I liked him: and I made him talk to me about himself. It was not easy, +for these English men are stupidly reticent, but I dragged his story out +of him bit by bit--or at least as much of it as I could--and I can tell +you, my good André, that never have I admired a man so much as I do this +Mr. Clyffurde . . . for never have I met so unselfish a one. I declare +that if I were only a few years younger," she continued whimsically, +"and even so . . . heigh! but I am not so old after all. . . ." + +"My dear Sophie!" ejaculated the Comte. + +"Eh, what?" she retorted tartly, "you would object to a tradesman as a +brother-in-law, would you? What about a de Marmont for a son? Eh?" + +"Victor de Marmont is a soldier in the army of our legitimate King. His +uncle the Duc de Raguse. . . ." + +"That's just it," broke in Madame again, "I don't like de Marmont +because he is a de Marmont." + +"Is that the only reason for your not liking him?" + +"The only one," she replied. "But I must say that this Mr. Clyffurde +. . ." + +"You must not harp on that string, Sophie," said the Comte sternly. "It +is too ridiculous. To begin with Clyffurde never cared for Crystal, and, +secondly, Crystal was already engaged to de Marmont when Clyffurde +arrived here, and, thirdly, let me tell you that my daughter has far too +much pride in her ever to think of a shopkeeper in the light of a +husband even if he had ten times this Mr. Clyffurde's fortune." + +"Then everything is comfortably settled, André. And now that we have +returned to our sheep, and have both arrived at the conclusion that +nothing stands in the way of Crystal's marriage with Victor de Marmont, +I suppose that I may presume that my audience is at an end." + +"I only wished to hear your opinion, my good Sophie," rejoined M. le +Comte. And he rose stiffly from his chair. + +"Well! and you have heard it, André," concluded Madame as she too rose +and gathered her lace shawl round her shoulders. "You may thank God, my +dear brother, that you have in Crystal such an unselfish and obedient +child, and in me such a submissive sister. Frankly--since you have +chosen to ask my opinion at this eleventh hour--I don't like this de +Marmont marriage, though I have admitted that I see nothing against the +young man himself. If Crystal is not unhappy with him, I shall be +content: if she is, I will make myself exceedingly disagreeable, both to +him and to you, and that being my last word, I have the honour to wish +you a polite 'good-day.'" + +She swept her brother an imperceptibly ironical curtsey, but he detained +her once again, as she turned to go. + +"One word more, Sophie," he said solemnly. "You will be amiable with +Victor de Marmont this evening?" + +"Of course I will," she replied tartly. "Ah, ça, Monsieur my brother, do +you take me for a washerwoman?" + +"I am entertaining the préfet for the _souper du contrat_," continued +the Comte, quietly ignoring the old lady's irascibility of temper, "and +the general in command of the garrison. They are both converted +Bonapartists, remember." + +"Hm!" grunted Madame crossly, "whom else are you going to entertain?" + +"Mme. Fourier, the préfet's wife, and Mlle. Marchand, the general's +daughter, and of course the d'Embruns and the Genevois." + +"Is that all?" + +"Some half dozen or so notabilities of Grenoble. We shall sit down +twenty to supper, and afterwards I hold a reception in honour of the +coming marriage of Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou with M. Victor de +Marmont. One must do one's duty. . . ." + +"And pander to one's love of playing at being a little king in a limited +way. . . . All right! I won't say anything more. I promise that I won't +disgrace you, and that I'll put on a grand manner that will fill those +worthy notabilities and their wives with awe and reverence. And now, I'd +best go," she added whimsically, "ere my good resolutions break down +before your pomposity . . . I suppose the louts from the village will be +again braced up in those moth-eaten liveries, and the bottles of thin +Médoc purchased surreptitiously at a local grocer's will be duly +smothered in the dust of ages. . . . All right! all right! I'm going. +For gracious' sake don't conduct me to the door, or I'll really disgrace +you under Hector's uplifted nose. . . . Oh! shades of cold beef and +treacle pies of Worcester . . . and washing-day . . . do you remember? +. . . all right! all right, Monsieur my brother, I am dumb as a carp at +last." + +And with a final outburst of sarcastic laughter, Madame finally sailed +across the room, while Monsieur fell back into his throne-like chair +with a deep sigh of relief. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR + + +I + +But even as Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen placed her aristocratic +hand upon the handle of the door, it was opened from without with what +might almost be called undue haste, and Hector appeared in the doorway. + +Hector in truth! but not the sober-faced, pompous, dignified Hector of +the household of M. le Comte de Cambray, but a red-visaged, excited, +fussy Hector, who for the moment seemed to have forgotten where he was, +as well as the etiquette which surrounded the august personality of his +master. He certainly contrived to murmur a humble if somewhat hasty +apology, when he found himself confronted at the door by Mme. la +Duchesse herself, but he did not stand aside to let her pass. + +She had stepped back into the room at sight of him, for obviously +something very much amiss must have occurred thus to ruffle Hector's +ingrained dignity, and even M. le Comte was involuntarily dragged out of +his aristocratic aloofness and almost--though not quite--jumped up from +his chair. + +"What is it, Hector?" he exclaimed, peremptorily. + +"M. le Comte," gasped Hector, who seemed to be out of breath from sheer +excitement, "the Corsican . . . he has come back . . . he is marching on +Grenoble . . . M. le préfet is here! . . ." + +But already M. le Comte had--with a wave of the hand as it were--swept +the unwelcome news aside. + +"What rubbish is this?" he said wrathfully. "You have been dreaming in +broad daylight, Hector . . . and this excitement is most unseemly. Show +Mme. la Duchesse to her apartments," he added with a great show of calm. + +Hector--thus reproved, coloured a yet more violent crimson to the very +roots of his hair. He made a great effort to recover his pomposity and +actually took up the correct attitude which a well-trained servant +assumes when he shows a great lady out of a room. But even then--despite +the well-merited reproof--he took it upon himself to insist: + +"M. le préfet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received +at once." + +"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired," +said the Comte with quiet dignity. + +"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait +and hear what M. le préfet has to say. The news--if news there be--is +too interesting to be kept waiting for me." + +And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la +Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the +chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur +of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for +orders. + +M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should +leave the room before the préfet was shown in: he did not approve of +women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly +showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le préfet +alone. But he said nothing--probably because he knew that words would be +useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently +had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector: + +"Show M. le préfet in." + +He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped chair--one leg +bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf +and well-shod foot. M. le préfet Fourier, mathematician of great renown, +and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to +whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity. + +And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two +men--the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the +new--presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray +calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and +moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques +Fourier, man of science and préfet of the Isère department, short of +stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid! + +Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very +best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to +kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had +finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said +with kindly condescension: + +"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!" + +"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy préfet, still somewhat out of +breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ." + +"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was +meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject +matter. + +"What news?" exclaimed the préfet who, on the other hand, was unable to +contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't +you heard? . . ." + +"No," replied the Comte. + +And Madame also shook her head. + +"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added +M. le Comte gravely. + +"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to be calling Heaven +to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . . +But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days +ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and +swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!" + +"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le préfet," rejoined the Comte drily. +"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this +half-year past." + +"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier, +who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had +succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The préfet of the Var +department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on +Thursday last to the préfet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier +straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in +command of the troops in that district, promptly evacuated Digue because +they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it +seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since +then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted +in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a +triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the +news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming +nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it +immediately." + +"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful +and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?" + +"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne +yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard +turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population +acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The préfet and the +general in command had intended to resist his entry into the city, but +all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the +préfet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with +him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has +retreated on Sisteron." + +Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the préfet's narrative +with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some +of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed +cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which +toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted +steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes +were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin +lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what +he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak. +It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly: + +"And in your department, M. le préfet, in Grenoble itself, is the +garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?" + +M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure. + +"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would +not care to prophesy. Général Marchand does not intend to trust entirely +to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambéry for +reinforcements . . . but . . ." + +The préfet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in +the loyalty of those reinforcements either. + +M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you +don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the +King?" + +But M. le préfet apparently had meant to suggest it. + +"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear in mind that the +whole of the Dauphiné has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism." + +"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte. + +"Général Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M. +le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never +been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack +there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be +fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere +sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le +Comte, and in the Dauphiné; alas! the army is only too ready to cry: +'Vive l'Empereur!'" + +There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the +tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still +nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his +overheated brow. + +"For God's sake, André, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse +after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves." + +"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily. + +He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own +nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it +himself. His attitude was on the verge of incorrectness. Where was the +aristocratic sangfroid which should have made him proof even against so +much perturbing news? What had become of the lesson in decorum which +should have been taught to this vulgar little bureaucrat? + +M. le Comte pulled himself together with a jerk: he straightened out his +spare figure, put on that air of detachment which became him so well, +and finally turned once more to the préfet a perfectly calm and +unruffled countenance. + +Then he said with his accustomed urbanity: + +"And now, my good M. Fourier, since you have so admirably put the +situation before me, will you also tell me in what way I may be of +service to you in this--or to Général Marchand?" + +"I am coming to that, M. le Comte," replied the préfet. "It will explain +the reason of my disturbing you at this hour, when I was coming anyhow +to partake of your gracious hospitality later on. But I do want your +assistance, M. le Comte, as the matter of which I wish to speak with you +concerns the King himself." + +"Everything that you have told me hitherto, my good M. Fourier, concerns +His Majesty and the security of his throne. I cannot help wondering how +much of this news has reached him by now." + +"All of it at this hour, I should say. For already on Friday the Prince +d'Essling sent a despatch to His Majesty--by courier as far as Lyons and +thence by aërial telegraph to Paris. The King--may God preserve him!" +added the ex-Bonapartist fervently, "knows as much of the Corsican's +movements at the present moment as we do; and God alone knows what he +will decide to do." + +"Whatever happens," interjected the Comte de Cambray solemnly, "Louis de +Bourbon, XVIIIth of his name, by the Grace of God, will act like a king +and a gentleman." + +"Amen to that," retorted the préfet. "And now let me come to my point, +M. le Comte, and the chief object of my visit to you." + +"I am at your service, my dear M. Fourier." + +"You will remember, M. le Comte, that directly you were installed at +Brestalou and I was confirmed in my position as préfet of this +department, I thought it was my duty to tell you of the secret funds +which are kept in the cellars of our Hôtel de Ville by order of M. de +Talleyrand." + +"Yes, of course I remember that perfectly. French money, which the +unfortunate wife of that brigand Bonaparte was taking out of the +country." + +"Quite so," assented Fourier. "The funds are in a convenient and +portable form, being chiefly notes and bankers' drafts to bearer, but +the amount is considerable, namely, twenty-five millions of francs." + +"A comfortable sum," interposed Mme. la Duchesse drily. "I did not know +that Grenoble sheltered so vast a treasure." + +"The money was seized," said the Comte, "from Marie Louise when she was +fleeing the country. Talleyrand did it all, and it was his idea to keep +the money in this part of the country against likely emergencies." + +"But the emergency has arisen," exclaimed M. Fourier excitedly, "and the +money at Grenoble is useless to His Majesty in Paris. Nay! it is worse +than useless, it is in danger of spoliation," he added with unconscious +_naiveté_. "If the Corsican marches into Grenoble, if the garrison and +the townspeople rally to him, he will of a truth occupy the Hôtel de +Ville and the brigand will seize the King's treasure which lies now in +one of its cellars." + +"True," mused the Comte, "I hadn't thought of that." + +"Well!" exclaimed Madame with light sarcasm, "seeing that the money was +originally taken from his wife, the brigand will not be committing an +altogether unlikely act, I imagine, by taking what was originally his." + +"His, my good Sophie?" exclaimed the Comte, highly shocked. "Money +robbed by that usurper from France--his?" + +"We won't argue, André," said Madame sharply, "let us hear what M. le +préfet proposes." + +"Propose, Mme. la Duchesse," ejaculated the unfortunate préfet, "I have +nothing to propose! I am at my wits' end what to do! I came to M. le +Comte for advice." + +"And you were quite right, my dear M. Fourier," said the Comte affably. + +He paused for a few seconds in order to collect his thoughts, then +continued: "Now let us consider this question from every side, and then +see to what conclusion we can arrive that will be for the best. Firstly, +of course, there is the possibility of your following the example of the +préfet of the Basses-Alpes and taking yourself and the money to a +convenient place outside Grenoble." + +But at this suggestion M. Fourier was ready to burst into tears. + +"Impossible, M. le Comte," he cried pitiably, "I could not do it. . . . +Where could I go? . . . The existence of the money is known . . . known +to the Bonapartists, I am convinced. . . . There's Dumoulin, the +glovemaker, he knows everything that goes on in Grenoble . . . and his +friend Emery, who is an army surgeon in the pay of Bonaparte . . . both +these men have been to and from Elba incessantly these past few months +. . . then there's the Bonapartist club in Grenoble . . . with a +membership of over two thousand . . . the members have friends and spies +everywhere . . . even inside the Hôtel de Ville . . . why! the other day +I had to dismiss a servant who . . ." + +"Easy, easy, M. le préfet," broke in M. le Comte impatiently, "the long +and the short of it is that you would not feel safe with the money +anywhere outside Grenoble." + +"Or inside it, M. le Comte." + +"Very well, then, the money must be deposited there, where it will be +safe. Now what do you think of Dupont's Bank?" + +"Oh, M. le Comte! an avowed Bonapartist! . . . M. de Talleyrand would +not trust him with the money last year." + +"That is so . . . but . . ." + +"It seems to me," here interposed Mme. la Duchesse abruptly, "that by +far the best plan--since this district seems to be a hot-bed of +disloyalty--would be to convey the money straightway to Paris, and then +the King or M. de Talleyrand can dispose of it as best they like." + +"Ah, Mme. la Duchesse," sighed M. Fourier ecstatically as he clasped his +podgy little hands together and looked on Madame with eyes full of +admiration for her wisdom, "how cleverly that was spoken! If only I +could be relieved from that awful responsibility . . . five and twenty +millions under my charge and that Corsican ogre at our gates! . . ." + +"That is all very well!" quoth the Comte with marked impatience, "but +how is it going to be done? 'Convey the money to Paris' is easily said. +But who is going to do it? M. le préfet here says that the Bonapartists +have spies everywhere round Grenoble, and . . ." + +"Ah, M. le Comte!" exclaimed the préfet eagerly. "I have already thought +of such a beautiful plan! If only you would consent . . ." + +M. le Comte's thin lips curled in a sarcastic smile. + +"Oh! you have thought it all out already, M. le préfet?" he said. "Well! +let me hear your plan, but I warn you that I will not have the money +brought here. I don't half trust the peasantry of the neighbourhood, and +I won't have a fight or an outrage committed in my house!" + +M. le préfet was ready with a protest: + +"No, no, M. le Comte!" he said, "I wouldn't suggest such a thing for the +world. If the Corsican brigand is successful in capturing Grenoble, no +place would be sacred to him. No! My idea was if you, M. le Comte--who +have oft before journeyed to Paris and back--would do it now . . . +before Bonaparte gets any nearer to Grenoble . . . and take the money +with you . . ." + +"I?" exclaimed the Comte. "But, man, if--as you say--Grenoble is full of +Bonapartist spies, my movements are no doubt just as closely watched as +your own." + +"No, no, M. le Comte, not quite so closely, I am sure." + +The insinuating manner of the worthy man, however, was apparently +getting on M. le Comte's nerves. + +"Ah, ça, M. le préfet," he ejaculated abruptly, "but meseems that the +splendid plan you thought on merely consists in transferring +responsibility from your shoulders to mine own." + +And M. le Comte cast such a wrathful look on poor M. Fourier that the +unfortunate man was stricken dumb with confusion. + +"Moreover," concluded the Comte, "I don't know that you, M. le préfet, +have the right to dispose of this money which was entrusted to you by M. +de Talleyrand in the King's behalf without consulting His Majesty's +wishes in the matter." + +"Bah, André," broke in the Duchesse in her incisive way, "you are +talking nonsense, and you know it. There is no time for red-tapeism now +with that ogre at our gates. How are you going to consult His Majesty's +wishes--who is in Paris--between now and Tuesday, I would like to know?" +she added with a shrug of the shoulders. + +Whereupon M. le Comte waxed politely sarcastic. + +"Perhaps," he said, "you would prefer us to consult yours." + +"You might do worse," she retorted imperturbably. "The question is one +which is very easily solved. Ought His Majesty the King to have that +money, or should M. le préfet here take the risk of its falling in +Bonaparte's hands? Answer me that," she said decisively, "and then I +will tell you how best to succeed in carrying out your own wishes." + +"What a question, my good Sophie!" said the Comte stiffly. "Of course we +desire His Majesty to have what is rightfully his." + +"You mean he ought to have the twenty-five millions which the Prince de +Bénévant stole from Marie Louise. Very well then, obviously that money +ought to be taken to Paris before Bonaparte gets much nearer to +Grenoble--but it should not be taken by you, my good André, nor yet by +M. le préfet." + +"By whom then?" queried the Comte irritably. + +"By me," replied Mme. la Duchesse. + +"By you, Sophie! Impossible!" + +"And God alive, why impossible, I pray you?" she retorted. "The money, I +understand, is in a very portable form, notes and bankers' drafts, which +can be stowed away quite easily. Why shouldn't I be journeying back to +Paris after Crystal's wedding? Who would suspect me, I should like to +know, of carrying twenty-five millions under my petticoats? All I should +want would be a couple of sturdy fellows on the box to protect me +against footpads. Impossible?" she continued tartly. "Men are always so +ready with that word. Get a sensible woman, I say, and she will solve +your difficulties before you have finished exclaiming: 'Impossible!'" + +And she looked triumphantly from one man to the other. There was obvious +relief on the ruddy face of little M. Fourier, and even M. le Comte was +visibly taken with the idea. + +"Well!" he at last condescended to say, "it does sound feasible after +all." + +"Feasible? Of course it's feasible," said Madame with a shrug of +contempt. "Either the King is in want of the money, or he is not. Either +Bonaparte is likely to get it or he is not. If the King wants it, he +must have it at any cost and any risk. Twenty-five millions in +Bonaparte's hands at this juncture would help him to reconstitute his +army and make it very unpleasant for the King and for us all. M. le +préfet, who has been in charge of the money all along, and M. le Comte +de Cambray, who is the only true royalist in the district, are both +marked down by spies: ergo Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen is the only possible +agent for the business, and an inoffensive old woman without any +political standing is the least likely to be molested in her task. If I +fail, I fail," concluded Madame decisively, "if I am stopped on the way +and the money taken from me, well! I am stopped, that's all! and M. le +préfet or M. le Comte de Cambray or any male agent they may have sent +would have been stopped likewise. But I maintain that a woman travelling +alone is far safer at this business and more likely to succeed than a +man. So now, for God's sake, don't let's argue any more about it. +Crystal is to be married on Tuesday and I could start that same +afternoon. Can you bring the money over with you to-night?" + +She put her query directly to the préfet, who was obviously overjoyed, +and intensely relieved at the suggestion. + +M. le Comte too seemed to be won over by his sister's persuasive +rhetoric: her strength of mind and firmness of purpose always imposed +themselves on those over whom she chose to exert her will: and men of +somewhat weak character like the Comte de Cambray came very easily under +the sway of her dominating personality. + +But he thought it incumbent upon his dignity to make one more protest +before he finally yielded to his sister's arguments. + +"I don't like," he said, "the idea of your travelling alone through the +country without sufficient escort. The roads are none too safe and +. . ." + +"Bah!" broke in Madame impatiently. "I pray you, Monsieur my brother, to +strengthen your arguments, if you are really determined to oppose this +sensible scheme of mine. Travelling alone, forsooth! Did I not arrive +only yesterday, having travelled all the way from Boulogne and with no +escort save two louts on the box of a hired coach?" + +"You chose to travel alone, my dear sister, for reasons best known to +yourself," retorted the Comte, greatly angered that M. le préfet should +hear the fact that Mme. la Duchesse douairière had travelled at any time +without an escort. + +"And who shall say me nay, if I choose to travel back alone again, I +should like to know? So now if you have exhausted your string of +objections, my dear brother, perhaps you will allow M. le préfet to +answer my question." + +Whereupon M. le préfet promptly satisfied Mme. la Duchesse on the point: +he certainly could and would bring the money over with him this evening. +And M. le Comte had no further objections to offer. + +In the archives of the Ministry of War in Paris, any one who looks may +read that in the subsequent trial of Général Marchand for high +treason--after the Hundred Days and Napoleon's second abdication--préfet +Fourier during the course of his evidence gave a detailed account of +this same interview which he had with M. le Comte de Cambray and Mme. la +Duchesse douairière d'Agen on Sunday, March the 5th. In his deposition +he naturally laid great stress upon his own zeal in the matter, +declaring that he it was who finally overcame by his eloquence M. le +Comte's objections to the scheme and decided him to give his +acquiescence thereto.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Déposition de Fourier. (Dossier de Marchant Arch. Guerre.)] + +Certain it is that there was but little argument after this between Mme. +la Duchesse and the two men, and that the details of the scheme were +presently discussed soberly and in all their bearings. + +"I shall have the honour presently," said Fourier, "of coming back here +to respond to M. le Comte's gracious invitation to dinner. Why +shouldn't I bring the money with me then?" + +"Indeed you must bring the money then," retorted the irascible old lady, +"and let there be no shirking or delay. Promptitude is our great chance +of success. I ought not to start later than Tuesday, and I could do so +soon after the wedding ceremony. I could arrange to sleep at Lyons that +night, at Dijon the next day, be in Paris by Thursday evening and in the +King's presence on Friday." + +"Provided you are not delayed," sighed the Comte. + +"If I am delayed, my good André, then anyhow the game is up. But we are +not going to anticipate misfortune and we are going to believe in our +lucky star." + +"Would to God I could bring myself to approve wholeheartedly of this +expedition! The whole thing seems to me chivalrous and romantic rather +than prudent, and Heaven knows how prudent we should be just now!" + +"You look back on history, my dear brother," remarked Madame drily, "and +you'll see that more great events have been brought about by chivalry +and romance than by prudence and circumspection. The romance of Joan of +Arc delivered France from foreign yoke, the chivalry of François I. +saved the honour of France after the disaster of Pavie, and it certainly +was not prudence which set Henry of Navarre upon the throne of France +and in the heart of his people. So for gracious' sake do not let us talk +of prudence any more. Rather let us allow M. le préfet to return quietly +to the Hôtel de Ville, so that he and Mme. Fourier may proceed to dress +for to-night's ceremony, just as if nothing untoward had happened. In +the meanwhile I will complete my preparations for Tuesday. There are one +or two little details in connection with my journey--hostelries, +servants, horses and so on--which you, my dear André, will kindly decide +for me. And now, gentlemen," she added, rising from her chair, "I have +the honour to wish you both a very good afternoon." + +She did not wait long enough to allow M. le Comte time to ring for +Hector, and she appeared so busy with her lace shawl that she was unable +to do more than acknowledge with a slight inclination of the head M. le +préfet's respectful salute. But then Mme. la Duchesse douairière +d'Agen--though a fervent royalist herself--had a wholesome contempt for +these opportunists. Fourier, celebrated mathematician, loaded with gifts +and honours by Napoleon, who had made him a member of the Institute of +Science and given him the prefecture of the Isère, had turned his coat +very readily at the Restoration, and the oaths of loyalty which he had +tendered to the Emperor seemed not to weigh overheavily upon his +conscience when he reiterated them to the King. + +Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen, therefore, did not willingly place her +aristocratic fingers in the hand of a renegade, who she felt might turn +renegade again if his personal interest so dictated it. Perhaps +something of what lay behind Madame's curt nod to him, struck the +préfet's sensibilities, for the high colour suddenly fled from his round +face, and he did not attempt to approach her for the ceremonial +hand-kissing. But he ran across the room as fast as his short legs would +carry him, and he opened the door for her and bowed to her as she sailed +past him with all the deference which in the olden days of the Empire he +had accorded to the Empress Marie Louise. + +"It is a mad scheme, my good M. Fourier," sighed the Comte when he found +himself once more alone with the préfet, "but such as it is I can think +of nothing better." + +"M. le Comte," exclaimed the préfet with delight, "no one could think of +anything better. Ah, the women of France!" he added ecstatically, "the +women! how often have they saved France in moments of crises? France +owes her grandeur to her women, M. le Comte!" + +"And also her reverses, my dear M. Fourier," remarked the Comte drily. + + +II + +When Bobby Clyffurde came back to Brestalou, after his long day's ride, +he found the stately rooms of the old castle already prepared for the +arrival of M. le Comte's guests. The large reception hall had been +thrown open, as--after supper--M. le Comte would be receiving some of +the notabilities of Grenoble in honour of a great occasion: the +signature of the _contrat de mariage_ between Mlle. Crystal de Cambray +de Brestalou and M. Victor de Marmont. There was an array of liveried +servants in the hall and along the corridor through which Bobby had to +pass on the way to his own room: their liveries of purple with canary +facings--the heraldic colours of the family of Cambray de +Brestalou--hardly showed, in the flickering light of wax candles, the +many ravages of moth and mildew which twenty years of neglect had +wrought upon the once fine and brilliant cloth. + +Downstairs the formal supper which was to precede the reception was laid +for twenty guests. The table was resplendent with the silver so kindly +lent by a benevolent and far-seeing king to those of his friends who had +not the means of replacing the ancient family treasures filched from +them by the revolutionary government. + +There were no flowers upon the table, and only very few wax candles +burned in the ormolu and crystal chandelier overhead. Flowers and wax +candles were luxuries which must be paid for with ready money--a +commodity which was exceedingly scarce in the grandiose Château de +Brestalou--but they also were a luxury which could easily be dispensed +with, for did not M. le Comte de Cambray set the fashions and give the +tone to the whole _département_? and if he chose to have no flowers upon +his supper table and but few candles in his silver sconces, why then +society must take it for granted that such now was _bon ton_ and the +prevailing fashion at the Tuileries. + +Bobby, knowing his host's fastidious tastes in such matters, had made a +very careful toilet, all the while that his thoughts were busy with the +wonderful news which Emery had brought this day, and which was all over +Grenoble by now. He and his two companions had left Notre Dame de Vaulx +soon after their _déjeuner_, and together had entered the city at five +o'clock in the afternoon. On their way they had encountered the +travelling-coach of Général Mouton-Duveret, who, accompanied by his +aide-de-camp, was on his way to Gap, where he intended to organise +strong resistance against Bonaparte. + +He parleyed some time with Emery, whom he knew by sight and suspected of +being an emissary of the Corsican. Emery, with true southern verve, gave +the worthy general a highly-coloured account of the triumphal progress +through Provence and the Dauphiné of Napoleon, whom he boldly called +"the Emperor." Mouton--in no way belying his name--was very upset not +only by the news, but by his own helplessness with regard to Emery, who +he knew would presently be in Grenoble distributing the usurper's +proclamations all over the city, whilst he--Mouton--with his one +aide-de-camp and a couple of loutish servants on the box of his coach, +could do nothing to detain him. + +As soon as the three men had ridden away, however, he sent his +aide-de-camp back to Grenoble by a round-about way, ordering him to make +as great speed as possible, and to see Général Marchand as soon as may +be, so that immediate measures might be taken to prevent that emissary +if not from entering the city, at least from posting up proclamations on +public buildings. + +But Mouton's aide-de-camp was no match against the enthusiasm and +ingenuity of Emery and de Marmont, and when he--in his turn--entered +Grenoble soon after five o'clock, he was confronted by the printed +proclamations signed by the familiar and dreaded name "Napoleon" affixed +to the gates of the city, to the Hôtel de Ville, the mairie, the prison, +the barracks, and to every street corner in Grenoble. + +The three friends had parted at the porte de Bonne, Emery to go to his +friend Dumoulin, the glovemaker--de Marmont to his lodgings in the rue +Montorge, whilst Bobby Clyffurde rode straight back to Brestalou. + +A couple of hours later Victor de Marmont had also arrived at the +castle. He too had made an elaborate toilet, and then had driven over in +a hackney coach in advance of the other guests, seeing that he desired +to have a final interview with M. le Comte before he affixed his name to +his _contrat de mariage_ with Mlle. de Cambray. An air of solemnity sat +well upon his good-looking face, but it was obvious that he was +trying--somewhat in vain--to keep an inward excitement in check. + +M. le Comte de Cambray, believing that this excitement was entirely due +to the solemnity of the occasion, had smiled indulgently--a trifle +contemptuously too--at young de Marmont's very apparent eagerness. A +vulgar display of feelings, an inability to control one's words and +movements when under the stress of emotion was characteristic of the +parvenus of to-day, and de Marmont's unfettered agitation when coming to +sign his own marriage contract was only on a par with préfet Fourier's +nervousness this afternoon. + +The Comte received his future son-in-law with a gracious smile. The +thought of an alliance between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and a de +Marmont of Nowhere had been a bitter pill to swallow, but M. le Comte +was too proud to show how distasteful it had been. Chatting pleasantly +the two men repaired together to the library. + + +III + +Bobby Clyffurde--immaculately dressed in fine cloth coat and satin +breeches, with fine Mechlin lace at throat and wrist, and his light +brown hair tied at the nape of the neck with a big black bow--came down +presently to the reception room. He found the place silent and deserted. + +But the stately apartment looked more cosy and home-like than usual. A +cheerful fire was burning in the monumental hearth and the soft light of +the candles fixed in sconces round the walls tempered to a certain +degree that bare and severe look of past grandeur which usually hung +upon every corner of the old château. + +Clyffurde went up to the tall hearth. He rested his hand on the ledge of +the mantel and leaning his forehead against it he stared moodily into +the fire. + +Thoughts of all that he had learned in the past few hours, of the new +chapter in the book of the destinies of France, begun a few days ago in +the bay of Jouan, crowded in upon his mind. What difference would the +unfolding of that new chapter make to the destinies of the Comte de +Cambray and of Crystal? What had Fate in store for the bold adventurer +who was marching across France with a handful of men to reconquer a +throne and remake an empire? what had she in store for the stiff-necked +aristocrat of the old regime who still believed that God himself had +made special laws for the benefit of one class of humanity, and that He +had even created them differently to the rest of mankind? + +And what had Fate in store for the beautiful, delicate girl whose future +had been so arbitrarily settled by two men--father and lover--one the +buyer, the other the seller of her exquisite person, the shrine of her +pure and idealistic soul--and bargained for by father and lover as the +price of so many acres of land--a farm--a château--an ancestral estate? + +Father and lover were sitting together even now discussing values--the +purchase price--"You give me back my lands, I will give you my +daughter!" Blood money! soul money! Clyffurde called it as he ground his +teeth together in impotent rage. + +What folly it was to care! what folly to have allowed the tendrils of +his over-sensitive heart to twine themselves round this beautiful girl, +who was as far removed from his destiny as were the ambitions of his +boyhood, the hopes, the dreams which the hard circumstances of fate had +forced him to bury beneath the grave-mound of rigid and unswerving duty. + +But what a dream it had been, this love for Crystal de Cambray! It had +filled his entire soul from the moment when first he saw her--down in +the garden under an avenue of ilex trees which cast their mysterious +shadows over her; her father had called to her and she had come across +to where he--Clyffurde--stood silently watching this approaching vision +of loveliness which never would vanish from his mental gaze again. + +Even at that supreme moment, when her blue eyes, her sweet smile, the +exquisite grace of her took possession of his soul, even then he knew +already that his dream could have but one awakening. She was already +plighted to another, a happier man, but even if she were free, Crystal +would never have bestowed a thought upon the stranger--the commonplace +tradesman, whose only merit in her sight lay in his friendship with +another gallant English gentleman. + +And knowing this--when he saw her after that, day after day, hour after +hour--poor Bobby Clyffurde grew reconciled to the knowledge that the +gates of his Paradise would for ever be locked against him: he grew +contented just to peep through those gates; and the Angel who was on +guard there, holding the flaming sword of caste prejudice against him, +would relent at times and allow him to linger on the threshold and to +gaze into a semblance of happiness. + +Those thoughts, those dreams, those longings, he had been able to +endure; to-day reality had suddenly become more insistent and more +stern: the Angel's flaming sword would sear his soul after this, if he +lingered any longer by the enchanted gates: and thus had the semblance +of happiness yielded at last to dull regret. + +He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. + + +IV + +The sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the soft frou-frou of a +woman's skirt roused him from his gloomy reverie, and caused him to jump +to his feet. + +Mlle. Crystal was coming across the long reception room, walking with a +slow and weary step toward the hearth. She was obviously not yet aware +of Clyffurde's presence, and he had full leisure to watch her as she +approached, to note the pallor of her cheeks and lips and that pathetic +look of childlike self-pity and almost of appeal which veiled the +brilliance of her deep blue eyes. + +A moment later she saw him and came more quickly across the room, with +hand extended, and an air of gracious condescension in her whole +attitude. + +"Ah! M. Clyffurde," she said in perfect English, "I did not know you +were here . . . and all alone. My father," she added, "is occupied with +serious matters downstairs, else he would have been here to receive +you." + +"I know, Mademoiselle," he said after he had kissed the tips of three +cold little fingers which had been held out to him. "My friend de +Marmont is with him just now: he desired to speak with M. le Comte in +private . . . on a matter which closely concerns his happiness." + +"Ah! then you knew?" she asked coldly. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, I knew," he replied. + +She had settled herself down in a high-backed chair close to the hearth, +the ruddy light of the wood-fire played upon her white satin gown, upon +her bare arms, and the ends of her lace scarf, upon her satin shoes and +the bunch of snowdrops at her breast, but her face was in shadow and she +did not look up at Clyffurde, whilst he--poor fool!--stood before her, +absorbed in the contemplation of this dainty picture which mayhap after +to-night would never gladden his eyes again. + +"You are a great friend of M. de Marmont?" she asked after a while. + +"Oh, Mademoiselle--a friend?" he replied with a self-deprecatory shrug +of the shoulders, "friendship is too great a name to give to our chance +acquaintanceship. I met Victor de Marmont less than a fortnight ago, in +Grenoble. . . ." + +"Ah yes! I had forgotten--he told me that he had first met you at the +house of a M. Dumoulin . . ." + +"In the shop of M. Dumoulin, Mademoiselle," broke in Clyffurde with his +good-humoured smile. "M. Dumoulin, the glovemaker, with whom I was +transacting business at the moment when M. de Marmont walked in, in +order to buy himself a pair of gloves." + +"Of course," she added coldly, "I had forgotten. . . ." + +"You were not likely to remember such a trivial circumstance, +Mademoiselle. M. de Marmont saw me after that here as guest in your +father's house. He was greatly surprised at finding me--a mere +tradesman--in such an honoured position. Surprise laid the foundation of +pleasing intercourse between us, but you see, Mademoiselle, that M. de +Marmont has no cause to boast of his friendship with me." + +"Oh! M. de Marmont is not so prejudiced. . . ." + +"As you are, Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly, for she had paused and he +saw that she bit her lips with her tiny white teeth as if she meant to +check the words that would come tumbling out. + +Thus directly questioned she gave a little shrug of disdain. + +"My opinions in the matter are not in question, Sir," she said coldly. + +She smothered a little yawn which may have been due to ennui, but also +to the tingling of her nerves. Clyffurde saw that her hands were never +still for a moment; she was either fingering the snowdrops in her belt +or smoothing out the creases in her lace scarf; from time to time she +raised her head and a tense expression came into her face, as if she +were trying to listen to what was going on elsewhere in the +house--downstairs perhaps--in the library where she was being finally +bargained for and sold. + +Clyffurde felt an intense--an unreasoning pity for her, and because of +that pity--the gentle kinsman of fierce love--he found it in his heart +to forgive her all her prejudices, that almost arrogant pride of caste +which was in her blood, for which she was no more responsible than she +was for the colour of her hair or the vivid blue of her eyes; she seemed +so forlorn--such a child, in the midst of all this decadent grandeur. +She was being so ruthlessly sacrificed for ideals that were no longer +tenable, that had ceased to be tenable five and twenty years ago when +this château and these lands were overrun by a savage and vengeful mob, +who were loudly demanding the right to live in happiness, in comfort, +and in freedom. That right had been denied to them through the past +centuries by those who were of her own kith and kin, and it was +snatched with brutal force, with lust of hate and thirst for reprisals, +by the revolutionary crowd when it came into its own at last. + +Something of the pity which he felt for this beautiful and innocent +victim of rancour, oppression and prejudice, must have been manifest in +Clyffurde's earnest eyes, for when Crystal looked up to him and met his +glance she drew herself up with an air of haughty detachment. And with +that, she wished to convey still more tangibly to him the idea of that +barrier of caste which must for ever divide her from him. + +Obviously his look of pity had angered her, for now she said abruptly +and with marked coldness: + +"My father tells me, Sir, that you are thinking of leaving France +shortly." + +"Indeed, Mademoiselle," he replied, "I have trespassed too long as it is +on M. le Comte's gracious hospitality. My visit originally was only for +a fortnight. I thought of leaving for England to-morrow." + +A little lift of the eyebrows, an unnecessary smoothing of an invisible +crease in her gown and Crystal asked lightly: + +"Before the . . . my wedding, Sir?" + +"Before your wedding, Mademoiselle." + +She frowned--vaguely stirred to irritation by his ill-concealed +indifference. "I trust," she rejoined pointedly, "that you are satisfied +with your trade in Grenoble." + +The little shaft was meant to sting, but if Bobby felt any pain he +certainly appeared to bear it with perfect good-humour. + +"I am quite satisfied," he said. "I thank you, Mademoiselle." + +"It must be very pleasing to conclude such affairs satisfactorily," she +continued. + +"Very pleasing, Mademoiselle." + +"Of course--given the right temperament for such a career--it must be so +much more comfortable to spend one's life in making money--buying and +selling things and so on--rather than to risk it every day for the +barren honour of serving one's king and country." + +"As you say, Mademoiselle," he said quite imperturbably, "given the +right temperament, it certainly is much more comfortable." + +"And you, Sir, I take it, are the happy possessor of such a +temperament." + +"I suppose so, Mademoiselle." + +"You are content to buy and to sell and to make money? to rest at ease +and let the men who love their country and their king fight for you and +for their ideals?" + +Her voice had suddenly become trenchant and hard, her manner +contemptuous--at strange variance with the indifferent kindliness +wherewith she had hitherto seemed to regard her father's English guest. +Certainly her nerves--he thought--were very much on edge, and no doubt +his own always unruffled calm--the combined product of temperament, +nationality and education--had an irritating effect upon her. Had he not +been so intensely sorry for her, he would have resented this final taunt +of hers--an arrow shot this time with intent to wound. + +But as it was he merely said with a smile: + +"Surely, Mademoiselle, my contentment with my own lot, and any other +feelings of which I may be possessed, are of such very little +consequence--seeing that they are only the feelings of a very +commonplace tradesman--that they are not worthy of being discussed." + +Then as quickly her manner changed: the contemptuous look vanished from +her eyes, the sarcastic curl from her lips, and with one of those quick +transitions of mood which were perhaps the principal charm of Crystal de +Cambray's personality, she looked up at Bobby with a winning smile and +an appeal for forgiveness. + +"Your pardon, Sir," she said softly. "I was shrewish and ill-tempered, +and deserve a severe lesson in courtesy. I did not mean to be +disagreeable," she added with a little sigh, "but my nerves are all +a-quiver to-day and this awful news has weighed upon my spirit. . . ." + +"What awful news, Mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"Surely you have heard?" + +"You mean the news about Napoleon . . . ?" + +"I mean the awful certainty," she retorted with a sudden outburst of +vehemence, "that that brigand, that usurper, that scourge of mankind has +escaped from an all too lenient prison where he should never have been +confined, seeing how easy was escape from it. I mean that all the +horrors of the past twenty years will begin again now, misery, +starvation, exile probably. Oh, surely," she added with ever-increasing +passion, "surely God will not permit such an awful thing to happen; +surely he will strike the ogre dead, ere he devastates France once +again!" + +"I am afraid that you must not reckon quite so much on divine +interference, Mademoiselle. A nation--like every single individual--must +shape its own destiny, and must not look to God to help it in its +political aims." + +"And France must look once more to England, I suppose. It is humiliating +to be always in need of help," she said with an impatient little sigh. + +"Each nation in its turn has it in its power to help a sister. Sometimes +help may come from the weaker vessel. Do you remember the philosopher's +fable of the lion and the mouse? France may be the mouse just now--some +day it may be in her power to requite the lion." + +She shook her head reprovingly. "I don't know," she said, "that I +approve of your calling France--the mouse." + +"I only did so in order to drive my parable still further home." + +Then as she looked a little puzzled, he continued--speaking very slowly +this time and with an intensity of feeling which was quite different to +his usual pleasant, good-tempered, oft-times flippant manner: +"Mademoiselle Crystal--if you will allow me to speak of such an +insignificant person as I am--I am at present in the position of the +mouse with regard to your father and yourself--the lions of my parable. +You might so easily have devoured me, you see," he added with a quaint +touch of humour. "Well! the time may come when you may have need of a +friend, just as I had need of one when I came here--a stranger in a +strange land. Events will move with great rapidity in the next few days, +Mademoiselle Crystal, and the mouse might at any time be in a position +to render a service to the lion. Will you remember that?" + +"I will try, Monsieur," she replied. + +But already her pride was once more up in arms. She did not like his +tone, that air of protection which his attitude suggested. And indeed +she could not think of any eventuality which would place the Comte de +Cambray de Brestalou in serious need of a tradesman for his friend. + +Then as quickly again her mood softened and as she raised her eyes to +his he saw that they were full of tears. + +"Indeed! indeed!" she said gently, "I do deserve your contempt, Sir, for +my shrewishness and vixenish ways. How can I--how can any of us--afford +to turn our backs upon a loyal friend? To-day too, of all days, when +that awful enemy is once more at our gates! Oh!" she added, clasping her +hands together with a sudden gesture of passionate entreaty, "you are +English, Sir--a friend of all those gallant gentlemen who saved my dear +father and his family from those awful revolutionaries--you will be +loyal to us, will you not? The English hate Bonaparte as much as we do! +you hate him too, do you not? you will do all you can to help my poor +father through this awful crisis? You will, won't you?" she pleaded. + +"Have I not already offered you my humble services, Mademoiselle?" he +rejoined earnestly. + +Indeed this was a very serious ordeal for quiet, self-contained Bobby +Clyffurde--an Englishman, remember--with all an Englishman's shyness of +emotion, all an Englishman's contempt of any display of sentiment. Here +was this beautiful girl--whom he loved with all the passionate ardour of +his virile, manly temperament--sitting almost at his feet, he looking +down upon her fair head, with its wealth of golden curls, and into her +blue eyes which were full of tears. + +Who shall blame him if just then a desperate longing seized him to throw +all prudence, all dignity and honour to the winds and to clasp this +exquisite woman for one brief and happy moment in his arms--to forget +the world, her position and his--to risk disgrace and betray +hospitality, for the sake of one kiss upon her lips? The temptation was +so fierce--indeed for one short second it was all but irresistible--that +something of the battle which was raging within his soul became +outwardly visible, and in the girl's tear-dimmed eyes there crept a +quick look of alarm--so strange, so ununderstandable was his glance, the +rigidity of his attitude--as if every muscle had become taut and every +nerve strained to snapping point, while his face looked hard and lined, +almost as if he were fighting physical pain. + + +V + +Thus a few seconds went by in absolute silence--while the great gilt +clock upon its carved bracket ticked on with stolid relentlessness, +marking another minute--and yet another--of this hour which was so full +of portent for the destinies of France. Clyffurde would gladly have +bartered the future years of his life for the power to stay the hand of +Time just now--for the power to remain just like this, standing before +this beautiful woman whom he loved, feeling that at any moment he could +take her in his arms and kiss her eyes and her lips, even if she were +unwilling, even if she hated him for ever afterwards. + +The sense of power to do that which he might regret to the end of his +days was infinitely sweet, the power to fight against that +all-compelling passion was perhaps sweeter still. Then came the pride of +victory. The habits of a lifetime had come to his aid: self-respect and +self-control, hard and wilful taskmasters, fought against passion, until +it yielded inch by inch. + +The battle was fought and won in those few moments of silence: the +strain of the man's attitude relaxed, the set lines on his face +vanished, leaving it serene and quietly humorous, calm and +self-deprecatory. Only his voice was not quite so steady as usual, as he +said softly: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal, is there anything that I can do for you?--now at +once, I mean? If there is, I do entreat you most earnestly to let me +serve you." + +Had the pure soul of the woman been touched by the fringe of that +magnetic wave of passion even as it rose to its utmost height, nearly +sweeping the man off his feet, and in its final retreat leaving him with +quivering nerves and senses bruised and numb? Did something of the man's +suffering, of his love and of his despair appear--despite his +efforts--upon his face and in the depth of his glance?--and thus made +visible did they--even through their compelling intensity--cause that +invisible barrier of social prejudices to totter and to break? It were +difficult to say. Certain it is that Crystal's whole heart warmed to the +stranger as it had never warmed before. She felt that here was a _man_ +standing before her now, whose promises would never be mere idle words, +whose deeds would speak more loudly than his tongue. She felt that in +the midst of all the enmity which encompassed her and her father in +their newly regained home and land, here at any rate was a friend on +whom they could count to help, to counsel and to accomplish. And deep +down in the very bottom of her soul there was a curious unexplainable +longing that circumstances should compel her to ask one day for his +help, and a sweet knowledge that that help would be ably rendered and +pleasing to receive. + +But for the moment, of course, there was nothing that she could ask: she +would be married in a couple of days--alas! so soon!--and after that it +would be to her husband that she must look for devotion, for guidance +and for sympathy. + +A little sigh of regret escaped her lips, and she said gently: + +"I thank you, Sir, from the bottom of my heart, for the words of +friendship which you have spoken. I shall never forget them, never! and +if at any time in my life I am in trouble . . ." + +"Which God forbid!" he broke in fervently. + +"If any time I have need of a friend," she resumed, "I feel that I +should find one in you. Oh! if only I could think that you would extend +your devotion to my poor country, and to our King . . ." she exclaimed +with passionate earnestness. + +"You love your country very dearly, Mademoiselle," he rejoined. + +"I think that I love France more than anything else in the world," she +replied, "and I feel that there is no sacrifice which I would deem too +great to offer up for her." + +"And by France you mean the Bourbon dynasty," he said almost +involuntarily, and with an impatient little sigh. + +"I mean the King, by the grace of God!" she retorted proudly. + +She had thrown back her head with an air of challenge as she said this, +meeting his glance eye to eye: she looked strong and wilful all of a +sudden, no longer girlish and submissive. And to the man who loved her, +this trait of power and latent heroism added yet another to the many +charms which he saw in her. Loyal to her country and to her king she +would be loyal in all things--to husband, kindred and to friends. + +But he realised at the same time how impossible it would be for any man +to win her love if he were an enemy to her cause. St. Genis--royalist, +émigré, retrograde like herself--had obviously won his way to her heart +chiefly by the sympathy of his own convictions. But what of de Marmont, +to whom she was on the eve of plighting her troth? de Marmont the +hot-headed Bonapartist who owned but one god--Napoleon--and yet had +deliberately, and with cynical opportunism hidden his fanatical aims and +beliefs from the woman whom he had wooed and won? + +The thought of that deception--and of the awakening which would await +the girl-wife on the very morrow of her wedding-day mayhap, was terribly +repellent to Clyffurde's straightforward, loyal nature, and bitter was +the contention within his soul as he found himself at the cross-roads of +a divided duty. Every instinct of chivalry towards the woman loudly +demanded that he should warn her--now--at once--before it was too +late--before she had actually pledged her life and future to a man whom +her very soul--if she knew the truth--would proclaim a renegade and a +traitor; and every instinct of loyalty to the man--that male solidarity +of sex which will never permit one man--if he be a gentleman--to betray +another--prompted him to hold his peace. + +Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his ear. Vaguely only +did he hear what she said. She was still speaking of France, of all that +the country had suffered and all that was due to her from her sons and +daughters: she spoke of the King, God's own anointed as she called him, +endowed with rights divine, and all the while his thoughts were far +away, flying on the wings of memory to the little hamlet among the +mountains where two enthusiasts had exhausted every panegyric in praise +of their own hero, whom this girl called a usurper and a brigand. He +remembered every trait in de Marmont's face, every inflexion of his +voice as he said with almost cruel cynicism: "She will learn to love me +in time." + +That, Clyffurde knew now, Crystal de Cambray would never do. Indifferent +to de Marmont to-day, she would hate and loathe him the day that she +discovered how infamously he had deceived her: and to Clyffurde's +passionate temperament the thought of Crystal's future unhappiness was +absolutely intolerable. + +Here indeed was a battle far more strenuous and difficult of issue than +that of a man's will against his passions: here was a problem far more +difficult to solve than any that had assailed Bobby Clyffurde throughout +his life. + +His heart cried out "She must know the truth: she must. To-day! this +minute, while there was yet time! Anon she will be pledged irrevocably +to a man who has lied to her, whom she will curse as a renegade, a +traitor, false to his country, false to his king!" + +And the words hovered on his lips: "Mademoiselle Crystal! do not plight +your troth to de Marmont! he is no friend of yours, his people are not +your people! his God is not your God! and there is neither blessing nor +holiness in an union 'twixt you and him!" + +But the words remained unspoken, because the unwritten code--the bond +'twixt man and man--tried to still this natural cry of his heart and +reason argued that he must hold his peace. His heart rebelled, +contending that to remain silent was cowardly--that his first duty was +to the woman whom he loved better than his soul, whilst ingrained +principles, born and bred in the bone of him, threw themselves into the +conflict, warning him that if he spoke he would be no better than an +informer, meriting the contempt alike of those whom he wished to help +and of the man whom he would betray. + +It was one sound coming from below which settled the dispute 'twixt +heart and reason--the sound of de Marmont's voice which though he was +apparently speaking of indifferent matters had that same triumphant ring +in it which Clyffurde had heard at Notre Dame de Vaulx this morning. + +The sound had caused Crystal to give a quick gasp and to clasp her hands +against her breast, as she said with a nervous little laugh: + +"Imagine how happy we are to have M. de Marmont's support in this +terrible crisis! His influence in Grenoble and in the whole province is +very great: his word in the town itself may incline the whole balance of +public feeling on the side of the King, and who knows, it may even help +to strengthen the loyalty of the troops. Oh! that Corsican brigand +little guesses what kind of welcome we in the Dauphiné are preparing for +him!" + +Her enthusiasm, her trust, her loyalty ended the conflict in Clyffurde's +mind far more effectually than any sober reasoning could have done. He +realised in a moment that neither abstract principles, nor his own +feelings in the matter, were of the slightest account at such a +juncture. + +What was obvious, certain, and not to be shirked, was duty to a woman +who was on the point of being shamefully deceived, also duty to the man +whose hospitality he had enjoyed. To remain silent would be cowardly--of +that he became absolutely certain, and once Bobby had made up his mind +what duty was no power on earth could make him swerve from its +fulfilment. + +"Mlle. Crystal," he began slowly and deliberately, "just now, when I was +bold enough to offer you my friendship, you deigned to accept it, did +you not?" + +"Indeed I did, Sir," she replied, a little astonished. "Why should you +ask?" + +"Because the time has come sooner than I expected for me to prove the +truth of that offer to you. There is something which I must say to you +which no one but a friend ought to do. May I?" + +But before she could frame the little "Yes!" which already trembled on +her lips, her father's voice and de Marmont's rang out from the further +end of the room itself. + +The folding doors had been thrown open: M. le Comte and his son-in-law +elect were on the point of entering and had paused for a moment just +under the lintel. De Marmont was talking in a loud voice and apparently +in response to something which M. le Comte had just told him. + +"Ah!" he said, "Mme. la Duchesse will be leaving Brestalou? I am sorry +to hear that. Why should she go so soon?" + +"An affair of business, my dear de Marmont," replied the Comte. "I will +tell you about it at an early opportunity." + +After which there was a hubbub of talk in the corridors outside, the +sound of greetings, the pleasing confusion of questions and answers +which marks the simultaneous arrival of several guests. + +Crystal rose and turned to Bobby with a smile. + +"You will have to tell me some other time," she said lightly. "Don't +forget!" + +The psychological moment had gone by and Clyffurde cursed himself for +having fought too long against the promptings of his heart and lost the +precious moments which might have changed the whole of Crystal's +future. He cursed himself for not having spoken sooner, now that he saw +de Marmont with glowing eyes and ill-concealed triumph approach his +beautiful fiancée and with the air of a conqueror raise her hand to his +lips. + +She looked very pale, and to the man who loved her so ardently and so +hopelessly it seemed as if she gave a curious little shiver and that for +one brief second her blue eyes flashed a pathetic look of appeal up to +his. + + +VI + +M. le Comte's guests followed closely on the triumphant bridegroom's +heels: M. le préfet, fussy and nervous, secretly delighted at the idea +of affixing his official signature to such an aristocratic _contrat de +mariage_ as was this between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and M. Victor +de Marmont, own nephew to Marshal the duc de Raguse; Madame la préfète, +resplendent in the latest fashion from Paris, the Duc and Duchesse +d'Embrun, cousins of the bride, the Vicomte de Génevois and his mother, +who was Abbess of Pont Haut and godmother by proxy to Crystal de +Cambray; whilst Général Marchand, in command of the troops of the +district, fresh from the Council of War which he had hastily convened, +was trying to hide behind a _débonnaire_ manner all the anxiety which +"the brigand's" march on Grenoble was causing him. + +The chief notabilities of the province had assembled to do honour to the +occasion, later on others would come, lesser lights by birth and +position than this select crowd who would partake of the _souper des +fiançailles_ before the _contrat_ was signed in their presence as +witnesses to the transaction. + +Everyone was talking volubly: the ogre's progress through France--no +longer to be denied--was the chief subject of conversation. Some spoke +of it with contempt, others with terror. The ex-Bonapartists Fourier +and Marchand were loudest in their curses against "the usurper." + +Clyffurde, silent and keeping somewhat aloof from the brilliant throng, +saw that de Marmont did not enter into any of these conversations. He +kept resolutely close to Crystal, and spoke to her from time to time in +a whisper, and always with that assured air of the conqueror, which +grated so unpleasantly on Clyffurde's irritable nerves. + +The Comte, affable and gracious, spoke a few words to each of his guests +in turn, whilst Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen was talking openly of +her forthcoming return journey to the North. + +"I came in great haste," she said loudly to the circle of ladies +gathered around her, "for my little Crystal's wedding. But I was in the +middle of a Lenten retreat at the Sacred Heart, and I only received +permission from my confessor to spend three days in all this gaiety." + +"When do you leave us again, Mme. la Duchesse?" queried Mlle. Marchand, +the General's daughter, in a honeyed voice. + +"On Tuesday, directly after the religious ceremony, Mademoiselle," +replied Madame, whilst M. le préfet tried to look unconcerned. He had +brought the money over as Mme. la Duchesse had directed. Twenty-five +millions of francs in notes and drafts had been transferred from the +cellar of the Hôtel de Ville to his own pockets first and then into the +keeping of Madame. He had driven over from the Hôtel de Ville in his +private coach, he himself in an agony of fear every time the road looked +lonely, or he heard the sound of horse's hoofs upon the road behind +him--for there might be mounted highwaymen about. Now he felt infinitely +relieved; he had shifted all responsibility of that vast sum of money on +to more exalted shoulders than his own, and inwardly he was marvelling +how coolly Mme. la Duchesse seemed to be taking such an awful +responsibility. + +Now Hector threw open the great doors and announced that M. le Comte was +served. Through the vast corridor beyond appeared a vista of liveried +servants in purple and canary, wearing powdered perruque, silk stockings +and buckled shoes. + +There was a general hubbub in the room, the men moved towards the ladies +who had been assigned to them for partners. M. le Comte in his grandest +manner approached Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun in order to conduct her down +to supper. An air of majestic grandeur, of solemnity and splendid +decorum pervaded the fine apartment; it sought out every corner of the +vast reception room, flickered round every wax candle; it spread itself +over the monumental hearth, the stiff brocade-covered chairs, the gilt +consoles and tall mirrors. It emanated alike from the graciousness of M. +le Comte de Cambray and the pompousness of his majordomo. Hector in fact +appeared at this moment as the high priest in a temple of good manners +and bon ton: the muscles of his face were rigid, his mouth was set as if +ready to pronounce sacrificial words; in his right hand he carried a +gold-headed wand, emblem of his high office. + +But suddenly there was a disturbance--an unseemly noise came from the +further end of the corridor, where rose the magnificent staircase. +Hector's face became a study in rapidly changing expressions: from +pompousness, to astonishment, then horror, and finally wrath when he +realised that an intruder in stained cloth clothes and booted and +spurred was actually making his way through the ranks of liveried and +gaping servants and loudly demanding to speak with M. le Comte. + +Such an unseemly disturbance had not occurred at the Château de +Brestalou since Hector had been installed there as majordomo nearly +twelve months ago, and he was on the point of literally throwing +himself upon the impious malapert who thus dared to thrust his ill-clad +person upon the brilliant company, when he paused--more aghast than +before. In this same impious malapert he had recognised M. le Marquis de +St. Genis! + +The young man looked to be labouring under terrible excitement: his face +was flushed and he was panting as if he had been running hard: + +"M. le Comte!" he cried breathlessly as soon as he caught sight of +Hector, "tell M. le Comte that I must speak with him at once." + +"But M. le Marquis . . . M. le Marquis . . ." + +This was all that poor, bewildered Hector could stammer: his +slowly-moving brain was torn between the duties of his position and his +respect for M. le Marquis, and in the struggle the worthy man was +enduring throes of anxiety. + +Fortunately M. le Comte himself put an end to Hector's dilemma. He had +recognised St. Genis' voice. Unlike his majordomo, he knew at once that +something terribly grave must have happened, else the young man would +never have committed such a serious breach of good manners. And M. le +Comte himself was never at a loss how to turn any situation to a +dignified and proper issue: he murmured a quick and courteous apology to +Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun and a comprehensive one to all his guests, +then he hastened to meet St. Genis at the door. + +Already St. Genis had entered. His rough clothes and muddy boots looked +strangely in contrast to the immaculate get-up of the Comte's guests, +but of this he hardly seemed to be aware. His face was flushed; with his +right hand he clutched a small riding cane, and his glowering dark eyes +swept a rapid glance over every one in the room. + +And to the Comte he said hoarsely: "I must offer you my humblest +apologies, my dear Comte, for obtruding my very untidy person upon you +at this hour. I have walked all the way from Grenoble, as I could not +get a hackney-coach, else I had been here earlier and spared you this +unpleasantness." + +"You are always welcome in this house, my good Maurice," said the Comte +in his loftiest manner, "and at any hour of the day." + +And he added with a certain tone of dignified reproach: "I did ask you +to be my guest to-night, if you remember." + +"And I," said St. Genis, "was churlish enough to refuse. I would not +have come now only that I felt I might be in time to avert the most +awful catastrophe that has yet fallen upon your house." + +Again his restless, dark eyes--sullen and wrathful and charged with a +look of rage and of hate--wandered over the assembled company. The look +frightened the ladies. They took to clinging to one another, standing in +compact little groups together, like frightened birds, watchful and +wide-eyed. They feared that the young man was mad. But the men exchanged +significant glances and significant smiles. They merely thought that St. +Genis had been drinking, or that jealousy had half-turned his brain. + +Only Clyffurde, who stood somewhat apart from the others, knew--by some +unexplainable intuition--what it was that had brought Maurice de St. +Genis to this house in this excited state and at this hour. He felt +excited too, and mightily thankful that the catastrophe would be brought +about by others--not by himself. + +But all his thoughts were for Crystal, and an instinctive desire to +stand by her and to shield her if necessary from some unknown or +unguessed evil, made him draw nearer to her. She stood on the fringe of +the little crowd--as isolated as Bobby was himself. + +De Marmont--whose face had become the colour of dead ashes--had left +her side: one step at a time and very slowly he was getting nearer and +nearer to St. Genis, as if the latter's wrath-filled eyes were drawing +him against his will. + +At the young man's ominous words, M. le Comte's sunken cheeks grew a +shade more pale. + +"What catastrophe, _mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, "could fall on my house +that would be worse than twenty years of exile?" + +"An alliance with a traitor, M. le Comte," said St. Genis firmly. + +A gasp went round the room, a sigh, a cry. The women looked in mute +horror from one man to the other, the men already had their right hand +on their swords. But Clyffurde's eyes were fixed upon Crystal, who pale, +silent, rigid as a marble statue, with lips parted and nostrils +quivering, stood not five paces away from him, her dilated eyes +wandering ceaselessly from the face of St. Genis to that of de Marmont +and thence to that of her father. But beyond that look of tense +excitement she revealed nothing of what she thought and felt. + +Already de Marmont--his hand upon his sword--had advanced menacingly +towards St. Genis. + +"M. le Marquis," he said between set teeth, "you will, by God! eat those +words, or----" + +"Eat my words, man?" retorted St. Genis with a harsh laugh. "By Heaven! +have I not come here on purpose to throw my words into your lying face?" + +There was a brief but violent skirmish, for de Marmont had made a +movement as if he meant to spring at his rival's throat, and Général +Marchand and the Vicomte de Génevois, who happened to be near, had much +ado to seize and hold him: even so they could not stop the hoarse cries +which he uttered: + +"Liar! Liar! Liar! Let me go! Let me get to him! I must kill him! I must +kill him!" + +The Comte interposed his dignified person between the two men. + +"Maurice," he said, in tones of calm and dispassionate reproof, "your +conduct is absolutely unjustifiable. You seem to forget that you are in +the presence of ladies and of my guests. If you had a quarrel with M. de +Marmont. . . ." + +"A quarrel, my dear Comte?" exclaimed St. Genis, "nay, 'tis no quarrel I +have with him: and my conduct would have been a thousand times more vile +if I had not come to-night and stopped his hand from touching that of +Mlle. Crystal de Cambray--his hand which was engaged less than two hours +ago in affixing to the public buildings of Grenoble the infamous message +of the Corsican brigand to the army and the people of France." + +A hoarse murmur--a sure sign that men or women are afraid--came from +every corner of the room. + +"The message?--What message?" + +Some people turned instinctively to M. le préfet, others to Général +Marchand. Every one knew that Bonaparte had landed on the Littoral, +every one had heard the rumour that he was marching in triumph through +Provence and the Dauphiné--but no one had altogether believed this--as +for a message--a proclamation--a call to the army--and this in Grenoble +itself. No one had heard of that--every one had been at home, getting +dressed for this festive function, thinking of good suppers and of +wedding bells. It was as if after a clap of thunder and a flash of +lightning the house was found to be in flames. M. le préfet in answer to +these mute queries had shrugged his shoulders, and Général Marchand +looked grim and silent. + +But St. Genis with arm uplifted and shaking hand pointed a finger at de +Marmont. + +"Ask him," he cried. "Ask him, my dear Comte, ask the miserable traitor +who with lies and damnable treachery has stolen his way into your +house, has stolen your regard, your hospitality, and was on the point of +stealing your most precious treasure--your daughter! Ask him! He knows +every word of that infamous message by heart! I doubt not but a copy of +it is inside his coat now. Ask him! Général Mouton-Duveret met him +outside Grenoble in company with that cur Emery and I saw him with mine +own eyes distributing these hellish papers among our townspeople and +pinning them up at the street-corners of our city." + +While St. Genis was speaking--or rather screaming--for his voice, +pitched high, seemed to fill the entire room--every glance was fixed +upon de Marmont. Every one of course expected a contradiction as hot and +intemperate as was the accusation. It was unthinkable, impossible that +what St. Genis said could be true. They all knew de Marmont well. Nephew +of the Duc de Raguse who had borne the lion's share in surrendering +Paris to the allies and bringing about the downfall of the Corsican +usurper, he was one of the most trusted members of the royalist set in +Dauphiné. They had talked quite freely before him, consulted with him +when local Bonapartism appeared uncomfortably rampant. De Marmont was +one of themselves. + +And yet he said nothing even now when St. Genis accused him and hurled +insult upon insult at him:--he said nothing to refute the awful +impeachment, to justify his conduct, to explain his companionship with +Emery. His face was still livid, but it was with rage--not indignation. +Marchand and Génevois still held him by the arms, else he and St. Genis +would have been at one another's throat before now. But his gestures as +he struggled to free himself, the imprecations which he uttered were +those of a man who was baffled and found out--not of one who is +innocent. + +But as St. Genis continued to speak and worked himself up every moment +into a still greater state of excitement, de Marmont gradually seemed to +calm down. He ceased to curse: he ceased to struggle, and on his +face--which still was livid--there gradually crept a look of +determination and of defiance. He dug his teeth into his under lip until +tiny drops of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and trickled +slowly down his chin. + +Marchand and Génevois relaxed the grip upon his arms, since he no longer +fought, and thus released he contrived to pull himself together. He +tossed back his head and looked his infuriated accuser boldly in the +face. + +By the time St. Genis paused in his impassioned denunciation, he had +himself completely under control: only his eyes appeared to glow with an +unnatural fire, and little beads of moisture appeared upon his brow and +matted the dark hair against his forehead. The Comte de Cambray at this +juncture would certainly have interposed with one of those temperate +speeches, full of dignity and brimming over with lofty sentiments, which +he knew so well how to deliver, but de Marmont gave him no time to +begin. When St. Genis paused for breath, he suddenly freed himself +completely with a quick movement, from Marchand's and Génevois' hold; +and then he turned to the Comte and to the rest of the company: + +"And what if I did pin the Emperor's proclamation on the walls of +Grenoble," he said proudly and with a tremor of enthusiasm in his voice, +"the Emperor, whom treachery more vile than any since the days of the +Iscariot sent into humiliation and exile! The Emperor has come back!" +cried the young devotee with that extraordinary fervour which Napoleon +alone--of all men that have ever walked upon this earth--was able to +suscitate: "his Imperial eagles once more soar over France carrying on +their wings her honour and glory to the outermost corners of Europe. His +proclamation is to his people who have always loved him, to his +soldiers who in their hearts have always been true to him. His +proclamation?" he added as with a kind of exultant war-cry he drew a +roll of paper from his pocket and held it out at arm's length above his +head, "his proclamation? Here it is! Vive l'Empereur! by the grace of +God!" + +Who shall attempt to describe the feelings of all those who were +assembled round this young enthusiast as he hurled his challenge right +in the face of those who called him a liar and a traitor? Surely it were +a hard task for the chronicler to search into the minds and hearts of +this score of men and women--who worshipped one God and reverenced one +King--at the moment when they saw that King threatened upon his throne, +their faith mocked and their God blasphemed: that the young man spoke +words of truth no one thought of denying. Napoleon's name had the power +to strike terror in the heart of every citizen who desired peace above +all things and of every royalist who wished to see King Louis in +possession of the throne of his fathers. But the army which had fought +under him, the army which he had led in triumph and to victory from one +end of the Continent of Europe to the other, that army still loved him +and had never been rightly loyal to King Louis. The horrors of war which +had lain so heavily over France and over Europe for the past twenty +years were painfully vivid still in everybody's mind, and all these +horrors were intimately associated with the name which stood out now in +bold characters on the paper which de Marmont was triumphantly waving. + +M. le Comte had become a shade or two paler than he had been before: he +looked very old, very careworn, all of a sudden, and his pale eyes had +that look in them which comes into the eyes of the old after years of +sorrow and of regret. + +But never for a moment did he depart from his attitude of dignity. When +de Marmont's exultant cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" had ceased to echo round +the majestic walls of this stately château, he straightened out his +spare figure and with one fine gesture begged for silence from his +guests. + +Then he said very quietly: "M. Marmont, this is neither the place nor +the opportunity which I should have chosen for confronting you with all +the lies which you have told in the past ten months ever since you +entered my house as an honoured guest. But M. de St. Genis has left me +no option. Burning with indignation at your treachery he came hot-foot +to unmask you, before my daughter's fair hand had affixed her own +honourable name beneath that of a cheat and a traitor. . . . Yes! M. de +Marmont," he reiterated with virile force, breaking in on the hot +protests which had risen to the young man's lips, "no one but a cheat +and a traitor could thus have wormed himself into the confidence of an +old man and of a young girl! No one but a villainous blackguard could +have contemplated the abominable deceptions which you have planned +against me and against my daughter." + +For a moment or two after the old man had finished speaking Victor de +Marmont remained silent. There were murmurs of indignation among the +guests, also of approval of the Comte's energetic words. De Marmont was +in the midst of a hostile crowd and he knew it. Here was no drawing-room +quarrel which could be settled at the point of a sword. Though--as Fate +and man so oft ordain it--a woman was the primary reason for the +quarrel, she was not its cause; and the hostility expressed against him +by every glance which de Marmont encountered was so general and so +great, that it overawed him even in the midst of his enthusiasm. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, and he made a great effort to appear +indifferent and unconcerned, "I wish for your daughter's sake that M. +de St. Genis had chosen some other time to make this fracas. We who have +learned chivalry at the Emperor's school would have hit our enemy when +he was in a position to defend himself. This, obviously, I cannot do at +this moment without trespassing still further upon your hospitality, and +causing Mlle. Crystal still more pain. I might even make a direct appeal +to her, since the decision in this matter rests, I imagine, primarily +with her, but with the Emperor at our gates, with the influence of his +power and of his pride dominating my every thought, I will with your +gracious permission relieve you of my unwelcome presence without taking +another leaf out of M. de St. Genis' book." + +"As you will, Monsieur," said the Comte stiffly. + +De Marmont bowed quite ceremoniously to him, and the Comte--courtly and +correct to the last--returned his salute with equal ceremony. Then the +young man turned to Crystal. + +For the first time, perhaps, since the terrible fracas had begun, he +realised what it all must mean to her. She did not try to evade his +look, or to turn away from him. On the contrary she looked him straight +in the face, and watched him while he approached her, without retreating +one single step. But she watched him just as one would watch an abject +and revolting cur, that was too vile and too mean even to merit a kick. + +Crystal's blue eyes were always expressive, but they had never been so +expressive as they were just then. De Marmont met her glance squarely, +and he read in it everything that she meant to convey--her contempt, her +loathing, her hatred--but above all her contempt. So overwhelming, so +complete was this contempt that it made him wince, as if he had been +struck in the face with a whip. + +He stood still, for he knew that she would never allow him to kiss her +hand in farewell, and he had had enough of insults--he knew that he +could not bear that final one. + +A red mist suddenly gathered before his eyes, a mad desire to strike, to +wound or to kill, and with it a wave of passion--he called it Love--for +this woman, such as he had never felt for her before. He gave her back +with a glance, hatred for hatred, but whereas her hatred for him was +smothered in contempt, his for her was leavened with a fierce and +dominant passion. + +All this had taken but a few seconds in accomplishment. M. le Comte had +not done more than give a sign to Hector to see M. de Marmont safely out +of the castle, and Maurice de St. Genis had only had time to think of +interposing, if de Marmont tried to take Crystal's hand. + +Only a few seconds, but a lifetime of emotion was crammed into them. +Then de Marmont, with Crystal's look of loathing still eating into his +soul, caught sight of Clyffurde who stood close by--Clyffurde whose one +thought throughout all this unhappy scene had been of Crystal, who +through it all had eyes and ears only for her. + +Some kind of instinct made the young girl look up to him just then: +probably only in response to a wave of memory which brought back to her +at that very moment, the words of devotion and offer of service which he +had spoken awhile ago; or it may have been that same sense which had +told her at the time that here was a man whom she could always trust, +that he would always prove a friend, as he had promised, and the look +which she gave him was one of simple confidence. + +But de Marmont just happened to intercept that look. He had never been +jealous of Clyffurde of course. Clyffurde--the foreigner, the bourgeois +tradesman--never could under any circumstances be a rival to reckon +with. At any other time he would have laughed at the idea of Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray bestowing the slightest favour upon the Englishman. +But within the last few seconds everything had become different. Victor +de Marmont, the triumphant and wealthy suitor of Mlle. de Cambray, had +become a pariah among all these ladies and gentlemen, and he had become +a man scorned by the woman whom he had wooed and thought to win so +easily. + +The fierce love engendered for Crystal in his turbulent heart by all the +hatred and all the scorn which she lavished upon him, brought an +unreasoning jealousy into being. He felt suddenly that he detested +Clyffurde. He remembered Clyffurde's nationality and its avowed hatred +of the hero whom he--de Marmont--worshipped. And he realised also that +that same hatred must of necessity be a bond between the Englishman and +Crystal de Cambray. + +Therefore--though this new untamed jealousy seized hold of him with +extraordinary power, though it brought that ominous red film before his +eyes, which makes a man strike out blindly and stupidly against his +rival, it also suggested to de Marmont a far simpler and far more +efficacious way of ridding himself once for all of any fear of rivalry +from Clyffurde. + +When he had bowed quite formally to Crystal he looked up at Bobby and +gave him a pleasant and friendly nod. + +"I suppose you will be coming with me, my good Clyffurde," he said +lightly, "we are rowing in the same boat, you and I. We were a very +happy party, were we not? you and Emery and I when Général Mouton met us +outside Grenoble: for we had just heard the glorious news that the +Emperor is marching triumphantly through France." + +Then he turned once more to St. Genis: "Did not," he said, "the +General's aide-de-camp tell you that, M. de St. Genis?" + +St. Genis had--during these few seconds while de Marmont held the centre +of the stage--succeeded in controlling his excitement, at any rate +outwardly. He was so absolutely master of the situation and had put his +successful rival so completely to rout, that the sense of satisfaction +helped to soothe his nerves: and when de Marmont spoke directly to him, +he was able to reply with comparative calm. + +"Had you," he said to de Marmont, "attempted to deny the accusation +which I have brought against you, I was ready to confront you with the +report which Général Mouton's aide-de-camp brought into the town." + +"I had no intention of denying my loyalty to the Emperor," rejoined de +Marmont, "but I would like to know what report Général Mouton's +aide-de-camp brought into Grenoble. The worthy General did not belie his +name, I assure you, he looked mightily scared when he recognised Emery." + +"He was alone with his aide-de-camp and in his coach," retorted St. +Genis, "whilst that traitor Emery, you and your friend Mr. Clyffurde +were on horseback--you gave him the slip easily enough." + +"That's true, of course," said de Marmont simply. "Well, shall we go, my +dear Clyffurde?" + +He had accomplished the purpose of his jealousy even more effectually +than he could have wished. He looked round and saw that everyone had +thrown a casual glance of contempt upon Clyffurde and then turned away +to murmur with scornful indifference: "I always mistrusted that man." +Or: "The Comte ought never to have had the fellow in the house," while +the words: "English spy!" and "Informer" were on every lip. + +But Clyffurde had made no movement during this brief colloquy. He +saw--just as de Marmont did--that everyone was listening more with +indifference than with horror. He--the stranger--was of so little +consequence after all!--a tradesman and an Englishman--what mattered +what his political convictions were? De Marmont was an object of +hatred, but he--Clyffurde--was only one of contempt. + +He heard the muttered words: "English spy!" "Informer!" and others of +still more overwhelming disdain. But he cared little what these people +said. He knew that they would never trouble to hear any justification +from himself--they would not worry their heads about him a moment longer +once he had left the house in company with de Marmont. + +He was not quite sure either whether de Marmont's spite had been +directed against himself, personally, or that it was merely the outcome +of his present humiliating position. + +M. le Comte had not bestowed more than a glance upon him and that from +under haughtily raised brows and across half the width of the room: but +Crystal had looked up to him, and was still looking, and it was that +look which had driven all the blood from Clyffurde's face and caused his +lips to set closely as if with a sense of physical pain. + +The insults which her father's guests were overtly murmuring, she had in +her mind and her eyes were conveying them to him far more plainly than +her lips could have done: + +"English spy--traitor to friendship and to trust--liar, deceiver, +hypocrite." That and more did her scornful glance imply. But she said +nothing. He tried to plead with eyes as expressive as were her own, and +she merely turned away from him, just as if he no longer existed. She +drew her skirt closer round her and somehow with that gesture she seemed +to sweep him entirely out of her existence. + +Even Mme. la Duchesse had not one glance for him. To these passionate, +hot-headed, impulsive royalists, an adherent of the Corsican ogre was +lower than the scum of the earth. They loathed de Marmont because he had +been one of themselves: he was a traitor, and not one man there but +would have liked to see him put up against a wall and summarily shot. +But the stranger they wiped out of their lives. + +Was there any chance for Clyffurde, if he tried to defend himself? None +of a certainty. He could not call the accusation a lie, since he had +been in the company of Emery and of de Marmont most of the day, and mere +explanations would have fallen on deaf and unwilling ears. + +Clyffurde knew this, nor did he attempt any explanation. There is a +certain pride in the heart of every English gentleman which in moments +of acute crisis rises to its full power and height. That pride would not +allow Clyffurde to utter a single word in his own defence. The futility +of attempting it also influenced his decision. He scorned the idea of +speaking on his own behalf, words which were doomed to be disbelieved. + +In a moment he had found himself absolutely isolated in the centre of +the room, not far from the hearth where he had stood a little while ago +talking to Crystal, and close to the chair where she had sat with the +light of the fire playing upon her satin gown. The cushions still bore +the impress of her young figure as she had leaned up against them: the +sight of it was an additional pain which almost made Clyffurde wince. + +He bowed silently and very low to Crystal and to Mme. la Duchesse, and +then to all the ladies and gentlemen who cold-shouldered him with such +contemptuous ostentation. De Marmont with head erect and an air of +swagger was already waiting for him at the door. Clyffurde in taking +leave of M. le Comte made a violent effort to say at any rate the one +word which weighed upon his heart. + +"Will you at least permit me, M. le Comte," he said, "to thank you for +. . ." + +But already the Comte had interrupted him, even before the words were +clearly out of his mouth. + +"I will not permit you, Sir," he broke in firmly, "to speak a single +word other than a plain denial of M. de St. Genis' accusations against +you." + +Then as Clyffurde relapsed into silence, M. le Comte continued with +haughty peremptoriness: + +"A plain 'yes' or 'no' will suffice, Sir. Were you or were you not in +the company of those traitors Emery and de Marmont when Général +Mouton-Duvernet came upon them outside Grenoble?" + +"I was," replied Clyffurde simply. + +With a stiff nod of the head the Comte turned his back abruptly upon +him; no one took any further notice of the "English spy." The accused +had been condemned without enquiry and without trial. In times like +these all one's friends must be above suspicion. Clyffurde knew that +there was nothing to be said. With a quickly suppressed sigh, he too +turned away and in his habitual, English, dogged way he resolutely set +his teeth, and with a firm soldierly step walked quietly out of the +room. + +"Hector, see that M. de Marmont's coach is ready for him," said M. le +Comte with well assumed indifference; "and that supper is no longer +delayed." + +He then once more offered his arm to Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun. "Mme. la +Duchesse," he said in his most courtly manner, "I beg that you will +accept my apologies for this unforeseen interruption. May I have the +honour of conducting you to supper?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS + + +I + +De Marmont, having successfully shot his poisoned arrow and brought down +his enemy, had no longer any ill-feeling against Clyffurde. His jealousy +had been short-lived; it was set at rest by the brief episode which had +culminated in the Englishman's final exit from the Castle of Brestalou. + +Not a single detail of that moving little episode had escaped de +Marmont's keen eyes: he had seen Crystal's look of positive abhorrence +wherewith she had regarded Clyffurde, he had seen the gathering up of +her skirts away--as it were--from the contaminating propinquity of the +"English spy." + +And de Marmont was satisfied. + +He was perfectly ready to pick up the strained strands of friendship +with the Englishman and affected not to notice the latter's absorption +and moodiness. + +"Can I drive you into Grenoble, my good Clyffurde?" he asked airily as +he paused on the top of the perron steps, waiting for the hackney coach. + +"I thank you," replied Clyffurde; "I prefer to walk." + +"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night." + +"I know my way, I thank you." + +"Just as you like." + +He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde +started walking down the monumental steps. + +"Well, I'll say 'good-night,' de Marmont," he said coldly. "And +'good-bye,' too." + +"You are not going away?" queried the other. + +"As soon as I can get the means of going." + +"Troops will be on the move all over the country soon. Foreigners will +be interned. You will have some difficulty in getting away." + +"I know that. That's why I want to make arrangements as early as +possible." + +"Where will you stay in the meanwhile?" + +"Possibly at the 'Trois-Dauphins' if I can get a room." + +"I shall see you again then. The Emperor will stay there while he is in +Grenoble. Well, good-night, my dear friend," said de Marmont, as he +extended a cordial hand to Clyffurde, who, in the dark, evidently failed +to see it. "And don't take the insults of all these fools too much to +heart." And he gave an expressive nod in the direction of the stately +castle behind him. + +"They are dolts," he continued airily; "if they possessed a grain of +sense they would have kept on friendly terms with me. As that old fool's +son-in-law I could have saved him from all the reprisals which will +inevitably fall on all these royalist traitors, now that the Emperor has +come into his own again." + +Clyffurde was half-way down the stone steps when these words of de +Marmont struck upon his ear. Instinctively he retraced his steps. There +was a suggestion of impending danger to Crystal in what the young man +had said. + +"What do you mean by talking about reprisals?" he asked. + +"Oh! . . . only the inevitable," replied de Marmont. "The people of the +Dauphiné never cared for these royalists, you know . . . and didn't +learn to like them any better in these past eleven months since the +Restoration. M. le Comte de Cambray has been very high and mighty since +his return from exile. He may yet come to wish that he had never quitted +the comfortable little provincial town in England where he gave drawing +lessons and French lessons to some very bourgeois boys. . . . But here's +that coach at last!" he continued with that jaunty air which he had +assumed since turning his back upon the reception halls of Brestalou. +"Are you sure that you would rather walk than drive with me?" + +"No," replied Clyffurde abruptly, "I am not sure. Thank you very much. I +think that if you don't object to my somewhat morose company I would +like a lift as far as Grenoble." + +He wanted to make de Marmont talk, to hear what the young man had to +say. From it he thought that he could learn more accurately what danger +would threaten Brestalou in the event of Napoleon's successful march to +Paris. + +That the great adventurer's triumph would be short-lived Clyffurde was +perfectly sure. He knew the temper of England and believed in the +military genius of Wellington. England would never tolerate for a moment +longer than she could help that the firebrand of Europe should once more +sit upon the throne of France, and unless the allies had greatly altered +their policy in the past ten months and refused England the necessary +support, Wellington would be more than a match for the decimated army of +Bonaparte. + +But a few weeks--months, perhaps, might elapse before Napoleon was once +again put entirely out of action--and this time more completely and more +effectually than with a small kingdom wherein to dream again of European +conquests; during those weeks and months Brestalou and its inhabitants +would be at the mercy of the man from Corsica--the island of unrest and +of never sleeping vendetta. + +De Marmont was ready enough to talk. He knew nothing, of course, of +Napoleon's plans and ideas save what Emery had told him. But what he +lacked in knowledge he more than made up in imagination. Excitement too +had made him voluble. He talked freely and incessantly: "The Emperor +would do this. . . . The Emperor will never tolerate that . . ." was all +the time on his lips. + +He bragged and he swaggered, launched into passionate eulogies of the +Emperor, and fiery denunciations of his enemies. Berthier, Clark, +Foucher, de Marmont, they all deserved death. Ney alone was to be +pardoned, for Ney was a fine soldier--always supposing that Ney would +repent. But men like the Comte de Cambray were a pest in any +country--mischief-making and intriguing. Bah! the Emperor will never +tolerate them. + +Suddenly Clyffurde--who had become half-drowsy, lulled to somnolence by +de Marmont's incessant chatter and the monotonous jog-trot of the +horses--woke to complete consciousness. He pricked his ears and in a +moment was all attention. + +"They think that they can deceive me," de Marmont was saying airily. +"They think that I am as great a fool as they are, with their talk of +Mme. la Duchesse's journey north, directly after the wedding! Bah! any +dolt can put two and two together: the Comte tells me in one breath that +he had a visit from Fourier in the afternoon, and that the Duchesse--who +only arrived in Brestalou yesterday--would leave again for Paris on the +day after to-morrow, and he tells it me with a mysterious air, and adds +a knowing wink, and a promise that he would explain himself more fully +later on. I could have laughed--if it were not all so miserably stupid." + +He paused for want of breath and tried to peer through the window of the +coach. + +"It is pitch-dark," he said, "but we can't be very far from the city +now." + +"I don't see," rejoined Clyffurde, ostentatiously smothering a yawn, +"what M. le préfet's visit to Brestalou had to do with the Duchesse's +journey to the north. You have got intrigues on the brain, my good de +Marmont." + +And with well-feigned indifference, he settled himself more cosily into +the dark corner of the carriage. + +De Marmont laughed. "What Fourier's afternoon visit has to do with Mme. +d'Agen's journey?" he retorted, "I'll tell you, my good Clyffurde. +Fourier went to see M. le Comte de Cambray this afternoon because he is +a poltroon. He is terrified at the thought that the unfortunate Empress' +money and treasure are still lying in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +and he went out to Brestalou in order to consult with the Comte what had +best be done with the money." + +"I didn't know the ex-Empress' money was lying in the cellar of the +Hôtel de Ville," remarked Clyffurde with well-assumed indifference. + +"Nor did I until Emery told me," rejoined de Marmont. "The money is +there though: stolen from the Empress Marie Louise by that +arch-intriguer Talleyrand. Twenty-five millions in notes and drafts! the +Emperor reckons on it for current expenses until he has reached Paris +and taken over the Treasury." + +"Even then I don't see what Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen has to do with it." + +"You don't," said de Marmont drily: "but I did in a moment. Fourier +wouldn't keep the money at the Hôtel de Ville: the Comte de Cambray +would not allow it to be deposited in his house. They both want the +Bourbon to have it. So--in order to lull suspicion--they have decided +that Madame la Duchesse shall take the money to Paris." + +"Well!--perhaps!--" said Clyffurde with a yawn. "But are we not in +Grenoble yet?" + +Once more he lapsed into silence, closed his eyes and to all intents and +purposes fell asleep, for never another word did de Marmont get out of +him, until Grenoble was reached and the rue Montorge. + +Here de Marmont had his lodgings, three doors from the "Hôtel des +Trois-Dauphins," where fortunately Clyffurde managed to secure a +comfortable room for himself. + +He parted quite amicably from de Marmont, promising to call in upon him +in the morning. It would be foolish to quarrel with that young wind-bag +now. He knew some things, and talked of a great many more. + + +II + +Preparations against the arrival of the Corsican ogre were proceeding +apace. Général Marchand had been overconfident throughout the day--which +was the 5th of March: "The troops," he said, "were loyal to a man. They +were coming in fast from Chambéry and Vienne; the garrison would and +could repulse that band of pirates, and take upon itself to fulfil the +promise which Ney had made to the King--namely to bring the ogre to His +Majesty bound and gagged in an iron cage." + +But the following day, which was the 6th, many things occurred to shake +the Commandant's confidence: Napoleon's proclamation was not only posted +up all over the town, but the citizens were distributing the printed +leaflets among themselves: one of the officers on the staff pointed out +to Général Marchand that the 4th regiment of artillery quartered in +Grenoble was the one in which Bonaparte had served as a lieutenant +during the Revolution--the men, it was argued, would never turn their +arms against one whom they had never ceased to idolize: it would not be +safe to march out into the open with men whose loyalty was so very +doubtful. + +There was a rumour current in the town that when the men of the 5th +regiment of engineers and the 4th of artillery were told that Napoleon +had only eleven hundred men with him, they all murmured with one accord: +"And what about us?" + +Therefore Général Marchand, taking all these facts into consideration, +made up his mind to await the ogre inside the walls of Grenoble. Here at +any rate defections and desertions would be less likely to occur than in +the field. He set to work to organise the city into a state of defence; +forty-seven guns were put in position upon the ramparts which dominate +the road to the south, and he sent a company of engineers and a +battalion of infantry to blow up the bridge of Ponthaut at La Mure. + +The royalists in the city, who were beginning to feel very anxious, had +assembled in force to cheer these troops as they marched out of the +city. But the attitude of the sapeurs created a very unpleasant +impression: they marched out in disorder, some of them tore the white +cockade from their shakos, and one or two cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" +were distinctly heard in their ranks. + +At La Mure, M. le Maire argued very strongly against the destruction of +the bridge of Ponthaut: "It would be absurd," he said, "to blow up a +valuable bridge, since not one kilometre away there was an excellent +ford across which Napoleon could march his troops with perfect ease." +The sapeurs murmured an assent, and their officer, Colonel Delessart, +feeling the temper of his men, did not dare insist. + +He quartered them at La Mure to await the arrival of the infantry, and +further orders from Général Marchand. When the 5th regiment of infantry +was reported to have reached Laffray, Delessart had the sapeurs out and +marched out to meet them, although it was then close upon midnight. + +While Delessart and his troops encamped at Laffray, Cambronne--who was +in command of Napoleon's vanguard--himself occupied La Mure. This was on +the 7th. The Mayor--who had so strongly protested against the +destruction of the bridge of Ponthaut--gathered the population around +him, and in a body men, women and children marched out of the borough +along the Corps-Sisteron road in order to give "the Emperor" a rousing +welcome. + +It was still early morning. Napoleon at the head of his Old Guard +entered La Mure; a veritable ovation greeted him, everyone pressed round +him to see him or touch his horse, his coat, his stirrups; he spoke to +the people and held the Mayor and municipal officials in long +conversation. + +Just as practically everywhere else on his route, he had won over every +heart; but his small column which had been eleven hundred strong when he +landed at Jouan, was still only eleven hundred strong: he had only +rallied four recruits to his standard. True, he had met with no +opposition, true that the peasantry of the Dauphiné had loudly acclaimed +him, had listened to his harangues and presented him with flowers, but +he had not had a single encounter with any garrison on his way, nor +could he boast of any defections in his favour; now he was nearing +Grenoble--Grenoble, which was strongly fortified and well +garrisoned--and Grenoble would be the winning or losing cast of this +great gamble for the sovereignty of France. + +It was close on eleven when the great adventurer set out upon this +momentous stage of his journey: the Polish Lancers leading, then the +chasseurs of his Old Guard with their time-worn grey coats and heavy +bear-skins; some of them were on foot, others packed closely together in +wagons and carts which the enthusiastic agriculturists of La Mure had +placed at the disposal of "the Emperor." + +Napoleon himself followed in his coach, his horse being led along. +Amidst thundering cries of "God speed" the small column started on its +way. + +As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history; every phase of it has +been put on record:--Delessart--worried in his mind that he had not been +able to obey Général Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of +Ponthaut--his desire to communicate once more with the General; his +decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the +narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to +oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side. + +On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons +wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself, +the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open +windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the +chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond +the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead +Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still +hidden--the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the +ignominy of irretrievable failure. + +History has made a record of it all, and it is not the purpose of this +true chronicle to do more than recall with utmost brevity the chief +incident of that memorable encounter, the Polish Lancers galloping back +with the report that the narrow pass was held against them in strong +force: the Old Guard climbing helter-skelter out of carts and wagons, +examining their arms, making ready: Napoleon stepping quickly out of his +coach and mounting his charger. + +On the other side Delessart holding hurried consultation with the +Vicomte de St. Genis whom Général Marchand has despatched to him with +orders to shoot the brigand and his horde as he would a pack of wolves. + +Napoleon is easily recognisable in the distance, with his grey overcoat, +his white horse and his bicorne hat; presently he dismounts and walks up +and down across the narrow road, evidently in a state of great mental +agitation. + +Delessart's men are sullen and silent; a crowd of men and women from +Grenoble have followed them up thus far; they work their way in and out +among the infantrymen: they have printed leaflets in their hands which +they cram one by one into the hands or pockets of the soldiers--copies +of Napoleon's proclamation. + +Now an officer of the Old Guard is seen to ride up the pass. Delessart +recognises him. They were brothers in arms two years ago and served +together under the greatest military genius the world has ever known. +Napoleon has sent the man on as an emissary, but Delessart will not +allow him to speak. + +"I mean to do my duty," he declares. + +But in his voice too there has already crept that note of sullenness +which characterised the sapeurs from the first. + +Then Captain Raoul, own aide-de-camp to Napoleon, comes up at full +gallop: nor does he draw rein till he is up with the entire front of +Delessart's battalion. + +"Your Emperor is coming," he shouts to the soldiers, "if you fire, the +first shot will reach him: and France will make you answerable for this +outrage!" + +While he shouts and harangues the men are still sullen and silent. And +in the distance the lances of the Polish cavalry gleam in the sun, and +the shaggy bear-skins of the Old Guard are seen to move forward up the +pass. Delessart casts a rapid piercing glance over his men. Sullenness +had given place to obvious terror. + +"Right about turn! . . . Quick! . . . March!" he commands. + +Resistance obviously would be useless with these men, who are on the +verge of laying down their arms. He forces on a quick march, but the +Polish Lancers are already gaining ground: the sound of their horses' +hoofs stamping the frozen ground, the snorting, the clanging of arms is +distinctly heard. Delessart now has no option. He must make his men turn +once more and face the ogre and his battalion before they are attacked +in the rear. + +As soon as the order is given and the two little armies stand face to +face the Polish Lancers halt and the Old Guard stand still. + +And it almost seems for the moment as if Nature herself stood still and +listened, and looked on. The genial midday sun is slowly melting the +snow on pine trees and rocks; one by one the glistening tiny crystals +blink and vanish under the warmth of the kiss; the hard, white road +darkens under the thaw and slowly a thin covering of water spreads over +the icy crust of the lakes. + +Napoleon tells Colonel Mallet to order the men to lower their arms. +Mallet protests, but Napoleon reiterates the command, more peremptorily +this time, and Mallet must obey. Then at the head of his old chasseurs, +thus practically disarmed, the Emperor--and he is every inch an Emperor +now--walks straight up to Delessart's opposing troops. + +Hot-headed St. Genis cries: "Here he is!--Fire, in Heaven's name!" + +But the sapeurs--the old regiment in which Napoleon had served as a +young lieutenant in those glorious olden days--are now as pale as death, +their knees shake under them, their arms tremble in their hands. + +At ten paces away from the foremost ranks Napoleon halts: + +"Soldiers," he cries loudly. "Here I am! your Emperor, do you know me?" + +Again he advances and with a calm gesture throws open his well-worn grey +redingote. + +"Fire!" cries St. Genis in mad exasperation. + +"Fire!" commands Delessart in a voice rendered shaky with overmastering +emotion. + +Silence reigns supreme. Napoleon still advances, step by step, his +redingote thrown open, his broad chest challenging the first bullet +which would dare to end the bold, adventurous, daring life. + +"Is there one of you soldiers here who wants to shoot his Emperor? If +there is, here I am! Fire!" + +Which of these soldiers who have served under him at Jena and Austerlitz +could resist such a call. His voice has lost nothing yet of its charm, +his personality nothing of its magic. Ambitious, ruthless, selfish he +may be, but to the army, a friend, a comrade as well as a god. + +Suddenly the silence is broken. Shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" rend the +air, they echo down the narrow valley, re-echo from hill to hill and +reverberate upon the pine-clad heights of Taillefer. Broken are the +ranks, white cockades fly in every direction, tricolours appear in their +hundreds everywhere. Shakos are waved on the points of the bayonets, and +always, always that cry: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Sapeurs and infantrymen crowd around the little man in the worn grey +redingote, and he with that rough familiarity which bound all soldiers' +hearts to him, seizes an old sergeant by the ends of his long moustache: + +"So, you old dog," he says, "you were going to shoot your Emperor, were +you?" + +"Not me," replies the man with a growl. "Look at our guns. Not one of +them was loaded." + +Delessart, in despair yet shaken to the heart, his eyes swimming in +tears, offers his sword to Napoleon, whereupon the Emperor grasps his +hand in friendship and comforts him with a few inspiring words. + +Only St. Genis has looked on all this scene with horror and contempt. +His royalist opinions are well known, his urgent appeal to Delessart a +while ago to "shoot the brigand and his hordes" still rings in every +soldier's ear. He is half-crazy with rage and there is quite an element +of terror in the confused thoughts which crowd in upon his brain. + +Already the sapeurs and infantrymen have joined the ranks of the Old +Guard, and Napoleon, with that inimitable verve and inspiring eloquence +of which he was pastmaster, was haranguing his troops. Just then three +horsemen, dressed in the uniform of officers of the National Guard and +wearing enormous tricolour cockades as large as soup-plates on their +shakos, are seen to arrive at a break-neck gallop down the pass from +Grenoble. + +St. Genis recognised them at a glance: they were Victor de Marmont, +Surgeon-Captain Emery and their friend the glovemaker, Dumoulin. The +next moment these three men were at the feet of their beloved hero. + +"Sire," said Dumoulin the glovemaker, "in the name of the citizens of +Grenoble we hereby offer you our services and one hundred thousand +francs collected in the last twenty-four hours for your use." + +"I accept both," replied the Emperor, while he grasped vigorously the +hands of his three most devoted friends. + +St. Genis uttered a loud and comprehensive curse: then he pulled his +horse abruptly round and with such a jerk that it reared and plunged +madly forward ere it started galloping away with its frantic rider in +the direction of Grenoble. + + +III + +And Grenoble itself was in a turmoil. + +In the barracks the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" were incessant; Général +Marchand was indefatigable in his efforts to still that cry, to rouse in +the hearts of the soldiers a sense of loyalty to the King. + +"Your country and your King," he shouted from barrack-room to +barrack-room. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" responded the soldiers with ever-growing +enthusiasm. + +The spirit of the army and of the people were Bonapartist to the core. +They had never trusted either Marchand or préfet Fourier, who had turned +their coats so readily at the Restoration: they hated the émigrés--the +Comte de Cambray, the Vicomte de St. Genis, the Duc d'Embrun--with their +old-fashioned ideas of the semi-divine rights of the nobility second +only to the godlike ones of the King. They thought them arrogant and +untamed, over-ready to grab once more all the privileges which a bloody +Revolution had swept away. + +To them Napoleon, despite the brilliant days of the Empire, despite his +autocracy, his militarism and his arrogance, represented "the people," +the advanced spirit of the Revolution; his downfall had meant a return +to the old regime--the regime of feudal rights, of farmers general, of +heavy taxation and dear bread. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was cried in the barracks and "Vive l'Empereur!" at +the street corners. + +A squadron of Hussars had marched into Grenoble from Vienne just before +noon: the same squadron which a few months ago at a revue by the Comte +d'Artois in the presence of the King had shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" What +faith could be put in their loyalty now? + +But two infantry regiments came in at the same time from Chambéry and on +these Général Marchand hoped to be able to reckon. The Comte Charles de +la Bédoyère was in command of the 7th regiment, and though he had served +in Prussia under Napoleon he had tendered his oath loyally to Louis +XVIII. at the Restoration. He was a tried and able soldier and Marchand +believed in him. The General himself reviewed both infantry regiments on +the Place d'Armes on their arrival, and then posted them upon the +ramparts of the city, facing direct to the southeast and dominating the +road to La Mure. + +De la Bédoyère remained in command of the 7th. + +For two hours he paced the ramparts in a state of the greatest possible +agitation. The nearness of Napoleon, of the man who had been his comrade +in arms first and his leader afterwards, had a terribly disturbing +effect upon his spirit. From below in the city the people's mutterings, +their grumbling, their sullen excitement seemed to rise upwards like an +intoxicating incense. The attitude of the troops, of the gunners, as +well as of the garrison and of his own regiment, worked more potently +still upon the Colonel's already shaken loyalty. + +Then suddenly his mind is made up. He draws his sword and shouts: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +"Soldiers!" he calls. "Follow me! I will show you the way to duty! +Follow me! Vive l'Empereur!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferate the troops. + +"After me, my men! to the Bonne Gate! After me!" cries De la Bédoyère. + +And to the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" the 7th regiment of infantry +passes through the gate and marches along the streets of the suburb on +towards La Mure. + +Général Marchand, hastily apprised of the wholesale defection, sends +Colonel Villiers in hot haste in the wake of De la Bédoyère. Villiers +comes up with the latter two kilomètres outside Grenoble. He talks, he +persuades, he admonishes, he scolds, De la Bédoyère and his men are +firm. + +"Your country and your king!" shouts Villiers. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" respond the men. And they go to join the +Old Guard at Laffray while Villiers in despair rides back into Grenoble. + +In the town the desertion of the 7th has had a very serious effect. The +muttered cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" are open shouts now. Général +Marchand is at his wits' ends. He has ordered the closing of every city +gate, and still the soldiers in batches of tens and twenties at a time +contrive to escape out of the town carrying their arms and in many cases +baggage with them. The royalist faction--the women as well as the +men--spend the whole day in and out of the barrack-rooms talking to the +men, trying to infuse into them loyalty to the King, and to cheer them +up by bringing them wine and provisions. + +In the afternoon the Vicomte de St. Genis, sick, exhausted, his horse +covered with lather, comes back with the story of the pass of Laffray, +and Napoleon's triumphant march toward Grenoble. Marchand seriously +contemplates evacuating the city in order to save the garrison and his +stores. + +Préfet Fourier congratulates himself on his foresight and on that he has +transferred the twenty-five million francs from the cellars of the Hôtel +de Ville into the safe keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray. He and Général +Marchand both hope and think that "the brigand and his horde" cannot +possibly be at the gates of Grenoble before the morrow, and that Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen would be well on her way to Paris with the money by that +time. + +Marchand in the meanwhile has made up his mind to retire from the city +with his troops. It is only a strategical measure, he argues, to save +bloodshed and to save his stores, pending the arrival of the Comte +d'Artois at Lyons, with the army corps. He gives the order for the +general retreat to commence at two o'clock in the morning. + +Satisfied that he has done the right thing, he finally goes back to his +quarters in the Hotel du Dauphiné close to the ramparts. The Comte de +Cambray is his guest at dinner, and toward seven o'clock the two men at +last sit down to a hurried meal, both their minds filled with +apprehension and not a little fear as to what the next few days will +bring. + +"It is, of course, only a question of time," says the Comte de Cambray +airily. "Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois will be at Lyons directly with +forty thousand men, and he will easily crush that marauding band of +pirates. But this time the Corsican after his defeat must be put more +effectually out of harm's way. I, personally, was never much in favour +of Elba." + +"The English have some islands out in the Atlantic or the Pacific," +responds Général Marchand with firm decision. "It would be safest to +shoot the brigand, but failing that, let the English send him to one of +those islands, and undertake to guard him well." + +"Let us drink to that proposition, my dear Marchand," concludes M. le +Comte with a smile. + +Hardly had the two men concluded this toast, when a fearful din is +heard, "regular howls" proceeding from the suburb of Bonne. The windows +of the hotel give on the ramparts and the house itself dominates the +Bonne Gate and the military ground beyond it. Hastily Marchand jumps up +from the table and throws open the window. He and the Comte step out +upon the balcony. + +The din has become deafening: with a hand that slightly trembles now +Général Marchand points to the extensive grounds that lie beyond the +city gate, and M. le Comte quickly smothers an exclamation of terror. + +A huge crowd of peasants armed with scythes and carrying torches which +flicker in the frosty air have invaded the slopes and flats of the +military zone. They are yelling "Vive l'Empereur!" at the top of their +voices, and from walls and bastions reverberates the answering cry "Vive +l'Empereur!" vociferated by infantrymen and gunners and sapeurs, and +echoed and re-echoed with passionate enthusiasm by the people of +Grenoble assembled in their thousands in the narrow streets which abut +upon the ramparts. + +And in the midst of the peasantry, surrounded by them as by a cordon, +Napoleon and his small army, just reinforced by the 7th regiment of +infantry, have halted--expectant. + +Napoleon's aide-de-camp, Capitaine Raoul, accompanied by half a dozen +lancers, comes up to the palisade which bars the immediate approach to +the city gates. + +"Open!" he cries loudly, so loudly that his young, firm voice rises +above the tumult around. "Open! in the name of the Emperor!" + +Marchand sees it all, he hears the commanding summons, hears the +thunderous and enthusiastic cheers which greet Captain Raoul's call to +surrender. He and the Comte de Cambray are still standing upon the +balcony of the hotel that faces the gate of Bonne and dominates from its +high ground the ramparts opposite. White-cheeked and silent the two men +have gazed before them and have understood. To attempt to stem this tide +of popular enthusiasm would inevitably be fatal. The troops inside +Grenoble were as ready to cross over to "the brigand's" standard as was +Colonel de la Bédoyère's regiment of infantry. + +The ramparts and the surrounding military zone were lit up by hundreds +of torches; by their flickering light the two men on the balcony could +see the faces of the people, and those of the soldiers who were even now +being ordered to fire upon Raoul and the Lancers. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command of the troops at the gate, sends a +hasty messenger to Général Marchand: "The brigand demands that we open +the gate!" reports the messenger breathlessly. + +"Tell the Colonel to give the order to fire," is Marchand's peremptory +response. + +"Are you coming with me, M. le Comte?" he asks hurriedly. But he does +not wait for a reply. Wrapping his cloak around him, he goes in the wake +of the messenger. M. le Comte de Cambray is close on his heels. + +Five minutes later the General is up on the ramparts. He has thrown a +quick, piercing glance round him. There are two thousand men up here, +twenty guns, ammunition in plenty. Out there only peasants and a +heterogeneous band of some fifteen hundred men. One shot from a gun +perhaps would send all that crowd flying, the first fusillade might +scatter "the band of brigands," but Marchand cannot, dare not give the +positive order to fire; he knows that rank insubordination, positive +refusal to obey would follow. + +He talks to the men, he harangues, he begs them to defend their city +against this "horde of Corsican pirates." + +To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a +captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be +tried and loyal royalists. + +"If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the +officers at least fire the first shot?" + +"M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was +filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners +have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to +pieces with their own batteries." + +The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in +from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the +town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more +insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades +which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the +gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly +resisting axe or pick. + +"Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!" + +They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What +price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners. + +"Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no +danger of the Emperor getting any." + +The women sing the old couplet: + + "Bon! Bon! Napoléon + Va rentrer dans sa maison!" + +and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain: + + "Nous allons voir le grand Napoléon + Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!" + +"What can we do, M. le Comte?" says Général Marchand at last. "We shall +have to give in." + +"I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame." + +Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of +an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the +tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de +Marmont and Colonel de la Bédoyère he advances as far as the gate which +still stands barred defiantly against him. + +"I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take +orders from the General himself." + +"He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon. + +"I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the +General." + +Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with +rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid +light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the +Emperor, who are being forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous +officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!" + +His shrill and frantic cries seem to precipitate the inevitable climax. +The tumult has become absolutely delirious. The soldiers on the ramparts +tumble over one another in a mad rush for the gate, which they try to +break open with the butt-end of their rifles; but they dare not actually +attack their own officers, and in any case they know that the keys of +the city are still in the hands of Général Marchand, and Général +Marchand has suddenly disappeared. + +Feeling the hopelessness and futility of further resistance, he has gone +back to his hotel, and is even now giving orders and making preparations +for leaving Grenoble. Préfet Fourier, hastily summoned, is with him, and +the Comte de Cambray is preparing to return immediately to Brestalou. + +"We shall all leave for Paris to-morrow, as early as possible," he says, +as he finally takes leave of the General and the préfet, "and take the +money with us, of course. If the King--which God forbid!--is obliged to +leave Paris, it will be most acceptable to him, until the day when the +allies are once more in the field and ready to crush, irretrievably this +time, this Corsican scourge of Europe." + +One or two of the royalist officers have succeeded in massing together +some two or three hundred men out of several regiments who appear to be +determined to remain loyal. + +St. Genis is not among these: his men had been among the first to cry +"Vive l'Empereur!" when ordered to fire on the brigand and his hordes. +They had even gone so far as to threaten their officers' lives. + +Now, covered with shame, and boiling with wrath at the defection, St. +Genis asks leave of the General to escort M. le Comte de Cambray and his +party to Paris. + +"We shall be better off for extra protection," urges M. le Comte de +Cambray in support of St. Genis' plea for leave. "I shall only have the +coachman and two postillions with me. M. de St. Genis would be of +immense assistance in case of footpads." + +"The road to Paris is quite safe, I believe," says Général Marchand, +"and at Lyons you will meet the army of M. le Comte d'Artois. But +perhaps M. de St. Genis had better accompany you as far as there, at any +rate. He can then report himself at Lyons. Twenty-five millions is a +large sum, of course, but the purpose of your journey has remained a +secret, has it not?" + +"Of course," says M. le Comte unhesitatingly, for he has completely +erased Victor de Marmont from his mind. + +"Well then, all you need fear is an attack from footpads--and even that +is unlikely," concludes Général Marchand, who by now is in a great hurry +to go. "But M. de St. Genis has my permission to escort you." + +The General entrusts the keys of the Bonne Gate to Colonel Roussille. He +has barely time to execute his hasty flight, having arranged to escape +out of Grenoble by the St. Laurent Gate on the north of the town. In the +meanwhile a carter from the suburb of St. Joseph outside the Bonne Gate +has harnessed a team of horses to one of his wagons and brought along a +huge joist: twenty pairs of willing and stout arms are already +manipulating this powerful engine for the breaking open of the resisting +gate. Already the doors are giving way, the hinges creak; and while +Général Marchand and préfet Fourier with their small body of faithful +soldiers rush precipitately across the deserted streets of the town, +Colonel Roussille makes ready to open the Gate of Bonne to the Emperor +and to his soldiers. + +"My regiment was prepared to turn against me," he says to his men, "but +I shall not turn against them." + +Then he formally throws open the gate. + +Ecstatic delight, joyful enthusiasm, succeeds the frantic cries of a +while ago. Napoleon entering the city of Grenoble was nearly crushed to +death by the frenzy of the crowd. Cheered to the echoes, surrounded by +a delirious populace which hardly allowed him to move, it was hours +before he succeeded in reaching the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins, where he +was resolved to spend the night, since it was kept by an ex-soldier, one +of his own Old Guard of the Italian campaign. + +The enthusiasm was kept up all night. The town was illuminated. Until +dawn men and women paraded the streets singing the "Marseillaise" and +shouting "Vive l'Empereur!" + +In a small room, simply furnished but cosy and comfortable, the great +adventurer, who had conquered half the world and lost it and had now set +out to conquer it again, sat with half a dozen of his most faithful +friends: Cambronne and Raoul, Victor de Marmont and Emery. + +On the table spread out before him was an ordnance map of the province; +his clenched hand rested upon it; his eyes, those eagle-like, piercing +eyes which had so often called his soldiers to victory, gazed out +straight before him, as if through the bare, white-washed walls of this +humble hotel room he saw the vision of the brilliant halls of the +Tuileries, the imperial throne, the Empress beside him, all her +faithlessness and pusillanimity forgiven, his son whom he worshipped, +his marshals grouped around him; and with a gesture of proud defiance he +threw back his head and said loudly: + +"Until to-day I was only an adventurer. To-night I am a prince once +more." + + +IV + +It was the next morning in that same sparsely-furnished and uncarpeted +room of the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins that Napoleon spoke to Victor de +Marmont, to Emery and Dumoulin about the money which had been stolen +last year from the Empress and which he understood had been deposited +in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville. + +"I am not going," he said, "to levy a war tax on my good city of +Grenoble, but my good and faithful soldiers must be paid, and I must +provision my army in case I encounter stronger resistance at Lyons than +I can cope with, and am forced to make a détour. I want the money--the +Empress' money, which that infamous Talleyrand stole from her. So you, +de Marmont, had best go straight away to the Hôtel de Ville and in my +name summon the préfet to appear before me. You can tell him at once +that it is on account of the money." + +"I will go at once, Sire," replied de Marmont with a regretful sigh, +"but I fear me that it is too late." + +"Too late?" snapped out the Emperor with a frown, "what do you mean by +too late?" + +"I mean that Fourier has left Grenoble in the trail of Marchand, and +that two days ago--unless I'm very much mistaken--he disposed of the +money." + +"Disposed of the money? You are mad, de Marmont." + +"Not altogether, Sire. When I say that Fourier disposed of the Empress' +money I only mean that he deposited it in what he would deem a safe +place." + +"The cur!" exclaimed Napoleon with a yet tighter clenching of his hand +and mighty fist, "turning against the hand that fed him and made him +what he is. Well!" he added impatiently, "where is the money now?" + +"In the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray at Brestalou," replied de +Marmont without hesitation. + +"Very well," said the Emperor, "take a company of the 7th regiment with +you to Brestalou and requisition the money at once." + +"If--as I believe--the Comte no longer has the money by him?----" + +"Make him tell you where it is." + +"I mean, Sire, that it is my belief that M. le Comte's sister and +daughter will undertake to take the money to Paris, hoping by their sex +and general air of innocence to escape suspicion in connection with the +money." + +"Don't worry me with all these details, de Marmont," broke in Napoleon +with a frown of impatience. "I told you to take a company with you and +to get me the Empress' money. See to it that this is done and leave me +in peace." + +He hated arguing, hated opposition, the very suggestion of any +difficulty. His followers and intimates knew that; already de Marmont +had repented that he had allowed his tongue to ramble on quite so much. +Now he felt that silence must redeem his blunder--silence now and +success in his undertaking. + +He bent the knee, for this homage the great Corsican adventurer and +one-time dictator of civilised Europe loved to receive: he kissed the +hand which had once wielded the sceptre of a mighty Empire and was ready +now to grasp it again. Then he rose and gave the military salute. + +"It shall be done, Sire," was all that he said. + +His heart was full of enthusiasm, and the task allotted to him was a +congenial one: the baffling and discomfiture of those who had insulted +him. If--as he believed--Crystal would be accompanying her aunt on the +journey toward Paris, then indeed would his own longing for some sort of +revenge for the humiliation which he had endured on that memorable +Sunday evening be fully gratified. + +It was with a light and swinging step that he ran down the narrow stairs +of the hotel. In the little entrance hall below he met Clyffurde. + +In his usual impulsive way, without thought of what had gone before or +was likely to happen in the future, he went up to the Englishman with +outstretched hand. + +"My dear Clyffurde," he said with unaffected cordiality, "I am glad to +see you! I have been wondering what had become of you since we parted on +Sunday last. My dear friend," he added ecstatically, "what glorious +events, eh?" + +He did not wait for Clyffurde's reply, nor did he appear to notice the +latter's obvious coldness of manner, but went prattling on with great +volubility. + +"What a man!" he exclaimed, nodding significantly in the direction +whence he had just come. "A six days' march--mostly on foot and along +steep mountain paths! and to-day as fresh and vigorous as if he had just +spent a month's holiday at some pleasant watering place! What luck to be +serving such a man! And what luck to be able to render him really useful +service! The tables will be turned, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" he added, +giving his taciturn friend a jovial dig in the ribs, "and what lovely +discomfiture for our proud aristocrats, eh? They will be sorry to have +made an enemy of Victor de Marmont, what?" + +Whereupon Clyffurde made a violent effort to appear friendly and jovial +too. + +"Why," he said with a pleasant laugh, "what madcap ideas are floating +through your head now?" + +"Madcap schemes?" ejaculated de Marmont. "Nothing more or less, my dear +Clyffurde, than complete revenge for the humiliation those de Cambrays +put upon me last Sunday." + +"Revenge? That sounds exciting," said Clyffurde with a smile, even while +his palm itched to slap the young braggart's face. + +"Exciting, _par Dieu!_ Of course it will be exciting. They have no idea +that I guessed their little machinations. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +travelling to Paris forsooth! Aye! but with five and twenty millions +sewn somewhere inside her petticoats. Well! the Emperor happens to want +his own five and twenty millions, if you please. So Mme. la Duchesse or +M. le Comte will have to disgorge. And I shall have the pleasing task +of _making_ them disgorge. What say you to that, friend Clyffurde?" + +"That I am sorry for you," replied the other drily. + +"Sorry for me? Why?" + +"Because it is never a pleasing task to bully a defenceless woman--and +an old one at that." + +De Marmont laughed aloud. "Bully Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen?" he exclaimed. +"_Sacré tonnerre!_ what do you take me for. I shall not bully her. Fifty +soldiers don't bully a defenceless woman. We shall treat Mme. la +Duchesse with every consideration: we shall only remove five and twenty +millions of stolen money from her carriage, that is all." + +"You may be mistaken about the money, de Marmont. It may be anywhere +except in the keeping of Mme. la Duchesse." + +"It may be at the Château de Brestalou in the keeping of M. le Comte de +Cambray: and this I shall find out first of all. But I must not stand +gossiping any longer. I must see Colonel de la Bédoyère and get the men +I want. What are your plans, my dear Clyffurde?" + +"The same as before," replied Bobby quietly. "I shall leave Grenoble as +soon as I can." + +"Let the Emperor send you on a special mission to Lord Grenville, in +London, to urge England to remain neutral in the coming struggle." + +"I think not," said Clyffurde enigmatically. + +De Marmont did not wait to ask him to what this brief remark had +applied; he bade his friend a hasty farewell, then he turned on his +heel, and gaily whistling the refrain of the "Marseillaise," stalked out +of the hotel. + +Clyffurde remained standing in the narrow panelled hall, which just then +reeked strongly of stewed onions and of hot coffee; he never moved a +muscle, but remained absolutely quiet for the space of exactly two +minutes; then he consulted his watch--it was then close on midday--and +finally went back to his room. + + +V + +An hour after dawn that self-same morning the travelling coach of M. le +Comte de Cambray was at the perron of the Château de Brestalou. + +At the last moment, when M. le Comte, hopelessly discouraged by the +surrender of Grenoble to the usurper, came home at a late hour of the +night, he decided that he too would journey to Paris with his sister and +daughter, taking the money with him to His Majesty, who indeed would +soon be in sore need of funds. + +At that same late hour of the night M. le Comte discovered that with the +exception of faithful Hector and one or two scullions in the kitchen his +male servants both indoor and out had wandered in a body out to Grenoble +to witness "the Emperor's" entry into the city. They had marched out of +the château to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and outside the gates had +joined a number of villagers of Brestalou who were bent on the same +errand. + +Fortunately one of the coachmen and two of the older grooms from the +stables returned in the early dawn after the street demonstrations +outside the Emperor's windows had somewhat calmed down, and with the +routine of many years of domestic service had promptly and without +murmurings set to to obey the orders given to them the day before: to +have the travelling berline ready with four horses by seven o'clock. + +It was very cold: the coachman and postillions shivered under their +threadbare liveries. The coachman had wrapped a woollen comforter round +his neck and pulled his white beaver broad-brimmed hat well over his +brows, as the northeast wind was keen and would blow into his face all +the way to Lyons, where the party would halt for the night. He had +thick woollen gloves on and of his entire burly person only the tip of +his nose could be seen between his muffler and the brim of his hat. The +postillions, whip in hand, could not wrap themselves up quite so snugly: +they were trying to keep themselves warm by beating their arms against +their chest. + +M. le Comte, aided by Hector, was arranging for the disposal of leather +wallets underneath the cushions of the carriage. The wallets contained +the money--twenty-five millions in notes and drafts--a godsend to the +King if the usurper did succeed in driving him out of the Tuileries. + +Presently the ladies came down the perron steps with faithful Jeanne in +attendance, who carried small bags and dressing-cases. Both the ladies +were wrapped in long fur-lined cloaks and Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen had +drawn a hood closely round her face; but Crystal de Cambray stood +bareheaded in the cold frosty air, the hood of her cloak thrown back, +her own fair hair, dressed high, forming the only covering for her head. + +Her face looked grave and even anxious, but wonderfully serene. This +should have been her wedding morning, the bells of old Brestalou church +should even now have been ringing out their first joyous peal to +announce the great event. Often and often in the past few weeks, ever +since her father had formally betrothed her to Victor de Marmont, she +had thought of this coming morning, and steeled herself to be brave +against the fateful day. She had been resigned to the decree of the +father and to the necessities of family and name--resigned but terribly +heartsore. She was obeying of her own free will but not blindly. She +knew that her marriage to a man whom she did not love was a sacrifice on +her part of every hope of future happiness. Her girlish love for St. +Genis had opened her eyes to the possibilities of happiness; she knew +that Life could hold out a veritable cornucopia of delight and joy in a +union which was hallowed by Love, and her ready sacrifice was therefore +all the greater, all the more sublime, because it was not offered up in +ignorance. + +But all that now was changed. She was once more free to indulge in those +dreams which had gladdened the days and nights of her lonely girlhood +out in far-off England: dreams which somehow had not even found their +culmination when St. Genis first told her of his love for her. They had +always been golden dreams which had haunted her in those distant days, +dreams of future happiness and of love which are seldom absent from a +young girl's mind, especially if she is a little lonely, has few +pleasures and is surrounded with an atmosphere of sadness. + +Crystal de Cambray, standing on the perron of her stately home, felt but +little sorrow at leaving it to-day: she had hardly had the time in one +brief year to get very much attached to it: the sense of unreality which +had been born in her when her father led her through its vast halls and +stately parks had never entirely left her. The little home in England, +the tiny sitting-room with its bow window, and small front garden edged +with dusty evergreens, was far more real to her even now. She felt as if +the last year with its pomp and gloomy magnificence was all a dream and +that she was once more on the threshold of reality now, on the point of +waking, when she would find herself once more in her narrow iron bed and +see the patched and darned muslin curtains gently waving in the draught. + +But for the moment she was glad enough to give herself to the delight of +this sudden consciousness of freedom. She sniffed the sharp, frosty air +with dilated nostrils like a young Arab filly that scents the +illimitable vastness of meadowland around her. The excitement of the +coming adventure thrilled her: she watched with glowing eyes the +preparations for the journey, the bestowal under the cushions of the +carriage of the money which was to help King Louis to preserve his +throne. + +In a sense she was sorry that her father and her aunt were coming too. +She would have loved to fly across country as a trusted servant of her +King; but when the time came to make a start she took her place in the +big travelling coach with a light heart and a merry face. She was so +sure of the justice of the King's cause, so convinced of God's wrath +against the usurper, that she had no room in her thoughts for +apprehension or sadness. + +The Comte de Cambray on the other hand was grave and taciturn. He had +spent hours last evening on the ramparts of Grenoble. He had watched the +dissatisfaction of the troops grow into open rebellion and from that to +burning enthusiasm for the Corsican ogre. St. Genis had given him a +vivid account of the encounter at Laffray, and his ears were still +ringing with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which had filled the +streets and ramparts of Grenoble until he himself fled back to his own +château, sickened at all that he had seen and heard. + +He knew that the King's own brother, M. le Comte d'Artois, was at Lyons +even now with forty thousand men who were reputed to be loyal, but were +not the troops of Grenoble reputed to be loyal too? and was it likely +that the regiments at Lyons would behave so very differently to those at +Grenoble? + +Thus the wearisome journey northwards in the lumbering carriage +proceeded mostly in silence. None of the occupants seemed to have much +to say. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen and M. le Comte sat on the back seats +leaning against the cushions; Crystal de Cambray and ever-faithful +Jeanne sat in front, making themselves as comfortable as they could. + +There was a halt for _déjeuner_ and change of horses at Rives, and here +Maurice de St. Genis overtook the party. He proposed to continue the +journey as far as Lyons on horseback, riding close by the off side of +the carriage. Here as well as at the next halt, at St. André-le-Gaz, +Maurice tried to get speech with Crystal, but she seemed cold in manner +and unresponsive to his whispered words. He tried to approach her, but +she pleaded fatigue and anxiety, and he was glad then that he had made +arrangements not to travel beside her in the lumbering coach. His +position on horseback beside the carriage would, he felt, be a more +romantic one, and he half-hoped that some enterprising footpad would +give him a chance of displaying his pluck and his devotion. + +A start was made from St. André-le-Gaz at six o'clock in the afternoon. +Crystal was getting very cramped and tired, even the fine views over the +range of the Grande Chartreuse and the long white plateau of the Dent de +Crolles, with the wintry sunset behind it, failed to enchain her +attention. Her father and her aunt slept most of the time each in a +corner of the carriage, and after the start from St. André-le-Gaz, +comforted with hot coffee and fresh bread and the prospect of Lyons now +only some sixty kilomètres away, Crystal settled herself against the +cushions and tried to get some sleep. + +The incessant shaking of the carriage, the rattle of harness and wheels, +the cracking of the postillions' whips, all contributed to making her +head ache, and to chase slumber away. But gradually her thoughts became +more confused, as the dim winter twilight gradually faded into night and +a veil of impenetrable blackness spread itself outside the windows of +the coach. + +The northeasterly wind had not abated: it whistled mournfully through +the cracks in the woodwork of the carriage and made the windows rattle +in their framework. On the box the coachman had much ado to see well +ahead of him, as the vapour which rose from the flanks and shoulders of +his steaming horses effectually blurred every outline on the road. The +carriage lanthorns threw a weird and feeble light upon the ever-growing +darkness. To right and left the bare and frozen common land stretched +its lonely vastness to some distant horizon unseen. + + +VI + +Suddenly the cumbrous vehicle gave a terrific lurch, which sent the +unsuspecting Jeanne flying into Mme. la Duchesse's lap and threw Crystal +with equal violence against her father's knees. There was much cracking +of whips, loud calls and louder oaths from coachman and postillions, +much creaking and groaning of wheels, another lurch--more feeble this +time--more groaning, more creaking, more oaths and finally the coach +with a final quivering as it were of all its parts settled down to an +ominous standstill. + +Whereafter the oaths sounded more muffled, while there was a scampering +down from the high altitude of the coachman's box and a confused murmur +of voices. + +It was then close on eight o'clock: Lyons was distant still some dozen +miles or so--and the night by now was darker than pitch. + +M. le Comte, roused from fitful slumbers and trying to gather his +wandering wits, put his head out of the window: "What is it, Pierre?" he +called out loudly. "What has happened?" + +"It's this confounded ditch, M. le Comte," came in a gruff voice from +out the darkness. "I didn't know the bridge had entirely broken down. +This sacré government will not look after the roads properly." + +"Are you there, Maurice?" called the Comte. + +But strangely enough there came no answer to his call. M. de St. Genis +must have fallen back some little distance in the rear, else he surely +would have heard something of the clatter, the shouts and the swearing +which were attending the present unfortunate contretemps. + +"Maurice! where are you?" called the Comte again. And still no answer. + +Pierre was continuing his audible mutterings. "Darkness as black +as----": then he shouted with a yet more forcible volley of oaths: +"Jean! you oaf! get hold of the off mare, can't you? And you, what's +your name, you fool? ease the near gelding. Heavens above, what dolts!" + +"Stop a moment," cried M. le Comte, "wait till the ladies can get out. +This pulling and lurching is unbearable." + +"Ease a moment," commanded Pierre stolidly. "Go to the near door, Jean, +and help the master out of the carriage." + +"Hark! what was that?" It was M. le Comte who spoke. There had been a +momentary lull in the creaking and groaning of the wheels, while the two +young postillions obeyed the coachman's orders to "ease a moment," and +one of them came round to help the ladies and his master out of the +lurching vehicle; only the horses' snorting, the champing of their bits +and pawing of the hard ground broke the silence of the night. + +M. le Comte had opened the near door and was half out of the carriage +when a sound caught his ear which was in no way connected with the +stranded vehicle and its team of snorting horses. Yet the sound came +from horses--horses which were on the move not very far away and which +even now seemed to be coming nearer. + +"Who goes there? Maurice, is that you?" called M. le Comte more loudly. + +"Stand and deliver!" came the peremptory response. + +"Stand yourself or I fire," retorted the Comte, who was already groping +for the pistol which he kept inside the carriage. + +"You murderous villain!" came with the inevitable string of oaths from +Pierre the coachman. "You . . ." + +The rest of this forceful expletive was broken and muffled. Evidently +Pierre had been summarily gagged. There was a short, sharp scuffle +somewhere on ahead; cries for help from the two postillions which were +equally sharply smothered. The horses began rearing and plunging. + +"One of you at the leaders' heads," came in a clear voice which in this +impenetrable darkness sounded weirdly familiar to the occupants of the +carriage, who awed, terrified by this unforeseen attack sat motionless, +clinging to one another inside the vehicle. + +Alone the Comte had not lost his presence of mind. Already he had jumped +out of the carriage, banging the door to behind him, despite feeble +protests from his sister; pistol in hand he tried with anxious eyes to +pierce the inky blackness around him. + +A muffled groan on his right caused him to turn in that direction. + +"Release my coachman," he called peremptorily, "or I fire." + +"Easy, M. le Comte," came as a sharp warning out of the night, in those +same weirdly familiar tones; "as like as not you would be shooting your +own men in this infernal darkness." + +"Who is it?" whispered Crystal hoarsely. "I seem to know that voice." + +"God protect us," murmured Jeanne. "It's the devil's voice, +Mademoiselle." + +Mme. la Duchesse said nothing. No doubt she was too frightened to speak. +Her thin, bony fingers were clasped tightly round her niece's hands. + +Suddenly there was another scuffle by the door, the sharp report of a +pistol and then that strangely familiar voice called out again: + +"Merely as a matter of form, M. le Comte!" + +"You will hang for this, you rogue," came in response from the Comte. + +But already Crystal had torn her hands out of Mme. la Duchesse's grasp +and now was struggling to free herself from Jeanne's terrified and +clinging embrace. + +"Father!" she cried wildly. "Maurice! Maurice! Help! Let me go, Jeanne! +They are hurting him!" + +She had succeeded in pushing Jeanne roughly away and already had her +hand on the door, when it was opened from the outside, and the +flickering light of a carriage lanthorn fell full on the interior of the +vehicle. Neither Crystal nor Mme. la Duchesse could effectually suppress +a sudden gasp of terror, whilst Jeanne threw her shawl right over her +head, for of a truth she thought that here was the devil himself. + +The light illumined the lanthorn-bearer only fitfully, but to the +terror-stricken women he appeared to be preternaturally tall and broad, +with wide caped coat pulled up to his ears and an old-fashioned tricorne +hat on his head; his face was entirely hidden by a black mask, and his +hands by black kid gloves. + +"I pray you ladies," he said quietly, and this time the voice was +obviously disguised and quite unrecognisable. "I pray you have no fear. +Neither I nor my men will do you or yours the slightest harm, if you +will allow me without any molestation on your part to make an +examination of the interior of your carriage." + +Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne remained silent: the one from fear, the +other from dignity. But it was not in Crystal's nature to submit quietly +to any unlawful coercion. + +"This is an infamy," she protested loudly, "and you, my man, will swing +on the nearest gallows for it." + +"No doubt I should if I were found out," said the man imperturbably, +"but the military patrols of M. le Comte d'Artois don't come out as far +as this: nevertheless I must ask you ladies not to detain me on my +business any longer. My men are at the door and it is over a quarter of +an hour ago since we placed M. de St. Genis temporarily yet effectually +hors de combat. I pray you, therefore, step out without delay so that I +may proceed to ascertain whether there is anything in this carriage +likely to suit my requirements." + +"You must be a madman as well as a thief," retorted Crystal loudly, "to +imagine that we would submit to such an outrage." + +"If you do not submit, Madame," said the man calmly, "I will order my +man to shoot M. le Comte in the right leg." + +"You would not dare. . . ." + +But the miscreant turned his head slowly round and called over his +shoulder into the night: + +"Attention, my men! M. le Comte de Cambray!--have you got him?" + +"Aye! aye, sir!" came from out the darkness. + +Crystal gave a wild scream, and with an agonised gesture of terror +clutched the highway robber by the coat. + +"No! no!" she cried. "Stop! stop! no! Father! Help!" + +"Mademoiselle," said the man, quietly releasing his coat from her +clinging hands, "remember that M. le Comte is perfectly safe if you will +deign to step out of the carriage without further delay." + +He held the lanthorn in one hand, the other was suddenly imprisoned by +Crystal's trembling fingers. + +"Sir," she pleaded in a voice broken by terror and anxiety, "we are +helpless travellers on our way to Paris, driven out of our home by the +advancing horde of Corsican brigands. Our little all we have with us. +You cannot take that all from us. Let us give you some money of our own +free will, then the shame of robbing women who have in the darkness of +the night been rendered helpless will not rest upon you. Oh! have pity +upon us. Your voice is so gentle you must be good and kind. You will let +us proceed on our way, will you not? and we'll take a solemn oath that +we'll not attempt to put any one on your track. You will, won't you? I +swear to you that you will be doing a far finer deed thereby than you +can possibly dream of." + +"I have some jewelry about my person," here interposed Madame's sharp +voice drily, "also some gold. I agree to what my niece says. We'll swear +to do nothing against you when we reach Lyons, if you will be content +with what we give you of our own free will and let us go in peace." + +The man allowed both ladies to speak without any interruption on his +part. He even allowed Crystal's dainty fingers to cling around his +gloved hand for as long as she chose: no doubt he found some pleasure in +this tearful appeal from such beautiful lips, for Crystal looked +divinely pretty just then, with the flickering light of the lanthorn +throwing her fair head into bold relief against the surrounding gloom. +Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears, her delicate mouth was +quivering with the piteousness of her appeal. + +But when Mme. la Duchesse had finished speaking and began to divest +herself of her rings he released his hand very gently and said in his +even, quiet voice: + +"Your pardon, Madame; but as it happens I have no use for ladies' +trinkets, while all that you have been good enough to tell me only makes +me the more eager to examine the contents of this carriage." + +"But there's nothing of value in it," asserted Madame unblushingly, +"except what we are offering you now." + +"That is as may be, Madame. I would wish to ascertain." + +"You impious malapert!" she cried out wrathfully, "would you dare lay +hands upon a woman?" + +"No, Madame, certainly not," he replied. "I will merely, as I have had +the honour to tell you, order my men to shoot M. le Comte de Cambray in +the right leg." + +"You vagabond! you thief! you wouldn't dare," expostulated Madame, who +seemed now on the verge of hysteria. + +"Attention, my men!" he called once more over his left shoulder. + +"It is no use, _ma tante_," here interposed Crystal with sudden calm. +"We must yield to brute force. Let us get out and allow this abominable +thief to wreak his impious will with us, else we lay ourselves open to +further outrage at his hands. Be sure that retribution, swift and +certain, will overtake him in the end." + +"Come! that's wisely spoken," said the man, who seemed in no way +perturbed by the scornful glances which Crystal and Madame now freely +darted upon him. He stood a little aside, holding the door open for them +to step out of the carriage. + +"Where is M. le Comte de Cambray?" queried Crystal as she brushed past +him. + +"Close by," he replied, "to your right now, Mademoiselle, and perfectly +safe, and M. le Marquis de St. Genis is not two hundred mètres away, +equally secure and equally safe. Here, le Bossu," he added, calling out +into the night, "ease the gag round your prisoner's mouth a little so +that he may speak to the ladies." + +While Madame la Duchesse groped her way along in the direction whence +came sounds of stirring, groaning and not a little cursing which +proclaimed the presence of some men held captive by others, Crystal +remained beside the carriage door as if rooted to the spot. The feeble +light of the lanthorn had shown her at a glance that the masked +miscreant had taken every precaution for the success of his nefarious +purpose. How many men he had with him altogether, she could not of +course ascertain: half a dozen perhaps, seeing that her father, the +coachman and two postillions had been overpowered and were being closely +guarded, whilst she distinctly saw that two men at least were standing +behind their chief at this moment in order to ward off any possible +attack against him from the rear, while he himself was engaged in the +infamous task of robbing the coach of its contents. + +Crystal saw him start to work in a most methodical manner. He had stood +the lanthorn on the floor of the carriage and was turning over every +cushion and ransacking every pocket. The leather wallets which he found, +he examined with utmost coolness, seeing indeed that they were stuffed +full of banknotes and drafts. His huge caped coat appeared to have +immense pockets, into which those precious wallets disappeared one by +one. + +She knew of course that resistance was useless: the occasional glint of +the feeble lanthorn light upon the pistols held by the men close beside +her taught her the salutary lesson of silence and dignity. She clenched +her hands until her nails were almost driven into the flesh of her +palms, and her face now glowed with a fierce and passionate resentment. +This money which might have saved the King and France from the immediate +effects of the usurper's invasion was now the booty of a common thief! +Wild thoughts of vengeance coursed through her brain: she felt like a +tiger-cat that was being robbed of its young. Once--unable to control +herself--she made a wild dash forward, determined to fight for her +treasure, to scratch or to bite--to do anything in fact rather than +stand by and see this infamous spoliation. But immediately her hands +were seized, and an ominous word of command rang out weirdly through the +night. + +"Resistance here! Attention over there!" + +Her father's safety was a guarantee of her own acquiescence. Struggling, +fighting was useless! the abominable thief must be left to do his work +in peace. + +It did not take long. A minute or two later he too had stepped out of +the carriage. He ordered one of his followers to hold the lanthorn and +then quietly took up his stand beside the open door. + +"Now, ladies, an you desire it," he said calmly, "you may continue your +journey. Your coachman and your men are close here, on the road, +securely bound. M. de St. Genis is not far off--straight up the +road--you cannot miss him. We leave you free to loosen their bonds. To +horse, my men!" he added in a loud, commanding voice. "Le Bossu, hold my +horse a moment! and you ladies, I pray you accept my humble apologies +that I do not stop to see you safely installed." + +As in a dream Crystal heard the bustle incident on a number of men +getting to horse: in the gloom she saw vague forms moving about +hurriedly, she heard the champing of bits, the clatter of stirrup and +bridle. The masked man was the last to move. After he had given the +order to mount he stood for nearly a minute by the carriage door, +exactly facing Crystal, not five paces away. + +His companion had put the lanthorn down on the step, and by its light +she could see him distinctly: a mysterious, masked figure who, with +wanton infamy, had placed the satisfaction of his dishonesty and of his +greed athwart the destiny of the King of France. + +Crystal knew that through the peep-holes of his mask, the man's eyes +were fixed intently upon her and the knowledge caused a blush of +mortification and of shame to flood her cheeks and throat. At that +moment she would gladly have given her life for the power to turn the +tables upon that abominable rogue, to filch from him that precious +treasure which she had hoped to deposit at the feet of the King for the +ultimate success of his cause: and she would have given much for the +power to tear off that concealing mask, so that for the rest of her life +she might be able to visualise that face which she would always +execrate. + +Something of what she felt and thought must have been apparent in her +expressive eyes, for presently it seemed to her as if beneath the narrow +curtain that concealed the lower part of the man's face there hovered +the shadow of a smile. + +The next moment he had the audacity slightly to raise his hat and to +make her a bow before he finally turned to go. Crystal had taken one +step backward just then, whether because she was afraid that the man +would try and approach her, or because of a mere sense of dignity, she +could not herself have said. Certain it is that she did move back and +that in so doing her foot came in contact with an object lying on the +ground. The shape and size of it were unmistakable, it was the pistol +which the Comte must have dropped when first he stepped out of the +carriage, and was seized upon by this band of thieves. Guided by that +same strange and wonderful instinct which has so often caused women in +times of war to turn against the assailants of their men or devastation +of their homes, Crystal picked up the weapon without a moment's +hesitation; she knew that it was loaded, and she knew how to use it. +Even as the masked man moved away into the darkness, she fired in the +direction whence his firm footsteps still sent their repeated echo. + +The short, sharp report died out in the still, frosty air; Crystal +vainly strained her ears to catch the sound of a fall or a groan. But in +the confusion that ensued she could not distinguish any individual +sound. She knew that Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne had screamed, she heard +a few loud curses, the clatter of bits and bridles, the snorting of +horses and presently the noise of several horses galloping away, out in +the direction of Chambéry. + +Then nothing more. + + +VII + +M. le Comte as well as the coachman and postillions were lying helpless +and bound somewhere in the darkness. It took the three women some time +to find them first and then to release them. + +Crystal with great presence of mind had run to the horses' heads, +directly after she had fired that random shot. The poor, frightened +animals had reared and plunged, and had thereby succeeded in dragging +the heavy carriage out of the ditch. After which they had stopped, rigid +for a moment and trembling as horses will sometimes when they are +terrified, before they start running away for dear life. That moment was +Crystal's opportunity and fortunately she took it at the right time and +in the right way. + +A hand on the leaders' bridles, a soothing voice, the absence of further +alarming noises tended at once to quieten the team--a set of good steady +Normandy draft-horses with none too much corn in their bellies to heat +their sluggish blood. + +While Crystal stood at her post, Mme. la Duchesse--cool and +practical--found her way firstly to M. le Comte, then to the coachman +and postillions, and ordering Jeanne to help her, she succeeded in +freeing the men from their bonds. + +Then calling to one of them to precede her with a lanthorn, she started +on the quest for Maurice de St. Genis. He was found--as that abominable +thief had said--some two hundred yards up the road, very securely bound +and with his own handkerchief tied round his mouth, but otherwise +comfortably laid on a dry bit of roadside grass. + +Mme. la Duchesse would not reply to his questions, but after he was +released and able to stand up she made him give her a brief account of +his adventure. It had all been so sudden and so quick--he had fallen +back a little behind the carriage as soon as the night had set in, as he +thought it safer to keep along the edge of the road. He was feeling +tired and drowsy, and allowing his horse to amble along in the slow +jog-trot peculiar to its race. No doubt his attention had for some time +been on the wander, when, all at once, in the darkness someone seized +hold of his horse by the bridle and forced it back upon its haunches. +The next moment Maurice felt himself grabbed by the leg, and dragged off +his horse: he shouted for help, but the carriage was on ahead and its +own rattle prevented the shouts from being heard. After which he was +bound and gagged and summarily left to lie by the roadside. He had had +no chance against the ruffians, as they were numerous, but they did not +attempt to ill-use him in any way. + +Slowly hobbling towards the carriage beside Mme. la Duchesse, for he was +cramped and stiff, Maurice told her all there was to tell. He had heard +the distant scuffle, the shouts and calls, also one pistol-shot at the +end, but he had been rendered helpless even before the carriage had come +to a halt in the ditch. + +It was M. le Comte who in his accustomed measured tones now gave Maurice +de St. Genis the details of this awful adventure: the ransacking of the +carriage by the mysterious miscreant--the loss of the twenty-five +millions, the complete shattering of all hope to help the King with this +money in the hour of his need, and finally Crystal's desperate act of +revenge, as she shot the pistol off into the darkness, hoping at least +to disable the impudent rogue who had done them and the King such a +fatal injury. + +St. Genis listened to it all with lips held tightly pressed together, +firm determination causing every muscle in his body to grow taut and +firm with the earnestness of his resolve. + +When M. le Comte had finished speaking, and with a sigh of +discouragement had suggested an immediate continuation of his journey, +Maurice said resolutely: + +"Do you go on straightway to Lyons with the ladies, my dear Comte, but I +shall not leave this neighbourhood till by some means or other I find +those miscreants and lay their infamous leader by the heel." + +"Well spoken, Maurice," said the Comte guardedly, "but how will you do +it?--it is late and the night darker than ever." + +"You must spare me one of your horses, my dear Comte," replied the young +man, "as mine apparently has been stolen by those abominable thieves, +and I'll ride back to the nearest village--you remember we passed it not +half an hour ago. I'll get lodgings there and get some information. In +the meanwhile perhaps you will see M. le Comte d'Artois immediately, +tell him all that has happened and beg him to send me as early in the +morning as possible a dozen cavalrymen or so, to help me scour the +country. I'll be on the look-out for them on this road by six o'clock, +and, please God! the day shall not go by before we have those infamous +marauders by the heels. Twenty-five millions, remember, are not dragged +about open country quite so easily as those thieves imagine. They are +bound to leave some trace of their whereabouts sometimes." + +He appeared so confident and so cheerful that some of his optimism +infected M. le Comte too. The latter promised to get an audience of M. +le Comte d'Artois that very evening, and of course the necessary cavalry +patrol would at once be forthcoming. + +"God grant you success, Maurice," he added fervently, and the young +man's energy and enthusiasm were also rewarded by a warm, glowing look +from Crystal. + +A quarter of an hour afterwards, M. le Comte's travelling coach was once +more ready for departure. Pierre had been given his orders to make due +haste for Lyons, and to drive a unicorn team of three horses instead of +a regulation four, whereupon he had muttered a string of oaths which +would have caused a Paris wine-shop loafer to blush. + +One of the horses thereupon was detached from the team for Maurice's use +and made ready with one of the postillions' saddles; the other +postillion had to climb up to the seat next to the coachman: all three +men were feeling not a little shamed at the sorry rôle which they had +just played, and they vowed revenge against the mysterious thieves who +had sprung upon them unawares and in the dark, or Mordieu! they would +have suffered severely for their impudence. + +In silence M. le Comte, Mme. la Duchesse and Crystal, followed by +faithful Jeanne, re-entered the carriage. No one had been hurt. M. le +Comte's arms felt a little stiff from the cords which had bound them +behind his back and Jeanne was inclined to be hysterical, but Crystal +felt a fierce resentment burning in her heart. Somehow she had no hope +that Maurice would succeed, even though she threw him at the last a +kindly and encouraging smile. Her one hope was that she had inflicted a +painful if not a deadly wound upon the shameless robber of the King's +money. + +Soon the party was once more comfortably settled and the cumbrous +vehicle, after another violent lurch, was once more on its way. + +"Farewell, Maurice! good luck!" called M. le Comte at the last. + +The young man waited until the heavy carriage swung more easily upon its +springs, then he mounted his horse, turned its head in the opposite +direction and rode slowly back up the road. + +Inside the vehicle all was silent for a while, then M. le Comte asked +quietly: + +"Did he find everything?" + +"Everything," replied Crystal. + +"I put in five wallets." + +"Yes. He took them all." + +"It is curious they should have fallen on us just by that broken +bridge." + +"They were lying in wait for us, of course." + +"Knowing that we had the money, do you think?" asked the Comte. + +"Of course," replied Crystal with still that note of bitter resentment +in her voice. + +"But who, besides ourselves and the préfet? . . ." began the Comte, who +clearly was very puzzled. + +"Victor de Marmont for one . . ." retorted the girl. + +"Surely you don't suppose that he would play the rôle of a highwayman +and . . ." + +"No, I don't," she broke in somewhat impatiently, "he wouldn't have the +pluck for one thing, and moreover the masked man was considerably taller +than Victor." + +"Well, then?" + +"It is only an idea, father, dear," she said more gently, "but somehow I +cannot believe that this was just ordinary highway robbery. This road is +supposed to be quite safe: travellers are not warned against armed +highwaymen, and marauders wouldn't be so well horsed and clothed. My +belief is that it was a paid gang stationed at the broken bridge on +purpose to rob us and no one else." + +"Maurice will soon be after them to-morrow, and I'll see M. le Comte +d'Artois directly we get to Lyons," said the Comte after a slight pause, +during which he was obviously pondering over his daughter's suggestion. + +"It won't be any use, father," Crystal said with a sigh. "The whole +thing has been organised, I feel sure, and the head that planned this +abominable robbery will know how to place his booty in safety." + +Whereupon the Comte sighed, for he was too well-bred to curse in the +presence of his daughter and his sister, Mme. la Duchesse had said +nothing all this while: nor did she offer any comment upon the +mysterious occurrence all the time that the next stage of the wearisome +journey proceeded. + + +VIII + +Less than an hour later the coach came to a halt once more. + +M. le Comte woke up with a start. + +"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is it now?" + +Crystal had not been asleep: her thoughts were too busy, her brain too +much tormented with trying to find some plausible answer to the riddle +which agitated her: "Who had planned this abominable robbery? Was it +indeed Victor de Marmont himself? or had a greater, a mightier mind than +his discovered the secret of this swift journey to Paris and ordered the +clever raid upon the treasure?" + +The rumble of the wheels had--though she was awake--prevented her from +hearing the rapid approach of a number of horses in the wake of the +coach, until a peremptory: "Halt! in the name of the Emperor!" suddenly +chased every other thought away; like her father she murmured: "My God! +what is it now?" + +This time there was no mystery, there would be no puzzlement as to the +meaning of this fresh attack. The air was full of those sounds that +denote the presence of many horses and of many men; there was, too, the +clinking of metal, the champing of steel bits, the brief words of +command which proclaimed the men to be soldiers. + +They appeared to be all round the coach, for the noise of their presence +came from everywhere at once. + +Already the Comte had put his head out of the window: "What is it now?" +he asked again, more peremptorily this time. + +"In the name of the Emperor!" was the loud reply. + +"We do not halt in the name of an usurper," said the Comte. "En avant, +Pierre!" + +"You urge those horses on at your peril, coachman," was the defiant +retort. + +A quick word of command was given, there was more clanking of metal, +snorting of horses, loud curses from Pierre on the box, and the +commanding voice spoke again: + +"M. le Comte de Cambray!" + +"That is my name!" replied the Comte. "And who is it, pray, who dares +impede peaceful travellers on their way?" + +"By order of the Emperor," was the curt reply. + +"I know of no such person in France!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was shouted defiantly in response. + +Whereupon M. le Comte de Cambray--proud, disdainful and determined to +show no fear or concern, withdrew from the window and threw himself back +against the cushions of the carriage. + +"What in the Virgin's name is the meaning of this?" murmured Mme. la +Duchesse. + +"God in heaven only knows," sighed the Comte. + +But obviously the coach had not been stopped by a troop of mounted +soldiers for the mere purpose of proclaiming the Emperor's name on the +high road in the dark. The same commanding voice which had answered the +Comte's challenge was giving rapid orders to dismount and to bring along +one of the carriage lanthorns. + +The next moment the door of the coach was opened from without, and the +light of the lanthorn held up by a man in uniform fell full on the +figure and on the profile of Victor de Marmont. + +"M. le Comte, I regret," he said coldly, "in the name of the Emperor I +must demand from you the restitution of his property." + +The Comte shrugged his shoulders and vouchsafed no reply. + +"M. le Comte," said de Marmont, more peremptorily this time, "I have +twenty-four men with me, who will seize by force if necessary that which +I herewith command you to give up voluntarily." + +Still no reply. M. le Comte de Cambray would think himself bemeaned were +he to parley with a traitor. + +"As you will, M. le Comte," was de Marmont's calm comment on the old +man's attitude. "Sergeant!" he commanded, "seize the four persons in +this coach. Three of them are women, so be as gentle as you can. Go +round to the other door first." + +"Father," now urged Crystal gently, "do you think that this is wise--or +dignified?" + +"Wisely spoken, Mlle. Crystal," rejoined de Marmont. "Have I not said +that I have two dozen soldiers with me--all trained to do their duty? +Why should M. le Comte allow them to lay hands upon you and on Mme. la +Duchesse?" + +"It is an outrage," broke in the Comte savagely. "You and your soldiers +are traitors, rebels and deserters." + +"But we are in superior numbers, M. le Comte," said de Marmont with a +sneer. "Would it not be wiser to yield with a good grace? Mme. la +Duchesse," he added with an attempt at geniality, "yours was always the +wise head, I am told, that guided the affairs of M. le Comte de Cambray +in the past. Will you not advise him now?" + +"I would, my good man," retorted the Duchesse, "but my wise counsels +would benefit no one now, seeing that you have been sent on a fool's +errand." + +De Marmont laughed. + +"Does Mme. la Duchesse mean to deny that twenty-five million francs +belonging to the Emperor are hidden at this moment inside this coach?" + +"I deny, Monsieur de Marmont, that any twenty-five million francs belong +to the son of an impecunious Corsican attorney--and I also deny that any +twenty-five million francs are in this coach at the present moment." + +"That is exactly what I desire to ascertain, Madame." + +"Ascertain by all means then," quoth Madame impatiently, "the other +thief ascertained the same thing an hour ago, and I must confess that he +did so more profitably than you are like to do." + +"The other thief?" exclaimed de Marmont, greatly puzzled. + +"It is as Mme. la Duchesse has deigned to tell you," here interposed the +Comte coolly. "I have no objection to your knowing that I had intended +to convey to His Majesty the King--its rightful owner--a sum of +money--originally stolen by the Corsican usurper from France--but that +an hour ago a party of armed thieves--just like yourself--attacked us, +bound and gagged me and my men, ransacked my coach and made off with the +booty." + +"And I thank God now," murmured Crystal involuntarily, "that the money +has fallen into the hands of a common highwayman rather than in those of +the scourge of mankind." + +"M. le Comte . . ." stammered de Marmont, who, still incredulous, yet +vaguely alarmed, was nevertheless determined not to accept this +extraordinary narrative with blind confidence. + +But M. le Comte de Cambray's dignity rose at last to the occasion: "You +choose to disbelieve me, Monsieur?" he asked quietly. + +De Marmont made no reply. + +"Will my word of honour not suffice?" + +"My orders, M. le Comte," said de Marmont gruffly, "are that I bring +back to my Emperor the money that is his. I will not leave one stone +unturned . . ." + +"Enough, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with calm dignity. "We will +alight now, if your soldiers will stand aside." + +And for the second time on this eventful night, Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +and Mlle. Crystal de Cambray, together with faithful Jeanne, were forced +to alight from the coach and to stand by while the cushions of the +carriage were being turned over by the light of a flickering lanthorn +and every corner of the interior ransacked for the elusive treasure. + +"There is nothing here, mon Colonel," said a gruff voice out of the +darkness, after a while. + +A loud curse broke from de Marmont's lips. + +"You are satisfied?" asked the Comte coldly, "that I have told you the +truth?" + +"Search the luggage in the boot," cried de Marmont savagely, without +heeding him, "search the men on the box! bring more light here! That +money is somewhere in this coach, I'll swear. If I do not find it I'll +take every one here back a prisoner to Grenoble . . . or . . ." + +He paused, himself ashamed of what he had been about to say. + +"Or you will order your soldiers to lay hands upon our persons, is that +it, M. de Marmont?" broke in Crystal coldly. + +He made no reply, for of a truth that had been his thought: foiled in +his hope of rendering his beloved Emperor so signal a service, he had +lost all sense of chivalry in this overwhelming feeling of baffled rage. + +Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt +ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had +done. He hated the Comte . . . he hated all royalists and all enemies of +the Emperor . . . but he hated the Comte doubly because of the insults +which he (de Marmont) had had to endure that evening at Brestalou. He +had looked upon this expedition as a means of vengeance for those +insults, a means, too, of showing his power and his worth before Crystal +and of winning her through that power which the Emperor had given him, +and through that worth which the Emperor had recognised. + +But, though he hated the Comte he knew him to be absolutely incapable of +telling a deliberate lie, and absolutely incapable of bartering his word +of honour for the sake of his own safety. + +Crystal's words brought this knowledge back to his mind; and now the +desire seized him to prove himself as chivalrous as he was powerful. He +was one of those men who are so absolutely ignorant of a woman's nature +that they believe that a woman's love can be won by deeds as apart from +personality, and that a woman's dislike and contempt can be changed into +love. He loved Crystal more absolutely now than he had ever done in the +days when he was practically her accepted suitor: his unbridled and +capricious nature clung desperately to that which he could not hold, and +since he had felt--that evening at Brestalou--that his political +convictions had placed an insuperable barrier between himself and +Crystal de Cambray, he felt that no woman on earth could ever be quite +so desirable. + +His mistake lay in this: that he believed that it was his political +convictions alone which had turned Crystal away from him: he felt that +he could have won her love through her submission once she was his wife, +now he found that he would have to win her love first and her wifely +submission would only follow afterwards. + +Just now--though in the gloom he could only see the vague outline of her +graceful form, and only heard her voice as through a veil of +darkness--he had the longing to prove himself at once worthy of her +regard and deserving of her gratitude. + +Without replying to her direct challenge, he made a vigorous effort to +curb his rage, and to master his disappointment. Then he gave a few +brief commands to his sergeant, ordering him to repair the disorder +inside the coach, and to stop all further searching both of the vehicle +and of the men. + +Finally he said with calm dignity: "M. le Comte, I must offer you my +humble apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected. +I humbly beg Mme. la Duchesse and Mademoiselle Crystal to accept these +expressions of my profound regret. A soldier's life and a soldier's duty +must be my excuse for the part I was forced to take in this untoward +happening. Mme. la Duchesse, I pray you deign to re-enter your carriage. +M. le Comte, if there is aught I can do for you, I pray you command me. +. . ." + +Neither the Duchesse nor the Comte, however, deigned to take the +slightest notice of the abominable traitor and of his long tirade. +Madame was shivering with cold and yawning with fatigue, and in her +heart consigned the young brute to everlasting torments. + +The Comte would have thought it beneath his dignity to accept any +explanation from a follower of the Corsican usurper. Without a word he +was now helping his sister into the carriage. + +Jeanne, of course, hardly counted--she was dazed into semi-imbecility by +the renewed terrors she had just gone through: so for the moment Victor +felt that Crystal was isolated from the others. She stood a little to +one side--he could only just see her, as the sergeant was holding up the +lanthorn for Mme. la Duchesse to see her way into the coach. M. le Comte +went on to give a few directions to the coachman. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly. + +And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the +carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind +word for me?" + +"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an +outrage?" + +"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty." + +"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont--a soldier of the King. Now you +are only a deserter." + +"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to +victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back +into his own once more." + +"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from +different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to +discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt +in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me." + +"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he +urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on +the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks +to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness +under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have +not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon." + +"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all +that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage +door. + +Victor smothered a curse. These aristos were as arrogant as ever. What +lesson had the revolution and the guillotine taught them? None. This +girl who had spent her whole life in poverty and exile, and was +like--after a brief interregnum--to return to exile and poverty again, +was not a whit less proud than her kindred had been when they walked in +their hundreds up the steps of the guillotine with a smile of lofty +disdain upon their lips. + +Victor de Marmont was a son of the people--of those who had made the +revolution and had fought the whole of Europe in order to establish +their right to govern themselves as they thought best, and he hated all +these aristos--the men who had fled from their country and abandoned it +when she needed her sons' help more than she had ever done before. + +The aristocrat was for him synonymous with the émigré--with the man who +had raised a foreign army to fight against France, who had brought the +foreigner marching triumphantly into Paris. He hated the aristocrat, but +he loved Crystal, the one desirable product of that old regime system +which he abhorred. + +But with him a woman's love meant a woman's submission. He was more +determined than ever now to win her, but he wanted to win her through +her humiliation and his triumph--excitement had turned his brain? Well! +so be it, fear and oppression would turn her heart and crush her pride. + +He made no further attempt to detain her: he had asked for a kind word +and she had given him withering scorn. Excitement had turned his brain +. . . he was not even worthy of parley--not even worthy of a formal +refusal! + +To his credit be it said that the thought of immediate revenge did not +enter his mind then. He might have subjected her then and there to +deadly outrage--he might have had her personal effects searched, her +person touched by the rough hands of his soldiers. But though his +estimate of a woman's love was a low one, it was not so base as to +imagine that Crystal de Cambray would ever forgive so dastardly an +insult. + +As she walked past him to the door, however, he said under his breath: + +"Remember, Mademoiselle, that you and your family at this moment are +absolutely in my power, and that it is only because of my regard for you +that I let you all now depart from here in peace." + +Whether she heard or not, he could not say; certain it is that she made +no reply, nor did she turn toward him at all. The light of the lanthorn +lit up her delicate profile, pale and drawn, her tightly pressed lips, +the look of utter contempt in her eyes, which even the fitful shadow +cast by her hair over her brows could not altogether conceal. + +The Comte had given what instructions he wished to Pierre. He stood by +the carriage door waiting for his daughter: no doubt he had heard what +went on between her and de Marmont, and was content to leave her to deal +what scorn was necessary for the humiliation of the traitor. + +He helped Crystal into the carriage, and also the unfortunate Jeanne; +finally he too followed, and pulled the door to behind him. + +Victor did not wait to see the coach make a start. He gave the order to +remount. + +"How far are we from St. Priest?" he asked. + +"Not eight kilomètres, mon Colonel," was the reply. + +"En avant then, ventre-à -terre!" he commanded, as he swung himself into +the saddle. + +The great high road between Grenoble and Lyons is very wide, and Pierre +had no need to draw his horses to one side, as de Marmont and his troop, +after much scrambling, champing of bits and clanking of metal, rode at a +sharp trot past the coach and him. + +For some few moments the sound of the horses' hoofs on the hard road +kept the echoes of the night busy with their resonance, but soon that +sound grew fainter and fainter still--after five minutes it died away +altogether. + +M. de Comte put his head out of the window. + +"Eh bien, Pierre," he called, "why don't we start?" + +The postillion cracked his whip; Pierre shouted to his horses; the heavy +coach groaned and creaked and was once more on its way. + +In the interior no one spoke. Jeanne's terror had melted in a silent +flow of tears. + + +Lyons was reached shortly before midnight. M. le Comte's carriage had +some difficulty in entering the town, as by orders of M. le Comte +d'Artois it had already been placed in a state of defence against the +possible advance of the "band of pirates from Corsica." The bridge of La +Guillotière had been strongly barricaded and it took M. le Comte de +Cambray some little time to establish his identity before the officer in +command of the post allowed him to proceed on his way. + +The town was fairly full owing to the presence of M. le Comte d'Artois, +who had taken up his quarters at the archiepiscopal palace, and of his +staff, who were scattered in various houses about the town. Nevertheless +M. le Comte and his family were fortunate enough in obtaining +comfortable accommodation at the Hotel Bourbon. + +The party was very tired, and after a light supper retired to bed. + +But not before M. le Comte de Cambray had sent a special autographed +message to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois explaining to him under what +tragic circumstances the sum of twenty-five million francs destined to +reach His Majesty the King had fallen into a common highwayman's hands +and begging that a posse of cavalry be sent out on the road after the +marauders and be placed under the orders of M. le Marquis de St. Genis, +who would be on the look-out for their arrival. He begged that the posse +should consist of not less than thirty men, seeing that some armed +followers of the Corsican brigand were also somewhere on the way. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE RIVALS + + +I + +The weather did not improve as the night wore on: soon a thin, cold +drizzle added to the dreariness and to Maurice de St. Genis' +ever-growing discomfort. + +He had started off gaily enough, cheered by Crystal's warm look of +encouragement and comforted by the feeling of certainty that he would +get even with that mysterious enemy who had so impudently thrown himself +athwart a plan which had service of the King for its sole object. + +Maurice had not exchanged confidences with Crystal since the adventure, +but his ideas--without his knowing it--absolutely coincided with hers. +He, too, was quite sure that no common footpad had engineered their +daring attack. Positive knowledge of the money and its destination had +been the fountain from which had sprung the comedy of the masked +highwayman and his little band of robbers. Maurice mentally reckoned +that there must have been at least half a dozen of these bravos--of the +sort that in these times were easily enough hired in any big city to +play any part, from that of armed escort to nervous travellers to that +of seeker of secret information for the benefit of either political +party--loafers that hung round the wine-shops in search of a means of +earning a few days' rations, discharged soldiers of the Empire some of +them, whose loyalty to the Restoration had been questioned from the +first. + +Maurice had no doubt that whatever motive had actuated the originator of +the bold plan to possess himself of twenty-five million francs, he had +deliberately set to work to employ men of that type to help him in his +task. + +It had all been very audacious and--Maurice was bound to admit--very +well carried out. As for the motive, he was never for a moment in doubt. +It was a Bonapartist plot, of that he felt sure, as well as of the fact +that Victor de Marmont was the originator of it all. He probably had not +taken any active part in the attack, but he had employed the +men--Maurice would have taken an oath on that! + +The Comte de Cambray must have let fall an unguarded hint in the course +of his last interview with de Marmont at Brestalou, and when Victor went +away disgraced and discomfited he, no doubt, thought to take his revenge +in the way most calculated to injure both the Comte and the royalist +cause. + +Satisfied with this mental explanation of past events, St. Genis had +ridden on in the darkness, his spirits kept up with hopes and thoughts +of a glaring counter revenge. But his limbs were still stiff and bruised +from the cramped position in which he had lain for so long, and +presently, when the cold drizzle began to penetrate to his bones, his +enthusiasm and confidence dwindled. The village seemed to recede further +and further into the distance. He thought when he had ridden through it +earlier in the evening that it was not very far from the scene of the +attack--a dozen kilomètres perhaps--now it seemed more like thirty; he +thought too that it was a village of some considerable size--five +hundred souls or perhaps more--he had noticed as he rode through it a +well-illuminated, one-storied house, and the words "Débit de vins" and +"Chambres pour voyageurs" painted in bold characters above the front +door. But now he had ridden on and on along the dark road for what +seemed endless hours--unconscious of time save that it was dragging on +leaden-footed and wearisome . . . and still no light on ahead to betray +the presence of human habitations, no distant church bells to mark the +progress of the night. + +At last, in desperation, Maurice de St. Genis had thought of wrapping +himself in his cloak and getting what rest he could by the roadside, for +he was getting very tired and saddle-sore, when on his left he perceived +in the far distance, glimmering through the mist, two small lights like +bright eyes shining in the darkness. + +What kind of a way led up to those welcome lights, Maurice had, of +course, no idea; but they proclaimed at any rate the presence of human +beings, of a house, of the warmth of fire; and without hesitation the +young man turned his horse's head at right angles from the road. + +He had crossed a couple of ploughed fields and an intervening ditch, +when in the distance to his right and behind him he heard the sound of +horses at a brisk trot, going in the direction of Lyons. + +Maurice drew rein for a moment and listened until the sound came nearer. +There must have been at least a score of mounted men--a military patrol +sent out by M. le Comte d'Artois, no doubt, and now on its way back to +Lyons. Just for a second or two the young man had thoughts of joining up +with the party and asking their help or their escort: he even gave a +vigorous shout which, however, was lost in the clang and clatter of +horses' hoofs and of the accompanying jingle of metal. + +He turned his horse back the way he had come; but before he had +recrossed one of the ploughed fields, the troop of mounted men--whatever +they were--had passed by, and Maurice was left once more in solitude, +shouting and calling in vain. + +There was nothing for it then, but to turn back again, and to make his +way as best he could toward those inviting lights. In any case nothing +could have been done in this pitch-dark night against the highway +thieves, and St. Genis had no fear that M. le Comte d'Artois would fail +to send him help for his expedition against them on the morrow. + +The lights on ahead were getting perceptibly nearer, soon they detached +themselves still more clearly in the gloom--other lights appeared in the +immediate neighbourhood--too few for a village--thought Maurice, and +grouped closely together, suggesting a main building surrounded by other +smaller ones close by. + +Soon the whole outline of the house could be traced through the +enveloping darkness: two of the windows were lighted from within, and an +oil lamp, flickering feebly, was fixed in a recess just above the door. +The welcome words: "Chambres pour voyageurs. Aristide Briot, +propriétaire," greeted Maurice's wearied eyes as he drew rein. Good luck +was apparently attending him for, thus picking his way across fields, he +had evidently struck an out-of-the-way hostelry on some bridle path off +the main road, which was probably a short cut between Chambéry and +Vienne. + +Be that as it may, he managed to dismount--stiff as he was--and having +tried the door and found it fastened, he hammered against it with his +boot. + +A few moments later, the bolts were drawn and an elderly man in blue +blouse and wide trousers, his sabots stuffed with straw, came shuffling +out of the door. + +"Who's there?" he called in a feeble, querulous voice. + +"A traveller--on horseback," replied Maurice. "Come, petit père," he +added more impatiently, "will you take my horse or call to one of your +men?" + +"It is too late to take in travellers," muttered the old man. "It is +nearly midnight, and everyone is abed except me." + +"Too late, morbleu?" exclaimed the young man peremptorily. "You surely +are not thinking of refusing shelter to a traveller on a night like +this. Why, how far is it to the nearest village?" + +"It is very late," reiterated the old man plaintively, "and my house is +quite full." + +"There's a shake-down in the kitchen anyway, I'll warrant, and one for +my horse somewhere in an outhouse," retorted Maurice as without more ado +he suddenly threw the reins into the old man's hand and unceremoniously +pushed him into the house. + +The man appeared to hesitate for a moment or two. He grumbled and +muttered something which Maurice did not hear, and his shrewd eyes--the +knowing eyes of a peasant of the Dauphiné--took a rapid survey of the +belated traveller's clothes, the expensive caped coat, the well-made +boots, the fashionable hat, which showed up clearly now by the light +from within. + +Satisfied that there could be no risk in taking in so well-dressed a +traveller, feeling moreover that a good horse was always a hostage for +the payment of the bill in the morning, the man now, without another +word or look at his guest, turned his back on the house and led the +horse away--somewhere out into the darkness--Maurice did not take the +trouble to ascertain where. + +He was under shelter. There was the remnant of a wood-fire in the hearth +at the corner, some benches along the walls. If he could not get a bed, +he could certainly get rest and warmth for the night. He put down his +hat, took off his coat, and kicked the smouldering log into a blaze; +then he drew a chair close to the fire and held his numbed feet and +hands to the pleasing warmth. + +Thoughts of food and wine presented themselves too, now that he felt a +little less cold and stiff, and he awaited the old man's return with +eagerness and impatience. + +The shuffling of wooden sabots outside the door was a pleasing sound: a +moment or two later the old man had come back and was busying himself +with once more bolting his front door. + +"Well now, père Briot," said Maurice cheerily, "as I take it you are the +proprietor of this abode of bliss, what about supper?" + +"Bread and cheese if you like," muttered the man curtly. + +"And a bottle of wine, of course." + +"Yes. A bottle of wine." + +"Well! be quick about it, petit père. I didn't know how hungry I was +till you talked of bread and cheese." + +"Would you like some cold meat?" queried the man indifferently. + +"Of course I should! Have I not said that I was hungry?" + +"You'll pay for it all right enough?" + +"I'll pay for the supper before I stick a fork into it," rejoined +Maurice impatiently, "but in Heaven's name hurry up, man! I am half dead +with sleep as well as with hunger." + +The old man--a real peasant of the Dauphiné in his deliberate manner and +shrewd instincts of caution--once more shuffled out of the room, and St. +Genis lapsed into a kind of pleasant torpor as the warmth of the fire +gradually crept through his sinews and loosened all his limbs, while the +anticipation of wine and food sent his wearied thoughts into a happy +day-dream. + +Ten minutes later he was installed before a substantial supper, and +worthy Aristide Briot was equally satisfied with the two pieces of +silver which St. Genis had readily tendered him. + +"You said your house was full, petit père," said Maurice after a while, +when the edge of his hunger had somewhat worn off. "I shouldn't have +thought there were many travellers in this out-of-the-way place." + +"The place is not out-of-the-way," retorted the old man gruffly. "The +road is a good one, and a short cut between Vienne and Chambéry. We get +plenty of travellers this way!" + +"Well! I did not strike the road, unfortunately. I saw your lights in +the distance and cut across some fields. It was pretty rough in the +dark, I can tell you." + +"That's just what those other cavaliers said, when they turned up here +about an hour ago. A noisy crowd they were. I had no room for them in my +house, so they had to go." + +St. Genis at once put down his knife and fork. + +"A noisy crowd of travellers," he exclaimed, "who arrived here an hour +ago?" + +"Parbleu!" rejoined the other, "and all wanting beds too. I had no room. +I can only put up one or two travellers. I sent them on to Levasseur's, +further along the road. Only the wounded man I could not turn away. He +is up in our best bedroom." + +"A wounded man? You have a wounded man here, petit père?" + +"Oh! it's not much of a wound," explained the old man with unconscious +irrelevance. "He himself calls it a mere scratch. But my old woman took +a fancy to him: he is young and well-looking, you understand. . . . She +is clever at bandages too, so she has looked after him as if he were her +own son." + +Mechanically, St. Genis had once more taken up his knife and fork, +though of a truth the last of his hunger had vanished. But these +Dauphiné peasants were suspicious and queer-tempered, and already the +young man's surprise had matured into a plan which he would not be able +to carry through without the help of Aristide Briot. Noisy cavaliers--he +mused to himself--a wounded man! . . . wounded by the stray shot aimed +at him by Crystal de Cambray! Indeed, St. Genis had much ado to keep his +excitement in check, and to continue with a pretence at eating while +Briot watched him with stolid indifference. + +"Petit père," said the young man at last with as much unconcern as he +could affect. "I have been thinking that you have--unwittingly--given me +an excellent piece of news. I do believe that the man in your best +bedroom upstairs is a friend of mine whom I was to have met at Lyons +to-day and whose absence from our place of tryst had made me very +anxious. I was imagining that all sorts of horrors had happened to him, +for he is in the secret service of the King and exposed to every kind of +danger. His being wounded in some skirmish either with highway robbers +or with a band of the Corsican's pirates would not surprise me in the +least, and the fact that he had some half-dozen mounted men with him +confirms me in my belief that indeed it is my friend who is lying +upstairs, as he often has to have an escort in the exercise of his +duties. At any rate, petit père," he concluded as he rose from the +table, "by your leave, I'll go up and ascertain." + +While he rattled off these pretty proceeds of his own imagination, +Maurice de St. Genis kept a sharp watch on Aristide Briot's face, ready +to note the slightest sign of suspicion should it creep into the old +man's shrewd eyes. + +Briot, however, did not exhibit any violent interest in his guest's +story, and when the latter had finished speaking he merely said, +pointing to the remnants of food upon the table: + +"I thought you said that you were hungry." + +"So I was, petit père," rejoined Maurice impatiently, "so I was: but my +hunger is not so great as it was, and before I eat another morsel I must +satisfy myself that it is my friend who is safe and well in your old +woman's care." + +"Oh! he is well enough," grunted Briot, "and you can see him in the +morning." + +"That I cannot, for I shall have to leave here soon after dawn. And I +could not get a wink of sleep whilst I am in such a state of uncertainty +about my friend." + +"But you can't go and wake him now. He is asleep for sure, and my old +woman wouldn't like him to be disturbed, after all the care she has +given him." + +St. Genis, fretting with impatience, could have cursed aloud or shaken +the obstinate old peasant roughly by the shoulders. + +"I shouldn't wake him," he retorted, irritated beyond measure at the +man's futile opposition. "I'll go up on tiptoe, candle in hand--you +shall show me the way to his room--and I'll just ascertain whether the +wounded man is my friend or not, then I'll come down again quietly and +finish my supper. + +"Come, petit père, I insist," he added more peremptorily, seeing that +Briot--with the hesitancy peculiar to his kind--still made no movement +to obey, but stood close by scratching his scanty locks and looking +puzzled and anxious. + +Fortunately for him Maurice understood the temperament of these peasants +of the Dauphiné, he knew that with their curious hesitancy and inherent +suspiciousness it was always the easiest to make up their minds for +them. + +So now--since he was absolutely determined to come to grips with that +abominable thief upstairs, before the night was many minutes older--he +ceased to parley with Briot. + +A candle stood close to his hand on the table, a bit of kindling wood +lay in a heap in one corner, with the help of the one he lighted the +other, then candle in hand he walked up to the door. + +"Show me the way, petit père," he said. + +And Aristide Briot, with a shrug of the shoulders which implied that he +there and then put away from him any responsibility for what might or +might not occur after this, and without further comment, led the way +upstairs. + + +II + +On the upper landing at the top of the stairs Briot paused. He pointed +to a door at the end of the narrow corridor, and said curtly: + +"That's his room." + +"I thank you, petit père," whispered St. Genis in response. "Don't wait +for me, I'll be back directly." + +"He is not yet in bed," was Briot's dry comment. + +A thin streak of light showed underneath the door. As St. Genis walked +rapidly toward it he wondered if the door would be locked. That +certainly was a contingency which had not occurred to him. His design +was to surprise a wounded and helpless thief in his sleep and to force +him then and there to give up the stolen money, before he had time to +call for help. + +But the miscreant was evidently on the watch, Briot still lingered on +the top of the stairs, there were other people sleeping in the house, +and St. Genis suddenly realised that his purpose would not be quite so +easy of execution as he had hot-headedly supposed. + +But the end in view was great, and St. Genis was not a man easily +deterred from a set purpose. There was the royalist cause to aid and +Crystal to be won if he were successful. + +He knocked resolutely at the door, then tried the latch. The door was +locked: but even as the young man hesitated for a moment wondering what +he would do next, a firm step resounded on the floor on the other side +of the partition and the next moment the door was opened from within, +and a peremptory voice issued the usual challenge: + +"Who goes there?" + +A tall figure appeared as a massive silhouette under the lintel. St. +Genis had the candle in his hand. He dropped it in his astonishment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde!" he exclaimed. + +At sight of St. Genis the Englishman, whose right arm was in a sling, +had made a quick instinctive movement back into the room, but equally +quickly Maurice had forestalled him by placing his foot across the +threshold. + +Then he turned back to Aristide Briot. + +"That's all right, petit père," he called out airily, "it is indeed my +friend, just as I thought. I'm going to stay and have a little chat with +him. Don't wait up for me. When he is tired of my company I'll go back +to the parlour and make myself happy in front of the fire. Good-night!" + +As Clyffurde no longer stood in the doorway, St. Genis walked straight +into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving good old Aristide +to draw what conclusions he chose from the eccentric behaviour of his +nocturnal visitors. + +With a rapid and wrathful gaze, St. Genis at once took stock of +everything in the room. A sigh of satisfaction rose to his lips. At any +rate the rogue could not deny his guilt. There, hanging on a peg, was +the caped coat which he had worn, and there on the table were two +damning proofs of his villainy--a pair of pistols and a black mask. + +The whole situation puzzled him more than he could say. Certainly after +the first shock of surprise he had felt his wrath growing hotter and +hotter every moment, the other man's cool assurance helped further to +irritate his nerves, and to make him lose that self-control which would +have been of priceless value in this unlooked-for situation. + +Seeing that Maurice de St. Genis was absolutely speechless with surprise +as well as with anger, there crept into Clyffurde's deep-set grey eyes a +strange look of amusement, as if the humour of his present position was +more obvious than its shame. + +"And what," he asked pleasantly, "has procured me the honour at this +late hour of a visit from M. le Marquis de St. Genis?" + +His words broke the spell. There was no longer any mystery in the +situation. The condemnatory pieces of evidence were there, Clyffurde's +connection with de Marmont was well known--the plot had become obvious. +Here was an English adventurer--an alien spy--who had obviously been +paid to do this dirty work for the usurper, and--as Maurice now +concluded airily--he must be made to give up the money which he had +stolen before he be handed over to the military authorities at Lyons and +shot as a spy or a thief--Maurice didn't care which: the whole thing was +turning out far simpler and easier than he had dared to hope. + +"You know quite well why I am here," he now said, roughly. "Of a truth, +for the moment I was taken by surprise, for I had not thought that a man +who had been honoured by the friendship of M. le Comte de Cambray and of +his family was a thief, as well as a spy." + +"And now," said Clyffurde, still smiling and apparently quite +unperturbed, "that you have been enlightened on this subject to your own +satisfaction, may I ask what you intend to do?" + +"Force you to give up what you have stolen, you impudent thief," +retorted the other savagely. + +"And how are you proposing to do that, M. de St. Genis?" asked the +Englishman with perfect equanimity. + +"Like this," cried Maurice, whose exasperation and fury had increased +every moment, as the other man's assurance waxed more insolent and more +cool. + +"Like this!" he cried again, as he sprang at his enemy's throat. + +A past master in the art of self-defence, Clyffurde--despite his wounded +arm--was ready for the attack. With his left on guard he not only +received the brunt of the onslaught, but parried it most effectually +with a quick blow against his assailant's jaw. + +St. Genis--stunned by this forcible contact with a set of exceedingly +hard knuckles--fell back a step or two, his foot struck against some +object on the floor, he lost his balance and measured his length +backwards across the bed. + +"You abominable thief . . . you . . ." he cried, choking with rage and +with discomfiture as he tried to struggle to his feet. + +But this he at once found that he could not do, seeing that a pair of +firm and muscular knees were gripping and imprisoning his legs, even +while that same all-powerful left hand with the hard knuckles had an +unpleasant hold on his throat. + +"I should have tried some other method, M. de St. Genis, had I been in +your shoes," came in irritatingly sarcastic accents from his calm +antagonist. + +Indeed, the insolent rogue did not appear in the least overwhelmed by +the enormity of his crime or by the disgrace of being so ignominiously +found out. From his precarious position across the bed St. Genis had a +good view of the rascal's finely knit figure, of his earnest face, now +softened by a smile full of kindly humour and good-natured contempt. + +An impartial observer viewing the situation would certainly have thought +that here was an impudent villain vanquished and lying on his back, +whilst being admonished for his crimes by a just man who had might as +well as right on his side. + +"Let me go, you confounded thief," St. Genis cried, as soon as the +unpleasant grip on his throat had momentarily relaxed, "you accursed spy +. . . you . . ." + +"Easy, easy, my young friend," said the other calmly; "you have called +me a thief quite often enough to satisfy your rage: and further epithets +might upset my temper." + +"Let go my throat!" + +"I will in a moment or two, as soon as I have made up my mind what I am +going to do with you, my impetuous young friend--whether I shall truss +you like a fowl and put you in charge of our worthy host, as guilty of +assaulting one of his guests, or whether I shall do you some trifling +injury to punish you for trying to do me a grave one." + +"Right is on my side," said St. Genis doggedly. "I do not care what you +do to me." + +"Right is apparently on your side, my friend. I'll not deny it. +Therefore, I still hesitate." + +"Like a rogue and a vagabond at dead of night you attacked and robbed +those who have never shown you anything but kindness." + +"Until the hour when they turned me out of their house like a dishonest +lacquey, without allowing me a word of explanation." + +"Then this is your idea of vengeance, is it, Mr. Clyffurde?" + +"Yes, M. de St. Genis, it is. But not quite in the manner that you +suppose. I am going to set you free now in order to set your mind at +rest. But let me warn you that I shall be just as much on the alert +against another attack from you as ever I was before, and that I could +ward off two or even three assailants with my left arm and knee as +easily as I warded off one. It is a way we have in England." + +He relaxed his hold on Maurice's legs and throat, and the young +man--fretting and fuming, wild with impotent wrath and with +mortification--struggled to his feet. + +"Are you proposing to give me some explanation to mitigate your crime?" +he said roughly. "If so, let me tell you that I will accept none. +Putting the question aside of your abominable theft, you have committed +an outrage against people whom I honour, and against the woman whom I +love." + +"Nor do I propose to give you any explanation, M. de St. Genis," +retorted Clyffurde, who still spoke quite quietly and evenly. "But for +the sake of your own peace of mind, which you will I hope communicate to +the people whom you honour, I will tell you a few simple facts." + +Neither of the men sat down: they stood facing one another now across +the table whereon stood a couple of tallow candles which threw fitful, +yellow lights on their faces--so different, so strangely +contrasted--young and well-looking both--both strongly moved by passion, +yet one entirely self-controlled, while in the other's eyes that passion +glowed fierce and resentful. + +"I listen," said St. Genis curtly. + +And Clyffurde began after a slight pause: "At the time that you fell +upon me with such ill-considered vigour, M. de St. Genis," he said, "did +you know that but for my abominable outrage upon the persons whom you +honour, the money which they would gladly have guarded with their life +would have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte's agents?" + +"In theirs or yours, what matters?" retorted St. Genis savagely, "since +His Majesty is deprived of it now." + +"That is where you are mistaken, my young friend," said the other +quietly. "His Majesty is more sure of getting the money now than he was +when M. le Comte de Cambray with his family and yourself started on that +quixotic if ill-considered errand this morning." + +St. Genis frowned in puzzlement: + +"I don't understand you," he said curtly. + +"Isn't it simple enough? You and your friends credited me with +friendship for de Marmont: he is hot-headed and impetuous, and words +rush out of his mouth that he should keep to himself. I knew from +himself that Bonaparte had charged him to recover the twenty-five +millions which M. le préfet Fourier had placed in the Comte de Cambray's +charge." + +"Why did you not warn the Comte then?" queried St. Genis, who, still +mistrustful, glowered at his antagonist. + +"Would he have listened to me, think you?" asked the other with a quiet +smile. "Remember, he had turned me out of his house two nights before, +without a word of courtesy or regret--on the mere suspicion of my +intercourse with de Marmont. Were you too full with your own rage to +notice what happened then? Mlle. Crystal drew away her skirts from me as +if I were a leper. What credence would they have given my words? Would +the Comte even have admitted me into his presence?" + +"And so . . . you planned this robbery . . . you . . ." stammered St. +Genis, whose astonishment and puzzlement were rendering him as +speechless as his rage had done. "I'll not believe it," he continued +more firmly; "you are fooling me, now that I have found you out." + +"Why should I do that? You are in my hands, and not I in yours. +Bonaparte is victorious at Grenoble. I could take the money to him and +earn his gratitude, or use the money for mine own ends. What have I to +fear from you? What cause to fool you? Your opinion of me? M. le Comte's +contempt or goodwill? Bah! after to-night are we likely to meet again?" + +St. Genis said nothing in reply. Of a truth there was nothing that he +could say. The Englishman's whole attitude bore the impress of truth. +Even through that still seething wrath which refused to be appeased, St. +Genis felt that the other was speaking the truth. His mind now was in +turmoil of wonderment. This man who stood here before him had done +something which he--St. Genis--could not comprehend. Vaguely he realised +that beneath the man's actions there still lay a yet deeper foundation +of dignity and of heroism and one which perhaps would never be wholly +fathomed. + +It was Clyffurde who at last broke the silence between them: + +"You, M. de St. Genis," he said lightly, "would under like circumstances +have acted just as I did, I am sure. The whole idea was so easy of +execution. Half a dozen loafers to aid me, the part of highwayman to +play--an old man and two or three defenceless women--my part was not +heroic, I admit," he added with a smile, "but it has served its purpose. +The money is safe in my keeping now, within a few days His Majesty the +King of France shall have it, and all those who strive to serve him +loyally can rest satisfied." + +"I confess I don't understand you," said St. Genis, as he seemed to +shake himself free from some unexplainable spell that held him. "You +have rendered us and the legitimate cause of France a signal service! +Why did you do it?" + +"You forget, M. de St. Genis, that the legitimate cause of France is +England's cause as well." + +"Are you a servant of your country then? I thought you were a tradesman +engaged in buying gloves." + +Clyffurde smiled. "So I am," he said, "but even a tradesman may serve +his country, if he has the opportunity." + +"I hope that your country will be duly grateful," said Maurice, with a +sigh. "I know that every royalist in France would thank you if they +knew." + +"By your leave, M. de St. Genis, no one in France need know anything but +what you choose to tell them. . . ." + +"You mean . . ." + +"That except for reassuring M. le Comte de Cambray and . . . and Mlle. +Crystal, there is no reason why they should ever know what passed +between us in this room to-night." + +"But if the King is to have the money, he . . ." + +"He will never know from me, from whence it comes." + +"He will wish to know. . . ." + +"Come, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde, with a slight hint of +impatience, "is it for me to tell you that Great Britain has more than +one agent in France these days--that the money will reach His Majesty +the King ultimately through the hands of his foreign minister M. le +Comte de Jaucourt . . . and that my name will never appear in connection +with the matter? . . . I am a mere servant of Great Britain--doing my +duty where I can . . . nothing more." + +"You mean that you are in the British Secret Service? No?--Well! I don't +profess to understand you English people, and you seem to me more +incomprehensible than any I have known. Not that I ever believed that +you were a mere tradesman. But what shall I say to M. le Comte de +Cambray?" he added, after a slight pause, during which a new and strange +train of thought altered the expression of wonderment on his face, to +one that was undefinable, almost furtive, certainly undecided. + +"All you need say to M. le Comte," replied Clyffurde, with a slight tone +of impatience, "is that you are personally satisfied that the money will +reach His Majesty's hand safely, and in due course. At least, I presume +that you are satisfied, M. de St. Genis," he continued, vaguely +wondering what was going on in the young Frenchman's brain. + +"Yes, yes, of course I am satisfied," murmured the other, "but . . ." + +"But what?" + +"Mlle. Crystal would want to know something more than that. She will ask +me questions . . . she . . . she will insist . . . I had promised her to +get the money back myself . . . she will expect an explanation . . . +she . . ." + +He continued to murmur these short, jerky sentences almost inaudibly, +avoiding the while to meet the enquiring and puzzled gaze of the +Englishman. + +When he paused--still murmuring, but quite inaudibly now--Clyffurde made +no comment, and once more there fell a silence over the narrow room. The +candles flickered feebly, and Bobby picked up the metal snuffers from +the table and with a steady and deliberate hand set to work to trim the +wicks. + +So absorbed did he seem in this occupation that he took no notice of St. +Genis, who with arms crossed in front of him, was pacing up and down the +narrow room, a heavy frown between his deep-set eyes. + + +III + +Somewhere in the house down below, an old-fashioned clock had just +struck two. Clyffurde looked up from his absorbing task. + +"It is late," he remarked casually; "shall we say good-night, M. de St. +Genis?" + +The sound of the Englishman's voice seemed to startle Maurice out of his +reverie. He pulled himself together, walked firmly up to the table and +resting his hand upon it, he faced the other man with a sudden gaze made +up partly of suddenly conceived resolve and partly of lingering +shamefacedness. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," he began abruptly. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you any cause to hate me?" + +"Why no," replied Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile. "Why +should I have?" + +"Have you any cause to hate Mlle. Crystal de Cambray?" + +"Certainly not." + +"You have no desire," insisted Maurice, "to be revenged on her for the +slight which she put upon you the other night?" + +His voice had grown more steady and his look more determined as he put +these rapid questions to Clyffurde, whose expressive face showed no sign +of any feeling in response save that of complete and indifferent +puzzlement. + +"I have no desire with regard to Mlle. de Cambray," replied Bobby +quietly, "save that of serving her, if it be in my power." + +"You can serve her, Sir," retorted Maurice firmly, "and that right +nobly. You can render the whole of her future life happy beyond what she +herself has ever dared to hope." + +"How?" + +Maurice paused: once more, with a gesture habitual to him, he crossed +his arms over his chest and resumed his restless march up and down the +narrow room. + +Then again he stood still, and again faced the Englishman, his dark +enquiring eyes seeming to probe the latter's deepest thoughts. + +"Did you know, Mr. Clyffurde," he asked slowly, "that Mlle. Crystal de +Cambray honours me with her love?" + +"Yes. I knew that," replied the other quietly. + +"And I love her with my heart and soul," continued Maurice impetuously. +"Oh! I cannot tell you what we have suffered--she and I--when the +exigencies of her position and the will of her father parted +us--seemingly for ever. Her heart was broken and so was mine: and I +endured the tortures of hell when I realised at last that she was lost +to me for ever and that her exquisite person--her beautiful soul--were +destined for the delight of that low-born traitor Victor de Marmont." + +He drew breath, for he had half exhausted himself with the volubility +and vehemence of his diction. Also he seemed to be waiting for some +encouragement from Clyffurde, who, however, gave him none, but sat +unmoved and apparently supremely indifferent, while a suffering heart +was pouring out its wails of agony into his unresponsive ear. + +"The reason," resumed St. Genis somewhat more calmly, "why M. le Comte +de Cambray was opposed to our union, was purely a financial one. Our +families are of equal distinction and antiquity, but alas! our fortunes +are also of equal precariousness: we, Sir, of the old noblesse gave up +our all, in order to follow our King into exile. Victor de Marmont was +rich. His fortune could have repurchased the ancient Cambray estates and +restored to that honoured name all the brilliance which it had +sacrificed for its principles." + +Still Clyffurde remained irritatingly silent, and St. Genis asked him +somewhat tartly: + +"I trust I am making myself clear, Sir?" + +"Perfectly, so far," replied the other quietly, "but I am afraid I don't +quite see how you propose that I could serve Mlle. Crystal in all this." + +"You can with one word, one generous action, Sir, put me in a position +to claim Crystal as my wife, and give her that happiness which she +craves for, and which is rightly her due." + +A slight lifting of the eyebrows was Clyffurde's only comment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," now said Maurice, with the obvious firm resolve to end +his own hesitancy at last, "you say yourself that by taking this money +to His Majesty, or rather to his minister, you, individually, will get +neither glory nor even gratitude--your name will not appear in the +transaction at all. I am quoting your own words, remember. That is so, +is it not?" + +"It is so--certainly." + +"But, Sir, if a Frenchman--a royalist--were able to render his King so +signal a service, he would not only gain gratitude, but recognition and +glory. . . . A man who was poor and obscure would at once become rich +and distinguished. . . ." + +"And in a position to marry the woman he loved," concluded Bobby, +smiling. + +Then as Maurice said nothing, but continued to regard him with glowing, +anxious eyes, he added, smiling not altogether kindly this time, + +"I think I understand, M. de St. Genis." + +"And . . . what do you say?" queried the other excitedly. + +"Let me make the situation clear first, as I understand it, Monsieur," +continued Bobby drily. "You are--and I mistake not--suggesting at the +present moment that I should hand over the twenty-five millions to you, +in order that you should take them yourself to the King in Paris, and by +this act obtain not only favours from him, but probably a goodly share +of the money, which you--presumably--will have forced some unknown +highwayman to give up to you. Is that it?" + +"It was not money for myself I thought of, Sir," murmured St. Genis +somewhat shamefacedly. + +"No, no, of course not," rejoined Clyffurde with a tone of sarcasm quite +foreign to his usual easy-going good-nature. "You were thinking of the +King's favours, and of a future of distinction and glory." + +"I was thinking chiefly of Crystal, Sir," said the other haughtily. + +"Quite so. You were thinking of winning Mlle. Crystal by a . . . a +subterfuge." + +"An innocent one, Sir, you will admit. I should not be robbing you in +any way. And remember that it is only Crystal's hand that is denied me: +her love I have already won." + +A look of pain--quickly suppressed and easily hidden from the other's +self-absorbed gaze--crossed the Englishman's earnest face. + +"I do remember that, Monsieur," he said, "else I certainly would never +lend a hand in the . . . subterfuge." + +"You will do it then?" queried the other eagerly. + +"I have not said so." + +"Ah! but you will," pleaded Maurice hotly. "Sir! the eternal gratitude +of two faithful hearts would be yours always--for Crystal will know it +all, once we are married, I promise you that she will. And in the midst +of her happiness she will find time to bless your generosity and your +selflessness . . . whilst I . . ." + +"Enough, I beg of you, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde now, with +angry impatience. "Believe me! I do not hug myself with any thought of +my own virtues, nor do I desire any gratitude from you: if I hand over +the money to you, it is sorely against my better judgment and distinctly +against my duty: but since that duty chiefly lies in being assured that +the King of France will receive the money safely, why then by handing it +over to you I have that assurance, and my conscience will rest at +comparative ease. You shall have the money, Sir, and you shall marry +Mlle. Crystal on the strength of the King's gratitude towards you. And +Mlle. Crystal will be happy--if you keep silence over this transaction. +But for God's sake let's say no more about it: for of a truth you and I +are playing but a sorry rôle this night." + +"A sorry rôle?" protested the other. + +"Yes, a sorry rôle. Are you not deceiving a woman? Am I not running +counter to my duty?" + +"I but deceive Crystal temporarily. I love her and only deceive in order +to win her. The end justifies the means: Nor do you, in my opinion, run +counter to your duty. . . ." + +But Clyffurde interrupted him roughly: "I pray you, Sir, make no comment +on mine actions. My own silent comments on these are hard enough to +bear: your eulogies would raise bounds to my patience." + +Whereupon he walked quickly up to the bed and from under the mattress +extricated five leather wallets which he threw one by one upon the +table. + +"Here is the King's money," he said curtly; "you could never have taken +it from me by force, but I give it over to you willingly now. If within +a week from now I hear that the King has not received it, I will +proclaim you a liar and a thief." + +"Sir . . . you dare . . ." + +"Nay! we'll not quarrel. I don't want to do you any hurt. You know from +experience that I could kill you or wring your neck as easily as you +could kill a child; but Mlle. Crystal's love is like a protecting shield +all round you, so I'll not touch you again. But don't ask me to measure +my words, for that is beyond my power. Take the money, M. de St. Genis, +and earn not only the King's gratitude but also Mlle. Crystal's, which +is far better worth having. And now, I pray you, leave me to rest. You +must be tired too. And our mutual company hath become irksome to us +both." + +He turned his back on St. Genis and sat down at the table, drawing +paper, pen and inkhorn toward him, and with clumsy, left hand began +laboriously to form written characters, as if St. Genis' presence or +departure no longer concerned him. + +An importunate beggar could not have been more humiliatingly dismissed. +St. Genis had flushed to the very roots of his hair. He would have given +much to be able to chastise the insolent Englishman then and there. But +the latter had not boasted when he said that he could wring Maurice's +neck as easily with his left hand as with his right, and Maurice within +his heart was bound to own that the boast was no idle one. He knew that +in a hand-to-hand fight he was no match for that heavy-framed, +hard-fisted product of a fog-ridden land. + +He would not trust himself to speak any more, lest another word cause +prudence to yield to exasperation. Another moment of hesitation, a shrug +of the shoulders--perhaps a muttered curse or two--and St. Genis picked +up one by one the wallets from the table. + +Clyffurde never looked up while he did so: he continued to form awkward, +illegible characters upon the paper before him, as if his very life +depended on being able to write with his left hand. + +The next moment St. Genis had walked rapidly out of the room. Bobby left +off writing, threw down his pen, and resting his elbow upon the table +and his head in his hand, he remained silent and motionless while St. +Genis' quick and firm footsteps echoed first along the corridor, then +down the creaking stairs and finally on the floor below. After which +there came the sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the dragging +of a chair across a wooden floor, and nothing more. + +All was still in the house at last. The old-fashioned clock downstairs +struck half-past two. + +With a smothered cry of angry contempt Clyffurde seized on the papers +that lay scattered on the table and crushed them up in his hand with a +gesture of passionate wrath. + +Then he strode up to the window, threw open the rickety casement and let +the pure cold air of night pour into the room and dissipate the +atmosphere of cowardice, of falsehood and of unworthy love that still +seemed to hang there where M. le Marquis de St. Genis had basely +bargained for his own ends, and outraged the very name of Love by +planning base deeds in its name. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CRIME + + +I + +Victor de Marmont had spent that same night in wearisome agitation. His +mortification and disappointment would not allow him to rest. + +He had brought his squad of cavalry up as far as St. Priest, which lies +a little off the main road, about half-way between Lyons and the scene +of de Marmont's late discomfiture. Here he and his men had spent the +night, only to make a fresh start early the next morning--back for +Grenoble--seeing that M. le Comte d'Artois with thirty or forty thousand +troops was even now at Lyons. + +When, an hour after leaving St. Priest, the little troop came upon a +solitary horseman, riding a heavy carriage horse with a postillion's +bridle, de Marmont at first had no other thought save that of malicious +pleasure at recognising the man, whom just now he hated more cordially +than any other man in the world. + +M. de St. Genis--for indeed it was he--was peremptorily challenged and +questioned, and his wrath and impotent attempts at arrogance greatly +delighted de Marmont. + +To make oneself actively unpleasant to a rival is apt to be a very +pleasurable sensation. Victor had an exceedingly disagreeable half-hour +to avenge and to declare St. Genis a prisoner of war, to order his +removal to Grenoble pending the Emperor's pleasure, to command him to +be silent when he desired to speak was so much soothing balsam spread +upon the wounds which his own pride had suffered at Brestalou last +Sunday eve. + +It was not until a casual remark from the sergeant under his command +caused him to notice the bulging pockets of St. Genis' coat, that Victor +thought to give the order to search the prisoner. + +The latter entered a vigorous protest: he fought and he threatened: he +promised de Marmont the hangman's rope and his men terrible reprisals, +but of course he was fighting a losing battle. He was alone against five +and twenty, his first attempt at getting hold of the pistols in his belt +was met with a threat of summary execution: he was dragged out of the +saddle, his arms were forced behind his back, while rough hands turned +out the precious contents of his coat-pockets! All that he could do was +to curse fate which had brought these pirates on his way, and his own +short-sightedness and impatience in not waiting for the armed patrol +which undoubtedly would have been sent out to him from Lyons in response +to M. le Comte de Cambray's request. + +Now he had the deadly chagrin and bitter disappointment of seeing the +money which he had wrested from Clyffurde last night at the price of so +much humiliation, transferred to the pockets of a real thief and +spoliator who would either keep it for himself or--what in the +enthusiastic royalist's eyes would be even worse--place it at the +service of the Corsican usurper. He could hardly believe in the reality +of his ill luck, so appalling was it. In one moment he saw all the hopes +of which he had dreamed last night fly beyond recall. He had lost +Crystal more effectually, more completely than he ever had done before. +If the Englishman ever spoke of what had occurred last night . . . if +Crystal ever knew that he had been fool enough to lose the treasure +which had been in his possession for a few hours--her contempt would +crush the love which she had for him: nor would the Comte de Cambray +ever relent. + +De Marmont's triumph too was hard to bear: his clumsy irony was terribly +galling. + +"Would M. le Marquis de St. Genis care to continue his journey to Lyons +now? would he prefer not to go to Grenoble?" + +St. Genis bit his tongue with the determination to remain silent. + +"M. de St. Genis is free to go whither he chooses." + +The permission was not even welcome. Maurice would as lief be taken +prisoner and dragged back to Grenoble as face Crystal with the story of +his failure. + +Quite mechanically he remounted, and pulled his horse to one side while +de Marmont ordered his little squad to form once more, and after the +brief word of command and a final sarcastic farewell, galloped off up +the road back toward Lyons at the head of his men, not waiting to see if +St. Genis came his way too or not. + +The latter with wearied, aching eyes gazed after the fast disappearing +troop, until they became a mere speck on the long, straight road, and +the distant morning mist finally swallowed them up. + +Then he too turned his horse's head in the same direction back toward +Lyons once more, and allowing the reins to hang loosely in his hand, and +letting his horse pick its own slow way along the road, he gave himself +over to the gloominess of his own thoughts. + + +II + +He too had some difficulty in entering the town. M. le Duc d'Orléans, +cousin of the King, had just arrived to support M. le Comte d'Artois, +and together these two royal princes had framed and posted up a +proclamation to the brave Lyonese of the National Guard. + +The whole city was in a turmoil, for M. le Duc d'Orléans--who was +nothing if not practical--had at once declared that there was not the +slightest chance of a successful defence of Lyons, and that by far the +best thing to do would be to withdraw the troops while they were still +loyal. + +M. le Comte d'Artois protested; at any rate he wouldn't do anything so +drastic till after the arrival of Marshal Macdonald, to whom he had sent +an urgent courier the day before, enjoining him to come to Lyons without +delay. In the meanwhile he and his royal cousin did all they could to +kindle or at any rate to keep up the loyalty of the troops, but +defection was already in the air: here and there the men had been seen +to throw their white cockades into the mud, and more than one cry of +"Vive l'Empereur!" had risen even while Monsieur himself was reviewing +the National Guard on the Place Bellecour. + +The bridge of La Guillotière was stoutly barricaded, but as St. Genis +waited out in the open road while his name was being taken to the +officer in command he saw crowds of people standing or walking up and +down on the opposite bank of the river. + +They were waiting for the Emperor, the news of whose approach was +filling the townspeople with glee. + +Heartsick and wretched, St. Genis, after several hours of weary waiting, +did ultimately obtain permission to enter the city by the ferry on the +south side of the city. Once inside Lyons, he had no difficulty in +ascertaining where such a distinguished gentleman as M. le Comte de +Cambray had put up for the night, and he promptly made his way to the +Hotel Bourbon, his mind, at this stage, still a complete blank as to how +he would explain his discomfiture to the Comte and to Crystal. + +In the present state of M. le Comte d'Artois' difficulties the money +would have been thrice welcome, and St. Genis felt the load of failure +weighing thrice as heavily on his soul, and dreaded the +reproaches--mute or outspoken--which he knew awaited him. If only he +could have thought of something! something plausible and not too +inglorious! There was, of course, the possibility that he had failed to +come upon the track of the thieves at all--but then he had no business +to come back so soon--and he didn't want to come back, only that there +was always the likelihood of the Englishman speaking of what had +occurred--not necessarily with evil intent . . . but . . . some words of +his: "If within a week I hear that the King of France has not received +this money, I will proclaim you a liar and a thief!" rang unpleasantly +in St. Genis' ears. + +The young man's mind, I repeat, was at this point still a blank as to +what explanation he would give to the Comte de Cambray of his own +miserable failure. + +He was returning--after an ardent promise to overtake the thief and to +force him to give up the money--without apparently having made any +effort in that direction--or having made the effort, failing signally +and ignominiously--a foolish and unheroic position in either case. + +To tell the whole unvarnished truth, his interview with Clyffurde and +his thoughtlessness in wandering along the road all alone, laden with +twenty-five million francs, not waiting for the arrival of M. le Comte +d'Artois' patrol, was unthinkable. + +Then what? St. Genis, determined not to tell the truth, found it a +difficult task to concoct a story that would be plausible and at the +same time redound to his credit. His disappointment was so bitter now, +his hopes of winning Crystal and glory had been so bright, that he found +it quite impossible to go back to the hard facts of life--to his own +poverty and the unattainableness of Crystal de Cambray--without making a +great effort to win back what Victor de Marmont had just wrested from +him. + +Through the whirl of his thoughts, too, there was a vague sense of +resentment against Clyffurde--coupled with an equally vague sense of +fear. He, Maurice, might easily keep silent over the transaction of last +night, but Clyffurde might not feel inclined to do so. He would want to +know sooner or later what had become of the money . . . had he not +uttered a threat which made Maurice's cheeks even now flush with wrath +and shame? + +Certain words and gestures of the Englishman had stood out before +Maurice's mind in a way that had stirred up those latent jealousies +which always lurk in the heart of an unsuccessful wooer. Clyffurde had +been generous--blind to his own interests--ready to sacrifice what +recognition he had earned: he had spared his assailant and agreed to an +unworthy subterfuge, and St. Genis' tormented brain began to wonder why +he had done all this. + +Was it for love of Crystal de Cambray? + +St. Genis would not allow himself to answer that question, for he felt +that if he did he would hate that hard-fisted Englishman more thoroughly +than he had ever hated any man before--not excepting de Marmont. De +Marmont was an evil and vile traitor who never could cross Crystal's +path of life again. . . . But not so the Englishman, who had planned to +serve her and who would have succeeded so magnificently but for +his--Maurice's--interference! + +If this explanation of Clyffurde's strangely magnanimous conduct was the +true one, then indeed St. Genis felt that he would have everything to +fear from him. For indeed was it so very unlikely that the Englishman +was throughout acting in collusion with Victor de Marmont, who was known +to be his friend? + +Was it so very unlikely that--seeing himself unmasked--he had found a +sure and rapid way of allowing the money to pass through St. Genis' +hands into those of de Marmont, and at the same time hopelessly +humiliating and discrediting his rival in the affections of Mlle. de +Cambray? + +That the suggestion of handing the money over to him had come originally +from Maurice de St. Genis himself, the young man did not trouble himself +to remember. The more he thought this new explanation of past events +over, the more plausible did it seem and the more likely of acceptance +by M. le Comte de Cambray and by Crystal, and St. Genis at last saw his +way to appearing before them not only zealous but heroic--even if +unfortunate--and it was with a much lightened heart that he finally drew +rein outside the Hotel Bourbon. + + +III + +M. le Comte de Cambray, it seems, was staying at the Hotel for a few +days, so the proprietor informed M. de St. Genis. M. le Comte had gone +out, but Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen was upstairs with Mlle. de Cambray. + +With somewhat uncertain step St. Genis followed the obsequious +proprietor, who had insisted on conducting M. le Marquis to the ladies' +apartments himself. They occupied a suite of rooms on the first floor, +and after a timid knock at the door, it was opened by Jeanne from +within, and Maurice found himself in the presence of Crystal and of the +Duchesse and obliged at once to enter upon the explanation which, with +their first cry of surprise, they already asked of him. + +"Well!" exclaimed Crystal eagerly, "what news?" + +"Of the money?" murmured Maurice vaguely, who above all things was +anxious to gain time. + +"Yes! the King's money!" rejoined the girl with slight impatience. "Have +you tracked the thieves? Do you know where they are? Is there any hope +of catching them?" + +"None, I am afraid," he replied firmly. + +Crystal gave a cry of bitter disappointment and reproach. "Then, +Maurice," she exclaimed almost involuntarily, "why are you here?" + +And Mme. la Duchesse, folding her mittened hands before her, seemed +mutely to be asking the same question. + +"But did you come upon the thieves at all?" continued Crystal with eager +volubility. "Where did they go to for the night? You must have come on +some traces of their passage. Oh!" she added vehemently, "you ought not +to have deserted your post like this!" + +"What could I do," he murmured. "I was all alone . . . against so many. +. . ." + +"You said that you would get on the track of the thieves," she urged, +"and father told you that he would speak with M. le Comte d'Artois as +soon as possible. Monsieur has promised that an armed patrol would be +sent out to you, and would be on the lookout for you on the road." + +"An armed patrol would be no use. I came back on purpose to stop one +being sent." + +"But why, in Heaven's name?" exclaimed the Duchesse. + +"Because a troop of deserters with that traitor Victor de Marmont is +scouring the road, and . . ." + +"We know that," said Crystal, "we were stopped by them last night, after +you left us. They were after the money for the usurper, who had sent +them, and I thanked God that twenty-five millions had enriched a common +thief rather than the Corsican brigand." + +"Surely, Maurice," said the Duchesse with her usual tartness, "you were +not fool enough to allow the King's money to fall into that abominable +de Marmont's hands?" + +"How could I help it?" now exclaimed the young man, as if driven to the +extremity of despair. "The whole thing was a huge plot beyond one man's +power to cope with. I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence +as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the +beaten track--at dead of night--a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I +tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to +me." + +"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then +. . ." + +"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling +himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees, +and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my +pockets at last." + +"You forced him--how splendid!" reiterated Crystal, whose glowing eyes +were fixed upon Maurice with all the admiration which she felt. + +"Yes! that money was in my pocket for the rest of the happy night, but +the abominable thief knew well that his friend Victor de Marmont was on +the road with five and twenty armed deserters in the pay of the Corsican +brigand. Hardly had I left the hostelry and found my way back to the +main road when I was surrounded, assailed, searched and robbed. I +repeat!" continued St. Genis, warming to his own narrative, "what could +I do alone against so many?--the thief and his hirelings I managed +successfully, but with the money once in my possession I could not risk +staying an hour longer than I could help in that den of cutthroats. But +they were in league with de Marmont, and, though I would have guarded +the King's money with my life, it was filched from me ere I could draw a +single weapon in its defence." + +He had sunk in a chair, half exhausted with the effort of his own +eloquence, and now, with elbows resting on his knees and head buried in +his hands, he looked the picture of heroic misery. + +Crystal said nothing for a while; there was a deep frown of puzzlement +between her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said resolutely at last, "you said just now that the +thief was in collusion with his friend de Marmont. What did you mean by +that?" + +"I would rather that you guessed what I meant, Crystal," replied Maurice +without looking up at her. + +"You mean . . . that . . ." she began slowly. + +"That it was Mr. Clyffurde, our English friend," broke in Madame tartly, +"who robbed us on the broad highway. I suspected it all along." + +"You suspected it, _ma tante_, and said nothing?" asked the girl, who +obviously had not taken in the full significance of Maurice's statement. + +"I said absolutely nothing," replied Madame decisively, "firstly, +because I did not think that I would be doing any good by putting my own +surmises into my brother's head, and, secondly, because I must confess +that I thought that nice young Englishman had acted pour le bon motif." + +"How could you think that, _ma tante_?" ejaculated Crystal hotly: "a +good motive? to rob us at dead of night--he, a friend of Victor de +Marmont--an adherent of the Corsican! . . ." + +"Englishmen are not adherents of the Corsican, my dear," retorted Madame +drily, "and until Maurice's appearance this morning, I was satisfied +that the money would ultimately reach His Majesty's own hands." + +"But we were taking the money to His Majesty ourselves." + +"And Victor de Marmont was after it. Mr. Clyffurde may have known that. +. . . Remember, my dear," continued Madame, "that these were my +impressions last night. Maurice's account of the den of cutthroats has +modified these entirely." + +Again Crystal was silent. The frown had darkened on her face: there was +a line of bitter resentment round her lips--a look of contempt, of hate, +of a desire to hurt, in her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said abruptly at last. + +"Yes?" + +"I did wound that thief, did I not?" + +"Yes. In the shoulder . . . it gave me a slight advantage . . ." he said +with affected modesty. + +"I am glad. And you . . . you were able to punish him too, I hope." + +"Yes. I punished him." + +He was watching her very closely, for inwardly he had been wondering how +she had taken his news. She was strangely agitated, so Maurice's +troubled, jealous heart told him; her face was flushed, her eyes were +wet and a tiny lace handkerchief which she twisted between her fingers +was nothing but a damp rag. + +"Oh! I hate him! I hate him!" she murmured as with an impatient gesture +she brushed the gathering tears from her eyes. "Father had been so kind +to him--so were we all. How could he? how could he?" + +"His duty, I suppose," said St. Genis magnanimously. + +"His duty?" she retorted scornfully. + +"To the cause which he served." + +"Duty to a usurper, a brigand, the enemy of his country. Was he, then, +paid to serve the Corsican?" + +"Probably." + +"His being in trade--buying gloves at Grenoble--was all a plant then?" + +"I am afraid so," said St. Genis, who much against his will now was +sinking ever deeper and deeper in the quagmire of lying and cowardice +into which he had allowed himself to drift. + +"And he was nothing better than a spy!" + +No one, not even Crystal herself, could have defined with what feelings +she said this. Was it solely contempt? or did a strange mixture of +regret and sorrow mingle with the scorn which she felt? Swiftly her +thoughts had flown back to that Sunday evening--a very few days +ago--when the course of her destiny was so suddenly changed once more, +when her marriage with a man whom she could never love was broken off, +when the possibilities once more rose upon the horizon of her life, of a +renewed existence of poverty and exile in the wake of a dispossessed +king. + +That same evening a man whom she had hardly noticed before--a man +neither of her own nationality nor of her own caste--this same +Englishman, Clyffurde, had entered into her life--not violently or +aggressively, but just with a few words of intense sympathy and with a +genuine offer of friendship; and she somehow, despite much kindness +which encompassed her always, had felt cheered and warmed by his words, +and a strange and sweet sense of security against hurt and sorrow had +entered her heart as she listened to them. + +And now she knew that all that was false--false his sympathy, false his +offers of friendship--his words were false, his hand-grasp false. +Treachery lurked behind that kindly look in his eyes, and falsehood +beneath his smile. + +"He was nothing better than a spy!" The sting of that thought hurt her +more than she could have thought possible. She had so few real friends +and this one had proved a sham. Had she been alone she would have given +way to tears, but before Maurice or even her aunt she was ashamed of her +grief, ashamed of her feelings and of her thoughts. There was a great +deal yet that she wished to know, but somehow the words choked her when +she wanted to ask further questions. Fortunately Mme. la Duchesse was +taking Maurice thoroughly to task. She asked innumerable questions, and +would not spare him the relation of a single detail. + +"Tell us all about it from the beginning, Maurice," she said. "Where did +you first meet the rogue?" + +And Maurice--weary and ashamed--was forced to embark on a minute account +of adventures that were lies from beginning to end: he had stumbled +across the wayside hostelry on a lonely by-path: he had found it full of +cut-throats: he had stalked and waylaid their chief in his own room, +and forced him to give up the money by the weight of his fists. + +It was paltry and pitiable: nevertheless, St. Genis, as he warmed to his +tale, lost the shame of it; only wrath remained with him: anger that he +should be forced into this despicable rôle through the intrigues of a +rival. + +In his heart he was already beginning to find innumerable excuses for +his cowardice: and his rage and hatred grew against Clyffurde as +Madame's more and more persistent questions taxed his imagination almost +to exhaustion. + +When, after half an hour of this wearying cross-examination, Madame at +last granted him a respite, he made a pretext of urgent business at M. +le Comte d'Artois' headquarters and took his leave of the ladies. He +waited in vain hope that the Duchesse's tact would induce her to leave +him alone for a moment with Crystal. Madame stuck obstinately to her +chair and was blind and deaf to every hint of appeal from him, whilst +Crystal, who was singularly absorbed and had lent but a very indifferent +ear to his narrative, made no attempt to detain him. + +She gave him her hand to kiss, just as Madame had done; it lay hot and +moist in his grasp. + +"Crystal," he continued to murmur as his lips touched her fingers, "I +love you . . . I worked for you . . . it is not my fault that I failed." + +She looked at him kindly and sympathetically through her tears, and gave +his hand a gentle little pressure. + +"I am sure it was not your fault," she replied gently, "poor Maurice. +. . ." + +It was not more than any kind friend would say under like circumstances, +but to a lover every little word from the beloved has a significance of +its own, every look from her has its hidden meaning. Somewhat satisfied +and cheered Maurice now took his final leave: + +"Does M. le Comte propose to continue his journey to Paris?" he asked at +the last. + +"Oh, yes!" Crystal replied, "he could not stay away while he feels that +His Majesty may have need of him. Oh, Maurice!" she added suddenly, +forgetting her absorption, her wrath against Clyffurde, her own +disappointment--everything--in face of the awful possible calamity, and +turning anxious, appealing eyes upon the young man, "you don't think, do +you, that that abominable usurper will succeed in ousting the King once +more from his throne?" + +And St. Genis--remembering Laffray and Grenoble, remembering what was +going on in Lyons at this moment, the silent grumblings of the troops, +the defaced white cockades, the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which he +himself had heard as he rode through the town--St. Genis, remembering +all this, could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders in miserable +doubt. + +When he had gone at last, Crystal's thoughts veered back once more to +Clyffurde and to his treachery. + +"What abominable deceit, _ma tante_!" she cried, and quite against her +will tears of wrath and of disappointment rose to her eyes. "What +villainy! what odious, execrable treachery!" + +Madame shrugged her shoulders and took up her knitting. + +"These days, my dear," she said with unwonted placidity, "the world is +so full of treachery that men and women absorb it by every pore." + +"But I shall not leave it at that," rejoined Crystal resolutely. "I'll +find a means of punishing that vile traitor . . . I'll make him feel the +hatred which he has so richly deserved--I shall not rest till I have +made him suffer as he makes me suffer now. . . ." + +"My dear--my dear--" protested Mme. la Duchesse, not a little shocked at +the girl's vehemence. + +Indeed, Crystal's otherwise sweet, gentle, yielding personality seemed +completely transformed: for the moment she was just a sensitive woman +who has been hit and hurt, and whose desire for retaliation is keener, +more relentless than that of a man. All the soft look in her blue eyes +had gone--they looked dark and hard--her fair curls were matted against +her damp forehead; indeed, Madame thought that for the moment all +Crystal's beauty had gone--the sweet, submissive beauty of the girl, the +grace of movement, the shy, appealing gentleness of her ways. She now +looked all determination, resentment, and, above all, revenge. + +"The dear child," sighed the Duchesse over her knitting, "it is the +English blood in her. Those people never know how to accept the +inevitable: they are always wanting to fight someone for something and +never know when they are beaten." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL + + +I + +And the triumphal march from the gulf of Jouan continued uninterrupted +to Paris. + +After Laffray and Grenoble, Lyons, where the silk-weavers of La +Guillotière assembled in their thousands to demolish the barricades +which had been built up on their bridge against the arrival of the +Emperor, and watched his entry into their city waving kerchiefs and hats +in his honour, and tricolour flags and cockades fished out of cupboards, +where they had lain hidden but not forgotten for one whole year. + +After Lyons, Villefranche, where sixty thousand peasants and workmen +awaited his arrival at the foot of the tree of Liberty, on the top of +which a brass eagle, the relic of some old standard, glistened like gold +as it caught the rays of the setting sun. + +And Nevers, where the townsfolk urged the regiments as they march +through the city to tear the white cockades from their hats! And +Chalon-sur-Saône, where the workpeople commandeer a convoy of artillery +destined for the army of M. le Comte d'Artois! + +The préfets of the various départements, the bureaucracy of provinces +and cities, are not only amazed but struck with terror: + +"This is a new Revolution!" they cry in dismay. + +Yes! it is a new Revolution! the revolt of the peasantry of the poor, +the humble, the oppressed! The hatred which they felt against that old +regime which had come back to them with its old arrogance and its former +tyrannies had joined issue with the cult of the army for the Emperor who +had led it to glory, to fortune and to fame. + +The people and the army were roused by the same enthusiasm, and marched +shoulder to shoulder to join the standard of Napoleon--the little man in +the shabby hat and the grey redingote, who for them personified the +spirit of the great revolution, the great struggle for liberty and its +final victory. + +The army of the Comte d'Artois--that portion of it which remained +loyal--was powerless against the overwhelming tide of popular +enthusiasm, powerless against dissatisfaction, mutterings and constant +defections in its ranks. The army would have done well in Provence--for +Provence was loyal and royalist, man, woman and child: but Napoleon took +the route of the Alps, and avoided Provence; by the time he reached +Lyons he had an army of his own and M. le Comte d'Artois--fearing more +defections and worse defeats--had thought it prudent to retire. + +It has often been said that if a single shot had been fired against his +original little band Napoleon's march on Paris would have been stopped. +Who shall tell? There are such "ifs" in the world, which no human mind +can challenge. Certain it is that that shot was not fired. At Laffray, +Randon gave the order, but he did not raise his musket himself; on the +walls of Grenoble St. Genis, in command of the artillery and urged by +the Comte de Cambray, did not dare to give the order or to fire a gun +himself. "The men declare," he had said gloomily, "that they would blow +their officers from their own guns." + +And at Lyons there was not militiaman, a royalist, volunteer or a pariah +out of the streets who was willing to fire that first and "single shot": +and though Marshal Macdonald swore ultimately that he would do it +himself, his determination failed him at the last when surrounded by his +wavering troops he found himself face to face with the conqueror of +Austerlitz and Jena and Rivoli and a thousand other glorious fights, +with the man in the grey redingote who had created him Marshal of France +and Duke of Tarente on the battlefields of Lombardy, his comrade-in-arms +who had shared his own scanty army rations with him, slept beside him +round the bivouac fires, and round whom now there rose a cry from end to +end of Lyons: "Vive l'Empereur!" + + +II + +Victor de Marmont did not wait for the arrival of the Emperor at Lyons: +nor did he attempt to enter the city. He knew that there was still some +money in the imperial treasury brought over from Elba, and his +mind--always in search of the dramatic--had dwelt with pleasure on +thoughts of the day when the Emperor, having entered Fontainebleau, or +perhaps even Paris and the Tuileries, would there be met by his faithful +de Marmont, who on bended knees in the midst of a brilliant and admiring +throng would present to him the twenty-five million francs originally +the property of the Empress herself and now happily wrested from the +cupidity of royalist traitors. + +The picture pleased de Marmont's fancy: he dwelt on it with delight, he +knew that no one requited a service more amply and more generously than +Napoleon: he knew that after this service rendered there was nothing to +which he--de Marmont--young as he was, could not aspire--title, riches, +honours, anything he wanted would speedily become his, and with these to +his credit he could claim Crystal de Cambray once more. + +Oh! she would be humbled again by then, she and her father too, the +proud aristocrats, doomed once more to penury and exile, unless he--de +Marmont--came forth like the fairy prince to the beggarmaid with hands +laden with riches, ready to lay these at the feet of the woman he loved. + +Yes! Crystal de Cambray would be humbled! De Marmont, though he felt +that he loved her more and better than any man had ever loved any woman +before, nevertheless had a decided wish that she should be humbled and +suffer bitterly thereby. He felt that her pride was his only enemy: her +pride and royalist prejudices. Of the latter he thought but little: +confident of his Emperor's success, he thought that all those hot-headed +royalists would soon realise the hopelessness of their cause--rendered +all the more hopeless through its short-lived triumph of the past +year--and abandon it gradually and surely, accepting the inevitable and +rejoicing over the renewed glory which would come over France. + +As for her pride! well! that was going to be humbled, along with the +pride of the Bourbon princes, of that fatuous old king, of all those +arrogant aristocrats who had come back after years of exile, as +arrogant, as tyrannical as ever before. + +These were pleasing thoughts which kept Victor de Marmont company on his +way between Lyons and Fontainebleau. Once past Villefranche he sent the +bulk of his escort back to Lyons, where the Emperor should have arrived +by this time: he had written out a superficial report of his expedition, +which the sergeant in charge of the little troop was to convey to the +Emperor's own hands. He only kept two men with him, put himself and them +into plain, travelling clothes which he purchased at Villefranche, and +continued his journey to the north without much haste; the roads were +safe enough from footpads, he and his two men were well armed, and what +stragglers from the main royalist army he came across would be far too +busy with their own retreat and their own disappointment to pay much +heed to a civilian and seemingly harmless traveller. + +De Marmont loved to linger on the way in the towns and hamlets where the +news of the Emperor's approach had already been wafted from Grenoble, or +Lyons, or Villefranche on the wings of wind or birds, who shall say? +Enough that it had come, that the peasants, assembled in masses in their +villages, were whispering together that he was coming--the little man in +the grey redingote--l'Empereur! + +And de Marmont would halt in those villages and stop to whisper with the +peasants too: Yes! he was coming! and the whole of France was giving him +a rousing welcome! There was Laffray and Grenoble and Lyons! the army +rallied to his standard as one man! + +And de Marmont would then pass on to another village, to another town, +no longer whispering after a while, but loudly proclaiming the arrival +of the Emperor who had come into his own again. + +After Nevers he was only twenty-four hours ahead of Napoleon and his +progress became a triumphant one: newspapers, despatches had filtrated +through from Paris--news became authentic, though some of it sounded a +little wild. Wherever de Marmont arrived he was received with +acclamations as the man who had seen the Emperor, who had assisted at +the Emperor's magnificent entry into Grenoble, who could assure citizens +and peasantry that it was all true, that the Emperor would be in Paris +again very shortly and that once more there would be an end to tyranny +and oppression, to the rule of the aristocrats and a number of +incompetent and fatuous princes. + +He did not halt at Fontainebleau, for now he knew that the Court of the +Tuileries was in a panic, that neither the Comte d'Artois, nor the Duc +de Berry, nor any of the royal princes had succeeded in keeping the army +together: that defections had been rife for the past week, even before +Napoleon had shown himself, and that Marshal Ney, the bravest soldier +in France, had joined his Emperor at Auxerre. + +No! de Marmont would not halt at Fontainebleau. It was Paris that he +wanted to see! Paris, which to-day would witness the hasty flight of the +gouty and unpopular King whom it had never learned to love! Paris +decking herself out like a bride for the arrival of her bridegroom! +Paris waiting and watching, while once again on the Tuileries and the +Hôtel de Ville, on the Louvre and the Luxembourg, on church towers and +government buildings the old tricolour flag waved gaily in the wind. + +He slept that night at a small hotel in the Louvre quarter, but the +whole evening he spent on the Place du Carrousel with the crowd outside +the Tuileries, watching the departure from the palace of the infirm King +of France and of his Court. The crowd was silent and obviously deeply +moved. The spectacle before it of an old, ailing monarch, driven forth +out of the home of his ancestors, and forced after an exile of three and +twenty years and a brief reign of less than one, to go back once more to +misery and exile, was pitiable in the extreme. + +Many forgot all that the brief reign had meant in disappointments and +bitter regrets, and only saw in the pathetic figure that waddled +painfully from portico to carriage door a monarch who was unhappy, +abandoned and defenceless: a monarch, too, who, in his unheroic, +sometimes grotesque person, was nevertheless the representative of all +the privileges and all the rights, of all the dignity and majesty +pertaining to the most ancient ruling dynasty in Europe, as well as of +all the humiliations and misfortunes which that same dynasty had +endured. + + +III + +It is late in the evening of March 20th. A thin mist is spreading from +the river right over Paris, and from the Place du Carrousel the lighted +windows of the Tuileries palace appear only like tiny, dimly-flickering +stars. + +Here an immense crowd is assembled. It has waited patiently hour after +hour, ever since in the earlier part of the afternoon a courier has come +over from Fontainebleau with the news that the Emperor is already there +and would be in Paris this night. + +It is the same crowd which twenty-four hours ago shed a tear or two in +sympathy for the departing monarch: now it stands here--waiting, +excited, ready to cheer the return of a popular hero--half-forgotten, +wildly acclaimed, madly welcomed, to be cursed again, and again +forgotten so soon. It was a heterogeneous crowd forsooth! made up in +great part of the curious, the idle, the indifferent, and in great part, +too, of the Bonapartist enthusiasts and malcontents who had groaned +under the reactionary tyranny of the Restoration--of malcontents, too, +of no enthusiasm, who were ready to welcome any change which might bring +them to prominence or to fortune. With here and there a sprinkling of +hot-headed revolutionaries, cursing the return of the Emperor as +heartily as they had cursed that of the Bourbon king: and here and there +a few heart-sick royalists, come to watch the final annihilation of +their hopes. + +Victor de Marmont, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood among the crowd for a +while. He knew that the Emperor would probably not be in Paris before +night, and he loved to be in the very midst of the wave of enthusiasm +which was surging higher and ever higher in the crowd, and hear the +excited whispers, and to feel all round him, wrapping him closely like a +magic mantle of warmth and delight, the exaltation of this mass of men +and women assembled here to acclaim the hero whom he himself adored. +Closely buttoned inside his coat he had scraps of paper worth the ransom +of any king. + +Among the crowd, too, Bobby Clyffurde moved and stood. He was one of +those who watched this enthusiasm with a heart filled with forebodings. +He knew well how short this enthusiasm would be: he knew that within a +few weeks--days perhaps--the bold and reckless adventurer who had so +easily reconquered France would realise that the Imperial crown would +never be allowed to sit firmly upon his head. None in this crowd knew +better that the present pageant and glory would be short-lived, than did +this tall, quiet Englishman who listened with half an ear and a smile of +good-natured contempt to the loud cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose +spontaneously whenever the sound of horses' hoofs or rattles of wheels +from the direction of Fontainebleau suggested the approach of the hero +of the day. None knew better than he that already in far-off England +another great hero, named Wellington, was organising the forces which +presently would crush--for ever this time--the might and ambitions of +the man whom England had never acknowledged as anything but a usurper +and a foe. + +And closely buttoned inside his coat Clyffurde had a letter which he had +received at his lodgings in the Alma quarter only a few moments before +he sallied forth into the streets. That letter was an answer to a +confidential enquiry of his own sent to the Chief of the British Secret +Intelligence Department resident in Paris, desiring to know if the +Department had any knowledge of a vast sum of money having come +unexpectedly into the hands of His Majesty the King of France, before +his flight from the capital. + +The answer was an emphatic "No!" The Intelligence Department knew of no +such windfall. But its secret agents reported that Victor de Marmont, +captain of the usurper's body-guard, had waylaid M. le Marquis de St. +Genis on the high road not far from Lyons. The escort which had +accompanied Victor de Marmont on that occasion had been dismissed by him +at Villefranche, and the information which the British Secret +Intelligence Department had obtained came through the indiscretion of +the sergeant in charge of the escort, who had boasted in a tavern at +Lyons that he had actually searched M. de St. Genis and found a large +sum of money upon him, of which M. de Marmont promptly took possession. + +When Bobby Clyffurde received this letter and first mastered its +contents, the language which he used would have done honour to a Toulon +coal-heaver. He cursed St. Genis' stupidity in allowing himself to be +caught; but above all he cursed himself for his soft-heartedness which +had prompted him to part with the money. + +The letter which brought him the bad news seemed to scorch his hand, and +brand it with the mark of folly. He had thought to serve the woman he +loved, first, by taking the money from her, since he knew that Victor de +Marmont with an escort of cavalry was after it, and, secondly, by +allowing the man whom she loved to have the honour and glory of laying +the money at his sovereign's feet. The whole had ended in a miserable +fiasco, and Clyffurde felt sore and wrathful against himself. + +And also among the crowd--among those who came, heartsick, hopeless, +forlorn, to watch the triumph of the enemy as they had watched the +humiliation of their feeble King--was M. le Comte de Cambray with his +daughter Crystal on his arm. + +They had come, as so many royalists had done, with a vague hope that in +the attitude of the crowd they would discern indifference rather than +exultation, and that the active agents of their party, as well as those +of England and of Prussia, would succeed presently in stirring up a +counter demonstration, that a few cries of "Vive le roi!" would prove to +the army at least and to the people of Paris that acclamations for the +usurper were at any rate not unanimous. + +But the crowd was not indifferent--it was excited: when first the Comte +de Cambray and Crystal arrived on the Place du Carrousel, a number of +white cockades could be picked out in the throng, either worn on a hat +or fixed to a buttonhole, but as the afternoon wore on there were fewer +and fewer of these small white stars to be seen: the temper of the crowd +did not brook this mute reproach upon its enthusiasm. One or two +cockades had been roughly torn and thrown into the mud, and the wearer +unpleasantly ill-used if he persisted in any royalistic demonstration. +Crystal, when she saw these incidents, was not the least frightened. She +wore her white cockade openly pinned to her cloak; she was far too +loyal, far too enthusiastic and fearless, far too much a woman to yield +her convictions to the popular feeling of the moment; and she looked so +young and so pretty, clinging to the arm of her father, who looked a +picturesque and harmless representative of the fallen regime, that with +the exception of a few rough words, a threat here and there, they had so +far escaped active molestation. + +And the crowd presently had so much to see that it ceased to look out +for white cockades, or to bait the sad-eyed royalists. A procession of +carriages, sparse at first and simple in appearance, had begun to make +its way from different parts of the town across the Place du Carrousel +toward the Tuileries. They arrived very quietly at first, with as little +clatter as possible, and drew up before the gates of the Pavillon de +Flore with as little show as may be: the carriage doors were opened +unostentatiously, and dark, furtive figures stepped out from them and +almost ran to the door of the palace, so eager were they to escape +observation, their big cloaks wrapped closely round them to hide the +court dress or uniform below. + +Ministers, dignitaries of the Court, Councillors of State; majordomos, +stewards, butlers, body-servants; they all came one by one or in groups +of twos or threes. As the afternoon wore on these arrivals grew less and +less furtive; the carriages arrived with greater clatter and to-do, with +finer liveries and more gorgeous harness. Those who stepped out of the +carriage doors were no longer quick and stealthy in their movements: +they lingered near the step to give an order or to chat to a friend; the +big cloak no longer concealed the gorgeous uniform below, it was allowed +to fall away from the shoulder, so as to display the row of medals and +stars, the gold embroidery, the magnificence of the Court attire. + +The Emperor had left Fontainebleau! Within an hour he would be in Paris! +Everyone knew it, and the excitement in the crowd that watched grew more +and more intense. Last night these same men and women had looked with +mute if superficial sympathy on the departure of Louis XVIII. through +these same palace gates: many eyes then became moist at the sight, as +memory flew back twenty years to the murdered king--his flight to +Varennes, his ignominious return, his weary Calvary from prison to court +house and thence to the scaffold. And here was his brother--come back +after twenty-three years of exile, acclaimed by the populace, cheered by +foreign soldiers--Russians, Austrians, English--anything but French--and +driven forth once more to exile after the brief glory that lasted not +quite a year. + +But this the crowd of to-day has already forgotten with the completeness +peculiar to crowds: men, women, and children too, they are no longer +mute, they talk and they chatter; they scream with astonishment and +delight whenever now from more and more carriages, more and more +gorgeously dressed folk descend. The ladies are beginning to arrive: the +wives of the great Court dignitaries, the ladies of the Court and +household of the still-absent Empress: they do not attempt to hide their +brilliant toilettes, their bare shoulders and arms gleam through the +fastenings of their cloaks, and diamonds sparkle in their hair. + +The crowd has recognised some of the great marshals, the men who in the +Emperor's wake led the French troops to victory in Italy, in Prussia, in +Austria: Maret Duc de Bassano is there and the crowd cheers him, the Duc +de Rovigo, Marshal Davout, Prince d'Eckmühl, General Excelmans, one of +Napoleon's oldest companions at arms, the Duke of Gaeta, the Duke of +Padua, a crowd of generals and superior officers. It seems like the +world of the Sleeping Beauty and of the Enchanted Castle--which a kiss +has awakened from its eleven months' sleep. The Empire had only been +asleep, it had dreamed a bad dream, wherein its hero was a prisoner and +an exile: now it is slowly wakening back to life and to reality. + +The night wears on: darkness and fog envelop Paris more and more. +Excitement becomes akin to anxiety. If the Emperor did leave +Fontainebleau when the last courier said that he did, he should +certainly be here by now. There are strange whispers, strange waves of +evil reports that spread through the waiting crowd: "A royalist fanatic +had shot at the Emperor! the Emperor was wounded! he was dead!" + +Oh! the excitement of that interminable wait! + +At last, just as from every church tower the bells strike the hour of +nine, there comes the muffled sound of a distant cavalcade: the sound of +horses galloping and only half drowning that of the rumbling of coach +wheels. + +It comes from the direction of the embankment, and from far away now is +heard the first cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" The noise gets louder and more +clear, the cries are repeated again and again till they merge into one +great, uproarious clamour. Like the ocean when lashed by the wind, the +crowd surges, moves, rises on tiptoe, subsides, falls back to crush +forward again and once more to retreat as a heavy coach, surrounded by +a thousand or so of mounted men, dashes over the cobbles of the Place du +Carrousel, whilst the clamour of the crowd becomes positively deafening. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + +The officers in the courtyard of the palace rush to the coach as it +draws up at the Pavillon de Flore: one of them succeeds in opening the +carriage door. The Emperor is literally torn out of the carriage, +carried to the vestibule, where more officers seize him, raise him from +the crowd, bear him along, hoisted upon their shoulders, up the +monumental staircase. + +Their enthusiasm is akin to delirium: they nearly tear their hero to +pieces in their wild, mad, frantic welcome. + +"In Heaven's name, protect his person," exclaims the Duc de Vicence +anxiously; and he and Lavalette manage to get hold of the banisters and +by dint of fighting and pushing succeed in walking backwards step by +step in front of the Emperor, thus making a way for him. + +Lavalette can hardly believe his eyes, and the Duc de Vicence keeps +murmuring: "It is the Emperor! It is the Emperor!" + +And he--the little stout man in green cloth coat and white +breeches--walks up the steps of his reconquered palace like a man in a +dream: his eyes are fixed apparently on nothing, he makes no movement to +keep his too enthusiastic friends away: the smile upon his lips is +meaningless and fixed. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferates the crowd. + +Vive l'Empereur for one hundred days: a few weeks of joy, a few weeks of +anxiety, a few weeks of indecision, of wavering and of doubt. Then +defeat more irrevocable than before! exile more distant! despair more +complete. + +Vive l'Empereur while we shout with excitement, while we remember the +disappointments of the past year, while we hope for better things from +a hand that has lost its cunning, a mind that has lost its power. + +Vive l'Empereur! Let him live for an hundred days, while we forget our +enthusiasm and Europe prepares its final crushing blow. Let him live +until we remember once again the horrors of war, the misery, the famine, +the devastated homes! until once more we see the maimed and crippled +crawling back wearily from the fields of glory, until our ears ring with +the wails of widows and the cries of the fatherless. + +Then let him no longer live, for he it is who has brought this misery on +us through his will and through his ambition, and France has suffered so +much from the aftermath of glory, that all she wants now is rest. + + +IV + +Gradually--but it took some hours--the tumult and excitement in and +round the Tuileries subsided. The Emperor managed to shut himself up in +his study and to eat some supper in peace, while gradually outside his +windows the crowd--who had nothing more to see and was getting tired of +staring up at glittering panes of glass--went back more or less quietly +to their homes. + +Only in the courtyard of the Tuileries, the troopers of the cavalry +which had formed the Emperor's escort from Fontainebleau tethered their +horses to the railings, rolled themselves in their mantles and slept on +the pavements, giving to this portion of the palace the appearance of a +bivouac in a place which has been taken by storm. + +One of the last to leave the Place du Carrousel was Bobby Clyffurde. The +crowd was thin by this time, but it was the tired and the +indifferent--the merely curious--who had been the first to go. Those who +remained to the last were either the very enthusiastic who wanted to set +up a final shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" after their idol had entirely +disappeared from their view, or the malcontents who would not lose a +moment to discuss their grievances, to murmur covert threats, or suggest +revolt in some shape or form or kind. + +Bobby slipped quickly past several of these isolated groups, indifferent +to the dark and glowering looks of suspicion that were cast at his tall, +muscular figure with the firm step and the defiant walk that was vaguely +reminiscent of the British troops that had been in Paris last year at +the time of the foreign occupation. He had skirted the Tuileries gardens +and was walking along the embankment which now was dark and solitary +save for some rowdy enthusiasts on ahead who, arm in arm in two long +rows that reached from the garden railings to the parapet, were +obstructing the roadway and shouting themselves hoarse with "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +Clyffurde, who was walking faster than they did, was just deliberating +in his mind whether he would turn back and go home some other way or +charge this unpleasant obstruction from the rear and risk the +consequences, when he noticed two figures still further on ahead walking +in the same direction as he himself and the rowdy crowd. + +One of these two figures--thus viewed in the distance, through the mist +and from the back--looked nevertheless like that of a woman, which fact +at once decided Bobby as to what he would do next. He sprinted toward +the crowd as fast as he could, but unfortunately he did not come up with +them in time to prevent the two unfortunate pedestrians being surrounded +by the turbulent throng which, still arm in arm and to the accompaniment +of wild shouts, had formed a ring around them and were now vociferating +at the top of raucous voices: + +"À bas la cocarde blanche! À bas! Vive l'Empereur!" + +A flickering street lamp feebly lit up this unpleasant scene. Bobby saw +the vague outline of a man and of a woman, standing boldly in the midst +of the hostile crowd while two white cockades gleamed defiantly against +the dark background of their cloaks. To an Englishman, who was a +pastmaster in the noble art of using fists and knees to advantage, the +situation was neither uncommon nor very perilous. The crowd was noisy it +is true, and was no doubt ready enough for mischief, but Clyffurde's +swift and scientific onslaught from the rear staggered and disconcerted +the most bold. There was a good deal more shouting, plenty of cursing; +the Englishman's arms and legs seemed to be flying in every direction +like the arms of a windmill; a good many thuds and bumps, a few groans, +a renewal of the attack, more thuds and groans, and the discomfited +group of roisterers fled in every direction. + +Bobby with a smile turned to the two motionless figures whom he had so +opportunely rescued from an unpleasant plight. + +"Just a few turbulent blackguards," he said lightly, as he made a quick +attempt at readjusting the set of his coat and the position of his satin +stock. "There was not much fight in them really, and . . ." + +He had, of course, lost his hat in the brief if somewhat stormy +encounter and now--as he turned--the thin streak of light from the +street-lamp fell full upon his face with its twinkling, deep-set eyes, +and the half-humorous, self-deprecatory curl of the firm mouth. + +A simultaneous exclamation came from his two protégés and stopped the +easy flow of his light-hearted words. He peered closely into the gloom +and it was his turn now to exclaim, half doubting, wholly astonished: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal . . . M. le Comte. . . ." + +"Indeed, Sir," broke in the Comte slowly, and with a voice that seemed +to be trembling with emotion, "it is to my daughter and to myself that +you have just rendered a signal and generous service. For this I tender +you my thanks, yet believe me, I pray you when I say that both she and +I would rather have suffered any humiliation or ill-usage from that +rough crowd than owe our safety and comfort to you." + +There was so much contempt, hatred even, in the tone of voice of this +old man whose manner habitually was a pattern of moderation and of +dignity that for the moment Clyffurde was completely taken aback. +Puzzlement fought with resentment and with the maddening sense that he +was anyhow impotent to avenge even so bitter an insult as had just been +hurled upon him--against a man of the Comte's years and status. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, "will you let me remind you that the +other day when you turned me out of your house like a dishonest servant, +you would not allow me to say a single word in my own justification? The +man on whose word you condemned me then without a hearing, is a +scatter-brained braggart who you yourself must know is not a man to be +trusted and . . ." + +"Pardon me, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with perfect sangfroid, "even +if I acted on that evening with undue haste and ill-considered judgment, +many things have happened since which you yourself surely would not wish +to discuss with me, just when you have rendered me a signal service." + +"Your pardon, M. le Comte," retorted Clyffurde with equal coolness, "I +know of nothing which could possibly justify the charges which, not +later than last Sunday, you laid at my door." + +"The charge which I laid at your door then, Mr. Clyffurde, has not been +lifted from its threshold yet. I charged you with deliberately +conspiring against my King and my country all the while that you were +eating bread and salt at my table. I charged you with striving to render +assistance to that Corsican usurper whom may the great God punish, and +you yourself practically owned to this before you left my house." + +"This I did not, M. le Comte," broke in Clyffurde hotly. "As a man of +honour I give you my word, that except for my being in de Marmont's +company on the day that he posted up the Emperor's proclamation in +Grenoble, I had no hand in any political scheme." + +"And you would have me believe you," exclaimed the Comte, with +ever-growing vehemence, "when you talk of that Corsican brigand as 'the +Emperor.' Those words, Sir, are an insult, and had you not saved my +daughter and me just now from violence I would--old as I am--strike you +in the face for them." + +With an impatient sigh at the old man's hot-headed obstinacy, Clyffurde +turned with a look of appeal to Crystal, who up to now had taken no part +in the discussion: "Mademoiselle," he said gently, "will you not at +least do me justice? Cannot you see that I am clumsy at defending mine +own honour, seeing that I have never had to do it before?" + +"I only see, Monsieur," she retorted coldly, "that you are making vain +and pitiable efforts to regain my father's regard--no doubt for purposes +of your own. But why should you trouble? You have nothing more to gain +from us. Your clever comedy of a highwayman on the road has succeeded +beyond your expectations. The Corsican who now sits in the armchair +lately vacated by an infirm monarch whom you and yours helped to +dethrone, will no doubt reward you for your pains. As for me I can only +echo my father's feelings: I would ten thousand times sooner have been +torn to pieces by a rough crowd of ignorant folk than owe my safety to +your interference." + +She took her father's arm and made a movement to go: instinctively +Clyffurde tried to stop her: at her words he had flushed with anger to +the very roots of his hair. The injustice of her accusation maddened +him, but the bitter resentment in the tone of her voice, the look of +passionate hatred with which she regarded him as she spoke, positively +appalled him. + +"M. le Comte," he said firmly, "I cannot let you go like this, whilst +such horrible thoughts of me exist in your mind. England gave you +shelter for three and twenty years; in the name of my country's kindness +and hospitality toward you, I--as one of her sons--demand that you tell +me frankly and clearly exactly what I am supposed to have done to +justify this extraordinary hatred and contempt which you and +Mademoiselle Crystal seem now to have for me." + +"One of England's sons, Monsieur!" retorted the Comte equally firmly. +"Nay! you are not even that. England stands for right and for justice, +for our legitimate King and the punishment of the usurper." + +"Great God!" he exclaimed, more and more bewildered now, "are you +accusing me of treachery against mine own country? This will I allow no +man to do, not even . . ." + +"Then, Sir, I pray you," rejoined Crystal proudly, "go and seek a +quarrel with the man who has unmasked you; who caught you red-handed +with the money in your possession which you had stolen from us, who +forced you to give up what you had stolen, and whom then you and your +friend Victor de Marmont waylaid and robbed once more. Go then, Mr. +Clyffurde, and seek a quarrel with the Marquis de St. Genis, who has +already struck you in the face once and no doubt will be ready to do so +again." + +And what of Clyffurde's thoughts while the woman whom he loved with all +the strength of his lonely heart poured forth these hideous insults upon +him? Amazement, then wrath, bewilderment, then final hopelessness, all +these sensations ran riot through his brain. + +St. Genis had behaved like an abominable blackguard! this he gathered +from what she said: he had lied like a mean skunk and betrayed the man +who had rendered him an infinitely great service. Of him Clyffurde +wouldn't even think! Such despicable, crawling worms did exist on God's +earth: he knew that! but he possessed the happy faculty, the sunny +disposition that is able to pass a worm by and ignore its existence +while keeping his eyes fixed upon all that is beautiful in earth and in +the sky. Of St. Genis, therefore, he would not think; some day, perhaps, +he might be able to punish him--but not now--not while this poor, +forlorn, heartsick girl pinned her implicit faith upon that wretched +worm and bestowed on him the priceless guerdon of her love. An infinity +of pity rose in his kindly heart for her and obscured every other +emotion. That same pity he had felt for her before, a sweet, protecting +pity--gentle sister to fiercer, madder love which had perhaps never been +so strong as it was at this hour when, for the second time, he was about +to make a supreme sacrifice for her. + +That the sacrifice must be made, he already knew: knew it even when +first St. Genis' name escaped her lips. She loved St. Genis and she +believed in him, and he, Clyffurde, who loved her with every fibre of +his being, with all the passionate ardour of his lonely heart, could +serve her no better than by accepting this awful humiliation which she +put upon him. If he could have justified himself now, he would not have +done it, not while she loved St. Genis, and he--Clyffurde--was less than +nothing to her. + +What did it matter after all what she thought of him? He would have +given his life for her love, but short of that everything else was +anyhow intolerable--her contempt, her hatred? what mattered? since +to-night anyhow he would pass out of her life for ever. + +He was ready for the sacrifice--sacrifice of pride, of honour, of peace +of mind--but he did want to know that that sacrifice would be really +needed and that when made it would not be in vain: and in order to gain +this end he put a final question to her: + +"One moment, Mademoiselle," he said, "before you go will you tell me one +thing at least; was it M. de St. Genis himself who accused me of +treachery?" + +"There is no reason why I should deny it, Sir," she replied coldly. "It +was M. de St. Genis himself who gave to my father and to me a full +account of the interview which he had with you at a lonely inn, some few +kilomètres from Lyons, and less than two hours after we had been +shamefully robbed on the highroad of money that belonged to the King." + +"And did M. de St. Genis tell you, Mademoiselle, that I purposed to use +that money for mine own ends?" + +"Or for those of the Corsican," she retorted impatiently. "I care not +which. Yes! Sir, M. de St. Genis told me that with his own lips and when +I had heard the whole miserable story of your duplicity and your +treachery, I--a helpless, deceived and feeble woman--did then and there +register a vow that I too would do you some grievous wrong one day--a +wrong as great as you had done not only to the King of France but to me +and to my father who trusted you as we would a friend. What you did +to-night has of course altered the irrevocableness of my vow. I owe, +perhaps, my father's life to your timely intervention and for this I +must be grateful, but . . ." + +Her voice broke in a kind of passionate sob, and it took her a moment or +two to recover herself, even while Clyffurde stood by, mute and with +well-nigh broken heart, his very soul so filled with sorrow for her that +there was no room in it even for resentment. + +"Father let us go now," Crystal said after a while with brusque +transition and in a steady voice; "no purpose can be served by further +recriminations." + +"None, my dear," said the Comte in his usual polished manner. +"Personally I have felt all along that explanations could but aggravate +the unpleasantness of the present position. Mr. Clyffurde understands +perfectly, I am sure. He had his axe to grind--whether personal or +political we really do not care to know--we are not likely ever to meet +again. All we can do now is to thank him for his timely intervention on +our behalf and . . ." + +"And brand him a liar," broke in Clyffurde almost involuntarily and with +bitter vehemence. + +"Your pardon, Monsieur," retorted the Comte coldly, "neither my daughter +nor I have done that. It is your deeds that condemn you, your own +admissions and the word of M. de St. Genis. Would you perchance suggest +that he lied?" + +"Oh, no," rejoined Clyffurde with perfect calm, "it is I who lied, of +course." + +He had said this very slowly and as if speaking with mature +deliberation: not raising his voice, nor yet allowing it to quiver from +any stress of latent emotion. And yet there was something in the tone of +it, something in the man's attitude, that suggested such a depth of +passion that, quite instinctively, the Comte remained silent and awed. +For the moment, however, Clyffurde seemed to have forgotten the older +man's presence; wounded in every fibre of his being by the woman whom he +loved so tenderly and so devotedly, he had spoken only to her, +compelling her attention and stirring--even by this simple admission of +a despicable crime--an emotion in her which she could not--would not +define. + +She turned large inquiring eyes on him, into which she tried to throw +all that she felt of hatred and contempt for him. She had meant to wound +him and it seemed indeed as if she had succeeded beyond her dearest +wish. By the dim, flickering light of the street-lamp his face looked +haggard and old. The traitor was suffering almost as much as he +deserved, almost as much--Crystal said obstinately to herself--as she +had wished him to do. And yet, at sight of him now, Crystal felt a +strong, unconquerable pity for him: the womanly instinct no doubt to +heal rather than to hurt. + +But this pity she was not prepared to show him: she wanted to pass right +out of his life, to forget once and for all that sense of warmth of the +soul, of comfort and of peace which she had felt in his presence on that +memorable evening at Brestalou. Above all, she never wanted to touch his +hand again, the hand which seemed to have such power to protect and to +shield her, when on that same evening she had placed her own in it. + +Therefore, now she took her father's arm once more: she turned +resolutely to go. One more curt nod of the head, one last look of +undying enmity, and then she would pass finally out of his life for +ever. + + +V + +How Clyffurde got back to his lodgings that night he never knew. +Crystal, after his final admission, had turned without another word from +him, and he had stood there in the lonely, silent street watching her +retreating form--on her father's arm--until the mist and gloom swallowed +her up as in an elvish grave. Then mechanically he hunted for his hat +and he, too, walked away. + +That was the end of his life's romance, of course. The woman whom he +loved with his very soul, who held his heart, his mind, his imagination +captive, whose every look on him was joy, whose every smile was a +delight, had gone out of his life for ever! She had turned away from him +as she would from a venomous snake! she hated him so cruelly that she +would gladly hurt him--do him some grievous wrong if she could. And +Clyffurde was left in utter loneliness with only a vague, foolish +longing in his heart--the longing that one day she might have her wish, +and might have the power to wound him to death--bodily just as she had +wounded him to the depth of his soul to-night. + +For the rest there was nothing more for him to do in France. King Louis +was not like to remain at Lille very long: within twenty-four hours +probably he would continue his journey--his flight--to Ghent--where once +more he would hold his court in exile, with all the fugitive royalists +rallied around his tottering throne. + +Clyffurde had already received orders from his chief at the Intelligence +Department to report himself first at Lille, then--if the King and court +had already left--at Ghent. If, however, there were plenty of men to do +the work of the Department it was his intention to give up his share in +it and to cross over to England as soon as possible, so as to take up +the first commission in the new army that he could get. England would be +wanting soldiers more urgently than she had ever done before: mother and +sisters would be well looked after: he--Bobby--had earned a fortune for +them, and they no longer needed a bread-winner now: whilst England +wanted all her sons, for she would surely fight. + +Clyffurde, who had seen the English papers that morning--as they were +brought over by an Intelligence courier--had realised that the debates +in Parliament could only end one way. + +England would not tolerate Bonaparte; she would not even tolerate his +abdication in favour of his own son. Austria had already declared her +intention of renewing the conflict and so had Prussia. England's +decision would, of course, turn the scale, and Bobby in his own mind had +no doubt which way that decision would go. + +The man whom the people of France loved, and whom his army idolised, was +the disturber of the peace of Europe. No one would believe his +protestations of pacific intentions now: he had caused too much +devastation, too much misery in the past--who would believe in him for +the future? + +For the sake of that past, and for dread of the future, he must go--go +from whence he could not again return, and Bobby Clyffurde--remembering +Grenoble, remembering Lyons, Villefranche and Nevers--could not +altogether suppress a sigh of regret for the brave man, the fine genius, +the reckless adventurer who had so boldly scaled for the second time the +heights of the Capitol, oblivious of the fact that the Tarpeian Rock was +so dangerously near. + + +VI + +At this same hour when Bobby Clyffurde finally bade adieu to all the +vague hopes of happiness which his love for Crystal de Cambray had +engendered in his heart, his whilom companion in the long ago--rival and +enemy now--Victor de Marmont, was laying a tribute of twenty-five +million francs at the feet of his beloved Emperor, and receiving the +thanks of the man to serve whom he would gladly have given his life. + +"What reward shall we give you for this service?" the Emperor had +deigned to ask. + +"The means to subdue a woman's pride, Sire, and make her thankful to +marry me," replied de Marmont promptly. + +"A title, what?" queried the Emperor. "You have everything else, you +rogue, to please a woman's fancy and make her thankful to marry you." + +"A title, Sire, would be a welcome addition," said de Marmont lightly, +"and the freedom to go and woo her, until France and my Emperor need me +again." + +"Then go and do your wooing, man, and come back here to me in three +months, for I doubt not by then the flames of war will have been kindled +against me again." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +I + +But the hand had lost its cunning, the mighty brain its indomitable +will-power. Genius was still there, but it was cramped now by +indecision--the indecision born of a sense of enmity around, suspicion +where there should have been nothing but enthusiasm, and the blind +devotion of the past. + +The man who, all alone, by the force of his personality and of his +prestige had reconquered France, who had been acclaimed from the Gulf of +Jouan to the gates of the Tuileries as the saviour of France, the +people's Emperor, the beloved of the nation returned from exile, the man +who on the 20th of March had said with his old vigour and his old pride: +"Failure is the nightmare of the feeble! impotence, the refuge of the +poltroon!" the man who had marched as in a dream from end to end of +France to find himself face to face with the whole of Europe in league +against him, with a million men being hastily armed to hurl him from his +throne again, now found the south of France in open revolt, the west +ready to rise against him, the north in accord with his enemies. + +He has not enough men to oppose to those millions, his arsenals are +depleted, his treasury empty. And after he has worked sixteen hours out +of the twenty-four at reorganising his army, his finances, his machinery +of war, he has to meet a set of apathetic or openly hostile ministers, +constitutional representatives, men who are ready to thwart him at every +turn, jealous only of curtailing his power, of obscuring his ascendency, +of clipping the eagle's wings, ere it soars to giddy heights again. And +to them he must give in, from them he must beg, entreat: give up, give +up all the time one hoped-for privilege after another, one power after +another. + +He yields the military dictatorship to other--far less competent--hands; +he grants liberty to the press, liberty of debate, liberty of election, +liberty to all and sundry: but suspicion lurks around him; they suspect +his sincerity, his goodwill, they doubt his promises, they mistrust that +dormant Olympian ambition which has precipitated France into humiliation +and brought the strangers' armies within her gates. + +The same man was there--the same genius who even now could have mastered +all the enemies of France and saved her from her present subjection and +European insignificance, but the men round him were not the same. He, +the guiding hand, was still there, but the machinery no longer worked as +it had done in the past before disaster had blunted and stiffened the +temper of its steel. + +The men around the Emperor were not now as they were in the days of Jena +and Austerlitz and Wagram. Their characters and temperaments had +undergone a change. Disaster had brought on slackness, the past year of +constant failures had engendered a sense of discouragement and +demoralisation, a desire to argue, to foresee difficulties, to foretell +further disasters. + +He saw it all well enough--he the man with the far-seeing mind and the +eagle-eyes that missed nothing--neither a look of indecision, nor an +indication of revolt. He saw it all but he could do nothing, for he too +felt overwhelmed by that wave of indecision and of discouragement. Faith +in himself, energy in action, had gone. He envisaged the possibility of +a vanquished and dismembered France. + +Above all he had lost belief in his Star: the star of his destiny which, +rising over the small island of Corsica, shining above a humble +middle-class home, had guided him step by step, from triumph to triumph, +to the highest pinnacle of glory to which man's ambition has ever +reached. + +That star had been dimmed once, its radiance was no longer unquenchable: +"Destiny has turned against me," he said, "and in her I have lost my +most valuable helpmate." + +And now the whole of Europe had declared war against him, and in a final +impassioned speech he turns to his ministers and to the representatives +of his people: "Help me to save France!" he begs, "afterwards we'll +settle our quarrels." + +One hundred days after he began his dream-march, from the gulf of Jouan +in the wake of his eagle, he started from Paris with the Army which he +loved and which alone he trusted, to meet Europe and his fate on the +plains of Belgium. + + +II + +And in Brussels they danced, danced late into the night. No one was to +know that within the next three days the destinies of the whole world +would be changed by the hand of God. + +And how to hide from timid eyes the sense of this oncoming destiny? how +to stop for a few brief hours the flow of women's tears? + +The ball should have been postponed--Her Grace of Richmond was willing +that it should be so. How could men and women dance, flirt and make +merry while Death was already reckoning the heavy toll of brave young +lives which she would demand on the morrow? But who knows England who +has not seen her at the hour of danger? + +Put off the ball? why! perish the thought! The timid townsfolk of +Brussels or the ladies of the French royalist party who were in great +numbers in the city might think there was something amiss. What was +amiss? some gallant young men would go on the morrow and conquer or die +for England's honour! there's nothing amiss in that! Why put off the +ball? The girls would be disappointed--they who like to dance--why +should they be deprived of partners, just because some of them would lie +dead on the battlefield to-morrow? + +Open your salons, Madame la Duchesse! The soldiers of Britain will come +to your ball. They will laugh and dance and flirt to-night as bravely as +they will die to-morrow. + +The sands of life are running low for them: in a few hours perhaps a +bullet, a bayonet, who knows? will cut short that merry laugh, still the +gallant heart that even now takes a last and fond farewell from a +blushing partner, after a waltz, in a sweet-scented alcove with sounds +of soft and distinct music around that stills the coming cannon's roar. + +Gordon and Lancey, Crawford and Ponsonby and Halkett, aye! and +Wellington too! What immortal names are spoken by the flunkeys to-night +as they usher in these brave men into the hostess' presence. The +ballroom is brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, the +women have put on their pretty dresses, displaying bare arms and +dazzling shoulders; the men are in showy uniforms, glittering with stars +and decorations: Orange, Brunswick, Nassau, English, Belgian, Scottish, +French, all are there gay with gold and silver braid. + +The confusion of tongues is greater surely than round the tower of +Babel. German and French and English, Scots accent and Irish brogue, +pedantic Hanoverian and lusty Brunswick tones, all and more of these +varied sounds mingle with one another, and half-drown by their clamour +the sweet strains of the Viennese orchestra that discoursed dreamy +waltzes from behind a bower of crimson roses; whilst ponderous Flemish +wives of city burgomasters gaze open-mouthed at the elegant ladies of +the old French noblesse, and shy Belgian misses peep enviously at their +more self-reliant English friends. + +And the hostess smiles equally graciously to all: she is ready with a +bright word of welcome for everybody now, just as she will be anon with +a mute look of farewell, when--at ten o'clock--by Wellington's commands, +one by one, one officer after another will slip out of this hospitable +house, out into the rainy night, for a hurried visit to lodgings or +barracks to collect a few necessaries, and then to work--to horse or +march--to form into the ranks of battle as they had formed for the +quadrille--squares to face the enemy--advance, deploy as they had done +in the mazes of the dance! to fight as they had danced! to give their +life as they had given a kiss. + +Bobby Clyffurde only saw Crystal de Cambray from afar. He had his +commission in Colin Halkett's brigade; his orders were the same as those +of many others to-night: to put in an appearance at Her Grace's ball, to +dispel any fears that might be confided to him through a fair partner's +lips: to show confidence, courage and gaiety, and at ten o'clock to +report for duty. + +But the crowd in the ball-room was great, and Crystal de Cambray was the +centre of a very close and exclusive little crowd, as indeed were all +the ladies of the old French noblesse, who were here in their numbers. +They had left their country in the wake of their dethroned king and +despite the anxieties and sorrows of the past three months, while the +star of the Corsican adventurer seemed to shine with renewed splendour, +and that of the unfortunate King of France to be more and more on the +wane, they had somehow filled the sleepy towns of Belgium--Ghent, +Brussels, Charleroi--with the atmosphere of their own elegance and their +unimpeachable good taste. + +Clyffurde knew that the Comte de Cambray had settled in Brussels with +his daughter and sister, pending the new turn in the fortunes of his +cause: the English colony there provided the royalist fugitives with +many friends, and Ghent was already overfull with the immediate +entourage of the King. But Bobby had never met either the Comte or +Crystal again. + +He had crossed over to England almost directly after that final and +fateful interview with them: he had obtained his commission and was back +again in Belgium--as a fighting man, ready for the work which was +expected from Britain's sons by the whole of Europe now. + +And to-night he saw her again. His instinct, intuition, prescience, what +you will, had told him that he would meet her here--and to his weary +eyes, when first he caught sight of her across the crowded room, she had +never seemed more exquisite, nor more desirable. She was dressed all in +white, with arms and shoulders bare, her fair hair dressed in the quaint +mode of the moment with a high comb and a multiplicity of curls. She had +a bunch of white roses in her belt and carried a shawl of gossamer lace +that encircled her shoulders, like a diaphanous cobweb, through which +gleamed the shimmering whiteness of her skin. + +She did not see him of course: he was only one of so many in a crowd of +English officers who were about to fight and to die for her country and +her cause as much as for their own. But to him she was the only living, +breathing person in the room--all the others were phantoms or puppets +that had no tangible existence for him save as a setting, a background +for her. + +And poor Bobby would so gladly have thrown all pride to the winds for +the right to run straight to her across the width of the room, to fall +at her feet, to encircle her knees, and to wring from her a word of +comfort or of trust. So strong was this impulse, that for one moment it +seemed absolutely irresistible; but the next she had turned to Maurice +de St. Genis, who was never absent from her side, and who seemed to +hover over her with an air of proprietorship and of triumphant mastery +which caused poor Bobby to grind his heel into the oak floor, and to +smother a bitter curse which had risen insistent to his lips. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse d'Agen spoke to him once, while he stood by watching +Crystal's dainty form walking through the mazes of a quadrille with her +hand in that of St. Genis. + +"They look well matched, do they not, Mr. Clyffurde?" Madame said in +broken English and with something of her usual tartness; "and you? are +you not going to recognise old friends, may I ask?" + +He turned abruptly, whilst the hot blood rushed up to his cheek, so +sudden had been the wave of memory which flooded his brain, at the sound +of Madame's sharp voice. Now he stooped and kissed the slender little +hand which was being so cordially held out to him. + +"Old friends, Madame la Duchesse?" he queried with a quick sigh of +bitterness. "Nay! you forget that it was as a traitor and a liar that +you knew me last." + +"It was as a young fool that I knew you all the time," she retorted +tartly, even though a kindly look and a kindly smile tempered the +gruffness of her sally. "The male creature, my dear Mr. Clyffurde," she +added, "was intended by God and by nature to be a selfish beast. When he +ceases to think of himself, he loses his bearings, flounders in a +quagmire of unprofitable heroism which benefits no one, and generally +behaves like a fool." + +"Did I do all that?" asked Clyffurde with a smile. + +"All of it and more. And look at the muddle you have made of things. +Crystal has never got over that miserably aborted engagement of hers to +de Marmont, and is no happier now with Maurice de St. Genis than she +would have been with . . . well! with anybody else who had had the good +sense to woo and win her in a straightforward, proper and selfish +masculine way." + +"Mademoiselle de Cambray, I understand," rejoined Clyffurde stiffly, "is +formally affianced now to M. de St. Genis." + +"She is not formally affianced, as you so pedantically and affectedly +put it, my friend," replied Madame with her accustomed acerbity. "But +she probably will marry him, if he comes out of this abominable war +alive, and if the King of France . . . whom may God protect--comes into +his own again. For His Majesty has taken those two young jackanapes +under his most gracious protection, and has promised Maurice a lucrative +appointment at his court--if he ever has a court again." + +"Then Mademoiselle de Cambray must be very happy, for which--if I dare +say so--I am heartily rejoiced." + +"So am I," said the Duchesse drily, "but let me at the same time tell +you this: I have always known that Englishmen were peculiarly idiotic in +certain important matters of life, but I must say that I had no idea +idiocy could reach the boundless proportions which it has done in your +case. Well!" she added with sudden gentleness, "farewell for the +present, mon preux chevalier: it is not too late, remember, to bear in +mind certain old axioms both of chivalry and of commonsense--the most +obvious of which is that nothing is gained by sitting open-mouthed, +whilst some one else gets the largest helpings at supper. And if it is +any comfort to you to know that I never believed St. Genis' story of +lonely inns, of murderous banditti and whatnots, well then, I give you +that information for what you may choose to make of it." + +And with a final friendly nod and a gentle pressure of her aristocratic +hand on his, which warmed and comforted Bobby's sore heart, she turned +away from him and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. + + +IV + +In spite of rain and blustering wind outside the fine ballroom--as the +evening progressed--became unpleasantly hot. Dancing was in full swing +and the orchestra had just struck up the first strains of that +inspiriting new dance--the latest importation from Vienna--a dreamy +waltz of which dowagers strongly disapproved, deeming it licentious, +indecent, and certainly ungraceful, but which the young folk delighted +in, and persisted in dancing, defying the mammas and all the +proprieties. + +Maurice de St. Genis after the last quadrille had led Crystal away from +the ballroom to a small boudoir adjoining it, where the cool air from +outside fanned the curtains and hangings and stirred the leaves and +petals of a bank of roses that formed a background to a couple of +seats--obviously arranged for the convenience of two persons who desired +quiet conversation well away from prying eyes and ears. + +Here Crystal had been sitting with Maurice for the past quarter of an +hour, while from the ballroom close by came as in a dream to her the +gentle lilt of the waltz, and from behind her, a cluster of +sweet-scented crimson roses filled the air with their fragrance. Crystal +didn't feel that she wanted to talk, only to sit here quietly with the +sound of the music in her ears and the scent of roses in her nostrils. +Maurice sat beside her, but he did not hold her hand. He was leaning +forward with his elbows on his knees and he talked much and earnestly, +the while she listened half absently, like one in a dream. + +She had often heard, in the olden days in England, her aunt speak of the +strange doings of that Doctor Mesmer in Paris who had even involved +proud Marie Antoinette in an unpleasant scandal with his weird +incantations and wizard-like acts, whereby people--sensible women and +men--were sent at his will into a curious torpor, which was neither +sleep nor yet wakefulness, and which produced a yet more strange sense +of unreality and dreaminess, and visions of things unsubstantial and +unearthly. + +And sitting here surrounded with roses and with that languorous lilt in +her ear, Crystal felt as if she too were under the influence of some +unseen Mesmer, who had lulled the activity of her brain into a kind of +wakeful sleep even while her senses remained keenly, vitally on the +alert. She knew, for instance, that Maurice spoke of the coming +struggle, the final fight for King and country. He had been enrolled in +a Nassau regiment, under the command of the Prince of Orange: he +expected to be in the thick of a fight to-morrow. "Bonaparte never +waits," Crystal heard him say quite distinctly, "he is always ready to +attack. Audacity and a bold use of his artillery were always his most +effectual weapons." + +And he went on to tell her of his own plans, his future, his hopes: he +spoke of the possibility of death and of this being a last farewell. +Crystal tried to follow him, tried to respond when he spoke of his love +for her--a love, the strength of which--he said--she would never be able +to gauge. + +"If it were not for the strength of my love for you, Crystal," he said +almost fiercely, "I could not bear to face possible death to-morrow +. . . not without telling you . . . not without making reparation for my +sin." + +And still in that curious trance-like sense of aloofness, Crystal +murmured vaguely: + +"Sin, Maurice? What sin do you mean?" + +But he did not seem to give her a direct reply: he spoke once more only +of his love. "Love atones for all sins!" he reiterated once or twice +with passionate earnestness. "Even God puts Love above everything on +earth. Love is an excuse for everything. Love justifies everything. +Such love as I have for you, Crystal, makes everything else--even sin, +even cowardice--seem insignificant and meaningless." + +She agreed with what he said, for indeed she felt too tired to argue the +point, or even to get his sophistry into her head. Strangely enough she +felt out of tune with him to-night--with him--Maurice--the lover of her +girlhood, the man from whom she had parted with such desperate heartache +three months ago, in the avenue at Brestalou. Then it had seemed as if +the world could never hold any happiness for her again, once Maurice had +gone out of her life. Now he had come back into it. Chance and the +favour of the King had once more made a future happy union with him +possible. She ought to have been supremely happy, yet she was out of +tune. His passionate words of love found only a cold response in her +heart. + +For the past three months she had constantly been at war with her own +self for this: she hated and despised herself for that numbness of the +heart which had so unaccountably taken all the zest and the joy out of +her life. Does one love one day and become indifferent the next? What +had become of the girlish love that had invested Maurice de St. Genis +with the attributes of a hero? What had he done that the pedestal on +which her ideality had hoisted him should have proved of such brittle +clay? + +He was still the gallant, high-born, well-bred gentleman whom she had +always known; he was on the eve of fighting for his King and country, +ready to give his life for the same cause which she loved so ardently; +he was even now speaking tender words of love and of farewell. Yet she +was out of tune with him. His words of Love almost irritated her, for +they dragged her out of that delicious dream-like torpor which +momentarily peopled the world for her with gold-headed, white-winged +mysterious angels, and filled the air with soft murmurings and sweet +sounds, and a divine fragrance that was not of this earth. + +It must have been that she grew very sleepy--probably the heat weighed +her eyelids down--certainly she found it impossible to keep her eyes +open, and Maurice apparently thought that she felt faint. Always in the +same vague way she heard him making suggestions for her comfort: "Could +he get her some wine?" or "Should he try and find Madame la Duchesse?" + +Then she realised how she longed for a little rest, for perfect +solitude, for perfect freedom to give herself over to the sweet torpor +which paralysed her brain and limbs--tired, sleepy, or under the subtle +influence of some mysterious agency--she did not know which she was; but +she did know that she would have given everything she could at this +moment for a few minutes' complete solitude. + +So she contrived to smile and to look up almost gaily into Maurice's +anxious face: "I think really, Maurice," she said, "I am just a little +bit sleepy. If I could remain alone for five minutes, I would go +honestly to sleep and not be ashamed of myself. Could you . . . could +you just leave me for five or ten minutes? . . . and . . . and, Maurice, +will you draw that screen a little nearer? . . ." she added, affecting a +little yawn; "nobody can see me then . . . and really, really I shall be +all right . . . if I could have a few minutes' quiet sleep." + +"You shall, Crystal, of course you shall," said Maurice, eager and +anxious to do all that she wanted. He arranged a cushion behind her +head, put a footstool to her feet and pulled the screen forward so that +now--where she sat--no one could see her from the ballroom, and as in +response to repeated encores from the dancers, the orchestra had +embarked upon a new waltz, she was not likely to be disturbed. + +"I'll try and find Mme. la Duchesse," he said after he had assured +himself that she was quite comfortable, "and tell her that you are quite +well, but must not be disturbed." + +She caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze. + +"You are kind, Maurice," she murmured. + +She felt exactly like a tired child, now that she had been made so +comfortable, and she liked Maurice so much, oh! so much! no brother +could have been dearer. + +"You won't go way without waking me, Maurice," she said as he bent down +to kiss her. + +"No, no, of course not," he replied; "it still wants a quarter before +ten." + +The screen shut off all the glare from the candles. The sense of +isolation was complete and delicious: the roses smelt very sweet, the +soft strains of the waltz sounded like elfin music. + + +V + +Like elfin music--tender, fitful, dreamy!--an exquisite languor stole +into Crystal's limbs. She was not asleep, yet she was in dreamland--all +alone in semi-darkness, that was restful and soothing, and with the +fragrance of crimson roses in her nostrils and their velvety petals +brushing against her cheek. + +Like elfin music!--sweet strains of infinite sadness--the tune of the +Infinite mingling with the semblance of reality! + +Like elfin music--or like the voice of a human being in pain--the note +of sadness became the only real note now! + +What really happened after this Crystal never rightly knew. Whenever in +the future her memory went back to this hour, she could not be sure +whether in truth she had been waking or dreaming, or at what precise +moment she became fully conscious of a presence close beside her--just +behind the bank of roses--and of a voice--low, earnest, quivering with +passionate emotion--that reached her ear as if through the tender +melodies played by the orchestra. + +It almost seemed to her--when she thought over all the circumstances in +her mind--that she must have been subtly conscious of the presence all +along--all the while that Maurice was still with her and she felt so +curiously languid, longing only for darkness and solitude. + +Something encompassed her now that she could not define: the warmth of +Love, the sense of protection and security--almost as if unseen arms, +that were strong and devoted and selfless, held her closely, shielding +her from evil and from the taint of selfish human passions. + +And presently she heard her name--whispered low and with a note of +tender appeal. + +Her eyes were closed and she paid no heed: but the appeal was once more +whispered--this time more insistently, and almost against her will she +murmured: + +"Who calls?" + +"An unfortunate whom you hate and despise, and who would have given his +life to serve you." + +"Who is it?" she reiterated. + +"A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep away from your side, and +longed for one more sound of your voice even though it uttered words +more cruel than man can stand." + +"What would you like to hear?" + +"One word of comfort to ease that terrible sting of hate which has +burned into my very soul, till every minute of life has become +unendurable agony." + +"How could I know," she asked, and now her eyes were wide open, gazing +out into nothingness, not turned yet in the direction whence that +dream-voice came: "how could I know that my hatred made you suffer or +that you cared for comfort from me?" + +"How could you know, Crystal?" the voice replied. "You could know that, +my dear, just as surely as you know that in a stormy night the sky is +dark, just as you know that when heavy clouds obscure the blue ether +above, no ray of sunshine warms the shivering earth. Just as you know +that you are beautiful and exquisite, so you knew, Crystal, that I loved +you from the deepest depths of my soul." + +"How could I guess?" + +"By that subtle sense which every human being has. And you did guess it, +Crystal, else you would not have hated me as you did." + +"I hated you because I thought you a traitor." + +"Is it too late to swear to you that my only thought was to serve you? +. . ." + +"By working against my King and country?" she retorted with just this +one brief flash of her old vehemence. + +"By working for my country and for yours. This I swear by your sweet +eyes--by your dear mouth that hurt me so cruelly that evening--I swear +it by the damnable agony which you made me endure . . . by the abject +cowardice which dragged me to your side now like a whining wretch that +craves for a crumb of comfort . . . by all that you have made me suffer. +. . . Crystal, I swear to you that I was never false . . . false, great +God! when with every drop of my blood, with every fibre of my heart, +with every nerve, every sinew, every thought I love you." + +The voice was so low, never above a whisper, and all around her Crystal +felt again that delicious sense of warmth--the breath of Love that +brings man's heart so near to God--the sense of security in a man's +all-encompassing Love which women prize above everything else on earth. + +The music was just an accompaniment to that low, earnest whispering; the +soft strains of the violins made it still seem like a voice that comes +through a veil of dreams. Instinctively Crystal began to hum the +waltz-tune and her little head with its quaint coronet of fair curls +beat time to the languid lilt. + +"Will you dance with me, Crystal?" + +"No! no!" she protested. + +"Just once--to-night. To-morrow we fight--let us dance to-night." + +And before she could protest further, her will seemed to fall away from +her: she knew that her father, her aunt would be angry, that--as like as +not--Maurice would make a scene. She knew that Maurice--to whom she had +plighted her troth--had branded this man as a liar and a traitor: her +father believed him to be a traitor, and she . . . Well! what had he +done to disprove Maurice's accusations? A few words of passionate +protestations! . . . Did they count? . . . He wore his King's +uniform--many careless adventurers did that these strenuous times! . . . + +And he wanted her to dance . . . ! how could she--Crystal de Cambray, +the future wife of the Marquis de St. Genis, the cynosure of a great +many eyes to-night--how could she show herself in public on his arm, in +a crowded ballroom? + +Yet she could not refuse. She could not. Surely it was all a dream, and +in a dream man is but the slave of circumstance and has no will of his +own. + +She was very young and loved to dance: and she had heard that Englishmen +danced well. Besides, it was all a dream. She would wake in a moment or +two and find herself sitting quietly among the roses with Maurice beside +her, telling her of his love, and of their happy future together. + + +VI + +But in the meanwhile the dream was lasting. Her partner was a perfect +dancer, and this new, delicious waltz--inspiriting yet languorous, +rhythmical and half barbaric--sent a keen feeling of joy and of zest +into Crystal's whole being. + +She was not conscious of the many stares that were levelled at her as +she suddenly appeared among the crowd in the ballroom, her face flushed +with excitement, her perfect figure moving with exquisite grace to the +measure of the dance. + +The last dance together! + +A few moments before, Clyffurde had made his way to the small boudoir in +search of fresh air, and had withdrawn to a window embrasure away from a +throng that maddened him in his misery of loneliness: then he realised +that Crystal was sitting quite close to him, that St. Genis, who had +been in constant attendance on her, presently left her to herself and +that without even moving from where he was he could whisper into her ear +that which had lain so heavily on his heart that at times he had felt +that it must break under the intolerable load. + +Then as the soft strains of the music from the orchestra struck upon his +ear, the insistent whim seized him to make her dance with him, just +once--to-night. To-morrow the cannon would roar once more--to-morrow +Europe would make yet another stand against the bold adventurer whom +seemingly nothing could crush. + +To-morrow a bullet--a bayonet--a sword-thrust--but to-night a last dance +together. + +Those whims come at times to those who are doomed to die. Clyffurde's +one hope of peace lay in death upon the battlefield. Life was empty now. +He had fought against the burden of loneliness left upon him when +Crystal passed finally out of his life. But the burden had proved +unconquerable. Only death could ease him of the load: for life like this +was stupid and intolerable. + +Men would die within the next few days in their hundreds and in their +thousands: men who were happy, who had wives and children, men on whose +lives Love shed its happy radiance. Then why not he? who was more lonely +than any man on earth--left lonely because the one woman who filled all +the world for him, hated him and was gone from him for ever. + +But a last dance with her to-night! The right to hold her in his arms! +this he had never done, though his muscles had often ached with the +longing to hold her. But dancing with her he could feel her against him, +clasp her closely, feel her breath against his cheek. + +She was not very tall and her head--had she chosen--could just have +rested in the hollow of his shoulder. The thought of it sent the blood +rushing hotly to his head and with his two strong hands he would at that +moment have bent a bar of iron, or smashed something to atoms, in order +to crush that longing to curse against Fate, against his destiny that +had so wantonly dangled happiness before him, only to thrust him into +utter loneliness again. + +Then he spoke to her--and finally asked for the dance. + +And now he held her, and guided her through the throng, her tiny feet +moving in unison with his. And all the world had vanished: he had her to +himself, for these few happy moments he could hold her and refuse to let +her go. He did not care--nor did she--that many curious and some angry +glances followed their every movement. Till the last bar was played, +till the final chord was struck she was absolutely his--for she had +given up her will to him. + +The last dance together! He sent his heart to her, all his heart--and +the music helped him, and the rhythm; the very atmosphere of the +room--rose-scented--helped him to make her understand. He could have +kissed her hair, so close were the heaped-up fair curls to his mouth; he +could have whispered to her, and nobody would hear: he could have told +her something at any rate, of that love which had filled his heart since +all time, not months or years since he had known her, but since all time +filling every minute of his life. He could have taught her what love +meant, thrilled her heart with thoughts of might-have-been; he could +have roused sweet pity in her soul, love's gentle mother that has the +power to give birth to Love. + +But he did not kiss her, nor did he speak: because though he was quite +sure that she would understand, he was equally sure that she could not +respond. She was not his--not his in the world of realities, at any +rate. Her heart belonged to the friend of her childhood, the only man +whom she would ever love--the man by whom he--poor Bobby!--had been +content to be defamed and vilified in order that she should remain happy +in her ideals and in her choice. So he was content only to hold her, his +arm round her waist, one hand holding hers imprisoned--she herself +becoming more and more the creature of his dreams, the angel that +haunted him in wakefulness and in sleep: immortally his bride, yet never +to be wholly his again as she was now in this heavenly moment where they +stood together within the pale of eternity. + +In this, their last dance together! + + +VII + +Far into the night, into the small hours of the morning, Crystal de +Cambray sat by the open window of her tiny bedroom in the small +apartment which her father had taken for himself and his family in the +rue du Marais. + +She sat, with one elbow resting on the window-sill, her right hand +fingering, with nervy, febrile movements, a letter which she held. +Jeanne had handed it to her when she came home from the ball: M. de St. +Genis, Jeanne explained, had given it to her earlier in the evening +. . . soon after ten o'clock it must have been . . . M. le Marquis +seemed in a great hurry, but he made Jeanne swear most solemnly that +Mademoiselle Crystal should have the letter as soon as she came home +. . . also M. le Marquis had insisted that the letter should be given to +Mademoiselle when she was alone. + +Not a little puzzled--for had she not taken fond leave of Maurice +shortly before ten o'clock, when he had told her that his orders were +to quit the ball then and report himself at once at headquarters. He had +seemed very despondent, Crystal thought, and the words which he spoke +when finally he kissed her, had in them all the sadness of a last +farewell. Crystal even had felt a tinge of remorse--when she saw how sad +he was--that she had not responded more warmly to his kiss. It almost +seemed as if her heart rebelled against it, and when he pressed her with +his accustomed passionate ardour to his breast, she had felt a curious +shrinking within herself, a desire to push him away, even though her +whole heart went out to him with pity and with sorrow. + +And now here was this letter. Crystal was a long time before she made up +her mind to open it: the paper--damp with the rain--seemed to hold a +certain fatefulness within its folds. At last she read the letter, and +long after she had read it she sat at the open window, listening to the +dreary, monotonous patter of the rain, and to the distant sounds of +moving horses and men, the rattle of wheels, the bugle calls, the +departure of the allied troops to meet the armies of the great +adventurer on the billowing plains of Belgium. + +This is what Maurice had written to her a few moments before he left; +and it must have taken him some time to pen the lengthy epistle. + + "MY BEAUTIFUL CRYSTAL, + + "I may never come back. Something tells me that my life, + such as it is--empty and worthless enough, God knows--has + nearly run its full course. But if I do come back to claim + the happiness which your love holds out for me,--I will not + face you again with so deep a stain upon mine honour. I did + not tell you before because I was too great a coward. I + could not bear to think that you would despise me--I could + not encounter the look of contempt in your eyes: so I + remained silent to the call of honour. And now I speak + because the next few hours will atone for everything. If I + come back you will forgive. If I fall you will mourn. In + either case I shall be happy that you know. Crystal! in all + my life I spoke only one lie, and that was three months + ago, when I set out to reclaim the King's money, which had + been filched from you on the high road, and returned + empty-handed. I found the money and I found the thief. No + thief he, Crystal, but just a quixotic man, who desired to + serve his country, our cause and you. That man was your + friend Mr. Clyffurde. I don't think that I was ever jealous + of him. I am not jealous of him now. Our love, Crystal, is + too great and too strong to fear rivalry from anyone. He + had taken the money from you because he knew that Victor de + Marmont, with a strong body of men to help him, would have + filched it from you for the benefit of the Corsican. He + took the money from you because he knew that neither you + nor the Comte would have listened to any warnings from him. + He took the money from you with the sole purpose of + conveying it to the King. Then I found him and taunted him, + until the temptation came to me to act the part of a coward + and a traitor. And this I did, Crystal, only because I + loved you--because I knew that I could never win you while + I was poor and in humble circumstances. I soon found out + that Clyffurde was a friend. I begged him to let me have + the money so that I might take it to the King and earn + consideration and a reward thereby. That was my sin, + Crystal, and also that I lied to you to disguise the sorry + rôle which I had played. Clyffurde gave me the money + because I told him how we loved one another--you and I--and + that happiness could only come to you through our mutual + love. He acted well, though in truth I meant to do him no + wrong. Later Victor de Marmont came upon me, and wrested + the money from me, and I was helpless to guard that for + which I had played the part of a coward. + + "I have eased my soul by telling you this, Crystal, and I + know that no hard thoughts of me will dwell in your mind + whilst I do all that a man can do for honour, King and + country. + + "Remember that the next few hours, perhaps, will atone for + everything, and that Love excuses all things. + + "Yours in love and sorrow, + + "MAURICE." + +The letter, crumpled and damp, remained in Crystal's hand all the while +that she sat by the open window, and the sound of moving horses and men +in the distance conjured up before her eyes mental visions of all that +to-morrow might mean. The letter was damp with her tears now, they had +fallen incessantly on the paper while she re-read it a second time and +then re-read it again. + +A quixotic man! Maurice said airily. How little he understood! How well +she--Crystal--knew what had been the motive of that quixotic action. She +had learned so much to-night in the mazes of a waltz. Now, when she +closed her eyes, she could still feel the dreamy motion with that strong +arm round her, and she could hear the sweet, languid lilt of the music, +and all the delicious elvish whisperings that reached her ear through +the monotonous cadence of the dance. Of what her heart had felt then, +she need now no longer be ashamed: all that should shame her now were +her thoughts in the past, the belief that the hand which had held hers +on that evening--long ago--in Brestalou could possibly have been the +hand of a traitor: that the low-toned voice that spoke to her so +earnestly of friendship then could ever be raised for the utterance of a +lie. + +Of such thoughts indeed she could be ashamed, and of her cruelty that +other night in Paris, when she had made him suffer so abominably through +her injustice and her contempt. + +"The next few hours, perhaps, will atone for everything," Maurice had +added. Ah, well! perhaps! But they could not erase the past; they could +not control the more distant future. Maurice would come back--Crystal +prayed earnestly that he should--but Clyffurde was gone out of her life +for ever. God alone knew how this renewed war would end! How could she +hope ever to meet a friend who had gone away determined never to see her +again? + +A last dance together! Well! they had had it! and that was the end. The +end of a sweet romance that had had no beginning. He had gone now, as +Maurice had gone, as all the men had gone who had listened to their +country's call, and she, Crystal, could not convey to him even by a +message, by a word, that she understood all that he had done for her, +all that his actions had meant of devotion, of self-effacement, of pure +and tender Love. + +A last dance together, and that had been the end. Even thoughts of him +would be forbidden her after this: for her thoughts were no longer free +of him, her heart was no longer free; her promise belonged to Maurice, +but her heart, her thoughts were no longer hers to give. + +It was all too late! too late! the next few hours might atone for the +past but they could not call it back. + +Weary and heart-sick Crystal crawled into bed when the grey light of +dawn peeped cold and shy into her room. She could not sleep, but she lay +quite still while one by one those distant sounds died away in the misty +morning. In this semi-dreamlike state it seemed to her as if she must be +able to distinguish the sound of _his_ horse's hoofs from among a +thousand others: it seemed as if something in herself must tell her +quite plainly where he was, what he did, when he got to horse, which way +he went. And presently she closed her eyes against the grey, monotonous +light, and during one brief moment she felt deliciously conscious of a +sweet, protecting presence somewhere near her, of soft whisperings of +fondness and of friendship: the sound of a dream-voice reached her ear +and once again as in the sweet-scented alcove she felt herself +murmuring: "Who calls?" and once more she heard the tender wailing as of +a stricken soul in pain: "A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep +away from your side." + +And memory-echoes lingered round her, bringing back every sound of his +mellow voice, every look in his eyes, the touch of his hand--oh! that +exquisite touch!--and his last words before he asked her to dance: +"With every drop of my blood, with every nerve, every sinew, every +thought I love you." + +And her heart with a long-drawn-out moan of unconquerable sorrow sent +out into the still morning air its agonised call in reply: + +"Come back, my love, come back! I cannot live without you! You have +taught me what Love is--pure, selfless and protecting--you cannot go +from me now--you cannot. In the name of that Love which your tender +voice has brought into being, come back to me. Do not leave me +desolate!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TARPEIAN ROCK + + +I + +Rain, rain! all the morning! God's little tool--innocent-looking little +tool enough--for the remodelling of the destinies of this world. + +God chose to soak the earth on that day--and the formidable artillery +that had swept the plateau of Austerlitz, the vales of Marengo, the +cemetery of Eylau, was rendered useless for the time being because up in +the inscrutable kingdom of the sky a cloud had chosen to burst--or had +burst by the will of God--and water soaked the soft, spongy soil of +Belgium and the wheels of artillery wagons sank axle-deep in the mud. + +If only the ground had been dry! if only the great gambler--the genius, +the hero, call him what you will, but the gambler for all that--if only +he had staked his crown, his honour and that of Imperial France on some +other stake than his artillery! If only . . . ! But who shall tell? + +Is it indeed a cloud-burst that changed the whole destinies of Europe? +Ye materialists, ye philosophers! answer that. + +Is it to the rain that fell in such torrents until close on midday of +that stupendous 18th of June, that must be ascribed this wonderful and +all-embracing change that came over the destinies of myriads of people, +of entire nations, kingdoms and empires? Rather is it not because God +just on that day of all days chose to show this world of pigmies--great +men, valiant heroes, controlling genius and all-powerful +conquerors--the entire extent of His might--so far and no further--and +in order to show it, He selected that simple, seemingly futile means +. . . just a heavy shower of rain. + +At half-past eleven the cannon began to roar on the plains of Mont Saint +Jean,[2] but not before. Before that it had rained: rained heavily, and +the ground was soaked through, and the all-powerful artillery of the +most powerful military genius of all times was momentarily powerless. + +[Footnote 2: _i.e._ Waterloo.] + +Had it not rained so persistently and so long that same compelling +artillery would have begun its devastating work earlier in the day--at +six mayhap, or mayhap at dawn, another five, six, seven hours to add to +the length of that awful day: another five, six, seven hours wherein to +tax the tenacity, the heroic persistence of the British troops: another +five, six, seven hours of dogged resistance on the one side, of +impetuous charges on the other, before the arrival of Blücher and his +Prussians and the turning of the scales of blind Justice against the +daring gambler who had staked his all. + +But it was only at half-past eleven that the cannon began to roar, and +the undulating plain carried the echo like a thunder-roll from heaving +billow to heaving billow till it broke against the silent majesty of the +forest of Soigne. + +Here with the forest as a background is the highest point of Mont +Saint Jean: and here beneath an overhanging elm--all day on +horseback--anxious, frigid and heroic, is Wellington--with a rain of +bullets all round him, watching, ceaselessly watching that horizon far +away, wrapped now in fog, anon in smoke and soon in gathering darkness: +watching for the promised Prussian army that was to ease the terrible +burden of that desperate stand which the British troops were bearing and +had borne all day with such unflinching courage and dogged tenacity. + +It is in vain that his aides-de-camp beg him to move away from that +perilous position. + +"My lord," cries Lord Hill at last in desperation, "if you are killed, +what are we to do?" + +"The same as I do now," replies Wellington unmoved, "hold this place to +the last man." + +Then with a sudden outburst of vehemence, that seems to pierce almost +involuntarily the rigid armour of British phlegm and British +self-control, he calls to his old comrades of Salamanca and Vittoria: + +"Boys, which of us now can think of retreating? What would England think +of us, if we do?" + +Heroic, unflinching and cool the British army has held its ground +against the overwhelming power of Napoleon's magnificent cavalry. Raw +recruits some of them, against the veterans of Jena and of Wagram! But +they have been ordered to hold the place to the last man, and in close +and serried squares they have held their ground ever since half-past +eleven this morning, while one after another the flower of Napoleon's +world-famed cavalry had been hurled against them. + +Cuirassiers, chasseurs, lancers, up they come to the charge, like +whirlwinds up the declivities of the plateau. Like a whirlwind they rush +upon those stolid, immovable, impenetrable squares, attacking from every +side, making violent, obstinate, desperate onsets upon the stubborn +angles, the straight, unshakable walls of red coats; slashing at the +bayonets with their swords, at crimson breasts with their lances, firing +their pistols right between those glowing eyes, right into those firm +jaws and set teeth. + +The sound of bullets on breastplates and helmets and epaulettes is like +a shower of hailstones upon a sheet of metal. + +Twice, thrice, nay more--a dozen times--they return to the charge, and +the plateau gleams with brandished steel like a thousand flashes of +simultaneous fork-lightning on the vast canopy of a stormy sky. + +From midday till after four, a kind of mysterious haze covers this field +of noble deeds. Fog after the rain wraps the gently-billowing Flemish +ground in a white semi-transparent veil--covers with impartial coolness +all the mighty actions, the heroic charges and still more heroic stands, +all the silent uncomplaining sufferings, the glorious deaths, all the +courage and all the endurance. + +Through the grey mists we see a medley of moving colours--blue and grey +and scarlet and black--of shakos and sabretaches, of English and French +and Hanoverian and Scotch, of epaulettes and bare knees; we hear the +sound of carbine and artillery fire, the clank of swords and bayonets, +the call of bugle and trumpet and the wail of the melancholy pibroch: +tunics and gold tassels and kilts--a medley of sounds and of visions! + +We see the attack on Hougoumont--the appearance of Bülow on the heights +of Saint Lambert--the charge of the Inniskillings and the Scots +Greys--the death of valiant Ponsonby. We see Marshal Ney Prince of +Moskowa--the bravest soldier in France--we see him everywhere where the +mêlée is thickest, everywhere where danger is most nigh. His magnificent +uniform torn to shreds, his gold lace tarnished, his hair and whiskers +singed, his face blackened by powder, indomitable, unconquered, superb, +we hear him cry: "Where are those British bullets? Is there not one left +for me?" + +He knows--none better!--that the plains of Mont Saint Jean are the great +gambling tables on which the supreme gambler--Napoleon, once Emperor of +the French and master of half the world--had staked his all. "If we come +out of this alive and conquered," he cries to Heymès, his aide-de-camp, +"there will only be the hangman's rope left for us all." + +And we see the gambler himself--Napoleon, Emperor still and still +certain of victory--on horseback all day, riding from end to end of his +lines; he is gayer than he has ever been before. At Marengo he was +despondent, at Austerlitz he was troubled: but at Waterloo he has no +doubts. The star of his destiny has risen more brilliant than ever +before. + +"The day of France's glory has only just dawned," he calls, and his mind +is full of projects--the triumphant march back into Paris--the Germans +driven back to the Rhine--the English to the sea. + +His only anxiety--and it is a slight one still--is that Grouchy with his +fresh troops is so late in arriving. + +Still, the Prussians are late too, and the British cannot hold the place +for ever. + + +II + +At three o'clock the fog lifts--the veil that has wrapped so many +sounds, such awful and wonderful visions, in a kind of mystery, is +lifted now, and it reveals . . . what? Hougoumont invested--Brave Baring +there with a handful of men--English, German, Brunswickians--making a +last stand with ten rounds of ammunition left to them per man, and the +French engineers already battering in the gates of the enclosing wall +that surrounds the château and chapel of Goumont: the farm of La Haye +Sainte taken--Ney there with his regiment of cuirassiers and five +battalions of the Old Guard: and the English lines on the heights of +Mont Saint Jean apparently giving way. + +We see too a vast hecatomb: glory and might must claim their many +thousand victims: the dead and dying lie scattered like pawns upon an +abandoned chessboard, the humble pawns in this huge and final gamble for +supremacy and power, for national existence and for liberty. Hougoumont, +La Haye Sainte, Papelotte are sown with illustrious dead--but on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the British still hold their ground. + +Wellington is still there on the heights, with the majestic trees of +Soigne behind him, the stately canopy of the elm above his head--more +frigid than before, more heroic, but also more desperately anxious. + +"Blücher or nightfall," he sighs as a fresh cavalry charge is hurled +against those indomitable British squares. The thirteenth assault, and +still they stand or kneel on one knee, those gallant British boys; +bayonet in hand or carbine, they fire, fall out and re-form again: +shaken, hustled, encroached on they may be, but still they stand and +fire with coolness and precision . . . the ranks are not broken yet. + +Officers ride up to the field-marshal to tell him that the situation has +become desperate, their regiments decimated, their men exhausted. They +ask for fresh orders: but he has only one answer for them: + +"There are no fresh orders, save to hold out to the last man." + +And down in the valley at La Belle Alliance is the great gambler--the +man who to-day will either be Emperor again--a greater, mightier monarch +than even he has ever been--or who will sink to a status which perhaps +the meanest of his erstwhile subjects would never envy. + +But just now--at four o'clock--when the fog has lifted--he is flushed +with excitement, exultant in the belief in victory. + +The English centre on Mont Saint Jean is giving way at last, he is told. + +"The beginning of retreat!" he cries. + +And he, who had been anxious at Austerlitz, despondent at Marengo, is +gay and happy and brimming full of hope. + +"De Marmont," he calls to his faithful friend, "De Marmont, go ride to +Paris now; tell them that victory is ours! No, no," he adds excitedly, +"don't go all the way--ride to Genappe and send a messenger to Paris +from there--then come back to be with us in the hour of victory." + +And Victor de Marmont rides off in order to proclaim to the world at +large the great victory which the Emperor has won this day over all the +armies of Europe banded and coalesced against him. + + +From far away on the road of Ohain has come the first rumour that +Blücher and his body of Prussians are nigh--still several hours' march +from Waterloo but advancing--advancing. For hours Wellington has been +watching for them, until wearily he has sighed: "Blücher or nightfall +alone can save us from annihilation now." + +The rumour--oh! it was merely the whispering of the wind, but still a +rumour nevertheless--means fresh courage to tired, half-spent troops. +Even deeds of unparalleled heroism need the stimulus of renewed hope +sometimes. + +The rumour has also come to the ears of the Emperor, of Ney and of all +the officers of the staff. They all know that those magnificent British +troops whom they have fought all day must be nigh to their final +desperate effort at last--with naught left to them but their stubborn +courage and that tenacity which has been ever since the wonder of the +world. + +They know, these brave soldiers of Napoleon--who have fought and admired +the brave foe--that the 1st and 2nd Life Guards are decimated by now; +that entire British and German regiments are cut up; that Picton is +dead, the Scots Greys almost annihilated. They know what havoc their +huge cavalry charges have made in the magnificent squares of British +infantry; they know that heroism and tenacity and determination must +give way at last before superior numbers, before fresh troops, before +persistent, ever-renewed attacks. + +Only a few fresh troops and Ney declares that he can conquer the final +dogged endurance of the British troops, before they in their turn +receive the support of Blücher and his Prussians, or before nightfall +gives them a chance of rest. + +So he sends Colonel Heymès to his Emperor with the urgent message: "More +troops, I entreat, more troops and I can break the English centre before +the Prussians come!" + +None knew better than he that this was the great hazard on which the +life and honour of his Emperor had been staked, that Imperial France was +fighting hand to hand with Great Britain, each for her national +existence, each for supremacy and might and the honour of her flag. + +Imperial France--bold, daring, impetuous! + +Great Britain--tenacious, firm and impassive! + +Wellington under the elm-tree, calmly scanning the horizon while bullets +whiz past around his head, and ordering his troops to hold on to the +last man! + +The Emperor on horseback under a hailstorm of shot and shell and bullets +riding from end to end of his lines! + +Ney and his division of cuirassiers and grenadiers of the Old Guard had +just obeyed the Emperor's last orders which had been to take La Haye +Sainte at all costs: and the intrepid Maréchal now, flushed with +victory, had sent his urgent message to Napoleon: + +"More troops! and I can yet break through the English centre before the +arrival of the Prussians." + +"More troops?" cried the Emperor in despair, "where am I to get them +from? Am I a creator of men?" + +And from far away the rumour: "Blücher and the Prussians are nigh!" + +"Stop that rumour from spreading to the ears of our men! In God's name +don't let them know it," adjures Napoleon in a message to Ney. + +And he himself sends his own staff officers to every point of the field +of battle to shout and proclaim the news that it is Grouchy who is +nigh, Grouchy with reinforcements, Grouchy with the victorious troops +from Ligny, fresh from conquered laurels! + +And the news gives fresh heart to the Imperial troops: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" they shout, more certain than ever of victory. + + +III + +The grey day has yielded at last to the kiss of the sun. Far away at +Braine l'Alleud a vivid streak of gold has rent the bank of heavy +clouds. It is now close on seven o'clock--there are two more hours to +nightfall and Blücher is not yet here. + +Some of the Prussians have certainly debouched on Plancenoit, but +Napoleon's Old Guard have turned them out again, and from Limale now +comes the sound of heavy cannonade as if Grouchy had come upon Blücher +after all and all hopes of reinforcements for the British troops were +finally at an end. + +Napoleon--Emperor still and still flushed with victory--looks through +his glasses on the British lines: to him it seems that these are shaken, +that Wellington is fighting with the last of his men. This is the hour +then when victory waits--attentive, ready to bestow her crown on him who +can hold out and fight the longest--on him who at the last can deliver +the irresistible attack. + +And Napoleon gives the order for the final attack, which must be more +formidable, more overpowering than any that have gone before. The +plateau of Mont Saint Jean, he commands, must be carried at all costs! + +Cuirassiers, lancers and grenadiers, then, once more to the charge! +strew once more the plains of Waterloo with your dying and your dead! +Up, Milhaud, with your guards! Poret with your grenadiers! Michel with +your chasseurs! Up, ye heroes of a dozen campaigns, of a hundred +victories! Up, ye old growlers with the fur bonnets--Napoleon's +invincible Old Guard! With Ney himself to lead you! a hero among heroes! +the bravest where all are brave! + +Have you ever seen a tidal wave of steel rising and surging under the +lash of the gale? So they come now, those cuirassiers and lancers and +chasseurs, their helmets, their swords, their lances gleaming in the +golden light of the sinking sun; in closed ranks, stirrup to stirrup +they swoop down into the valley, and rise again scaling the muddy +heights. Superb as on parade, with their finest generals at their head: +Milhaud, Hanrion, Michel, Mallet! and Ney between them all. + +Splendid they are and certain of victory: they gallop past as if at a +revue on the Place du Carrousel opposite the windows of the Tuileries; +all to the repeated cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And as they gallop past the wounded and the dying lift themselves up +from the blood-stained earth, and raise their feeble voices to join in +that triumphant call: "Vive l'Empereur!" There's an old veteran there, +who fought at Austerlitz and at Jena; he has three stripes upon his +sleeve, but both his legs are shattered and he lies on the roadside +propped up against a hedge, and as the superb cavalry ride proudly by he +shouts lustily: "Forward, comrades! a last victorious charge! Long live +the Emperor!" + + +After that who was to blame? Was human agency to blame? Did Ney--the +finest cavalry leader in Napoleon's magnificent army, the veteran of an +hundred glorious victories--did he make the one blunder of his military +career by dividing his troops into too many separate columns rather than +concentrating them for the one all-powerful attack upon the British +centres? Did he indeed mistake the way and lead his splendid cavalry by +round-about crossways to the plateau instead of by the straight Brussels +road? + +Or did the obscure traitor--over whom history has thrown a veil of +mystery--betray this fresh advance against the British centre to +Wellington? + +Was any man to blame? Was it not rather the hand of God that had already +fallen with almighty and divine weight upon the ambitious and reckless +adventurer?--was it not the voice of God that spoke to him through the +cannon's roar of Waterloo: "So far but no farther shalt thou go! Enough +of thy will and thy power and thy ambition!--Enough of this scourge of +bloodshed and of misery which I have allowed thee to wield for so +long!--Enough of devastated homes, of starvation and of poverty! enough +of the fatherless and of the widow!" + +And up above on the plateau the British troops hear the thunder of +thousands of horses' hoofs, galloping--galloping to this last charge +which must be irresistible. And sturdy, wearied hands, black with powder +and stained with blood, grasp more firmly still the bayonet, the rifle +or the carbine, and they wait--those exhausted, intrepid, valiant men! +they wait for that thundering charge, with wide-open eyes fixed upon the +crest of the hill--they wait for the charge--they are ready for +death--but they are not prepared to yield. + +Along the edge of the plateau in a huge semicircle that extends from +Hougoumont to the Brussels road the British gunners wait for the order +to fire. + +Behind them Wellington--eagle-eyed and calm, warned by God--or by a +traitor but still by God--of the coming assault on his positions--scours +the British lines from end to end: valiant Maitland is there with his +brigade of guards, and Adam with his artillery: there are Vandeleur's +and Vivian's cavalry and Colin Halkett's guards! heroes all! ready to +die and hearing the approach of Death in that distant roar of +thunder--the onrush of Napoleon's invincible cavalry. + +Here, too, further out toward the east and the west, extending the +British lines as far as Nivelles on one side and Brussels on the other, +are William Halkett's Hanoverians, Duplat's German brigade, the Dutch +and the Belgians, the Brunswickers, and Ompteda's decimated corps. The +French royalists are here too, scattered among the foreign +troops--brother prepared to fight brother to the death! St. Genis is +among the Brunswickers. But Bobby Clyffurde is with Maitland's guards. + +And now the wave of steel is surging up the incline: the gleam of +shining metal pierces the distant haze, casques and lances glitter in +the slowly sinking sun, whilst from billow to billow the echo brings to +straining ears the triumphant cry "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Five minutes later the British artillery ranged along the crest has made +a huge breach in that solid, moving mass of horses and of steel. Quickly +the breach is repaired: the ranks close up again! This is a parade! a +review! The eyes of France are upon her sons! and "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Still they come! + +Volley after volley from the British guns makes deadly havoc among those +glistering ranks! + +But nevertheless they come! + +No halt save for the quick closing up into serried, orderly columns. And +then on with the advance!--like the surging up of a tidal wave against +the cliffs--on with the advance! up the slopes toward the crest where +those who are in the front ranks are mowed down by the British +guns--their places taken by others from the rear--those others mowed +down again, and again replaced--falling in their hundreds as they reach +the crest, like the surf that shivers and dies as it strikes against the +cliffs. + +Ney's horse is killed under him--the fifth to-day--but he quickly +extricates himself from saddle and stirrups and continues on his way--on +foot, sword in hand--the sword that conquered at Austerlitz, at Eylau +and at Moskowa. Round him the grenadiers of the Old Guard--they with +the fur bonnets and the grizzled moustaches--tighten up their ranks. + +They advance behind the cavalry! and after every volley from the British +guns they shout loudly: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And anon the tidal wave--despite the ebb, despite the constant breaking +of its surf--has by sheer force of weight hurled itself upon the crest +of the plateau. + +The Brunswickers on the left are scattered. Cleeves and Lloyd have been +forced to abandon their guns: the British artillery is silenced and the +chasseurs of Michel hold the extreme edge of the upland, and turn a +deadly fusillade upon Colin Halkett's brigade already attacked by +Milhaud and his guards and now severely shaken. + +"See the English General!" cries Duchaud to his cuirassiers, "he is +between two fires. He cannot escape." + +No! he cannot but he seizes the colours of the 33rd whose young +lieutenant has just fallen, and who threaten to yield under the +devastating cross-fire: he brandishes the tattered colours, high up +above his head--as high as he can hold them--he calls to his men to +rally, and then falls grievously wounded. + +But his guards have rallied. They stand firm now, and Duchaud, chewing +his grey moustache, murmurs his appreciation of so gallant a foe. + +"That side will win," he mutters, "who can best keep on killing." + + +IV + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +Maitland's brigade of guards had been crouching in the +corn--crouching--waiting for the order to charge--red-coated lions in +the ripening corn--ready to spring at the word. + +And Death the harvester in chief stands by with his scythe ready for the +mowing. + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +It is Maitland and his gallant brigade of guards--out of the corn they +rise and front the three battalions of Michel's chasseurs who were the +first to reach the highest point of the hill. They fire and Death with +his scythe has laid three hundred low. The tricolour flag is riddled +with grapeshot and Général Michel has fallen. + +Then indeed the mighty wave of steel can advance no longer: for it is +confronted with an impenetrable wall--a wall of living, palpitating, +heroic men--men who for hours have stood their ground and fought for the +honour of Britain and of her flag--men who with set teeth and grim +determination were ready to sell their lives dearly if lives were to be +sold--men in fact who have had their orders to hold out to the last man +and who are going to obey those orders now. + +"Up, guards, and at them," and surprised, bewildered, staggered, the +chasseurs pause: three hundred of their comrades lie dead or dying on +the ground. They pause: their ranks are broken: with his last dying sigh +brave Général Michel tries to rally them. But he breathes his last ere +he succeeds: his second in command loses his head. He should have +ordered a bayonet charge--sudden, swift and sure--against that red wall +that rushes at them with such staggering power: but he too tries to +rally his men, to reform their ranks--how can they re-form as for parade +under the deadly fire of the British guards? + +Confusion begins its deathly sway: the chasseurs--under conflicting +orders--stand for full ten minutes almost motionless under that +devastating fire. + +And far away on the heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian +bayonets are seen silhouetted against the sunset sky. + +Wellington has seen it. Blücher has come at last! One final effort, one +more mighty gigantic, superhuman struggle and the glorious end would be +in sight. He gives the order for a general charge. + +"Forward, boys," cries Colonel Saltoun to his brigade. "Now is the +time!" + +Heads down the British charge. The chasseurs are already scattered, but +behind the chasseurs, fronting Maitland's brigade, fronting Adam and his +artillery, fronting Saltoun and Colborne the Fire-Eater, the Old Guard +is seen to advance, the Old Guard who through twelve campaigns and an +hundred victories have shown the world how to conquer and how to die. + +When Michel's chasseurs were scattered, when their General fell; when +the English lines, exhausted and shaken for a moment, rallied at +Wellington's call: "Up, guards, and at them!" when from far away on the +heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian bayonets were +silhouetted against the sunset sky, then did Napoleon's old growlers +with their fur bonnets and their grizzled moustaches enter the line of +action to face the English guards. They were facing Death and knew it +but still they cried: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Heads down the British charge, whilst from Ohain comes the roar of +Blücher's guns, and up from the east, Zieten with the Prussians rushes +up to join in the assault. + +Then the carnage begins: for the Old Guard is still advancing--in solid +squares--solemn, unmoved, magnificent: the bronze eagles on their +bonnets catch the golden rays of the setting sun. Thus they advance in +face of deadly fire: they fall like corn before the scythe. A sublime +suicide to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and not one of the brigade is +missing except those who are dead. + +They know--none better--that this is the beginning of the end. Perhaps +they do not care to live if their Emperor is to be Emperor no longer, +if he is to be sent back to exile--to the prison of Elba or worse: and +so they advance in serried squares, while Maitland's artillery has +attacked them in the rear. Great gaps are made in those ranks, but they +are quickly filled up again: the squares become less solid, smaller, but +they remain compact. Still they advance. + +But now close behind them Blücher's guns begin to thunder and Zieten's +columns are rapidly gaining ground: all round their fur bonnets a +hailstorm of grape-shot is raging whilst Adam's artillery is in action +within fifty paces at their flank. But the old growlers who had suffered +death with silent fortitude in the snows of Russia, who had been as +grand in their defeat at Moscow and at Leipzic as they had been in the +triumphs of Auerstadt or of Friedland--they neither staggered nor paused +in their advance. On they went--carrying their muskets on their +shoulders--a cloud of tirailleurs in front of them, right into the +cross-fire of the British guns: their loud cry of "Vive l'Empereur" +drowning that other awesome, terrible cry which someone had raised a +while ago and which now went from mouth to mouth: "We are betrayed! +_Sauve qui peut!_" + +The Prussians were in their rear; the British were charging their front, +and panic had seized the most brilliant cavalry the world had ever seen. + +"Sauve qui peut" is echoed now and re-echoed all along the crest of the +plateau. And the echo rolls down the slope into the valley where +Reille's infantry and a regiment of cuirassiers, and three more +battalions of chasseurs, are making ready to second the assault on Mont +Saint Jean. Reille and his infantry pause and listen: the cuirassiers +halt in their upward movement, whilst up on the ridge of the plateau +where Donzelot's grenadiers have attacked the brigade of Kempt and +Lambert and Pack, the whisper goes from mouth to mouth: + +"We are betrayed! _Sauve qui peut!_" + +Panic seizes the younger men: they turn their horses' heads back toward +the slopes. The stampede has commenced: very soon it grows. The British +in front, the Prussians in the rear: "Sauve qui peut!" + +Ney amongst them is almost unrecognisable. His face is coal-black with +powder: he has no hat, no epaulettes and only half a sword: rage, +anguish, bitterness are in his husky voice as he adjures, entreats, +calls to the demoralised army--and insults it, execrates it in turn. But +nothing but Death will stop that army now in its headlong flight. + +"At least stop and see how a Marshal of France dies on the field of +honour," he calls. + +But the voice which led these same men to victory at Moskowa has lost +its potency and its magic. The men cry "Vive Ney!" but they do not +stand. The stampede has become general. In the valley below the infantry +has started to run up the slope of La Belle Alliance: after it the +cavalry with reins hanging loose, stirrups lost, casques, sabretaches, +muskets--anything that impedes--thrown into the fields to right and +left. La Haye Sainte is evacuated, Hougoumont is abandoned; Papelotte, +Plancenoit, the woods, the plains are only filled with running men and +the thunder of galloping chargers. + + +Alone the Old Guard has remained unshaken. Whilst all around them what +was once the Grand Army is shattered, destroyed, melted like ice before +a devastating fire, they have continued to advance, sublime in their +fortitude, in their endurance, their contempt for death. One by one +their columns are shattered and there are none now to replace those that +fall. And as the gloom of night settles on this vast hecatomb on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the conquerors of Jena and Austerlitz and +Friedland make their last stand round the bronze eagle--all that is left +to them of the glories of the past. + +And when from far away the cry of "Sauve qui peut" has become only an +echo, and the bronze eagle shattered by a bullet lies prone upon the +ground shielded against capture in its fall by a circling mountain of +dead, when finally Night wraps all the heroism, the glory, the sorrow +and the horrors of this awful day in the sable folds of her +all-embracing mantle, Napoleon's Old Guard has ceased to be. + + +And out in the western sky a streak of vivid crimson like human blood +has broken the bosom of the clouds: the glow of the sinking sun rests on +this huge dissolution of what was once so glorious and unconquered and +great. Then it is that Wellington rides to the very edge of the plateau +and fronts the gallant British troops at this supreme hour of oncoming +victory, and lifting his hat high above his head he waves it three times +in the air. + +And from right and left they come, British, Hanoverians, Belgians and +Brunswickers to deliver the final blow to this retreating army, wounded +already unto death. + +They charge now: they charge all of them, cavalry, infantry, gunners, +forty thousand men who have forgotten exhaustion, forgotten what they +have suffered, forgotten what they had endured. On they come with a rush +like a torrent let loose; the confusion of sounds and sights becomes a +pandemonium of hideousness, bugles and drums and trumpets and bagpipes +all mingle, merge and die away in the fast gathering twilight. + +And the tidal wave of steel recedes down the slopes of Mont Saint Jean, +into the valley and thence up again on Belle Alliance, with a mêlée of +sounds like the breaking of a gigantic line of surf against the +irresistible cliffs, or the last drawn-out sigh of agony of dying giants +in primeval times. + + +V + +On the road to Genappe in the mystery of the moonlit night a solitary +rider turned into a field and dismounted. + +Carried along for a time by the stream of the panic, he found himself +for a moment comparatively alone--left as it were high and dry by the +same stream which here had divided and flowed on to right and left of +him. He wore a grey redingote and a shabby bicorne hat. + +Having dismounted he slipped the bridle over his arm and started to walk +beside his horse back toward Waterloo. + +A sleep-walker in pursuit of his dream! + +Heavy banks of grey clouds chased one another with mad fury across the +midsummer sky, now obscuring the cold face of the moon, now allowing her +pale, silvery rays to light up this gigantic panorama of desolation and +terror and misery. To right and left along the roads and lanes, across +grassland and cornfields, canals, ditches and fences the last of the +Grand Army was flying headlong, closely pursued by the Prussians. And at +the farm of La Belle Alliance Wellington and Blücher had met and shaken +hands, and had thanked God for the great and glorious victory. + +But the sleep-walker went on in pursuit of his dream--he walked with +measured steps beside his weary horse, his eyes fixed on the horizon far +away, where the dull crimson glow of smouldering fires threw its last +weird light upon this vast abode of the dead and the dying. He walked +on--slowly and mechanically back to the scene of the overwhelming +cataclysm where all his hopes lay irretrievably buried. He walked +on--majestic as he had never been before, in the brilliant throne-room +of the Tuileries or the mystic vastness of Notre Dame when the Imperial +crown sat so ill upon his plebeian head. . . . He walked on--silent, +exalted and great--great through the magnitude of his downfall. + +And to right and left of him, like the surf that recedes on a pebbly +beach, the last of his once invincible army was flying back to +France--back in the wake of those who had been lucky enough to fly +before--bodies of men who had been the last to realise that an heroic +stand round a fallen eagle could no longer win back that which was lost, +and that if life be precious it could only be had in flight--bits of +human wreckage too, forgotten by the tide--they all rolled and rushed +and swept past the silent wayfarer . . . quite close at times: so close +that every man could see him quite distinctly, could easily distinguish +by the light of the moon the grey redingote and the battered hat which +they all knew so well--which they had been wont to see in the forefront +of an hundred victorious charges. + +Now half-blinded by despair and by panic they gazed with uncomprehending +eyes on the man and on the horse and merely shouted to him as they +rushed galloping or running by, "The Prussians are on us! _Sauve qui +peut!_" + +And the dreamer still looked on that distant crimson glow and in the +bosom of those wind-swept clouds he saw the pictures of Austerlitz and +Jena and Wagram, pictures of glory and might and victory, and the shouts +which he heard were the ringing cheers round the bivouac fires of long +ago. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LAST THROW + + +I + +It was close on half-past nine and the moon full up on the stormy sky +when a couple of riders detached themselves out of the surging mass of +horses and men that were flying pell-mell towards Genappe, and slightly +checking their horses, put them to a slower gallop and finally to a +trot. + +On their right a small cottage gleamed snow-white in the cold, searching +light of the moon. A low wall ran to right and left of it and enclosed a +small yard at the back of the cottage; the wall had a gate in it which +gave on the fields beyond. At the moment that the two riders trotting +slowly down the road reached the first angle of the wall, the gate was +open and a man leading a white horse and wearing a grey redingote turned +into the yard. + +"My God! the Emperor!" exclaimed one of the riders as he drew rein. + +They both turned their horses into the field, skirting the low, +enclosing wall until they reached the gate. The white horse was now +tethered to a post and the man in the grey redingote was standing in the +doorway at the rear of the cottage. The two men dismounted and in their +turn led their horses into the yard: at sight of them the man in the +grey redingote seemed to wake from his sleep. + +"Berthier," he said slowly, "is that you?" + +"Yes, Sire,--and Colonel Bertrand is here too." + +"What do you want?" + +"We earnestly beg you, Sire, to come with us to Genappe. There is not +the slightest hope of rallying any portion of your army now. The +Prussians are on us. You might fall into their hands." + +Berthier--conqueror and Prince of Wagram--spoke very earnestly and with +head uncovered, but more abruptly and harshly than he had been wont to +do of yore in the salons of the Tuileries or on the glory-crowned +battlefields at the close of a victorious day. + +"I am coming! I am coming!" said the Emperor with a quick sigh of +impatience. "I only wanted to be alone a moment--to think things out--to +. . ." + +"There is nothing quite so urgent, Sire, as your safety," retorted the +Prince of Wagram drily. + +The Emperor did not--or did not choose to--heed his great Marshal's +marked want of deference. Perhaps he was accustomed to the moods of +these men whom his bounty had fed and loaded with wealth and dignities +and titles in the days of his glory, and who had proved only too ready, +alas!--even last year, even now--to desert him when disaster was in +sight. + +Without another word he turned on his heel and pushing open the cottage +door he disappeared into the darkness of the tiny room beyond. With an +impatient shrug of the shoulders Berthier prepared to follow him. +Colonel Bertrand busied himself with tethering the horses, then he too +followed Berthier into the building. + +It was deserted, of course, as all isolated cottages and houses had been +in the vicinity of Quatre Bras or Mont Saint Jean. Bertrand struck a +tinder and lighted a tallow candle that stood forlorn on a deal table in +the centre of the room. The flickering light revealed a tiny cottage +kitchen--hastily abandoned but scrupulously clean--white-washed walls, a +red-tiled floor, the iron hearth, the painted dresser decorated with +white crockery, shiny tin pans hung in rows against the walls and two +or three rush chairs. Napoleon sat down. + +"I again entreat you, Sire--" began Berthier more earnestly than before. + +But the Emperor was staring straight out before him, with eyes that +apparently saw something beyond that rough white wall opposite, on which +the flickering candle-light threw such weird gargantuan shadows. The +precious minutes sped on: minutes wherein death or capture strode with +giant steps across the fields of Flanders to this lonely cottage where +the once mightiest ruler in Europe sat dreaming of what might have been. +The silence of the night was broken by the thunder of flying horses' +hoofs, by the cries of "Sauve qui peut!" and distant volleys of +artillery proclaiming from far away that Death had not finished all his +work yet. + +Bertrand and Berthier stood by, with heads uncovered: silent, moody and +anxious. + +Suddenly the dreamer roused himself for a moment and spoke abruptly and +with his usual peremptory impatience: "De Marmont," he said. "Has either +of you seen him?" + +"Not lately, Sire," replied Colonel Bertrand, "not since five o'clock at +any rate." + +"What was he doing then?" + +"He was riding furiously in the direction of Nivelles. I shouted to him. +He told me that he was making for Brussels by a circuitous way." + +"Ah! that is right! Well done, my brave de Marmont! Braver than your +treacherous kinsman ever was! So you saw him, did you, Bertrand? Did he +tell you that he had just come from Genappe?" + +"Yes, Sire, he did," replied Bertrand moodily. "He told me that by your +orders he had sent a messenger from there to Paris with news of your +victory: and that by to-morrow morning the capital would be ringing +with enthusiasm and with cheers." + +"And by the time de Marmont came back from Genappe," interposed the +Prince of Wagram with a sneer, "the plains of Waterloo were ringing with +the Grand Army's '_Sauve qui peut!_'" + +"An episode, Prince, only an episode!" said Napoleon with an angry frown +of impatience. "To hear you now one would imagine that Essling had never +been. We have been beaten back, of course, but for the moment the world +does not know that. Paris to-morrow will be be-flagged and the bells of +Notre Dame will send forth their joyous peals to cheer the hearts of my +people. And in Brussels this afternoon thousands of our +enemies--Belgians, Dutch, Hanoverians, Brunswickers--were rushing +helter-skelter into the town--demoralised and disorganised after that +brilliant charge of our cuirassiers against the Allied left." + +"Would to God the British had been among them too," murmured old Colonel +Bertrand. "But for their stand . . ." + +"And a splendid stand it was. Ah! but for that. . . . To think that if +Grouchy had kept the Prussians away, in only another hour we . . ." + +The dreamer paused in his dream of the might have been: then he +continued more calmly: + +"But I was not thinking of that just now. I was thinking of those who +fled to Brussels this afternoon with the news of our victory and of +Wellington's defeat." + +"Even then the truth is known in Brussels by now," protested Berthier. + +"Yes! but not before de Marmont has had the time and the pluck to save +us and our Empire! . . . Berthier," he continued more vehemently, "don't +stand there so gloomy, man . . . and you, too, my old Bertrand. . . . +Surely, surely you have realised that at this terrible juncture we must +utilise every circumstance which is in our favour. . . . That early +news of our victory . . . we can make use of that. . . . A big throw in +this mighty game, but we can do it . . . Berthier, do you see how we can +do it . . . ?" + +"No, Sire, I confess that I do not," replied the Marshal gloomily. + +"You do not see?" retorted the Emperor with a frown of angry impatience. +"De Marmont did--at once--but he is young--and enthusiastic, whereas +you. . . . But don't you see that the news of Wellington's defeat must +have enormous consequences on the money markets of the world--if only +for a few hours? . . . It must send the prices on the foreign Bourses +tumbling about people's ears and create an absolute panic on the London +Stock Exchange. Only for a few hours of course . . . but do you not see +that if any man is wise enough to buy stock in London during that panic +he can make a fortune by re-selling the moment the truth is known?" + +"Even then, Sire," stammered Berthier, a little confused by this +avalanche of seemingly irrelevant facts hurled at him at a moment when +the whole map of Europe was being changed by destiny and her future +trembled in the hands of God. + +"Ah, de Marmont saw it all . . . at once . . ." continued the Emperor +earnestly, "he saw eye to eye with me. He knows that money--a great deal +of money--is just what I want now . . . money to reorganise my army, to +re-equip and reform it. The Chamber and my Ministers will never give me +what I want. . . . My God! they are such cowards! and some of them would +rather see the foreign troops again in Paris than Napoleon Emperor at +the Tuileries. You should know that, Maréchal, and you, too, my good +Bertrand. De Marmont knows it . . . that is why he rode to Brussels at +the hour when I alone knew that all was lost at Waterloo, but when half +Europe still thought that the Corsican ogre had conquered again. . . . +De Marmont is in Brussels now . . . to-night he crosses over to +England--to-morrow morning he and his broker will be in the Stock +Exchange in London--calm, silent, watchful. An operation on the Bourse, +what? like hundreds that have been done before . . . but in this case +the object will be to turn one million into fifty so that with it I +might rebuild my Empire again." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, and with indomitable fervour, sitting +here quietly, he--the architect of the mightiest empire of modern +days--just as he used to do in the camps at Austerlitz and Jena and +Wagram and Friedland--with one clenched hand resting upon the rough deal +table, the flickering light of the tallow candle illuminating the wide +brow, the heavy jaw, those piercing eyes that still gazed--in this hour +of supreme catastrophe--into a glorious future destined never to +be--scheming, planning, scheming still, even while his Grand Army was +melting into nothingness all around him, and distant volleys of musketry +were busy consummating the final annihilation of the Empire which he had +created and still hoped to rebuild. + +Berthier gave a quick sign of impatience. + +Rebuild an Empire, ye gods!--an Empire!--when the flower of its manhood +lies pale and stark like the windrows of corn after the harvester has +done his work. Thoughts of a dreamer! Schemes of a visionary! How will +the quaking lips which throughout the length and breadth of this vast +hecatomb now cry, "Sauve qui peut!" how will they ever intone again the +old "Vive l'Empereur!" + +The conqueror of Wagram gave a bitter sigh and faithful Bertrand hung +his head gloomily; but de Marmont had neither sighed nor doubted: but +then de Marmont was young--he too was a dreamer, and an enthusiast and a +visionary. His idol in his eyes had never had feet of clay. For him the +stricken man was his Emperor still--the architect, the creator, the +invincible conqueror--checked for a moment in his glorious work, but +able at his will to rebuild the Empire of France again on the very ruins +that smouldered now on the fields of Waterloo. + +"I can do it, Sire," he had cried exultantly, when his Emperor first +expounded his great, new scheme to him. "I can be in Brussels in an +hour, and catch the midnight packet for England at Ostend. At dawn I +shall be in London, and by ten o'clock at my post. I know a financier--a +Jew, and a mightily clever one--he will operate for me. I have a million +or two francs invested in England, we'll use these for our operations! +Money, Sire! You shall have millions! Our differences on the Stock +Exchange will equip the finest army that even you have ever had! Fifty +millions? I'll bring you a hundred! God has not yet decreed the downfall +of the Empire of France!" + +So de Marmont had spoken this afternoon in the enthusiasm of his youth +and of his hero-worship: and since then the great dreamer had continued +to weave his dreams! Nothing was lost, nothing could be lost whilst +enthusiasm such as that survived in the hearts of the young. + +And still wrapped in his dream he sat on, while danger and death and +disgrace threatened him on every side. Berthier and Bertrand entreated +in vain, in vain tried to drag him away from this solitary place, where +any moment a party of Prussians might find and capture him. + +Unceremoniously the Prince of Wagram had blown out the flickering light +that might have attracted the attention of the pursuers. It was a very +elementary precaution, the only one he or Bertrand was able to take. The +horses were out in the yard for anyone to see, and the greatest spoil of +victory might at any moment fall into the hands of the meanest Prussian +soldier out for loot. + +But the dreamer still sat on in the gloom, with the pale light of the +moon streaming in through the narrow casement window and illumining that +marble-like face, rigid and set, that seemed only to live by the +glowing eyes--the eyes that looked into the future and the past and +heeded not the awful present. + +Close on a quarter of an hour went by until at last he jumped to his +feet, with the sudden cry of "To Genappe!" + +Berthier heaved a sigh of relief and Bertrand hurried out to unfasten +the horses. + +"You are impatient, Prince," said the Emperor almost gaily, as he strode +with a firm step to the door. "You are afraid those cursed Prussians +will put the Corsican ogre into a cage and send him at once to His +Victorious Bourbon Majesty King Louis XVIII. Not so, my good Berthier, +not so. The Star of my Destiny has not yet declined. I've done all the +thinking I wanted to do. Now we'll to Genappe, where we'll rally the +remnants of our army and then quietly await de Marmont's return with the +millions which we want. After that we'll boldly on to Paris and defy my +enemies there . . . En avant, Maréchal! the Corsican ogre is not in the +iron cage yet!" + +Outside Bertrand was holding his stirrup for him. He swung himself +lightly in the saddle and turned out of the farmyard gate into the open, +throwing back his head and sniffing the storm-laden air as if he was +about to lead his army to one of his victorious charges. Not waiting to +see how close the other two men followed him, he put his horse at once +at a gallop. + +He rode on--never pausing--never looking round even on that gigantic +desolation which the cold light of the moon weirdly and fitfully +revealed--his mind was fixed upon a fresh throw on the gaming table of +the world. + +Overhead the storm-driven clouds chased one another with unflagging fury +across the moonlit sky, now obscuring, now revealing that gigantic +dissolution of the Grand Army, so like the melting of ice and frost +under the fierce kiss of the sun. + +More than men in an attack, less than women in a retreat, the finest +cavalry Europe had ever seen was flying like sand before the wind: but +the somnambulist rode on in his sleep, forgetting that on these vast and +billowing fields twenty-six thousand gallant French heroes had died for +the sake of his dreams. + +Bertrand and the Prince of Wagram followed--gloomy and silent--they knew +that all suggestions would be useless, all saner advice remain unheeded. +Besides, de Marmont had gone, and after all, what did it all matter? +What did anything matter, now that Empire, glory, hope, everything were +irretrievably lost? + +And in faithful Bertrand's deep-set eyes there came a strange, far-off +look, almost of premonition, as if in his mind he could already see that +lonely island rock in the Atlantic, and the great gambler there, eating +out his heart with vain and bitter regrets. + + +II + +But de Marmont had never had any doubts, never any forebodings: he only +had boundless faith in his hero and boundless enthusiasm for his cause. +Accustomed to handle money since early manhood, owner of a vast fortune +which he had administered himself with no mean skill, he had no doubt +that the Emperor's scheme for manufacturing a few millions in a wild +gamble on the Stock Exchange was not only feasible but certain of +success. + +Undoubtedly the false news of Wellington's defeat would reach London +to-morrow, as it had already reached Paris and Brussels. The panic in +the money market was a foregone conclusion: the quick rise in prices +when the truth became known was equally certain. It only meant +forestalling the arrival of Wellington's despatches in London by four +and twenty hours, and one million would make fifty during that time. + +As de Marmont had told his Emperor, he had several hundred thousand +pounds invested in England, on which he could lay his hands: operations +on the Bourse were nothing new to him: and already while he was still +listening with respect and enthusiasm to his Emperor's instructions, he +was longing to get away. He knew the country well between here and +Brussels, and he was wildly longing to be at work, to be flying across +the low-lying land, on to Brussels and then across to England in the +wake of the awful news of complete disaster. + +He would steal the uniform of some poor dead wretch--a Belgium or a +Hanoverian or a black Brunswicker, he didn't care which--it wouldn't +take long to strip the dead, and the greatness of the work at stake +would justify the sacrilege. In the uniform of one of the Allied army he +could safely continue his journey to Brussels, and with luck could reach +the city long before sunset. + +In Brussels he would at once obtain civilian clothes and then catch the +evening packet for England at Ostend. Oh, no! it was not likely that +Wellington could send a messenger over to London quite so soon! + +At this hour--it was just past five--he was still on Mont Saint Jean +making another desperate stand against the Imperial cavalry with troops +half worn out with discouragement and whose endurance must even now be +giving way. + +At this hour the Prussians had appeared at Braine L'Alleud, they had +engaged Reille at Plancenoit, but Wellington and the British had still +to hold their ground or the news which de Marmont intended to accompany +to London might prove true after all. + +Ye gods, if only that were possible! How gladly would Victor then have +lost the hundred thousands which he meant to risk to-morrow! Wellington +really vanquished before Blücher could come to his rescue! Napoleon +once more victorious, as he had always been, and a mightier monarch +than before! Then he, Victor de Marmont, the faithful young enthusiast +who had never ceased to believe when others wavered, who at this last +hour--when the whole world seemed to crumble away from under the feet of +the man who had once been its master--was still ready to serve his +Emperor, never doubting, always hoping, he would reap such a reward as +must at last dazzle the one woman who could make that reward for him +doubly precious. + +Victor de Marmont had effected the gruesome exchange. He was now dressed +in the black uniform of a Brunswick regiment wherein so many French +royalists were serving. By a wide détour he had reached the approach to +Brussels. Indeed it seemed as if the news which he had sent flying to +Paris was true after all. Behind the forest of Soigne where he now was, +the fields and roads were full of running men and galloping horses. The +dull green of Belgian uniforms, the yellow facings of the Dutch, the +black of Brunswickers, all mingled together in a moving kaleidoscopic +mass of colour: men were flying unpursued yet panic-stricken towards +Brussels, carrying tidings of an awful disaster to the allied armies in +their haggard faces, their quivering lips, their blood-stained tunics. + +De Marmont joined in with them: though his heart was full of hope, he +too contrived to look pale and spent and panic-stricken at will--he +heard the shouts of terror, the hastily murmured "All is lost! even the +British can no longer stand!" as horses maddened with fright bore their +half-senseless riders by. He set his teeth and rode on. His dark eyes +glowed with satisfaction; there was no fear that the great gambler would +stake his last in vain: the news would travel quick enough--as news of +disaster always will. Brussels even now must be full of weeping women +and children, as it soon would be of terror-driven men, of wounded and +of maimed crawling into the shelter of the town to die in peace. + +And as he rode, de Marmont thought more and more of Crystal. The last +three months had only enhanced his passionate love for her and his +maddening desire to win her yet at all costs. St. Genis would of course +be fighting to-day. Perchance a convenient shot would put him +effectively out of the way. De Marmont had vainly tried in this wild +gallopade to distinguish his rival's face among this mass of foreigners. + +As for the Englishman! Well! no doubt he had disappeared long ago out of +Crystal de Cambray's life. De Marmont had never feared him greatly. That +one look of understanding between Crystal and Clyffurde, and the +latter's strange conduct about the money at the inn, were alone +responsible for the few twinges of jealousy which de Marmont had +experienced in that quarter. + +Indeed, the Englishman was a negligible quantity. De Marmont did not +fear him. There was only St. Genis, and with the royalist cause rendered +absolutely hopeless--as it would be, as it _must_ be--St. Genis and the +Comte de Cambray and all those stiff-necked aristocrats of the old +regime who had thought fit to turn their proud backs on him at Brestalou +three months ago, would be irretrievably ruined and discredited and +would have to fly the country once more . . . and Crystal, faced with +the alternative of penury in England or a brilliant existence at the +Tuileries as the wife of the Emperor's most faithful friend, would make +her choice as he--de Marmont--never doubted that any woman would. + +Hope for him had already become reality. Brussels was the half-way halt +to the uttermost heights of his ambition. Fortune, the Emperor's +gratitude, the woman he loved, all waited for him there. He reached the +city just as that distant horizon in the west was lit up by a streak of +brilliant crimson from the fast sinking sun: just when--had he but +known it!--on the crest of Mont Saint Jean, Wellington had waved his hat +over his head and given the heroic British army--exhausted, but +undaunted--the order for a general charge; just when the Grand Army, +finally checked in its advance, had first set up the ominous call that +was like the passing-bell of its dying glory: "Sauve qui peut!" + + +III + +"Sauve qui peut!" + +Bobby Clyffurde heard the cry too through the fast gathering shadows of +unconsciousness that closed in round his wearied senses, and, as a film +that was so like the kindly veil of approaching Death spread over his +eyes, he raised them up just once to that vivid crimson glow far out in +the west, and on the winged chariot of the setting sun he sent up his +last sigh of gratitude to God. All day he had called for Death--all day +he had wooed her there where bullets and grape-shot were thickest--where +her huge scythe had been most busily at work. + +Sons of fond mothers, husbands, sweethearts that were dearly loved, +brothers that would be endlessly mourned, lives that were more precious +than any earthly treasures--the ghostly harvester claimed them all with +impartial cruelty. And he--desolate and lonely--with no one greatly to +care if he came back or no--with not a single golden thread of hope to +which he might cling, without a dream to brighten the coming days of +dreariness--with a life in the future that could hold nothing but vain +regrets, Bobby had sought Death twenty times to-day and Death had +resolutely passed him by. + +But now he was grateful for that: he was thankful that he had lived just +long enough to see the sunset, just long enough to take part in that +last glorious charge in obedience to Wellington's inspiring command: +"Up, guards, and at them!" he was glad to have lived just long enough +to hear the "Sauve qui peut!" to know that the Grand Army was in full +retreat, that Blücher had come up in time, that British pluck and +British endurance had won the greatest victory of all times for +Britain's flag and her national existence. + +Now with a rough bandage hastily tied round his head where grape-shot +had lacerated cheek and ear, with a bayonet thrust in the thigh and +another in the arm, Bobby had remained lying there with many thousands +round him as silent, as uncomplaining, as he--in the down-trodden +corn--and with the tramp of thousands of galloping, fleeing horses, the +clash of steel and fusillade of tirailleurs and artillery reaching his +dimmed senses like a distant echo from the land of ghosts. And before +his eyes--half veiled in unconsciousness, there flitted the tender, +delicate vision of Crystal de Cambray: of her blue eyes and soft fair +hair, done up in a quaint mass of tiny curls; of the scarf of filmy lace +which she always liked to wrap round her shoulders, and through the lace +the pearly sheen of her skin, of her arms, and of her throat. The air +around him had become pure and rarified: that horrible stench of powder +and smoke and blood no longer struck his nostrils--it was roses, roses +all around him--crimson roses--sweet and caressing and fragrant--with +soft, velvety petals that brushed against his cheek--and from somewhere +close by came a dreamy melody, the half-sad, half-gay lilt of an +intoxicating dance. + +It was delicious! and Bobby, wearied, sore and aching in body, felt his +soul lifted to some exquisite heights which were not yet heaven, of +course, but which must of a truth form the very threshold of Paradise. + +He saw Crystal more and more clearly every moment: now he was looking +straight into her blue eyes, and her little hand, cool and white as +snow, rested upon his burning forehead. She smiled on him--as on a +friend--there was no contempt, no harshness in her look--only a great, +consoling pity and something that seemed like an appeal! + +Yes! the longer he himself looked into those blue eyes of hers, the more +sure he was that there was an appeal in them. It almost seemed as if she +needed him, in a way that she had never needed him before. Apparently +she could not speak: she could not tell him what it was she wanted: but +her little hands seemed to draw him up, out of the trodden, trampled +corn, and having soothed his aches and pains they seemed to impel him to +do something--that was important . . . and imperative . . . something +that she wanted done. + +He begged her to let him lie here in peace, for he was now comforted and +happy. He was quite sure now that he was dead, that her sweet face had +been the last tangible vision which he had seen on earth, ere he closed +his eyes in the last long sleep. + + +He had seen her and she had gone. All of a sudden she had vanished, and +darkness was closing in around him: the scent of roses faded into the +air, which was now filled again with horrid sounds--the deafening roar +of cannon, the sharp and incessant retort of rifle-fire, the awesome +mêlée of cries and groans and bugle-calls and sighs of agony, and one +deafening cry--so like the last wail of departing souls--which came from +somewhere--not very far away: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Bobby raised himself to a sitting posture. His head ached terribly--he +was stiff in every limb: a burning, almost intolerable pain gnawed at +his thigh and at his left arm. But consciousness had returned and with +it all the knowledge of what this day had meant: all round him there was +the broken corn, stained with blood and mud, all round him lay the dead +and the dying in their thousands. Far away in the west a crimson glow +like fire lit up this vast hecatomb of brave lives sacrificed, this +final agony of the vast Empire, the might and grandeur of one man laid +low this day by the mightier hand of God. + +It lit up with the weird light of the dying day the pallid, clean-shaven +faces of gallant British boys, the rugged faces of the Scot, the olive +skin of the child of Provence, the bronzed cheeks of old veterans: it +threw its lurid glow on red coats and black coats, white facings and +gilt epaulettes; it drew sparks as of still-living fire from +breastplates and broken swords, discarded casques and bayonets, +sabretaches and kilts and bugles and drums, and dead horses and arms and +accoutrements and dead and dying men, all lying pell-mell in a huge +litter with the glow of midsummer sunset upon them--poor little +chessmen--pawns and knights--castles of strength and kings of some +lonely mourning hearts--all swept together by the Almighty hand of the +Great Master of this terrestrial game. + +But with returning consciousness Bobby's gaze took in a wider range of +vision. He visualised exactly where he was--on the south slope of Mont +Saint Jean with La Haye Sainte on ahead a little to his left, and the +whitewashed walls of La Belle Alliance still further away gleaming +golden in the light of the setting sun. + +He saw that on the wide road which leads to Genappe and Charleroi the +once invincible cavalry of the mighty Emperor was fleeing helter-skelter +from the scene of its disaster: he saw that the British--what was left +of them--were in hot pursuit! He saw from far Plancenoit the +scintillating casques of Blücher's Prussians. + +And on the left a detachment of allied troops--Dutch, Belgian, +Brunswickers--had just started down the slope of the plateau to join in +this death-dealing pell-mell, where amongst the litter of dead and +dying, in the confusion of pursuer and pursued, comrade fought at times +against comrade, brother fired on brother--Prussian against British. + +Down below behind the farm buildings of La Haye Sainte two battalions of +chasseurs of the Old Guard had made a stand around a tattered bit of +tricolour and the bronze eagle--symbol of so much decadent grandeur and +of such undying glory. "A moi chasseurs," brave Général Pelet had cried. +"Let us save the eagle or die beneath its wing." + +And those who heard this last call of despair stopped in their headlong +flight; they forged a way for themselves through the mass of running +horses and men, they rallied to their flag, and with their +tirailleurs--kneeling on one knee--ranged in a circle round them, they +now formed a living bulwark for their eagle, of dauntless breasts and +bristling bayonets. + +And upon this mass of desperate men, the small body of raw Dutch and +Belgian and German troops now hurled themselves with wild huzzas and +blind impetuousness. Against this mass of heroes and of conquerors in a +dozen victorious campaigns--men who had no longer anything to lose but +life, and to whom life meant less than nothing now--against them a +handful of half-trained recruits, drunk with the cry of "Victory" which +drowned the roar of the cannon and the clash of sabres, drunk with the +vision of glory which awaited them if that defiant eagle were brought to +earth by them! + +And as Bobby staggered to his feet he already saw the impending +catastrophe--one of the many on this day of cumulative disasters. He saw +the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers rush wildly to the +charge--young men--enthusiasts--brave--but men whose ranks had twice +been broken to-day--who twice had rallied to their colours and then had +broken again--men who were exhausted--men who were none too ably +led--men in fact--and there were many French royalists among their +officers--who had not the physical power of endurance which had enabled +the British to astonish the world to-day. + +Bobby could see amongst them the Brunswickers and their black coats--he +would have known them amongst millions of men. The full brilliance of +the evening glow was upon them--on their black coats and the silver +galoons and tassels; two of their officers had made a brave show in +Brussels three days--or was it a hundred years?--ago at the Duchess of +Richmond's ball. Bobby remembered them so well, for one of these two +officers was Maurice de St. Genis. + +Oh! how Crystal would love to see him now--even though her dear heart +would be torn with anxiety for him--for he was fighting bravely, bravely +and desperately as every one had fought to-day, as these chasseurs of +the Old Guard--just the few of them that remained--were fighting still +even at this hour round that tattered flag and that bronze eagle, and +with the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" dying upon their lips. + +Despair indeed on both sides--even at this hour when the merest incident +might yet turn the issue of this world-conflict one way or the other. +Bobby, as he steadied himself on his feet, had seen that the attack was +already turning into a rout. Not only had Pelet's chasseurs held the +Dutch and Brunswickers at bay, not only had their tirailleurs made +deadly havoc among their assailants, but the latter now were threatened +with absolute annihilation even whilst all around them their +allies--British and Prussian--were crying "Victory!" + +Bobby could see them quite clearly--for he saw with that subtle and +delicate sense which only a great and pure passion can give!--he saw the +danger at the very moment when it was born--at the precise instant when +it threatened that handful of black-coated men, one of whose officers +was named St. Genis. He saw the first sign of wavering, of stupefaction, +that followed the impetuous charge: he saw the gaps in the ranks after +that initial deadly volley from the tirailleurs. It almost seemed as if +he could hear those shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the rallying cry of +commanding officers--it was all so near--not more than three hundred +yards away, and the clear, stormy atmosphere carried sights and sounds +upon its wing. + +Another volley from the tirailleurs and the Dutch and Brunswickers +turned to fly: in vain did their officers call, they wanted to get away! +They tried to fly--to run, for now the chasseurs were at them with +bayonets--they tried to run, but the ground was littered with their own +wounded and dead--with the wounded and the dead of a long day of +carnage: they stumbled at every step--fell over the dying and the +wounded--over dead and wounded horses--over piles of guns and swords and +bayonets, and sabretaches, over forsaken guns and broken carriages, +litter that impeded them in front even as they were driven with the +bayonet from the rear. + +Bobby saw it all, for they were coming now--pursued and pursuers--as +fast as ever they could; they were coming, these flying, black-coated +men, casting away their gay trappings as well as their arms, trying to +run--to get away--but stumbling, falling all the time--picking +themselves up, falling and running again. + +And in that one short moment while the whole brief tragedy was enacted +before his eyes, Bobby also saw, in a vision that was equally swift and +fleeting, the blue eyes of Crystal drowned in tears. He saw her with +fair head drooping like a lily, he saw the quiver of her lips, heard the +moan of pain that would come to her lips when the man she loved was +brought home to her--dead. And in that same second--so full of +portent--Bobby understood why it was that her sweet image had called to +him for help just now. Again she called, again she beckoned--her blue +eyes looked on him with an appeal that was all-compelling: her two dear +hands were clasped and she begged of him that he should be her friend. + +Such visions come from God! no man sees them save he whose soul is great +and whose heart is pure. Poor Bobby Clyffurde--lonely, heart-broken, +desolate--saw the exquisite face that he would have loved to kiss--he +saw it with the golden glow of evening upon the delicate cheeks, and +with the lurid light of fire and battle upon the soft, fair hair. + +And the greatness of his love helped him to understand what life still +held for him--the happiness of supreme sacrifice. + +All around him was death, but there was some life too: one or two poor, +abandoned riderless horses were quietly picking bits of corn from +between the piles of dead and dying men, or were standing, sniffing the +air with dilated nostrils, and snorting with terror at the deafening +noise. Bobby had steadied himself, neither his head nor his limbs were +aching now--at any rate he had forgotten them--all that he remembered +was what he saw, those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly and +could not and who were being slaughtered like insects even as they +stumbled and fled. + +And Bobby caught the bridle of one of these poor, terror-stricken beasts +that stood snorting and sniffing not far away: he crawled up into the +saddle, for his thigh was numb and one of his arms helpless. But once on +horseback he could get along--over trampled corn and over the dead--on +toward that hideous corner behind the farm of La Haye Sainte where +desperate men were butchering others that were more desperate than +they--in among that seething crowd of black coats and fur bonnets, of +silver tassels and of brass eagles, into a whirlpool of swords and +bayonets and gun-fire from the tirailleurs--for there he had seen the +man whom Crystal loved--for whose sake she would eat out her heart with +mourning and regret. + +In the deafening noise of shrieking and sighs and whizzing bullets and +cries of agony he heard Crystal's voice telling him what to do. Already +he had seen St. Genis struggling on his knees not fifty mètres away from +the first line of tirailleurs, not a hundred from the advancing steel +wall of fixed bayonets. Maurice had thrown back his head, in the +hopelessness of his despair; the evening sun fell full upon his haggard, +blood-stained face, upon his wide-open eyes filled with the terror of +death. The next moment Bobby Clyffurde was by his side; all around him +bullets were whizzing--all around him men sighed their last sigh of +agony. He stooped over his saddle: "Can you pull yourself up?" he +called. And with his one sound arm he caught Maurice by the elbow and +helped him to struggle to his feet. The horse, dazed with terror, +snorted at the smell of blood, but he did not move. Maurice, equally +dazed, scrambled into the saddle--almost inert--a dead weight--a thing +that impeded progress and movement; but the thing that Crystal loved +above all things on earth and which Bobby knew he must wrest out of +these devouring jaws of Death and lay--safe and sound--within the +shelter of her arms. + + +IV + +After that it meant a struggle--not for his own life, for indeed he +cared little enough for that--but for the sake of the burden which he +was carrying--a burden of infinite preciousness since Crystal's heart +and happiness were bound up with it. + +Maurice de St. Genis clung half inert to him with one hand gripping the +saddle-bow, the other clutching Bobby's belt with convulsive tenacity. +Bobby himself was only half conscious, dazed with the pain of wounds, +the exertion of hoisting that dead weight across his saddle, the +deafening noise of whizzing bullets round him, the boring of the +frightened horse against its bridle, as it tried to pick its way through +the tangled heaps upon the ground. + +But every moment lessened the danger from stray bullets, and the chance +of the bayonet charge from behind. The cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" round +that still standing eagle were drowned in the medley and confusion of +hundreds of other sounds. Bobby was just able to guide his horse away +from the spots where the fighting was most hot and fierce, where +Vivian's hussars attacked those two battalions of cuirassiers, where +Adam's brigade of artillery turned the flank of the chasseurs and laid +the proud bronze eagle low, where Ney and the Old Guard were showing to +the rest of the Grand Army how grizzled veterans fought and died. + +He rode straight up the plateau, however, but well to the right now, +picking his way carefully with that blind instinct which the tracked +beast possesses and which the hunted man sometimes receives from God. + +The dead and the dying were less thick here upon the ground. It was here +that earlier in the day the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers +had supported the British left, during those terrific cavalry charges +which British endurance and tenacity had alone been able to withstand. +It was here that Hacke's Cumberland Hussars had broken their ranks and +fled, taking to Brussels and thence to Ghent the news of terrific +disaster. Bobby's lips were tight set and he snorted like a war-horse +when he thought of that--when he thought of the misery and sorrow that +must be reigning in Brussels now--and of the consternation at Ghent +where the poor old Bourbon King was probably mourning his dead hopes and +his vanished throne. + +In Brussels women would be weeping; and Crystal--forlorn and +desolate--would perhaps be sitting at her window watching the stream of +fugitives that came in--wounded and exhausted--from the field of battle, +recounting tales of a catastrophe which had no parallel in modern times: +and Crystal, seeing and hearing this, would think of the man she loved, +and believing him to be dead would break her heart with sorrow. + +And when Bobby thought of that he was spurred to fresh effort, and he +pulled himself together with a desperate tension of every nerve and +sinew, fighting exhaustion, ignoring pain, conjuring up the vision of +Crystal's blue eyes and her pleading look as she begged him to save her +from lifelong sorrow and the anguish of future loneliness. Then he no +longer heard the weird and incessant cannonade, he no longer saw the +desolation of this utter confusion around him, he no longer felt +exhausted, or the weight of that lifeless, impeding burden upon his +saddle-bow. + +Stray bands of fugitives with pursuers hot on their heels passed him by, +stray bullets flew to right and left of him, whizzing by with their +eerie, whistling sound; he was now on the outskirts of the great +pursuit--anon he reached the crest of Mont Saint Jean at last, and +almost blindly struck back eastward in the direction of the forest of +Soigne. + +It was blind instinct--and nothing more--that kept him on his horse: he +clung to his saddle with half-paralysed knees, just as a drowning man +will clutch a floating bit of wreckage that helps him to keep his head +above the water. The stately trees of Soigne were not far ahead now: +through the forest any track that bore to the left would strike the +Brussels road; only a little more strength--another effort or two--the +cool solitude of the wood would ease the weight of the burden and the +throbbing of nerves and brain. The setting sun shone full upon the leafy +edge of the wood; hazelnut and beech and oak and clumps of briar rose +quivered under the rough kiss of the wind that blew straight across the +lowland from the southwest, bringing with it still the confusion of +sounds--the weird cannonades and dismal bugle-calls--in such strange +contrast to the rustle of the leaves and the crackling of tiny twigs in +the tangled coppice. + +How cool and delicious it must be under those trees--and there was a +narrow track which must lead straight to the Brussels road--the ground +looked soft and mossy and damp after the rain--oh! for the strength to +reach those leafy shadows, to plunge under that thicket and brush with +burning forehead against those soft green leaves heavy with moisture! +Oh! for the power to annihilate this distance of a few hundred yards +that lie between this immense graveyard open to wind and scorching sun, +and the green, cool moss and carpet of twigs and leaves and soft, +sweet-smelling earth, on which a weary body and desolate soul might find +eternal rest! . . . + + +V + +On! on! through the forest of Soigne! There was no question as yet of +rest. + +Maurice had not yet wakened from his trance. Bobby vaguely wondered if +he were not already dead. There was no stain of blood upon his fine +uniform, but it was just possible that in stumbling, running and falling +he had hit his head or received a blow which had deprived him of +consciousness directly after he had scrambled into the saddle. + +Bobby remembered how pale and haggard he had looked and how his hand had +by the merest instinct clutched at the saddle-bow, and then had dropped +away from it--helpless and inert. Now he lay quite still with his head +resting against Bobby's shoulder. + +Under the trees it was cool and the air was sweet and soothing: Bobby +with his left hand contrived to tear a handful of leaves from the +coppice as he passed: they were full of moisture and he pressed them +against Maurice's lips and against his own. + +The forest was full of sounds: of running men and horses, the rattle of +wheels, and the calls of terror and of pain, with still and always that +awesome background of persistent cannonade. But Bobby heard nothing, saw +nothing save the narrow track in front of him, along which the horse now +ambled leisurely, and from time to time--when he looked down--the pale, +haggard face of the man whom Crystal loved. + +At one moment Maurice opened his eyes and murmured feebly: "Where am I?" + +"On the way to Brussels," Bobby contrived to reply. + +A little later on horse and rider emerged out of the wood and the +Brussels road stretched out its long straight ribbon before Bobby +Clyffurde's dull, uncomprehending gaze. + +Close by at his feet the milestone marked the last six kilomètres to +Brussels. Only another half-dozen kilomètres--only another hour's ride +at most! . . . Only!!! . . . when even now he felt that the next few +minutes must see him tumbling head-foremost from the saddle. + +Far away beyond the milestone on his right--in a meadow, the boundary of +which touched the edge of the wood--women were busy tossing hay after +the rain, all unconscious of the simple little tragedy that was being +enacted so close to them: their cotton dresses and the kerchiefs round +their heads stood out as trenchant, vivid notes of colour against the +dull grey landscape beyond. A couple of haycarts were standing by: +beside them two men were lighting their pipes. The wind was playing with +the hay as the women tossed it, and their shrill laughter came echoing +across the meadow. + +And even now the ground was shaken with the repercussion of distant +volleys of artillery, and along the road a stream of men were running +toward Brussels, horses galloped by frightened and riderless, or +dragging broken gun-carriages behind them in the mud. The whole of that +stream was carrying the news of Wellington's disaster to Brussels and to +Ghent: not knowing that behind them had already sounded the passing bell +for the Empire of France. + +Bobby had drawn rein on the edge of the wood to give his horse a rest, +and for a while he watched that running stream, longing to shout to them +to turn back--there was no occasion to run--to see what had been done, +to take a share in that glorious, final charge for victory. But his +throat was too parched for a shout, and as he watched, he saw in among a +knot of mounted men--fugitives like the others, pale of face, anxious of +mien and with that intent look which men have when life is precious and +has got to be saved--he saw a man in the same uniform that St. Genis +wore--a Brunswicker in black coat and silver galoons--who stared at him, +persistently and strangely, as he rode by. + +The face though much altered by three days' growth of beard, and by the +set of the shako worn right down to the brows, was nevertheless a +familiar one. Bobby--stupefied, deprived for the moment of thinking +powers, through sheer exhaustion and burning pain--taxed his weary brain +in vain to understand the look of recognition which the man in the black +uniform cast upon him as he passed. + +Until a lightly spoken: "Hullo, my dear Clyffurde!" uttered gaily as the +rider drew near to the edge of the road, brought the name of "Victor de +Marmont!" to Bobby's quivering lips. + +And just for the space of sixty seconds Fate rubbed her gaunt hands +complacently together, seeing that she had brought these three men +together--here on this spot--three men who loved the same woman, each +with the utmost ardour and passion at his command--each even at this +very moment striving to win her and to work for her happiness. + +Behind them in the plains of Waterloo the cannon still was roaring: de +Marmont was on his way to redeem the fallen fortunes of the hero whom he +worshipped and to win imperial regard, imperial favours, fortune and +glory wherewith to conquer a girl's obstinacy. St. Genis--pale and +unconscious--seemed even in his unconsciousness to defy the power of any +rival by the might of early love, of old associations, of similarity of +caste and of political ideals. He had fought for the cause which she and +he had both equally at heart and by his very helplessness now he seemed +to prove that he could do no more than he had done and that he had the +right to claim the solace and comfort which her girlish lips and her +girlish love had promised him long ago. + +Whilst Bobby had nothing to promise and nothing to give save +devotion--his hope, his desire and his love were bounded by her +happiness. And since her happiness lay in the life of the man whom he +had dragged out of the jaws of Death, what greater proof could he give +of his love than to lay down his life for him and for her? + +De Marmont's keen eyes took in the situation at a glance: he threw a +quick look of savage hatred on St. Genis and cast one of contemptuous +pity on Clyffurde. Then with a shrug of the shoulders and a light, +triumphant laugh, he set spurs to his horse and rode swiftly away. + +Bobby's lack-lustre eyes followed horse and rider down the road till +they grew smaller and smaller still and finally disappeared in the +distance. For a moment he felt puzzled. What was de Marmont doing in +this stream of senseless, panic-stricken men? What was he doing in the +uniform of one of the Allied nations? Why had he laughed so gaily and +appeared so triumphant in his mien? + +Did he not know then that his hero had fallen along with his mighty +eagle? that the brief adventure begun in the gulf of Jouan had ended in +a hopeless tragedy on the field of Waterloo? But why that uniform? Poor +Bobby's head ached too much to allow him to think, and time was getting +on. + +The road now was deserted. The last of the fugitives formed but a cloud +of black specks on the line of the horizon far off toward Brussels. From +the hayfield there came the merry sound of women's laughter, while far +away cannon and musketry still roared. And over the long, straight +road--bordered with straight poplar trees--the setting sun threw +ever-lengthening shadows. + +Maurice opened his eyes. + +"Where am I?" he asked again. + +"Close to Brussels now," replied Bobby. + +"To Brussels?" murmured St. Genis feebly. "Crystal!" + +"Yes," assented Bobby. "Crystal! God bless her!" Then as St. Genis was +trying to move, he added: "Can you shift a little?" + +"I think so," replied the other. + +"If you could ease the pressure on my leg . . . steady, now! steady! +. . . Can you sit up in the saddle? . . . Are you hurt? . . ." + +"Not much. My head aches terribly. I must have hit it against something. +But that is all. I am only dizzy and sick." + +"Could you ride on to Brussels alone, think you?" + +"Perhaps." + +"It is not far. The horse is very quiet. He will amble along if you give +him his head." + +"But you?" + +"I'd like to rest. I'll find shelter in a cottage perhaps . . . or in +the wood." + +St. Genis said nothing more for the moment. He was intent on sliding +down from the saddle without too much assistance from Bobby. When he had +reached the ground, it took him a little while to collect himself, for +his head was swimming: he closed his eyes and put out a hand to steady +himself against a tree. + +When Maurice opened his eyes again, Bobby was sitting on the ground by +the roadside: the horse was nibbling a clump of fresh, green grass. + +For the first time since that awful moment when stumbling and falling +against a pile of dead, with Death behind and all around him, he had +heard the welcome call: "Can you pull yourself up?" and felt the +steadying grip upon his elbow--Maurice de St. Genis looked upon the man +to whom he owed his life. + +With that stained bandage round his head, dulled and bloodshot eyes, +face blackened with powder and smoke and features drawn and haggard, +Bobby Clyffurde was indeed almost unrecognisable. But Maurice knew him +on the instant. Hitherto, he had not thought of how he had come out of +that terrible hell-fire behind La Haye Sainte--indeed, he had quickly +lost consciousness and never regained it till now: and now he knew that +the same man who in the narrow hotel room near Lyons had ungrudgingly +rendered him a signal service--had risked his life to-day for +his--Maurice's sake. + +No one could have entered that awful mêlée and faced the bayonet charge +of Pelet's cuirassiers and the hail of bullets from their tirailleurs +without taking imminent risk of death. Yet Clyffurde had done it. Why? +Maurice--wide-eyed and sullen--could only find one answer to that +insistent question. + +That same deadly pang of jealousy which had assailed his heart after the +midnight interview at the inn now held him in its cruel grip again. He +felt that he hated the man to whom he owed his life, and that he hated +himself for this mean and base ingratitude. He would not trust himself +to speak or to look on Bobby at all, lest the ugly thoughts which were +floating through his mind set their stamp upon his face. + +"Will you ride on to Brussels?" he said at last. "I can wait here . . . +and perhaps you could send a conveyance for me later on. M. le Comte de +Cambray would . . ." + +"M. le Comte de Cambray and Mademoiselle Crystal are even now devoured +with anxiety about you," broke in Clyffurde as firmly as he could. "And +I could not ride to Brussels--even though some one were waiting for me +there--I really am not able to ride further. I would prefer to sit here +and rest." + +"I don't like to leave you . . . after . . . after what you have done +for me . . . I would like to . . ." + +"I would like you to scramble into that saddle and go," retorted Bobby +with a momentary return to his usual good-natured irony, "and to leave +me in peace." + +"I'll send out a conveyance for you," rejoined St. Genis. "I know M. le +Comte de Cambray would wish . . ." + +"Mention my name to M. le Comte at your peril . . ." began Clyffurde. + +"But . . ." + +"By the Lord, man," now exclaimed Bobby with a sudden burst of energy, +"if you do not go, I vow that sick as I am, and sick though you may be, +I'll yet manage to punch your aching head." + +Then as the other--still reluctantly--turned to take hold of the horse's +bridle, he added more gently: "Can you mount?" + +"Oh, yes! I am better now." + +"You won't turn giddy, and fall off your horse?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Talk about the halt leading the blind!" murmured Clyffurde as he +stretched himself out once more upon the soft ground, whilst Maurice +contrived to hoist himself up into the saddle. "Are you safe now?" he +added as the young man collected the reins in his hand, and planted his +feet firmly into the stirrups. + +"Yes! I am safe enough," replied St. Genis. "It is only my head that +aches: and Brussels is not far." + +Then he paused a moment ere he started to go--with lips set tight and +looking down on Bobby, whose pale face had taken on an ashen hue: + +"How you must despise me," he said bitterly. + +But Bobby made no reply: he was just longing to be left alone, whilst +the other still seemed inclined to linger. + +"Would to God," Maurice said with a sigh, "that M. le Comte heard the +evil news from other lips than mine." + +"Evil news?" And Bobby, whom semi-consciousness was already taking off +once more to the land of visions and of dreams--was brought back to +reality--as if with a sudden jerk--with those two preposterous little +words. + +"What evil news?" he asked. + +"The allied armies have retreated all along the line . . . the Corsican +adventurer is victorious . . . our poor King . . ." + +"Hold your tongue, you young fool," cried Bobby hoarsely. "The Lord help +you but I do believe you are about to blaspheme . . ." + +"But . . ." + +"The Allied Armies--the British Army, God bless it!--have covered +themselves with glory--Napoleon and his Empire have ceased to be. The +Grand Army is in full retreat . . . the Prussians are in pursuit. . . . +The British have won the day by their pluck and their endurance. . . . +Thank God I lived just long enough to see it all, ere I fell . . ." + +"But when we charged the cuirassiers . . ." began St. Genis, not knowing +really if Bobby was raving in delirium, or speaking of what he knew. He +wanted to ask further questions, to hear something more before he +started for Brussels . . . the only thing which he remembered with +absolute certainty was that awful charge of his regiment against the +cuirassiers, then the panic and the rout: and he judged the whole issue +of the battle by what had happened to a detachment of Brunswickers. + +And yet, of course--before the charge--he had seen and known all that +Bobby told him now. That rush of the Brunswickers and the Dutch down the +hillside was only a part of the huge and glorious charge of the whole of +the Allied troops against the routed Grand Army of Napoleon. He had +neither the physical strength nor the desire to think out all that it +would mean to him personally if what Bobby now told him was indeed +absolutely true. + +He was longing to make the wounded man rouse himself just once more and +reiterate the glad news which meant so much to him--Maurice--and to +Crystal. But it was useless to think of that now. Bobby was either +unconscious or asleep. For a moment a twinge of real pity made St. +Genis' heart ache for the man who seemed to be left so lonely and so +desolate: jealousy itself gave way before that more gentle feeling. +After all, Crystal could only be true to the love of her childhood; her +heart belonged to the companion, the lover, the ideal of her girlish +dreams. This stranger here loved her--that was obvious--but Crystal had +never looked on him with anything but indifference. Even that dance last +night . . . but of this Maurice would not think lest pity die out of his +heart again . . . and jealousy and hate walk hand in hand with base +ingratitude. + +He turned his horse's head round to the road, pressed his knees into its +sides, and then as the poor, weary beast started to amble leisurely down +the road, Maurice looked back for the last time on the prostrate, +pathetic figure of the lonely man who had given his all for him: he +looked at every landmark which would enable him to find that man +again--the angle of the forest where it touched the meadow,--the +milestone, the trees by the roadside--oh! he meant to do his duty, to do +it well and quickly, to send the conveyance, to neglect nothing; then, +with a sigh--half of bitterness, yet full of satisfaction--he finally +turned away and looked straight out before him into the distance where +Brussels lay, and where the happiness of Crystal's love called to him, +and he would find rest and peace in the warm affection of her faithful +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LOSING HANDS + + +I + +An hour later Maurice de St. Genis was in Brussels. Though his head +still ached his mind was clear, and thoughts of Crystal--of happiness +with her now at last within sight--had chased every other thought away. + +His home had been with the de Cambrays ever since those old, sad days in +England; he had a home to go to now:--a home where the kindly friendship +of the Comte as well as the love of Crystal was ready to welcome him. +The warmth of anticipated happiness and well-being warmed his heart and +gave strength to his body. The horrors of the past few hours seemed all +to have melted away behind him on the Brussels road as did the +remembrance of a man--wounded himself and spent--risking his life for +the sake of a friend. Not that St. Genis meant to be ungrateful--nor did +he forget that wounded man--lying alone and sick on the fringe of the +wood by the roadside. + +As soon as he had taken his horse round to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, and before even he had a wash or had his uniform cleaned of +stains and mud, he rushed to the headquarters of the Army Service to see +how soon a conveyance could be sent out to his friend--and when he was +unable to obtain what he wanted there, he rushed from hospital to +hospital, thence to two or three doctors whom he knew of to see what +could be done. But the hospitals were already over-full and over-busy: +their ambulances were all already on the way: as for the doctors, they +were all from home--all at work where their skill was most needed--an +army of doctors, of ambulances and drivers would not suffice at this +hour to bring all the wounded in from the spot where that awful battle +was raging. + +And Maurice saw time slipping by: he had already spent an hour in a +fruitless quest. He longed to see Crystal and waxed impatient at the +delay. Anon at the English hospital a kindly person--who listened +sympathetically to his tale--promised him that the ambulance which was +just setting out in the direction of Mont Saint Jean would be on the +look-out for his wounded friend by the roadside; and Maurice with a sigh +of relief felt that he had indeed done his duty and done his best. + +At the English hospital Clyffurde would be splendidly looked +after--nowhere else could he find such sympathetic treatment! And +Maurice with a light heart went back to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, where he had a wash and had his uniform cleaned. Somewhat +refreshed, though still very tired, he hurried round to the rue du +Marais, where the Comte de Cambray had his lodgings. The first sight of +Brussels had already told him the whole pitiable tale of panic and of +desolation which had filled the city in the wake of the fugitive troops. +The streets were encumbered with vehicles of every kind--carts, +barouches, barrows--with horses loosely tethered, with the wounded who +lay about on litters of straw along the edges of the pavement, in +doorways, under archways in the centre of open places, with crowds of +weeping women and crying children wandering aimlessly from place to +place trying to find the loved one who might be lying here, hurt or +mayhap dying. + +And everywhere men in tattered uniforms, with grimy hands and faces, and +boots knee-deep in stains of mud, stood about or sat in the empty +carts, talking, gesticulating, giving sundry, confused and contradictory +accounts of the great battle--describing Napoleon's decisive +victory--Wellington's rout--the prolonged absence of Blücher and the +Prussians, cause of the terrible disaster. + +M. le Comte d'Artois had rushed precipitately from Brussels up to Ghent +to warn His Majesty the King of France that all hope of saving his +throne was now at an end, and that the wisest course to pursue was to +return to England and resign himself once more to obscurity and exile. + +M. le Prince de Condé too had gone off to Antwerp in a huge barouche, +having under his care the treasure and jewels of the crown hastily +collected three months ago at the Tuileries. + +In every open space a number of prisoners were being guarded by mixed +patrols of Dutch, Belgian or German soldiers, and their cry of "Vive +l'Empereur!" which they reiterated with unshakable obstinacy roused the +ire of their captors, and provoked many a savage blow, and many a broken +head. + +But St. Genis did not pause to look on these sights: he had not the +strength to stand up in the midst of these confused masses of +terror-driven men and women, and to shout to them that they were +fools--that all their panic must be turned to joy, their lamentations to +shouts of jubilation. News of victory was bound to spread through the +city within the next hour, and he himself longed only to see Crystal, to +reassure her as to his own safety, to see the light of happiness kindled +in her eyes by the news which he brought. He had not the strength for +more. + +It was old Jeanne who opened the door at the lodgings in the rue du +Marais when Maurice finally rang the bell there. + +"M. le Marquis!" she exclaimed. "Oh! but you are ill." + +"Only very tired and weak, Jeanne," he said. "It has been an awful day." + +"Ah! but M. le Comte will be pleased!" + +"And Mademoiselle Crystal?" asked Maurice with a smile which had in it +all the self-confidence of the accepted lover. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal will be happy too," said Jeanne. "She has been so +unhappy, so desperately anxious all day." + +"Can I see her?" + +"Mademoiselle is out for the moment, M. le Marquis. And M. le Comte has +gone to the Cercle des Légitimistes in the rue des Cendres--perhaps M. +le Marquis knows--it is not far." + +"I would like to see Mademoiselle Crystal first. You understand, don't +you, Jeanne?" + +"Yes, I do, M. le Marquis," sighed faithful Jeanne, who was always +inclined to be sentimental. + +"How long will she be, do you think?" + +"Oh! another half hour. Perhaps more. Mademoiselle has gone to the +cathedral. If M. le Marquis will give himself the trouble to walk so +far, he cannot fail to see Mademoiselle when she comes out of church." + +But already--before Jeanne had finished speaking--Maurice had turned on +his heel and was speeding back down the narrow street. Tired and weak as +he was, his one idea was to see Crystal, to hear her voice, to see the +love-light in her eyes. He felt that at sight of her all fatigue would +be gone, all recollections of the horrors of this day wiped out with the +first look of joy and relief with which she would greet him. + + +II + +The service was over, and the congregation had filed out of the +cathedral. Crystal was one of the last to go. She stood for a long while +in the porch looking down with unseeing eyes on the bustle and +excitement which went on in the Place down below. Her mind was not +here. It was far indeed from the crowd of terror-stricken or gossiping +men and women, of wounded soldiers, terrified peasantry and anxious +townsfolk that encumbered the precincts of the stately edifice. + +From the remote distance--out toward the south--came the boom and roar +of cannon and musket fire--almost incessant still. There was her heart! +there her thoughts! with the brave men who were fighting for their +national existence--with the British troops and with their +sufferings--and she stood here, staring straight out before +her--dry-eyed and pale and small white hands clasped tightly together. + +The greater part of to-day she had sat by the open window in the shabby +drawing-room in the rue du Marais, listening to that awful fusillade, +wondering with mind well-nigh bursting with horror and with misery which +of those cruel shots which she heard in the dim distance would still for +ever the brave and loyal heart that had made so many silent sacrifices +for her. + +And her father, vaguely thinking that she was anxious about +Maurice--vaguely wondering that she cared so much--had done his best to +try and comfort her: "She need not fear much for Maurice," he had told +her as reassuringly as he could--"the Brunswickers were not likely to +suffer much. The brunt of the conflict would fall upon the British. Ah! +but they would lose very heavily. Wellington had not more than seventy +thousand men to put up against the Corsican's troops; and only a hundred +and fifty cannon against two hundred and eighty. Yes, the British would +probably be annihilated by superior forces: but no doubt the other +allies--and the Brunswickers--would come off a great deal better." + +But Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen offered no such consolation. She +contented herself with saying that she was sure in her mind that +Maurice would come through quite safely, and that she prayed to God with +all her heart and soul that the gallant British troops would not suffer +too heavily. Then with her fine, gentle hand she patted Crystal's fair +curls which were clinging matted and damp against the young girl's +burning forehead. And she stooped and kissed those aching dry blue eyes +and whispered quite under her breath so that Crystal could not be sure +if she heard correctly: "May God protect him too! He is a brave and a +good man!" + +And then Crystal had gone out to seek peace and rest in beautiful old +Ste. Gudule, so full of memories of other conflicts, other prayers, +other deeds of heroism of long ago. Here in the dim light and the +silence and the peace, her quivering nerves had become somewhat stilled: +and when she came out she was able just for the moment neither to see or +hear the terror-mongers down below and only to think of the heroes out +there on the field of battle for whom she had just prayed with such +passionate earnestness. + +Suddenly in the crowd she recognised Maurice. He was coming up the +cathedral steps, looking for her, no doubt--Jeanne must have directed +him. When he drew near to her, he saw that a look of happy surprise and +of true joy lit up the delicate pathos of her face. He ran quickly to +her now. He would have taken her in his arms--here in face of the +crowd--but there was something in her manner which instinctively sobered +him and he had to be content with the little cold hands which she held +out to him and with imprinting a kiss upon her finger tips. + +Already in his eyes she had read that the news which he brought was not +so bad as rumour had foretold. + +"Maurice," she cried excitedly, with a little catch in her throat, "you +are well and safe, thank God! And what news? . . ." + +"The news is good," Maurice replied. "Victory is assured by now. It has +been a hard day, but we have won." + +She said nothing for a moment. But the tears gathered in her eyes, her +lips quivered and Maurice knew that she was thanking God. Then she +turned back to him and he could see her face glowing with excitement. + +"And our allies," she asked, and now that little catch in her throat was +more marked, "the British troops? . . . We heard that they behaved like +heroes, and bore the brunt of this awful battle." + +"I don't know much about the British troops, my sweet," he replied +lightly, "but what news I have I will have to impart to your father as +well as to you. So it will have to keep until I see him . . . but just +now, Crystal, while we are alone . . . I have other things to say to +you." + +But it is doubtful if Crystal heard more than just the first words which +he had spoken, for she broke in quite irrelevantly: + +"You don't know about the British troops, Maurice? Oh! but you must +know! . . . Don't you know what British regiments were engaged? . . ." + +"I know that none of our own people were in British regiments, Crystal," +he retorted somewhat drily, "whereas the Brunswickers and Nassauers were +as much French as German . . . they fought gallantly all day . . . you +do not ask so much about them." + +"But . . ." she stammered while a hot flush spread over her cheeks, "I +thought . . . you said . . ." + +"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender +reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and +that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo? +Are you not glad that I am here?" + +He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm +attitude which had begun to chill him. Had he not been in deadly danger +all the day? Had she not heard that distant cannon's roar which had +threatened his life throughout all these hours? Had he not come back out +of the very jaws of Death? + +And yet here she stood white as a lily and as unruffled; except for that +one first exclamation of joy not a single cry from the heart had forced +itself through her pale, slightly trembling lips: yet she was sweet and +girlish and tender as of old and even now at the implied reproach her +eyes had quickly filled with tears. + +"How can you ask, Maurice?" she protested gently. "I have thought of you +and prayed for you all day." + +It was her quiet serenity that disconcerted him--the kindly tone of her +voice--her calm, unembarrassed manner checked his passionate impulse and +caused him to bite his underlip with vexation until it bled. + +The shadows of evening were closing in around them: from the windows of +the houses close by dim, yellow lights began to blink like eyes. +Overhead, the exquisite towers of Ste. Gudule stood out against the +stormy sky like perfect, delicate lace-work turned to stone, whilst the +glass of the west window glittered like a sheet of sapphires and +emeralds and rubies, as it caught the last rays of the sinking sun. +Crystal's graceful figure stood out in its white, summer draperies, +clear and crystalline as herself against the sombre background of the +cathedral porch. + +And Maurice watched her through the dim shadows of gathering twilight: +he watched her as a fowler watches the bird which he has captured and +never wholly tamed. Somehow he felt that her love for him was not quite +what it had been until now: that she was no longer the same girlish, +submissive creature on whose soft cheeks a word or look from him had the +power to raise a flush of joy. + +She was different now--in a curious, intangible way which he could not +define. + +And jealousy reared up its threatening head more insistently:--bitter +jealousy which embraced de Marmont, Clyffurde, Fate and +Circumstance--but Clyffurde above all--the stranger hitherto deemed of +no account, but who now--wounded, abandoned, dying, perhaps--seemed a +more formidable rival than Maurice awhile ago had deemed possible. + +He cursed himself for that touch of sentiment--he called it +cowardice--which the other night, after the ball, had prompted him to +write to Crystal. But for that voluntary confession--he thought--she +could never have despised him. And following up the train of his own +thoughts, and realising that these had not been spoken aloud, he +suddenly called out abruptly: + +"Is it because of my letter, Crystal?" + +She gave a start, and turned even paler than she had been before. +Obviously she had been brought roughly back from the land of dreams. + +"Your letter, Maurice?" she asked vaguely, "what do you mean?" + +"I wrote you a letter the other night," he continued, speaking quickly +and harshly, "after the ball. Did you receive it?" + +"Yes." + +"And read it?" + +"Of course." + +"And is it because of it that your love for me has gone?" + +He had not meant to put his horrible suspicions into words. The very +fact--now that he had spoken--appeared more tangible, even irremediable. +She did not reply to his taunt, and he came a little closer to her and +took her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it from his grasp he held +it tightly and bent down his head so that in the gathering gloom he +could read every line of her face. + +"Because of what I told you in my letter you despised me, did you not?" +he asked. + +Again she made no reply. What could she say that would not hurt him far +more than did her silence? The next moment he had drawn her back right +into the shadow of the cathedral walls, into a dark angle, where no one +could see either her or him. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and +compelled her to look him straight in the face. + +"Listen, Crystal," he said slowly and with desperate earnestness. "Once, +long ago, I gave you up to de Marmont, to affluence and to +considerations of your name and of our caste. It all but broke my heart, +but I did it because your father demanded that sacrifice from you and +from me. I was ready then to stand aside and to give up all the dreams +of my youth. . . . But now everything is different. For one thing, the +events of the past hundred days have made every man many years older: +the hell I went through to-day has helped to make a more sober, more +determined man of me. Now I will not give you up. I will not. My way is +clear: I can win you with your father's consent and give him and you all +that de Marmont had promised. The King trusts me and will give me what I +ask. I am no longer a wastrel, no longer poor and obscure. And I will +not give you up--I swear it by all that I have gone through to-day. I +will not! if I have to kill with my own hand every one who stands in my +way." + +And Crystal, smiling, quite kindly and a little abstractedly at his +impulsive earnestness, gently removed his hands from her shoulders and +said calmly: + +"You are tired, Maurice, and overwrought. Shall we go in and wait for +father? He will be getting anxious about me." And without waiting to see +if he followed her, she turned to walk toward the steps. + +St. Genis smothered a violent oath, but he said nothing more. He was +satisfied with what he had done. He knew that women liked a masterful +man and he meant every word which he said. He would not give her up +. . . not now . . . and not to . . . Ye gods! he would not think of +that;--he would not think of the lonely roadside nor of the wounded man +who had robbed him of Crystal's love. He had done his duty by +Clyffurde--what more could he have done at this hour?--and he meant to +do far more than that--he meant to go back to the English hospital as +soon as possible, to see that Clyffurde had every attention, every care, +every comfort that human sympathy can bestow. What more could he do? He +would have done no good by going out with the ambulance himself--surely +not--he would have missed seeing Crystal--and she would have fretted and +been still more anxious . . . his first duty was to Crystal . . . and +. . . and . . . St. Genis only thought of Crystal and of himself and the +voice of Conscience was compulsorily stilled. + + +III + +Having lulled his conscience to sleep and satisfied his self-love by a +passionate tirade, Maurice followed Crystal down the steps at the west +front of Ste. Gudule. + +Immediately opposite them at the corner of the narrow rue de Ligne was +the old Auberge des Trois Rois, from whence the diligence started twice +a day in time to catch the tide and the English packet at Ostend. +Maurice and Crystal stood for a moment together on the steps watching +the bustle and excitement, the comings and goings of the crowd, which +always attend such departures. All day there had been a steady stream of +fugitives out of the town, taking their belongings with them: the +diligence was for the well-to-do and the indifferent who hurried away to +England to await the advent of more settled times. + +Victor de Marmont had secured his place inside the coach. He had +exchanged his borrowed uniform for civilian clothes, he had bestowed his +belongings in the vehicle and he was standing about desultorily waiting +for the hour of departure. The diligence would not arrive at Ostend till +five o'clock in the morning: then with the tide the packet would go out, +getting into London well after midday. Chance, as represented by the +tide, had seriously handicapped de Marmont's plans. But enthusiasm and +doggedness of purpose whispered to him that he still held the winning +card. The English packet was timed to arrive in London by two o'clock in +the afternoon, he would still have two hours to his credit before +closing time on 'Change and another hour in the street. Time to find his +broker and half an hour to spare: that would still leave him an hour +wherein to make a fortune for his Emperor. + +At one time he was afraid that he would not be able to secure a seat in +the diligence, so numerous were the travellers who wished to leave +Brussels behind them. But in this, Chance and the length of his purse +favoured him: he bought his seat for an exorbitant price, but he bought +it; and at nine o'clock the diligence was timed to start. + +It was now half-past eight. And just then de Marmont caught sight of +Crystal and St. Genis coming down the cathedral steps. + +He had half an hour to spare and he followed them. He wanted to speak to +Crystal--he had wanted it all day--but the difficulty of getting what +clothes he required and the trouble and time spent in bargaining for a +seat in the diligence had stood in his way. M. le Comte de Cambray would +never, of course, admit him inside his doors, and it would have meant +hanging about in the rue du Marais and trusting to a chance meeting with +Crystal when she went out, and for this he had not the time. + +And the chance meeting had come about in spite of all adverse +circumstances: and de Marmont followed Crystal through the crowded +streets, hoping that St. Genis would take leave of her before she went +indoors. But even if he did not, de Marmont meant to have a few words +with Crystal. He was going to win a gigantic fortune for the +Emperor--one wherewith that greatest of all adventurers could once again +recreate the Empire of France: he himself--rich already--would become +richer still and also--if his coup succeeded--one of the most trusted, +most influential men in the recreated Empire. He felt that with the +offer of his name he could pour out a veritable cornucopia of abundant +glory, honours, wealth at a woman's feet. And his ambition had always +been bound up in a great measure with Crystal de Cambray. He certainly +loved her in his way, for her beauty and her charm; but, above all, he +looked on her as the very personification of the old and proud regime +which had thought fit to scorn the parvenu noblesse of the Empire, and +for a powerful adherent of Napoleon to be possessed of a wife out of +that exclusive milieu was like a fresh and glorious trophy of war on a +conqueror's chariot-wheel. + +De Marmont had the supreme faith of an ambitious man in the power of +wealth and of court favour. He knew that Napoleon was not a man who ever +forgot a service efficiently rendered, and would repay this +one--rendered at the supreme hour of disaster--with a surfeit of +gratitude and of gifts which must perforce dazzle any woman's eyes and +conquer her imagination. + +Besides his schemes, his ambitions, the future which awaited him, what +had an impecunious wastrel like St. Genis to offer to a woman like +Crystal de Cambray? + + +Outside the house in the rue du Marais where the Comte de Cambray +lodged, St. Genis and Crystal paused, and de Marmont, who still kept +within the shadows, waited for a favourable opportunity to make his +presence known. + +"I'll find M. le Comte and bring him back with me," he heard St. Genis +saying. "You are sure I shall find him at the Légitimiste?" + +"Quite sure," Crystal replied. "He did not mean to leave the Cercle till +about nine. He is sure to wait for every bit of news that comes in." + +"It will be a great moment for me, if I am the first to bring in +authentic good news." + +"You will be quite the first, I should say," she assented, "but don't +let father stay too long talking. Bring him back quickly. Remember I +haven't heard all the news yet myself." + +St. Genis went up to the front door and rang the bell, then he took +leave of Crystal. De Marmont waited his opportunity. Anon, Jeanne opened +the door, and St. Genis walked quickly back down the street. + +Crystal paused a moment by the open door in order to talk to Jeanne, and +while she did so de Marmont slipped quickly past her into the house and +was some way down the corridor before the two women had recovered from +their surprise. Jeanne, as was her wont, was ready to scream, but +despite the fast gathering gloom Crystal had at once recognised de +Marmont. She turned a cold look upon him. + +"An intrusion, Monsieur?" she asked quietly. + +"We'll call it that, Mademoiselle, an you will," he replied +imperturbably, "and if you will kindly order your servant to go, it +shall be a very brief one." + +"My father is from home," she said. + +De Marmont smiled and shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know that," he said, "or I would not be here." + +"Then your intrusion is that of a coward, if you knew that I was +unprotected." + +"Are you afraid of me, Crystal?" he asked with a sneer. + +"I am afraid of no one," she replied. "But since you and I have nothing +to say to one another, I beg that you will no longer force your company +upon me." + +"Your pardon, but there is something very important which I must say to +you. I have news of to-day's doings out there at Waterloo, which bear +upon the whole of your future and upon your happiness. I myself leave +for England in less than half an hour. I was taking my place in the +diligence outside the Trois Rois when I saw you coming down the +cathedral steps. Fate has given me an opportunity for which I sought +vainly all day. You will never regret it, Crystal, if you listen to me +now." + +"I listen," she broke in coolly. "I pray you be as brief as you can." + +"Will you order the servant to go?" + +For a moment longer she hesitated. Commonsense told her that it was +neither prudent nor expedient to hold converse with this man, who was an +avowed and bitter enemy of her cause. But he had spoken of the doings at +Waterloo and spoken of them in connection with her own future and her +happiness, and--prudent or not--she wanted to hear what he had to say, +in the vague hope that from a chance word carelessly dropped by Victor +de Marmont she would glean, if only a scrap, some news of that on which +St. Genis would not dwell but on which hung her heart and her very +life--the fate of the British troops. + +After all he might know something, he might say something which would +help her to bear this intolerable misery of uncertainty: and on the +merest chance of that she threw prudence to the winds. + +"You may go, Jeanne," she said. "But remain within call. Leave the front +door open," she added. "M. le Comte and M. le Marquis will be here +directly." + +"Oh! you are well protected," said Victor de Marmont with a careless +shrug of the shoulders, as Jeanne's heavy, shuffling footsteps died away +down the corridor. + +"Now, M. de Marmont," said Crystal coolly. "I listen." + +She was leaning back against the wall--her hands behind her, her pale +face and large blue eyes with their black dilated pupils turned +questioningly upon him. The walls of the corridor were painted white, +after the manner of Flemish houses, the tiled floor was white too, and +Crystal herself was dressed all in white, so that the whole scene made +up of pale, soft tints looked weird and ghostly in the twilight and +Crystal like an ethereal creature come down from the land of nymphs and +of elves. + +And de Marmont, too--like St. Genis a while ago--felt that never had +this beautiful woman--she was no longer a girl now--looked more +exquisite and more desirable, and he--conscious of the power which +fortune and success can give, thought that he could woo and win her once +again in spite of caste-prejudice and of political hatred. St. Genis had +felt his position unassailable by virtue of old associations, common +sympathies and youthful vows: de Marmont relied on feminine ambition, +love of power, of wealth and of station, and at this moment in Crystal's +shining eyes he only read excitement and the unspoken desire for all +that he was prepared to offer. + +"I have only a few moments to spare, Crystal," he said slowly, and with +earnest emphasis, "so I will be very brief. For the moment the Emperor +has suffered a defeat--as he did at Eylau or at Leipzic--his defeats are +always momentary, his victories alone are decisive and abiding. The +whole world knows that. It needs no proclaiming from me. But in order to +retrieve that momentary defeat of to-day he has deigned to ask my help. +The gods are good to me! they have put it within my power to help my +Emperor in his need. I am going to England to-night in order to carry +out his instructions. By to-morrow afternoon I shall have finished my +work. The Empire of France will once more rise triumphant and glorious +out of the ashes of a brief defeat; the Emperor once more, PhÅ“bus-like, +will drive the chariot of the Sun, Lord and Master of Europe, greater +since his downfall, more powerful, more majestic than ever before. And +I, who will have been the humble instrument of his reconquered glory, +will deserve to the full his bounty and his gratitude." + +He paused for lack of breath, for indeed he had talked fast and volubly: +Crystal's voice, cold and measured, broke in on the silence that ensued. + +"And in what way does all this concern me, M. de Marmont?" she asked. + +"It concerns your whole future, Crystal," he replied with ever-growing +solemnity and conviction. "You must have known all along that I have +never ceased to love you: you have always been the only possible woman +for me--my ideal, in fact. Your father's injustice I am willing to +forget. Your troth was plighted to me and I have done nothing to deserve +all the insults which he thought fit to heap upon me. I wanted you to +know, Crystal, that my love is still yours, and that the fortune and +glory which I now go forth to win I will place with inexpressible joy at +your feet." + +She shrugged her shoulders and an air of supreme indifference spread +over her face. "Is that all?" she asked coldly. + +"All? What do you mean? I don't understand." + +"I mean that you persuaded me to listen to you on the pretence that you +had news to tell me of the doings at Waterloo--news on which my +happiness depended. You have not told me a single fact that concerns me +in the least." + +"It concerns you as it concerns me, Crystal. Your happiness is bound up +with mine. You are still my promised wife. I go to win glory for my name +which will soon be yours. You and I, Crystal, hand in hand! think of +it! our love has survived the political turmoils--united in love, +united in glory, you and I will be the most brilliant stars that will +shine at the Imperial Court of France." + +She did not try to interrupt his tirade, but looked on him with cool +wonderment, as one gazes on some curious animal that is raving and +raging behind iron bars. When he had finished she said quietly: + +"You are mad, I think, M. de Marmont. At any rate, you had better go +now: time is getting on, and you will lose your place in the diligence." + +He was less to her than the dust under her feet, and his protestations +had not even the power to rouse her wrath. Indeed, all that worried her +at this moment was vexation with herself for having troubled to listen +to him at all: it had been worse than foolish to suppose that he had any +news to impart which did not directly concern himself. So now, while he, +utterly taken aback, was staring at her open-mouthed and bewildered, she +turned away, cold and full of disdain, gathering her draperies round +her, and started to walk slowly toward the stairs. Her clinging white +skirt made a soft, swishing sound as it brushed the tiled floor, and she +herself--with her slender figure, graceful neck and crown of golden +curls, looked, as the gloom of evening wrapped her in, more like an +intangible elf--an apparition--gliding through space, than just a +scornful woman who had thought fit to reject the importunate addresses +of an unwelcome suitor. + +She left de Marmont standing there in the corridor--like some +presumptuous beggar--burning with rage and humiliation, too +insignificant even to be feared. But he was not the man to accept such a +situation calmly: his love for Crystal had never been anything but a +selfish one--born of the desire to possess a high-born, elegant wife, +taken out of the very caste which had scorned him and his kind: her +acquiescence he had always taken for granted: her love he meant to win +after his wooing of her hand had been successful--until then he could +wait. So certain too was he of his own power to win her, in virtue of +all that he had to offer, that he would not take her scorn for real or +her refusal to listen to him as final. + + +IV + +Before she had reached the foot of the stairs, he was already by her +side, and with a masterful hand upon her arm had compelled her, by +physical strength, to turn and to face him once more. + +"Crystal," he said, forcing himself to speak quietly, even though his +voice quivered with excitement and passionate wrath, "as you say, I have +only a few moments to spare, but they are just long enough for me to +tell you that it is you who are mad. I daresay that it is difficult to +believe in the immensity of a disaster. M. de St. Genis no doubt has +been filling your ears with tales of the allied armies' victories. But +look at me, Crystal--look at me and tell me if you have ever seen a man +more in deadly earnest. I tell you that I am on my way to aid the +Emperor in reforming his Empire on a more solid basis than it has ever +stood before. Have you ever known Napoleon to fail in what he set +himself to do? I tell you that he is not crushed--that he is not even +defeated. Within a month the allies will be on their knees begging for +peace. The era of your Bourbon kings is more absolutely dead to-day than +it has ever been. And after to-day there will be nothing for a royalist +like your father or like Maurice de St. Genis but exile and humiliation +more dire than before. Your father's fate rests entirely in your hands. +I can direct his destiny, his life or his death, just as I please. When +you are my wife, I will forgive him the insults which he heaped on me at +Brestalou . . . but not before. . . . As for Maurice de St. Genis +. . ." + +"And what of him, you abominable cur?" + +The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's +lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands +gripping him by the throat. The attack was so swift and so unexpected +that he was entirely off his guard: he lost his footing upon the +slippery floor, and before he could recover himself he was being forced +back and back until his spine was bent nearly double and his head +pressed down backward almost to the level of his knees. + +"Let him go, Maurice! you might kill him. Throw him out of the door." + +It was M. le Comte de Cambray who spoke. He and St. Genis had arrived +just in time to save Crystal from a further unpleasant scene. She, +however, had not lost her presence of mind. She had certainly listened +to de Marmont's final tirade, because she knew that she was helpless in +his hands, but she had never been frightened for a moment. Jeanne was +within call, and she herself had never been timorous: at the same time +she was thankful enough that her father and St. Genis were here. + +Maurice was almost blind with rage: he would have killed de Marmont but +for the Comte's timely words, which luckily had the effect of sobering +him at this critical moment. He relaxed his convulsive grip on de +Marmont's throat, but the latter had already lost his balance; he fell +heavily, his body sliding along the slippery floor, while his head +struck against the projecting woodwork of the door. + +He uttered a loud cry of pain as he fell, then remained lying inert on +the ground, and in the dim light his face took on an ashen hue. + +In an instant Crystal was by his side. + +"You have killed him, Maurice," she cried, as woman-like--tender and +full of compassion now--she ran to the stricken man. + +"I hope I have," said St. Genis sullenly. "He deserved the death of a +cur." + +"Father, dear," said Crystal authoritatively, "will you call to Jeanne +to bring water, a sponge, towels--quickly: also some brandy." + +She paid no heed to St. Genis: and she had already forgotten de +Marmont's dastardly attitude toward herself. She only saw that he was +helpless and in pain: she knelt by his side, pillowed his head on her +lap, and with soothing, gentle fingers felt his shoulders, his arms, to +see where he was hurt. He opened his eyes very soon and encountered +those tender blue eyes so full of sweet pity now: "It is only my head, I +think," he said. + +Then he tried to move, but fell back again with a groan of pain: "My leg +is broken, I am afraid," he murmured feebly. + +"I had best fetch a doctor," rejoined M. le Comte. + +"If you can find one, father, dear," said Crystal. "M. de Marmont ought +to be moved at once to his home." + +"No! no!" protested Victor feebly, "not home! to the Trois Rois . . . +the diligence. . . . I must go to England to-night . . . the Emperor's +orders." + +"The doctor will decide," said Crystal gently. "Father, dear, will you +go?" + +Jeanne came with water and brandy. De Marmont drank eagerly of the one, +and then sipped the other. + +"I must go," he said more firmly, "the diligence starts at nine +o'clock." + +Again he tried to move, and a great cry of agony rose to his throat--not +of physical pain, though that was great too, but the wild, agonising +shriek of mental torment, of disappointment and wrath and misery, +greater than human heart could bear. + +"The Emperor's orders!" he cried. "I must go!" + +Crystal was silent. There was something great and majestic, something +that compelled admiration and respect in this tragic impotence, this +failure brought about by uncontrolled passion at the very hour when +success--perhaps--might yet have changed the whole destinies of the +world. De Marmont lying here, helpless to aid his Emperor--through the +furious and jealous attack of a rival--was at this moment more worthy of +a good woman's regard than he had been in the flush of his success and +of his arrogance, for his one thought was of the Emperor and what he +could no longer do for him. He tried to move and could not: "The +Emperor's orders!" came at times with pathetic persistence from his +lips, and Crystal--woman-like--tried to soothe and comfort him in his +failure, even though his triumph would only have aroused her scorn. + +And time sped on. From the towers of the cathedral came booming the hour +of nine. The shadows in the narrow street were long and dark, only a +pale thin reflex of the cold light of the moon struck into the open +doorway and the white corridor, and detached de Marmont's pale face from +the surrounding gloom. + +The Emperor's orders and because of a woman these could now no longer be +obeyed. If de Marmont had not seen Crystal on the cathedral steps, if he +had not followed her--if he had not allowed his passion and arrogant +self-will to blind him to time and to surroundings--who knows? but the +whole map of Europe might yet have been changed. + +A fortune in London was awaiting a gambler who chose to stake everything +on a last throw--a fortune wherewith the greatest adventurer the world +has ever known might yet have reconstituted an army and reconquered an +Empire--and he who might have won that fortune was lying in the narrow +corridor of an humble lodging house--with a broken leg--helpless and +eating out his heart now with vain regret. Why? Because of a girl with +fair curls and blue eyes--just a woman--young and desirable--another +tiny pawn in the hands of the Great Master of this world's game. + +The rain in the morning at Waterloo--Blücher's arrival or Grouchy's--a +man's selfish passion for a woman who cared nothing for him--who shall +dare to say that these tiny, trivial incidents changed the destinies of +the world? + +Think on it, O ye materialists! ye worshippers of Chance! Is it indeed +the infinitesimal doings of pigmies that bring about the great upheavals +of the earth? Do ye not rather see God's will in that fall of rain? +God's breath in those dying heroes who fell on Mont Saint Jean? do ye +not recognise that it was God's finger that pointed the way to Blücher +and stretched de Marmont down helpless on the ground? + + +V + +The arrival of M. le Comte de Cambray, accompanied by a doctor and two +men carrying an improvised stretcher, broke the spell of silence that +had fallen on this strange scene of pathetic failure which seemed but an +humble counterpart of that great and irretrievable one which was being +enacted at this same hour far away on the road to Genappe. + +After the booming of the cathedral clock, de Marmont had ceased to +struggle: he accepted defeat probably because he, too--in spite of +himself--saw that the day of his idol's destiny was over, and that the +brilliant Star which had glittered on the firmament of Europe for a +quarter of a century had by the will of God now irretrievably declined. +He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of +gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly +placid and quiescent. + +Even, perhaps--for such is human nature and such the heart of youth--as +he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with so much pity toward him a sense +of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts +away. Crystal was kind--he argued to himself--she has already +forgiven--women are so ready to forgive faults and errors that spring +from an intensity of love. + +He sought her hand and she gave it--just as a sweet Sister of Mercy and +Gentleness would do, for whom the individual man--even the enemy--does +not exist--only the suffering human creature whom her touch can soothe. +He persuaded himself easily enough that when he pressed her hand she +returned the pressure, and renewed hope went forth once more soaring +upon the wings of fancy. + +Then the doctor came. M. le Comte had been fortunate in securing +him--had with impulsive generosity promised him ample payment--and then +brought him along without delay. He praised Mlle. de Cambray for her +kindness to the patient, asked a few questions as to how the accident +had occurred, and was satisfied that M. de Marmont had slipped on the +tiled floor and then struck his head against the door. He was not likely +to examine the purple bruises on the patient's throat: his business +began and ended with a broken leg to mend. As M. le Comte de Cambray +assured him that M. de Marmont was very wealthy, the worthy doctor most +readily offered his patient the hospitality of his own house until +complete recovery. + +He then superintended the lifting of the sick man on to the stretcher, +and having taken final leave of M. le Comte, Mademoiselle and all those +concerned and given his instructions to the bearers, he was the first to +leave the house. + +M. le Comte, pleasantly conscious of Christian duty toward an enemy +nobly fulfilled, nodded curtly to de Marmont, whom he hated with all his +heart, and then turned his back on an exceedingly unpleasant scene, +fervently wishing that it had never occurred in his house, and equally +fervently thankful that the accident had not more fateful consequences. +He retired to his smoking-room, calling to St. Genis and to Crystal to +follow him. + +But Crystal did not go at once. She stood in the dark corridor--quite +still--watching the stretcher bearers in their careful, silent work, +little guessing on what a filmy thread her whole destiny was hanging at +this moment. The Fates were spinning, spinning, spinning and she did not +know it. Had the solemn silence which hung so ominously in the twilight +not been broken till after the sick man had been borne away, the whole +of Crystal's future would have been shaped differently. + +But as with the rain at Waterloo, God had need of a tool for the +furtherance of His will and it was Maurice de St. Genis whom He +chose--Maurice who with his own words set the final seal to his destiny. + +De Marmont's eyes as he was being carried over the threshold dwelt upon +the graceful form of Crystal--clad all in white--all womanliness and +gentleness now--her sweet face only faintly distinguishable in the +gloom. St. Genis, whose nerves were still jarred with all that he had +gone through to-day and irritated by Crystal's assiduity beside the sick +man, resented that last look of farewell which de Marmont dared to throw +upon the woman whom he loved. An ungenerous impulse caused him to try +and aim a last moral blow at his enemy: + +"Come, Crystal," he said coldly, "the man has been better looked after +than he deserves. But for your father's interference I should have wrung +his neck like the cowardly brute that he was." + +And with the masterful air of a man who has both right and privilege on +his side, he put his arm round Crystal's waist and tried to draw her +away, and as he did so he whispered a tender: "Come, Crystal!" in her +ear. + +De Marmont--who at this moment was taking a last fond look at the girl +he loved, and was busy the while making plans for a happy future +wherein Crystal would play the chief rôle and would console him for all +disappointments by the magnitude of her love--de Marmont was brought +back from the land of dreams by the tender whisperings of his rival. His +own helplessness sent a flood of jealous wrath surging up to his brain. +The wild hatred which he had always felt for St. Genis ever since that +awful humiliation which he had suffered at Brestalou, now blinded him to +everything save to the fact that here was a rival who was gloating over +his helplessness--a man who twice already had humiliated him before +Crystal de Cambray--a man who had every advantage of caste and of +community of sympathy! a man therefore who must be in his turn +irretrievably crushed in the sight of the woman whom he still hoped to +win! + +De Marmont had no definite idea as to what he meant to do. Perhaps, just +at this moment, the pale, intangible shadow of Reason had lifted up one +corner of the veil that hid the truth from before his eyes--the absolute +and naked fact that Crystal de Cambray was not destined for him. She +would never marry him--never. The Empire of France was no more--the +Emperor was a fugitive. To St. Genis and his caste belonged the +future--and the turn had come for the adherents of the fallen Emperor to +sink into obscurity or to go into exile. + +Be that as it may, it is certain that in this fateful moment de Marmont +was only conscious of an all-powerful overwhelming feeling of hatred and +the determination that whatever happened to himself he must and would +prevent St. Genis from ever approaching Crystal de Cambray with words of +love again. That he had the power to do this he was fully conscious. + +"Crystal!" he called, and at the same time ordered the bearers to halt +on the doorstep for a moment. "Crystal, will you give me your hand in +farewell?" + +The young girl would probably have complied with his wish, but St. Genis +interposed. + +"Crystal," he said authoritatively, "your father has already called you. +You have done everything that Christian charity demands. . . ." And once +more he tried to draw the young girl away. + +"Do not touch her, man," called de Marmont in a loud voice, "a coward +like you has no right to touch the hand of a good woman." + +"M. de Marmont," broke in Crystal hotly, "you presume on your +helplessness. . . ." + +"Pay no heed to the ravings of a maniac, Crystal," interposed St. Genis +calmly, "he has fallen so low now, that contemptuous pity is all that he +deserves." + +"And contempt without pity is all that you deserve, M. le Marquis de St. +Genis," cried de Marmont excitedly. "Ask him, Mademoiselle Crystal, ask +him where is the man who to-day saved his life? whom I myself saw to-day +on the roadside, wounded and half dead with fatigue, on horseback, with +the inert body of M. de St. Genis lying across his saddle-bow. Ask him +how he came to lie across that saddle-bow? and whether his English +friend and mine, Bobby Clyffurde, did not--as any who passed by could +guess--drag him out of that hell at Waterloo and bring him into safety, +whilst risking his own life. Ask him," he continued, working himself up +into a veritable fever of vengeful hatred, as he saw that St. +Genis--sullen and glowering--was doing his best to drag Crystal away, to +prevent her from listening further to this awful indictment, these +ravings of a lunatic half-distraught with hate. "Ask him where is +Clyffurde now? to what lonely spot he has crawled in order to die while +M. le Marquis de St. Genis came back in gay apparel to court Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray? Ah! M. de St. Genis, you tried to heap opprobrium +upon me--you talked glibly of contempt and of pity. Of a truth 'tis I +do pity you now, for Mademoiselle Crystal will surely ask you all those +questions, and by the Lord I marvel how you will answer them." + +He fell back exhausted, in a dead faint no doubt, and St. Genis with a +wild cry like that of a beast in fury seized the nearest weapon that +came to his hand--a heavy oak chair which stood against the wall in the +corridor--and brandished it over his head. He would--had not Crystal at +once interposed--have killed de Marmont with one blow: even so he tried +to avoid Crystal in order to forge for himself a clear passage, to free +himself from all trammels so that he might indulge his lust to kill. + +"Take the sick man away! quickly!" cried Crystal to the stretcher +bearers. And they--realising the danger--the awfulness of the tragedy +which, with that clumsy weapon wielded by a man who was maddened with +rage, was hovering in the air, hurried over the threshold with their +burden as fast as they could: then out into the street: and Crystal +seizing hold of the front door shut it to with a loud bang after them. + + +VI + +Then with a cry that was just primitive in its passion--savage almost +like that of a lioness in the desert who has been robbed of her +young--she turned upon St. Genis: + +"Where is he now?" she called, and her voice was quite unrecognisable, +harsh and hoarse and peremptory. + +"Crystal, let me assure you," protested Maurice, "that I have already +done all that lay in my power. . . ." + +"Where is he now?" she broke in with the same fierce intensity. + +She stood there before him--wild, haggard, palpitating--a passionate +creature passionately demanding to know where the loved one was. It +seemed as if she would have torn the words out of St. Genis' throat, so +bitter and intense was the look of contempt and of hatred wherewith she +looked on him. + +M. le Comte--very much upset and ruffled by all that he had heard--came +out of his room just in time to see the stretcher-bearers disappearing +with their burden through the front door, and the door itself closed to +with a bang by Crystal. Truly his sense of decorum and of the fitness of +things had received a severe shock and now he had the additional +mortification of seeing his beautiful daughter--his dainty and +aristocratic Crystal--in a state bordering on frenzy. + +"My darling Crystal," he exclaimed, as he made his way quickly to her +side and put a restraining hand upon her arm. + +But Crystal now was far beyond his control: she shook off his hand--she +paid no heed to him, she went closer up to St. Genis and once more +repeated her ardent, passionate query: + +"Where is he now?" + +"At the English hospital, I hope," said St. Genis with as much cool +dignity as he could command. "Have I not assured you, Crystal, that I've +done all I could? . . ." + +"At the English hospital? . . . you hope? . . ." she retorted in a voice +that sounded trenchant and shrill through the overwhelming passion which +shook and choked it in her throat. "But the roadside--where you left him +. . . to die in a ditch perhaps . . . like a dog that has no home? . . . +where was that?" + +"I gave full directions at the English hospital," he replied. "I +arranged for an ambulance to go and find him . . . for a bed for him +. . . I. . . ." + +"Give me those directions," she commanded. + +"On the way to Waterloo . . . on the left side of the road . . . close +by the six kilomètre milestone . . . the angle of the forest of Soigne +is just there . . . and there is a meadow which joins the edge of the +wood where they were making hay to-day. . . . No driver can fail to find +the place, Crystal . . . the ambulance. . . ." + +But now she was no longer listening to him. She had abruptly turned her +back on him and made for the door. Her father interposed. + +"What do you want to do, Crystal?" he said peremptorily. + +"Go to him, of course," she said quietly--for she was quite calm now--at +any rate outwardly--strong and of set purpose. + +"But you do not know where he is." + +"I'll go to the English hospital first . . . father, dear, will you let +me pass?" + +"Crystal," said M. le Comte firmly, as he stood his ground between his +daughter and the door, "you cannot go rushing through the streets of +Brussels alone--at this hour of the night--through all the soldiery and +all the drunken rabble." + +"He is dying," she retorted, "and I am going to find him. . . ." + +"You have taken leave of your senses, Crystal," said the Comte sternly. +"You seem to have forgotten your own personal dignity. . . ." + +"Father! let me go!" she demanded--for she had tried to measure her +physical strength against his, and he was holding her wrists now whilst +a look of great anger was on his face. + +"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that +lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added +harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to +second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at +this hour of the night." + +"But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke +in a tart voice from the back of the corridor. "Crystal, child! try and +bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to +the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good +enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me." + +And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and +practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful +Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief--almost of happiness--Crystal at +last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the +old woman: "_Ma tante_," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . +if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break." + +M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an +argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a +look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to +interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as +she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her--with or +without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but +one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by +making the best of this situation--of which he still highly disapproved. + +"Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your +way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to +nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist +that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career +about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench." + +"Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as +your father wishes--it will save a lot of argument and save time as +well." + +But even before the words were out of Madame's mouth, Crystal was +running along the corridor--ready to obey. At the foot of the stairs St. +Genis intercepted her. + +"Let me pass!" she cried wildly. + +"Not before you have said that you have forgiven me!" he entreated as he +clung to her white draperies with a passionate gesture of appeal. + +An exclamation which was almost one of loathing escaped her lips and +with a jerk she freed her skirt from his clutch. Then she ran quickly up +the stairs. Outside the door of her own room on the first landing she +paused for one minute, and from out of the gloom her voice came to him +like the knell of passing hope. + +"If he comes back alive out of the hell to which you condemned him," she +said, "I may in the future endure the sight of you again. . . . If he +dies . . . may God forgive you!" + +The opening and shutting of a door told him that she was gone, and he +was left in company with his shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WINNING HAND + + +Until far into the night the air reverberated with incessant +cannonade--from the direction of Genappe and from that of Wavre--but +just before dawn all was still. The stream of convoys which bore the +wounded along the road to Brussels from Mont Saint Jean and Hougoumont +and La Haye Sainte had momentarily ceased its endless course. The sky +had that perfect serenity of a midsummer's night, starlit and azure with +the honey-coloured moon sinking slowly down towards the west. Here at +the edge of the wood the air had a sweet smell of wet earth and damp +moss and freshly cut hay: it had all the delicious softness of a loved +one's embrace. + +Through the roar of distant cannonade, Bobby had slept. For a time after +St. Genis left him he had watched the long straight road with dull, +unseeing eyes--he had seen the first convoy, overfilled with wounded men +lying huddled on heaped-up straw, and had thanked God that he was lying +on this exquisitely soft carpet made of thousands of tiny green +plants--moss, grass, weeds, young tendrils and growing buds and opening +leaves that were delicious to the touch. He had quite forgotten that he +was wounded--neither his head nor his leg nor his arm seemed to hurt him +now: and he was able to think in peace of Crystal and of her happiness. + +St. Genis would have come to her by then: she would be happy to see him +safe and well, and perhaps--in the midst of her joy--she would think of +the friend who so gladly offered up his life for her. + +When the air around was no longer shaken by constant repercussion, Bobby +fell asleep. It was not yet dawn, even though far away in the east there +was a luminous veil that made the sky look like living silver. Behind +him among the trees there was a moving and a fluttering--the birds were +no longer asleep--they had not begun to sing but they were shaking out +their feathers and opening tiny, round eyes in farewell to departing +night. + +That gentle fluttering was a sweet lullaby, and Bobby slept and +dreamed--he dreamed that the fluttering became louder and louder, and +that, instead of birds, it was a group of angels that shook their wings +and stood around him as he slept. + +One of the angels came nearer and laid a hand upon his head--and Bobby +dreamed that the angel spoke and the words that it said filled Bobby's +heart with unearthly happiness. + +"My love! my love!" the angel said, "will you try and live for my sake?" + +And Bobby would not open his eyes, for fear the angel should go away. +And though he knew exactly where he was, and could feel the soft carpet +of leaves, and smell the sweet moisture in the air, he knew that he must +still be dreaming, for angels are not of this earth. + +Then a strong kind hand touched his wrist, and felt the beating of his +heart, and a rough, pleasant voice said in English: "He is exhausted and +very weak, but the fever is not high: he will soon be all right." And to +add to the wonderful strangeness of his dream, the angel's voice near +him murmured: "Thank God! thank God!" + +Why should an angel thank God that he--Bobby Clyffurde--was not likely +to die? + +He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw--bending over +him--a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever +seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled +like rose-leaves in the breeze. He was still dreaming and there was a +haze between him and that perfect vision of loveliness. And the kind, +rough voice somewhere close by said: "Have you got that stretcher +ready?" and two other voices replied, "Yes, Sir." + +But the lips close above him said nothing, and it was Bobby now who +murmured: "My love, is it you?" + +"Your love for always," the dear lips replied, "nothing shall part us +now. Yours for always to bring you back to life. Yours when you will +claim me--yours for life." + +They lifted him onto a stretcher, and then into a carriage and a very +kind face which he quickly enough recognised as Mme. la Duchesse +d'Agen's smiled very encouragingly upon him, whereupon he could not help +but ask a very pertinent question: + +"Mme. la Duchesse, is all this really happening?" + +"Why, yes, my good man," Madame replied; and indeed there was nothing +dreamlike in her tart, dry voice: "Crystal and I really have dragged Dr. +Scott away from the bedside of innumerable other sick and wounded men, +and also from any hope of well-earned rest to-night: we have also really +brought him to a spot very accurately described by our worthy friend, +St. Genis, but where, unfortunately, you had not chosen to remain, else +we had found you an hour sooner. Is there anything else you want to +know?" + +"Oh, yes! Madame la Duchesse, many things," murmured Bobby. "Please go +on telling me." + +Madame laughed: "Well!" she said, "perhaps you would like to know that +some kind of instinct, or perhaps the hand of God guided one of our +party to the place where you had gone to sleep. You may also wish to +know, that though you seem in a bad way for the present, you are going +to be nursed back to life under Dr. Scott's own most hospitable roof: +but since Crystal has undertaken to do the nursing, I imagine that my +time for the next six weeks will be taken up in arguing with my dear and +pompous brother that he will now have to give his consent to his +daughter becoming the wife of a vendor of gloves." + +Bobby contrived to smile: "Do you think that if I promised never to buy +or sell gloves again, but in future to try and live like a gentleman--do +you think then that he will consent?" + +"I think, my dear boy," said Madame, subduing her harsh voice to tones +of gentleness, "that after my brother knows all that I know and all that +his daughter desires, he will be proud to welcome you as his son." + +The doctor's wide barouche lumbered slowly along the wide, straight +road. In the east the luminous veil that still hid the rising sun had +taken on a hue of rosy gold: the birds, now fully awake, sang their +morning hymn. From the direction of Wavre came once more the cannon's +roar. + +Inside the carriage Dr. Scott, sitting at the feet of his patient, gave +a peremptory order for silence. But Bobby--immeasurably happy and +contented--looked up and saw Crystal de Cambray--no longer a girl now, +but a fair and beautiful woman who had learned to the last letter the +fulsome lesson of Love. She sat close beside him, and her arm was round +his reclining head, and, looking at her, he saw the lovelight in her +dear eyes whenever she turned them on him. And anon, when Mme. la +Duchesse engaged Dr. Scott in a close and heated argument, Bobby felt +sweet-scented lips pressed against his own. + + +THE END + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The original text is inconsistent regarding the spelling and +hyphenation of some words. Except when noted in the corrections +below, the spelling of individual words has been left as it was +in the original edition, even when the same word is spelled +differently elsewhere in the text. + +In Chapter I, a quotation mark has been added after "for a rainy day."; +and a period has been added after "'To Grenoble?' exclaimed de Marmont". + +In Chapter II, "experiences which I gleamed in exile" has been changed +to "experiences which I gleaned in exile"; and "a sterotyped smile" has +been changed to "a stereotyped smile". + +In Chapter IV, "The dim has become deafening" has been changed to "The +din has become deafening"; and "brief comamnds to his sergeant" has been +changed to "brief commands to his sergeant". + +In Chapter VII, "the conquerer of Austerlitz" has been changed to "the +conqueror of Austerlitz"; and "the fugutive royalists rallied" has been +changed to "the fugitive royalists rallied". + +In Chapter VIII, "from the Gulf of Juan to the gates of the Tuileries" +has been changed to "from the Gulf of Jouan to the gates of the +Tuileries"; "from the gulf of Juan in the wake of his eagle" has been +changed to "from the gulf of Jouan in the wake of his eagle"; "neither +sleep not yet wakefulness" has been changed to "neither sleep nor yet +wakefulness"; and "that she had not desponded more warmly to his kiss" +has been changed to "that she had not responded more warmly to his +kiss". + +In Chapter X, "those black-coated Brunswickers who longer to fly" has +been changed to "those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly". + +No other corrections have been made to the original text. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +******* This file should be named 25955-0.txt or 25955-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/5/25955 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/25955-0.zip b/25955-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f890617 --- /dev/null +++ b/25955-0.zip diff --git a/25955-8.txt b/25955-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93fcd9c --- /dev/null +++ b/25955-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13330 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bronze Eagle, by Emmuska Orczy, Baroness +Orczy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bronze Eagle + A Story of the Hundred Days + + +Author: Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + + + +Release Date: July 2, 2008 [eBook #25955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + + * * * * * + +By BARONESS ORCZY + +THE BRONZE EAGLE +A BRIDE OF THE PLAINS +THE LAUGHING CAVALIER +"UNTO CAESAR" +EL DORADO +MEADOWSWEET +THE NOBLE ROGUE +THE HEART OF A WOMAN +PETTICOAT RULE + +GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY +NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +A Story of the Hundred Days + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + +Author of "The Laughing Cavalier," "The Scarlet Pimpernel," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + +New York +George H. Doran Company + +Copyright, 1915, +by Baroness Orczy +Copyright, 1915, +by George H. Doran Company + +This novel was published serially, under the title of "Waterloo" + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + THE LANDING AT JOUAN 9 +I. THE GLORIOUS NEWS 14 +II. THE OLD RÉGIME 49 +III. THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR 85 +IV. THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS 138 +V. THE RIVALS 196 +VI. THE CRIME 221 +VII. THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL 236 +VIII. THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT 261 +IX. THE TARPEIAN ROCK 285 +X. THE LAST THROW 305 +XI. THE LOSING HANDS 338 +XII. THE WINNING HAND 370 + + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + + +THE LANDING AT JOUAN + + +The perfect calm of an early spring dawn lies over headland and +sea--hardly a ripple stirs the blue cheek of the bay. The softness of +departing night lies upon the bosom of the Mediterranean like the dew +upon the heart of a flower. + +A silent dawn. + +Veils of transparent greys and purples and mauves still conceal the +distant horizon. Breathless calm rests upon the water and that awed hush +which at times descends upon Nature herself when the finger of Destiny +marks an eventful hour. + +But now the grey and the purple veils beyond the headland are lifted one +by one; the midst of dawn rises upwards like the smoke of incense from +some giant censers swung by unseen, mighty hands. + +The sky above is of a translucent green, studded with stars that blink +and now are slowly extinguished one by one: the green has turned to +silver, and the silver to lemon-gold: the veils beyond the upland are +flying in the wake of departing Night. + +The lemon-gold turns to glowing amber, anon to orange and crimson, and +far inland the mountain peaks, peeping shyly through the mist, blush a +vivid rose to find themselves so fair. + +And to the south, there where fiery sea blends and merges with fiery +sky, a tiny black speck has just come into view. Larger and larger it +grows as it draws nearer to the land, now it seems like a bird with +wings outspread--an eagle flying swiftly to the shores of France. + +In the bay the fisher folk, who are making ready for their day's work, +pause a moment as they haul up their nets: with rough brown hands held +above their eyes they look out upon that black speck--curious, +interested, for the ship is not one they have seen in these waters +before. + +"'Tis the Emperor come back from Elba!" says someone. + +The men laugh and shrug their shoulders: that tale has been told so +often in these parts during the past year: the good folk have ceased to +believe in it. It has almost become a legend now, that story that the +Emperor was coming back--their Emperor--the man with the battered hat +and the grey redingote: the people's Emperor, he who led them from +victory to victory, whose eagles soared above every capital and every +tower in Europe, he who made France glorious and respected: her +citizens, men, her soldiers, heroes. + +And with stately majesty the dawn yields to day, the last tones of +orange have faded from the sky: it is once more of a translucent green +merging into sapphire overhead. And the great orb in the east rises from +out the trammels of the mist, and from awakening Earth and Sea comes the +great love-call, the triumphant call of Day. And far away upon the +horizon to the south, the black speck becomes more distinct and more +clear; it takes shape, substance, life. + +It divides and multiplies, for now there are three or four specks +silhouetted against the sky--not three or four, but five--no! six--no! +seven! Seven black specks which detach themselves one by one, one from +another and from the vagueness beyond--experienced eyes scan the horizon +with enthusiasm and excitement which threaten to blur the clearness of +their vision. Anyone with an eye for sea-going craft can distinguish +that topsail-schooner there, well ahead of the rest of the tiny fleet, +skimming the water with swift grace, and immediately behind her the +three-masted polacca--hm! have we not seen her in these waters +before?--and the two graceful feluccas whose lateen sails look so like +the outspread wings of a bird! + +But it is on the schooner that all eyes are riveted now: she skips along +so fast that within an hour her pennant is easily distinguishable--red +and white! the flag of Elba, of that diminutive toy-kingdom which for +the past twelve months has been ruled over by the mightiest conqueror +this modern world has ever known. + +The flag of Elba! then it is the Emperor coming back! + +A crowd had gathered on the headland now--a crowd made up of bare-footed +fisher-folk, men, women, children, and of the labourers from the +neighbouring fields and vineyards: they have all come to greet the +Emperor--the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote, the +curious, flashing eyes and mouth that always spoke genial words to the +people of France! + +Traitors turned against him--Ney! de Marmont! Bernadotte! those on whom +he had showered the full measure of his friendship, whom he had loaded +with honours, with glory and with wealth. Foreign armies joined in +coalition against France and forced the people's Emperor to leave his +country which he loved so well, had sent him to humiliation and to +exile. But he had come back, as all his people had always said that he +would! He had come back, there was the topsail-schooner that was +bringing him home so swiftly now. + +Another hour and the schooner's name can be deciphered quite +easily--_L'Inconstant_, and that of the polacca _Le Saint-Esprit_ . . . +and beyond these _L'Etoile_ and _Saint Joseph_, _Caroline_. And the +entire little fleet flies the flag of Elba. + +The Emperor has come back! Bare-footed fisherfolk whisper it among +themselves, the labourers in the valley call the news to those upon the +hills. + +Why! after another hour or so, there are those among the small knot who +stand congregated on the highest point of the headland, who swear that +they can see the Emperor--standing on the deck of the _L'Inconstant_. + +He wears a black bicorne hat, and his grey redingote: he is pacing up +and down the deck of the schooner, his hands held behind his back in the +manner so familiar to the people of France. And on his hat is pinned the +tricolour of France. Everyone on shore who is on the look-out for the +schooner now can see the tricolour quite plainly. A mighty shout escapes +the lusty throats of the men on the beach, the women are on the verge of +tears from sheer excitement, and that shout is repeated again and again +and sends its ringing echo from cliff to cliff, and from fort to fort as +the red and white pennant of the kingdom of Elba is hauled down from the +ship's stern and the tricolour flag--the flag of Liberty and of +regenerate France--is hoisted in its stead. + +The soft breeze from the south unfurls its folds and these respond to +his caress. The red, white and blue make a trenchant note of colour now +against the tender hues of the sea: flaunting its triumphant message in +the face of awakening nature. + +The eagle has left the bounds of its narrow cage of Elba: it has taken +wing over the blue Mediterranean! within an hour, perhaps, or two, it +will rest on the square church tower of Antibes--but not for long. Soon +it will take to its adventurous flight again, and soar over valley and +mountain peak, from church belfry to church belfry until it finds its +resting-place upon the towers of Notre Dame. + +One hour after noon the curtain has risen upon the first act of the most +adventurous tragedy the world has ever known. + +Napoleon Bonaparte has landed in the bay of Jouan with eleven hundred +men and four guns to reconquer France and the sovereignty of the world. +Six hundred of his old guard, six score of his Polish light cavalry, +three or four hundred Corsican chasseurs: thus did that sublime +adventurer embark upon an expedition the most mad, the most daring, the +most heroic, the most egotistical, the most tragic and the most glorious +which recording Destiny has ever written in the book of this world. + +The boats were lowered at one hour after noon, and the landing was +slowly and methodically begun: too slowly for the patience of the old +guard--the old "growlers" with grizzled moustache and furrowed cheeks, +down which tears of joy and enthusiasm were trickling at sight of the +shores of France. They were not going to wait for the return of those +boats which had conveyed the Polish troopers on shore: they took to the +water and waded across the bay, tossing the salt spray all around them +as they trod the shingle, like so many shaggy dogs enjoying a bath; and +when six hundred fur bonnets darkened the sands of the bay at the foot +of the Tower of la Gabelle, such a shout of "Vive l'Empereur" went forth +from six hundred lusty throats that the midday spring air vibrated with +kindred enthusiasm for miles and miles around. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GLORIOUS NEWS + + +I + +Where the broad highway between Grenoble and Gap parts company from the +turbulent Drac, and after crossing the ravine of Vaulx skirts the +plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and +mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle on the +left and in wayward curves continues its length through the woods +upwards to the hamlet of Vaulx and the shrine of Notre Dame. + +Far away to the west the valley of the Drac lies encircled by the +pine-covered slopes of the Lans range, whilst towering some seven +thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Moucherolle +glistens like a sea of myriads of rose-coloured diamonds under the kiss +of the morning sun. + +There was more than a hint of snow in the sharp, stinging air this +afternoon, even down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the +northeast whipped up the faces of the two riders as they turned their +horses at a sharp trot up the bridle path. + +Though it was not long since the sun had first peeped out above the +forests of Pelvoux, the riders looked as if they had already a long +journey to their credit; their horses were covered with sweat and +sprinkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered +with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But +despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and +unconscious grace which marks the man accustomed to hard and constant +riding, though--to the experienced eye--there would appear a vast +difference in the style and manner in which each horseman handled his +mount. + +One of them had the rigid precision of bearing which denotes military +training: he was young and slight of build, with unruly dark hair +fluttering round the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and +escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of +the neck; he held himself very erect and rode his horse on the curb, the +reins gathered tightly in one gloved hand, and that hand held closely +and almost immovably against his chest. + +The other sat more carelessly--though in no way more loosely--in his +saddle: he gave his horse more freedom, with a chain-snaffle and reins +hanging lightly between his fingers. He was obviously taller and +probably older than his companion, broader of shoulder and fairer of +skin; you might imagine him riding this same powerful mount across a +sweep of open country, but his friend you would naturally picture to +yourself in uniform on the parade ground. + +The riders soon left the valley of the Drac behind them; on ahead the +path became very rocky, winding its way beside a riotous little mountain +stream, whilst higher up still, peeping through the intervening trees, +the white-washed cottages of the tiny hamlet glimmered with dazzling +clearness in the frosty atmosphere. At a sharp bend of the road, which +effectually revealed the foremost of these cottages, distant less than +two kilometres now, the younger of the two men drew rein suddenly, and +lifting his hat with outstretched arm high above his head, he gave a +long sigh which ended in a kind of exultant call of joy. + +"There is Notre Dame de Vaulx," he cried at the top of his voice, and +hat still in hand he pointed to the distant hamlet. "There's the spot +where--before the sun darts its midday rays upon us--I shall hear great +and glorious and authentic news of _him_ from a man who has seen him as +lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the +sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope in his eyes. +Oh!" he went on speaking with extraordinary volubility, "it is all too +good to be true! Since yesterday I have felt like a man in a dream!--I +haven't lived, I have scarcely breathed, I . . ." + +The other man broke in upon his ravings with a good-humoured growl. + +"You have certainly behaved like an escaped lunatic since early this +morning, my good de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that--as +we shall have to mix again with our fellow-men presently--you might try +to behave with some semblance of reasonableness." + +But de Marmont only laughed. He was so excited that his lips trembled +all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed just as if some inward +fire was burning deep down in his soul. + +"No! I can't," he retorted. "I want to shout and to sing and to cry +'Vive l'Empereur' till those frowning mountains over there echo with my +shouts--and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and +curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will--an escaped +lunatic--if to be mad with joy be a proof of insanity. Clyffurde, my +dear friend," he added more soberly, "I am honestly sorry for you +to-day." + +"Thank you," commented his companion drily. "May I ask how I have +deserved this genuine sympathy?" + +"Well! because you are an Englishman, and not a Frenchman," said the +younger man earnestly; "because you--as an Englishman--must desire +Napoleon's downfall, his humiliation, perhaps his death, instead of +exulting in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him, +following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my +nationality or my patriotism demanded that I should fight against +Napoleon, that I should hate him, or vilify him, I firmly believe that I +would turn my sword against myself, so shamed should I feel in my own +eyes." + +It was the Englishman's turn to laugh, and he did it very heartily. His +laugh was quite different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it, +more good temper, more appreciation of everything that tends to gaiety +in life and more direct defiance of what is gloomy. + +He too had reined in his horse, presumably in order to listen to his +friend's enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his +merry, pleasant eyes a quaint look of half contemptuous tolerance +tempered by kindly humour. + +"Well, you see, my good de Marmont," he said, still laughing, "you +happen to be a Frenchman, a visionary and weaver of dreams. Believe me," +he added more seriously, "if you had the misfortune to be a prosy, +shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just +because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would +realise soberly and calmly that while Napoleon Bonaparte is allowed to +rule over France--or over any country for the matter of that--there will +never be peace in the world or prosperity in any land." + +The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his +face--a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait +for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a +warning finger. + +Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more: + +"Shall we," he said, "go slowly on now as far as the village? It is not +yet ten o'clock. Emery cannot possibly be here before noon." + +He put his horse to a walk, de Marmont keeping close behind him, and in +silence the two men rode up the incline toward Notre Dame de Vaulx. On +ahead the pines and beech and birch became more sparse, disclosing the +great patches of moss-covered rock upon the slopes of Pelvoux. On +Taillefer the eternal snows appeared wonderfully near in the brilliance +of this early spring atmosphere, and here and there on the roadside +bunches of wild crocus and of snowdrops were already visible rearing +their delicate corollas up against a background of moss. + +The tiny village still far away lay in the peaceful hush of a Sunday +morning, only from the little chapel which holds the shrine of Notre +Dame came the sweet, insistent sound of the bell calling the dwellers of +these mountain fastnesses to prayer. + +The northeasterly wind was still keen, but the sun was gaining power as +it rose well above Pelvoux, and the sky over the dark forests and +snow-crowned heights was of a glorious and vivid blue. + + +II + +The words "Auberge du Grand Dauphin" looked remarkably inviting, written +in bold, shiny black characters on the white-washed wall of one of the +foremost houses in the village. The riders drew rein once more, this +time in front of the little inn, and as a young ostler in blue blouse +and sabots came hurriedly and officiously forward whilst mine host in +the same attire appeared in the doorway, the two men dismounted, +unstrapped their mantles from their saddle-bows and loudly called for +mulled wine. + +Mine host, typical of his calling and of his race, rubicund of cheek, +portly of figure and genial in manner, was over-anxious to please his +guests. It was not often that gentlemen of such distinguished appearance +called at the "Auberge du Grand Dauphin," seeing that Notre Dame de +Vaulx lies perdu on the outskirts of the forests of Pelvoux, that the +bridle path having reached the village leads nowhere save into the +mountains and that La Motte is close by with its medicinal springs and +its fine hostels. + +But these two highly-distinguished gentlemen evidently meant to make a +stay of it. They even spoke of a friend who would come and join them +later, when they would expect a substantial _déjeuner_ to be served with +the best wine mine host could put before them. Annette--mine host's +dark-eyed daughter--was all a-flutter at sight of these gallant +strangers, one of them with such fiery eyes and vivacious ways, and the +other so tall and so dignified, with fair skin well-bronzed by the sun +and large firm mouth that had such a pleasant smile on it; her eyes +sparkled at sight of them both and her glib tongue rattled away at truly +astonishing speed. + +Would a well-baked omelette and a bit of fricandeau suit the +gentlemen?--Admirably? Ah, well then, that could easily be done!--and +now? in the meanwhile?--Only good mulled wine? That would present no +difficulty either. Five minutes for it to get really hot, as Annette had +made some the previous day for her father who had been on a tiring +errand up to La Mure and had come home cold and starved--and it was +specially good--all the better for having been hotted up once or twice +and the cloves and nutmeg having soaked in for nearly four and twenty +hours. + +Where would the gentlemen have it--Outside in the sunshine? . . . Well! +it was very cold, and the wind biting . . . but the gentlemen had +mantles, and she, Annette, would see that the wine was piping hot. . . . +Five minutes and everything would be ready. . . . + +What? . . . the tall, fair-skinned gentleman wanted to wash? . . . what +a funny idea! . . . hadn't he washed this morning when he got up? . . . +He had? Well, then, why should he want to wash again? . . . She, +Annette, managed to keep herself quite clean all day, and didn't need +to wash more than once a day. . . . But there! strangers had funny ways +with them . . . she had guessed at once that Monsieur was a stranger, he +had such a fair skin and light brown hair. Well! so long as Monsieur +wasn't English--for the English, she detested! + +Why did she detest the English? . . . Because they made war against +France. Well! against the Emperor anyhow, and she, Annette, firmly +believed that if the English could get hold of the Emperor they would +kill him--oh, yes! they would put him on an island peopled by cannibals +and let him be eaten, bones, marrow and all. + +And Annette's dark eyes grew very round and very big as she gave forth +her opinion upon the barbarous hatred of the English for "l'Empereur!" +She prattled on very gaily and very volubly, while she dragged a couple +of chairs out into the open, and placed them well in the lee of the wind +and brought a couple of pewter mugs which she set on the table. + +She was very much interested in the tall gentleman who had availed +himself of her suggestion to use the pump at the back of the house, +since he was so bent on washing himself; and she asked many questions +about him from his friend. + +Ten minutes later the steaming wine was on the table in a huge china +bowl and the Englishman was ladling it out with a long-handled spoon and +filling the two mugs with the deliciously scented cordial. Annette had +disappeared into the house in response to a peremptory call from her +father. The chapel bell had ceased to ring long ago, and she would miss +hearing Mass altogether to-day; and M. le curé, who came on alternate +Sundays all the way from La Motte to celebrate divine service, would be +very angry indeed with her. + +Well! that couldn't be helped! Annette would have loved to go to Mass, +but the two distinguished gentlemen expected their friend to arrive at +noon, and the _déjeuner_ to be ready quite by then; so she comforted her +conscience with a few prayers said on her knees before the picture of +the Holy Virgin which hung above her bed, after which she went back to +her housewifely duty with a light heart; but not before she had decided +an important point in her mind--namely, which of those two handsome +gentlemen she liked the best: the dark one with the fiery eyes that +expressed such bold admiration of her young charms, or the tall one with +the earnest grey eyes who looked as if he could pick her up like a +feather and carry her running all the way to the summit of Taillefer. + +Annette had indeed made up her mind that the giant with the soft brown +hair and winning smile was, on the whole, the more attractive of the +two. + + +III + +The two friends, with mantles wrapped closely round them, sat outside +the "Grand Dauphin" all unconscious of the problem which had been +disturbing Annette's busy little brain. + +The steaming wine had put plenty of warmth into their bones, and though +both had been silent while they sipped their first mug-full, it was +obvious that each was busy with his own thoughts. + +Then suddenly the young Frenchman put his mug down and leaned with both +elbows upon the rough deal table, because he wanted to talk +confidentially with his friend, and there was never any knowing what +prying ears might be about. + +"I suppose," he said, even as a deep frown told of puzzling thoughts +within the mind, "I suppose that when England hears the news, she will +up and at him again, attacking him, snarling at him even before he has +had time to settle down upon his reconquered throne." + +"That throne is not reconquered yet, my friend," retorted the Englishman +drily, "nor has the news of this mad adventure reached England so far, +but . . ." + +"But when it does," broke in de Marmont sombrely, "your Castlereagh will +rave and your Wellington will gather up his armies to try and crush the +hero whom France loves and acclaims." + +"Will France acclaim the hero, there's the question?" + +"The army will--the people will----" + +Clyffurde shrugged his shoulders. + +"The army, yes," he said slowly, "but the people . . . what people?--the +peasantry of Provence and the Dauphiné, perhaps--what about the town +folk?--your mayors and _préfets_?--your tradespeople? your shopkeepers +who have been ruined by the wars which your hero has made to further his +own ambition. . . ." + +"Don't say that, Clyffurde," once more broke in de Marmont, and this +time more vehemently than before. "When you speak like that I could +almost forget our friendship." + +"Whether I say it or not, my good de Marmont," rejoined Clyffurde with +his good-humoured smile, "you will anyhow--within the next few +months--days, perhaps--bury our friendship beneath the ashes of your +patriotism. No one, believe me," he added more earnestly, "has a greater +admiration for the genius of Napoleon than I have; his love of France is +sublime, his desire for her glory superb. But underlying his love of +country, there is the love of self, the mad desire to rule, to conquer, +to humiliate. It led him to Moscow and thence to Elba, it has brought +him back to France. It will lead him once again to the Capitol, no +doubt, but as surely too it will lead him on to the Tarpeian Rock whence +he will be hurled down this time, not only bruised, but shattered, a +fallen hero--and you will--a broken idol, for posterity to deal with in +after time as it lists." + +"And England would like to be the one to give the hero the final push," +said de Marmont, not without a sneer. + +"The people of England, my friend, hate and fear Bonaparte as they have +never hated and feared any one before in the whole course of their +history--and tell me, have we not cause enough to hate him? For fifteen +years has he not tried to ruin us, to bring us to our knees? tried to +throttle our commerce? break our might upon the sea? He wanted to make a +slave of Britain, and Britain proved unconquerable. Believe me, we hate +your hero less than he hates us." + +He had spoken with a good deal of earnestness, but now he added more +lightly, as if in answer to de Marmont's glowering look: + +"At the same time," he said, "I doubt if there is a single English +gentleman living at the present moment--let alone the army--who would +refuse ungrudging admiration to Napoleon himself and to his genius. But +as a nation England has her interests to safeguard. She has suffered +enough--and through him--in her commerce and her prosperity in the past +twenty years--she must have peace now at any cost." + +"Ah! I know," sighed the other, "a nation of shopkeepers. . . ." + +"Yes. We are that, I suppose. We are shopkeepers . . . most of us. +. . ." + +"I didn't mean to use the word in any derogatory sense," protested +Victor de Marmont with the ready politeness peculiar to his race. "Why, +even you . . ." + +"I don't see why you should say 'even you,'" broke in Clyffurde quietly. +"I am a shopkeeper--nothing more. . . . I buy goods and sell them again. +. . . I buy the gloves which our friend M. Dumoulin manufactures at +Grenoble and sell them to any London draper who chooses to buy them +. . . a very mean and ungentlemanly occupation, is it not?" + +He spoke French with perfect fluency, and only with the merest suspicion +of a drawl in the intonation of the vowels, which suggested rather than +proclaimed his nationality; and just now there was not the slightest +tone of bitterness apparent in his deep-toned and mellow voice. Once +more his friend would have protested, but he put up a restraining hand. + +"Oh!" he said with a smile, "I don't imagine for a moment that you have +the same prejudices as our mutual friend M. le Comte de Cambray, who +must have made a very violent sacrifice to his feelings when he admitted +me as a guest to his own table. I am sure he must often think that the +servants' hall is the proper place for me." + +"The Comte de Cambray," retorted de Marmont with a sneer, "is full up to +his eyes with the prejudices and arrogance of his caste. It is men of +his type--and not Marat or Robespierre--who made the revolution, who +goaded the people of France into becoming something worse than +man-devouring beasts. And, mind you, twenty years of exile did not sober +them, nor did contact with democratic thought in England and America +teach them the most elementary lessons of commonsense. If the Emperor +had not come back to-day, we should be once more working up for +revolution--more terrible this time, more bloody and vengeful, if +possible, than the last." + +Then as Clyffurde made no comment on this peroration, the younger man +resumed more lightly: + +"And--knowing the Comte de Cambray's prejudices as I do, imagine my +surprise--after I had met you in his house as an honoured guest and on +what appeared to be intimate terms of friendship--to learn that you +. . . in fact . . ." + +"That I was nothing more than a shopkeeper," broke in Clyffurde with a +short laugh, "nothing better than our mutual friend M. Dumoulin, +glovemaker, of Grenoble--a highly worthy man whom M. le Comte de Cambray +esteems somewhat lower than his butler. It certainly must have surprised +you very much." + +"Well, you know, old de Cambray has a horror of anything that pertains +to trade, and an avowed contempt for everything that he calls +'bourgeois.'" + +"There's no doubt about that," assented Clyffurde fervently. + +"Perhaps he does not know of your connection with . . ." + +"Gloves?" + +"With business people in Grenoble generally." + +"Oh, yes, he does!" replied the Englishman quietly. + +"Well, then?" queried de Marmont. + +Then as his friend sat there silent with that quiet, good-humoured smile +lingering round his lips, he added apologetically: + +"Perhaps I am indiscreet . . . but I never could understand it . . . and +you English are so reserved . . ." + +"That I never told you how M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Order du Lys, Hereditary +Grand Chamberlain of France, etc., etc., came to sit at the same table +as a vendor and buyer of gloves," said Clyffurde gaily. "There's no +secret about it. I owe the Comte's exalted condescension to certain +letters of recommendation which he could not very well disregard." + +"Oh! as to that . . ." quoth de Marmont with a shrug of the shoulders, +"people like the de Cambrays have their own codes of courtesy and of +friendship." + +"In this case, my good de Marmont, it was the code of ordinary gratitude +that imposed its dictum even upon the autocratic and aristocratic Comte +de Cambray." + +"Gratitude?" sneered de Marmont, "in a de Cambray?" + +"M. le Comte de Cambray," said Clyffurde with slow emphasis, "his +mother, his sister, his brother-in-law and two of their faithful +servants, were rescued from the very foot of the guillotine by a band of +heroes--known in those days as the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"I knew that!" said de Marmont quietly. + +"Then perhaps you also knew that their leader was Sir Percy Blakeney--a +prince among gallant English gentlemen and my dead father's friend. When +my business affairs sent me to Grenoble, Sir Percy warmly recommended me +to the man whose life he had saved. What could M. le Comte de Cambray do +but receive me as a friend? You see, my credentials were exceptional and +unimpeachable." + +"Of course," assented de Marmont, "now I understand. But you will admit +that I have had grounds for surprise. You--who were the friend of +Dumoulin, a tradesman, and avowed Bonapartist--two unpardonable crimes +in the eyes of M. le Comte de Cambray," he added with a return to his +former bitterness, "you to be seated at his table and to shake him by +the hand. Why, man! if he knew that I have remained faithful to the +Emperor . . ." + +He paused abruptly, and his somewhat full, sensitive lips were pressed +tightly together as if to suppress an insistent outburst of passion. + +But Clyffurde frowned, and when he turned away from de Marmont it was in +order to hide a harsh look of contempt. + +"Surely," he said, "you have never led the Comte to suppose that you are +a royalist!" + +"I have never led him to suppose anything. But he has taken my political +convictions for granted," rejoined de Marmont. + +Then suddenly a look of bitter resentment darkened his face, making it +appear hard and lined and considerably older. + +"My uncle, Marshal de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, was an abominable +traitor," he went on with ill-repressed vehemence. "He betrayed his +Emperor, his benefactor and his friend. It was the vilest treachery that +has ever disgraced an honourable name. Paris could have held out easily +for another four and twenty hours, and by that time the Emperor would +have been back. But de Marmont gave her over wilfully, scurvily to the +allies. But for his abominable act of cowardice the Emperor never would +have had to endure the shame of his temporary exile at Elba, and Louis +de Bourbon would never have had the chance of wallowing for twelve +months upon the throne of France. But that which is a source of +irreparable shame to me is a virtue in the eyes of all these royalists. +De Marmont's treachery against the Emperor has placed all his kindred in +the forefront of those who now lick the boots of that infamous Bourbon +dynasty, and it did not suit the plans of the Bonapartist party that +we--in the provinces--should proclaim our faith too openly until such +time as the Emperor returned." + +"And if the Comte de Cambray had known that you are just an ardent +Bonapartist? . . ." suggested Clyffurde calmly. + +"He would long before now have had me kicked out by his lacqueys," broke +in de Marmont with ever-increasing bitterness as he brought his clenched +fist crashing down upon the table, while his dark eyes glowed with a +fierce and passionate resentment. "For men like de Cambray there is only +one caste--the _noblesse_, one religion--the Catholic, one +creed--adherence to the Bourbons. All else is scum, trash, beneath +contempt, hardly human! Oh! if you knew how I loathe these people!" he +continued, speaking volubly and in a voice shaking with suppressed +excitement. "They have learnt nothing, these aristocrats, nothing, I +tell you! the terrible reprisals of the revolution which culminated in +that appalling Reign of Terror have taught them absolutely nothing! They +have not learnt the great lesson of the revolution, that the people will +no longer endure their arrogance and their pretensions, that the old +regime is dead--dead! the regime of oppression and pride and +intolerance! They have learnt nothing!" he reiterated with ever-growing +excitement, "nothing! 'humanity begins with the _noblesse_' is still +their watchword to-day as it was before the irate people sent hundreds +of them to perish miserably on the guillotine--the rest of mankind, to +them, is only cattle made to toil for the well-being of their class. Oh! +I loathe them, I tell you! I loathe them from the bottom of my soul!" + +"And yet you and your kind are rapidly becoming at one with them," said +Clyffurde, his quiet voice in strange contrast to the other man's +violent agitation. + +"No, we are not," protested de Marmont emphatically. "The men whom +Napoleon created marshals and peers of France have been openly snubbed +at the Court of Louis XVIII. Ney, who is prince of Moskowa and next to +Napoleon himself the greatest soldier of France, has seen his wife +treated little better than a chambermaid by the Duchesse d'Angoulême and +the ladies of the old _noblesse_. My uncle is marshal of France, and Duc +de Raguse and I am the heir to his millions, but the Comte de Cambray +will always consider it a mesalliance for his daughter to marry me." + +The note of bitter resentment, of wounded pride and smouldering hatred +became more and more marked while he spoke: his voice now sounded hoarse +and his throat seemed dry. Presently he raised his mug to his lips and +drank eagerly, but his hand was shaking visibly as he did this, and some +of the wine was spilled on the table. + +There was silence for a while outside the little inn, silence which +seemed full of portent, for through the pure mountain air there was +wafted the hot breath of men's passions--fierce, dominating, +challenging. Love, hatred, prejudices and contempt--all were portrayed +on de Marmont's mobile face: they glowed in his dark eyes and breathed +through his quivering nostrils. Now he rested his elbow on the table and +his chin in his hand, his nervy fingers played a tattoo against his +teeth, clenched together like those of some young feline creature which +sees its prey coming along and is snarling at the sight. + +Clyffurde, with those deep-set, earnest grey eyes of his, was silently +watching his friend. His hand did not shake, nor did the breath come any +quicker from his broad chest. Yet deep down behind the wide brow, behind +those same overshadowed eyes, a keen observer would of a surety have +detected the signs of a latent volcano of passions, all the more strong +and virile as they were kept in perfect control. It was he who presently +broke the silence, and his voice was quite steady when he spoke, though +perhaps a trifle more toneless, more dead, than usual. + +"And," he said, "what of Mlle. Crystal in all this?" + +"Crystal?" queried the other curtly, "what about her?" + +"She is an ardent royalist, more strong in her convictions and her +enthusiasms than women usually are." + +"And what of that?" rejoined de Marmont fiercely. "I love Crystal." + +"But when she learns that you . . ." + +"She shall not learn it," rejoined the other cynically. "We sign our +marriage contract to-night: the wedding is fixed for Tuesday. Until then +I can hold my peace." + +An exclamation of hot protest almost escaped the Englishman's lips: his +hand which rested on the table became so tightly clenched that the hard +knuckles looked as if they would burst through their fetters of sinew +and skin, and he made no pretence at concealing the look of burning +indignation which flashed from his eyes. + +"But man!" he exclaimed, "a deception such as you propose is cruel and +monstrous. . . . In view, too, of what has occurred in the past few days +. . . in view of what may happen if the news which we have heard is true +. . ." + +"In view of all that, my friend," retorted de Marmont firmly, "the old +regime has had its nine days of wonder and of splendour. The Emperor has +come back! we, who believe in him, who have remained true to him in his +humiliation and in his misfortunes may once more raise our heads and +loudly proclaim our loyalty. The return of the Emperor will once more +put his dukes and his marshals in their rightful place on a level with +the highest nobility of France. The Comte de Cambray will realise that +all his hopes of regaining his fortune through the favours of the +Bourbons have by force of circumstances come to naught. Like most of the +old _noblesse_ who emigrated he is without a sou. He may choose to look +on me with contempt, but he will no longer desire to kick me out of his +house, for he will be glad enough to see the Cambray 'scutcheon regilt +with de Marmont gold." + +"But Mademoiselle Crystal?" insisted Clyffurde, almost appealingly, for +his whole soul had revolted at the cynicism of the other man. + +"Crystal has listened to that ape, St. Genis," replied de Marmont drily, +"one of her own caste . . . a marquis with sixteen quarterings to his +family escutcheon and not a sou in his pockets. She is very young, and +very inexperienced. She has seen nothing of the world as yet--nothing. +She was born and brought up in exile--in England, in the midst of that +narrow society formed by impecunious _émigrés_. . . ." + +"And shopkeeping Englishmen," murmured Clyffurde, under his breath. + +"She could never have married St. Genis," reiterated Victor de Marmont +with deliberate emphasis. "The man hasn't a sou. Even Crystal realised +from the first that nothing ever could have come of that boy and girl +dallying. The Comte never would have consented. . . ." + +"Perhaps not. But she--Mademoiselle Crystal--would she ever have +consented to marry you, if she had known what your convictions are?" + +"Crystal is only a child," said de Marmont with a light shrug of the +shoulders. "She will learn to love me presently when St. Genis has +disappeared out of her little world, and she will accept my convictions +as she has accepted me, submissive to my will as she was to that of her +father." + +Once more a hot protest of indignation rose to Clyffurde's lips, but +this too he smothered resolutely. What was the use of protesting? Could +he hope to change with a few arguments the whole cynical nature of a +man? And what right had he even to interfere? The Comte de Cambray and +Mademoiselle Crystal were nothing to him: in their minds they would +never look upon him even as an equal--let alone as a friend. So the +bitter words died upon his lips. + +"And you have been content to win a wife on such terms!" was all that he +said. + +"I have had to be content," was de Marmont's retort. "Crystal is the +only woman I have ever cared for. She will love me in time, I doubt not, +and her sense of duty will make her forget St. Genis quickly enough." + +Then as Clyffurde made no further comment silence fell once more between +the two men. Perhaps even de Marmont felt that somehow, during the past +few moments, the slender bond of friendship which similarity of tastes +and a certain similarity of political ideals had forged between him and +the stranger had been strained to snapping point, and this for a reason +which he could not very well understand. He drank another draught of +wine and gave a quick sigh of satisfaction with the world in general, +and also with himself, for he did not feel that he had done or said +anything which could offend the keenest susceptibilities of his friend. + +He looked with a sudden sense of astonishment at Clyffurde, as if he +were only seeing him now for the first time. His keen dark eyes took in +with a rapid glance the Englishman's powerful personality, the square +shoulders, the head well erect, the strong Anglo-Saxon chin firmly set, +the slender hands always in repose. In the whole attitude of the man +there was an air of will-power which had never struck de Marmont quite +so forcibly as it did now, and a virility which looked as ready to +challenge Fate as it was able to conquer her if she proved adverse. + +And just now there was a curious look in those deep-set eyes--a look of +contempt or of pity--de Marmont was not sure which, but somehow the look +worried him and he would have given much to read the thoughts which were +hidden behind the high, square brow. + +However, he asked no questions, and thus the silence remained unbroken +for some time save for the soughing of the northeast wind as it whistled +through the pines, whilst from the tiny chapel which held the shrine of +Notre Dame de Vaulx came the sound of a soft-toned bell, ringing the +midday Angelus. + +Just then round that same curve in the road, where the two riders had +paused an hour ago in sight of the little hamlet, a man on horseback +appeared, riding at a brisk trot up the rugged, stony path. + +Victor de Marmont woke from his rêverie: + +"There's Emery," he cried. + +He jumped to his feet, then he picked up his hat from the table where he +had laid it down, tossed it up into the air as high as it would go, and +shouted with all his might: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + + +IV + +The man who now drew rein with abrupt clumsiness in front of the auberge +looked hot, tired and travel-stained. His face was covered with sweat +and his horse with lather, the lapel of his coat was torn, his breeches +and boots were covered with half-frozen mud. + +But having brought his horse to a halt, he swung himself out of the +saddle with the brisk air of a boy who has enjoyed his first ride across +country. Surgeon-Captain Emery was a man well over forty, but to-day his +eyes glowed with that concentrated fire which burns in the heart at +twenty, and he shook de Marmont by the hand with a vigour which made the +younger man wince with the pain of that iron grip. + +"My friend, Mr. Clyffurde, an English gentleman," said Victor de Marmont +hastily in response to a quick look of suspicious enquiry which flashed +out from under Emery's bushy eyebrows. "You can talk quite freely, +Emery; and for God's sake tell us your news!" + +But Emery could hardly speak. He had been riding hard for the past three +hours, his throat was parched, and through it his voice came up hoarse +and raucous: nevertheless he at once began talking in short, jerky +sentences. + +"He landed on Wednesday," he said. "I parted from him on Friday . . . at +Castellane . . . you had my message?" + +"This morning early--we came at once." + +"I thought we could talk better here--first--but I was spent last +night--I had to sleep at Corps . . . so I sent to you. . . . But now, in +Heaven's name, give me something to drink. . . ." + +While he drank eagerly and greedily of the cold spiced wine which +Clyffurde had served out to him, he still scrutinised the Englishman +closely from under his frowning and bushy eyebrows. + +Clyffurde's winning glance, however, seemed to have conquered his +mistrust, for presently, after he had put his mug down again, he +stretched out a cordial hand to him. + +"Now that our Emperor is back with us," he said as if in apology for his +former suspicions, "we, his friends, are bound to look askance at every +Englishman we meet." + +"Of course you are," said Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured +smile as he grasped Surgeon-Captain Emery's extended hand. + +"It is the hand of a friend I am grasping?" insisted Emery. + +"Of a personal friend, if you will call him so," replied Clyffurde. +"Politically, I hardly count, you see. I am just a looker-on at the +game." + +The surgeon-captain's keen eyes under their bushy brows shot a rapid +glance at the tall, well-knit figure of the Englishman. + +"You are not a fighting man?" he queried, much amazed. + +"No," replied Clyffurde drily. "I am only a tradesman." + +"Your news, Emery, your news!" here broke in Victor de Marmont, who +during the brief colloquy between his two friends had been hardly able +to keep his excitement in check. + +Emery turned away from the other man in silence. Clearly there was +something about that fine, noble-looking fellow--who proclaimed himself +a tradesman while that splendid physique of his should be at his +country's service--which still puzzled the worthy army surgeon. + +But he was primarily very thirsty and secondly as eager to impart his +news as de Marmont was to hear it, so now without wasting any further +words on less important matter he sat down close to the table and +stretched his short, thick legs out before him. + +"My news is of the best," he said with lusty fervour. "We left Porto +Ferrajo on Sunday last but only landed on Wednesday, as I told you, for +we were severely becalmed in the Mediterranean. We came on shore at +Antibes at midday of March 1st and bivouacked in an olive grove on the +way to Cannes. That was a sight good for sore eyes, my friends, to see +him sitting there by the camp fire, his feet firmly planted upon the +soil of France. What a man, Sir, what a man!" he continued, turning +directly to Clyffurde, "on board the _Inconstant_ he had composed and +dictated his proclamation to the army, to the soldiers of France! the +finest piece of prose, Sir, I have ever read in all my life. But you +shall judge of it, Sir, you shall judge. . . ." + +And with hands shaking with excitement he fumbled in the bulging pocket +of his coat and extracted therefrom a roll of loose papers roughly tied +together with a piece of tape. + +"You shall read it, Sir," he went on mumbling, while his trembling +fingers vainly tried to undo the knot in the tape, "you shall read it. +And then mayhap you'll tell me if your Pitt was ever half so eloquent. +Curse these knots!" he exclaimed angrily. + +"Will you allow me, Sir?" said Clyffurde quietly, and with steady hand +and firm fingers he undid the refractory knots and spread the papers out +upon the table. + +Already de Marmont had given a cry of loyalty and of triumph. + +"His proclamation!" he exclaimed, and a sigh of infinite satisfaction +born of enthusiasm and of hero-worship escaped his quivering lips. + +The papers bore the signature of that name which had once been +all-powerful in its magical charm, at sound of which Europe had trembled +and crowns had felt insecure, the name which men had breathed--nay! +still breathed--either with passionate loyalty or with bitter +hatred:--"Napoleon." + +They were copies of the proclamation wherewith the heroic +adventurer--confident in the power of his diction--meant to reconquer +the hearts of that army whom he had once led to such glorious victories. + +De Marmont read the long document through from end to end in a +half-audible voice. Now and again he gave a little cry--a cry of loyalty +at mention of those victories of Austerlitz and Jena, of Wagram and of +Eckmühl, at mention of those imperial eagles which had led the armies of +France conquering and glorious throughout the length and breadth of +Europe--or a cry of shame and horror at mention of the traitor whose +name he bore and who had delivered France into the hands of strangers +and his Emperor into those of his enemies. + +And when the young enthusiast had read the proclamation through to the +end he raised the paper to his lips and fervently kissed the imprint of +the revered name: "Napoleon." + +"Now tell me more about him," he said finally, as he leaned both elbows +on the table and fastened his glowing eyes upon the equally heated face +of Surgeon-Captain Emery. + +"Well!" resumed the latter, "as I told you we bivouacked among the olive +trees on the way to Cannes. The Emperor had already sent Cambronne on +ahead with forty of his grenadiers to commandeer what horses and mules +he could, as we were not able to bring many across from Porto Ferrajo. +'Cambronne,' he said, 'you shall be in command of the vanguard in this +the finest campaign which I have ever undertaken. My orders are to you, +that you do not fire a single unnecessary shot. Remember that I mean to +reconquer my imperial crown without shedding one drop of French blood.' +Oh! he is in excellent health and in excellent spirits! Such a man! such +fire in his eyes! such determination in his actions! Younger, bolder +than ever! I tell you, friends," continued the worthy surgeon-captain as +he brought the palm of his hand flat down upon the table with an +emphatic bang, "that it is going to be a triumphal march from end to end +of France. The people are mad about him. At Roccavignon, just outside +Cannes, where we bivouacked on Thursday, men, women and children were +flocking round to see him, pressing close to his knees, bringing him +wine and flowers; and the people were crying 'Vive l'Empereur!' even in +the streets of Grasse." + +"But the army, man? the army?" cried de Marmont, "the garrisons of +Antibes and Cannes and Grasse? did the men go over to him at once?--and +the officers?" + +"We hadn't encountered the army yet when I parted from him on Friday," +retorted Emery with equal impatience, "we didn't go into Antibes and we +avoided Cannes. You must give him time. The people in the towns wouldn't +at first believe that he had come back. General Masséna, who is in +command at Marseilles, thought fit to spread the news that a band of +Corsican pirates had landed on the littoral and were marching +inland--devastating villages as they marched. The peasants from the +mountains were the first to believe that the Emperor had really come, +and they wandered down in their hundreds to see him first and to spread +the news of his arrival ahead of him. By the time we reached Castellane +the mayor was not only ready to receive him but also to furnish him with +5,000 rations of meat and bread, with horses and with mules. Since then +he has been at Digue and at Sisteron. Be sure that the garrisons of +those cities have rallied round his eagles by now." + +Then whilst Emery paused for breath de Marmont queried eagerly: + +"And so . . . there has been no contretemps?" + +"Nothing serious so far," replied the other. "We had to abandon our guns +at Grasse, the Emperor felt that they would impede the rapidity of his +progress; and our second day's march was rather trying, the mountain +passes were covered in snow, the lancers had to lead their horses +sometimes along the edge of sheer precipices, they were hampered too by +their accoutrements, their long swords and their lances; others--who had +no mounts--had to carry their heavy saddles and bridles on those +slippery paths. But _he_ was walking too, stick in hand, losing his +footing now and then, just as they did, and once he nearly rolled down +one of those cursed precipices: but always smiling, always cheerful, +always full of hope. At Antibes young Casabianca got himself arrested +with twenty grenadiers--they had gone into the town to requisition a few +provisions. When the news reached us some of the younger men tried to +persuade the Emperor to march on the city and carry the place by force +of arms before Casabianca's misfortune got bruited abroad: 'No!' he +said, 'every minute is precious. All we can do is to get along faster +than the evil news can travel. If half my small army were captive at +Antibes, I would still move on. If every man were a prisoner in the +citadel, I would march on alone.' That's the man, my friends," cried +Emery with ever-growing enthusiasm, "that's our Emperor!" + +And he cast a defiant look on Clyffurde, as much as to say: "Bring on +your Wellington and your armies now! the Emperor has come back! the +whole of France will know how to guard him!" Then he turned to de +Marmont. + +"And now tell me about Grenoble," he said. + +"Grenoble had an inkling of the news already last night," said de +Marmont, whose enthusiasm was no whit cooler than that of Emery. +"Marchand has been secretly assembling his troops, he has sent to +Chambéry for the 7th and 11th regiment of the line and to Vienne for the +4th Hussars. Inside Grenoble he has the 5th infantry regiment, the 4th +of artillery and 3rd of engineers, with a train squadron. This morning +he is holding a council of war, and I know that he has been in constant +communication with Masséna. The news is gradually filtering through into +the town: people stand at the street corners and whisper among +themselves; the word 'l'Empereur' seemed wafted upon this morning's +breeze. . . ." + +"And by to-night we'll have the Emperor's proclamation to his people +pinned up on the walls of the Hôtel de Ville!" exclaimed Emery, and with +hands still trembling with excitement he gathered the precious papers +once more together and slipped them back into his coat pocket. Then he +made a visible effort to speak more quietly: "And now," he said, "for +one very important matter which, by the way, was the chief reason for my +asking you, my good de Marmont, to meet me here before my getting to +Grenoble." + +"Yes? What is it?" queried de Marmont eagerly. + +Surgeon-Captain Emery leaned across the table; instinctively he dropped +his voice, and though his excitement had not abated one jot, though his +eyes still glowed and his hands still fidgeted nervously, he had forced +himself at last to a semblance of calm. + +"The matter is one of money," he said slowly. "The Emperor has some +funds at his disposal, but as you know, that scurvy government of the +Restoration never handed him over one single sou of the yearly revenue +which it had solemnly agreed and sworn to pay to him with regularity. +Now, of course," he continued still more emphatically, "we who believe +in our Emperor as we believe in God, we are absolutely convinced that +the army will rally round him to a man. The army loves him and has +never ceased to love him, the army will follow him to victory and to +death. But the most loyal army in the world cannot subsist without +money, and the Emperor has little or none. The news of his triumphant +march across France will reach Paris long before he does, it will enable +His Most Excellent and Most Corpulent Majesty King Louis to skip over to +England or to Ghent with everything in the treasury on which he can lay +his august hands. Now, de Marmont, do you perceive what the serious +matter is which caused me to meet you here--twenty-five kilomètres from +Grenoble, where I ought to be at the present moment." + +"Yes! I do perceive very grave trouble there," said de Marmont with +characteristic insouciance, "but one which need not greatly worry the +Emperor. I am rich, thank God! and . . ." + +"And may God bless you, my dear de Marmont, for the thought," broke in +Emery earnestly, "but what may be called a large private fortune is as +nothing before the needs of an army. Soon, of course, the Emperor will +be in peaceful possession of his throne and will have all the resources +of France at his command, but before that happy time arrives there will +be much fighting, and many days--weeks perhaps--of anxiety to go +through. During those weeks the army must be paid and fed; and your +private fortune, my dear de Marmont, would--even if the Emperor were to +accept your sacrifice, which is not likely--be but as a drop in the +mighty ocean of the cost of a campaign. What are two or even three +millions, my poor, dear friend? It is forty, fifty millions that the +Emperor wants." + +De Marmont this time had nothing to say. He was staring moodily and +silently before him. + +"Now, that is what I have come to talk to you about," continued Emery +after a few seconds' pause, during which he had once more thrown a +quick, half-suspicious glance on the impassive, though obviously +interested face of the Englishman, "always supposing that Monsieur here +is on our side." + +"Neither on your side nor on the other, Captain," said Bobby Clyffurde +with a slight tone of impatience. "I am a mere tradesman, as I have had +the honour to tell you: a spectator at this game of political conflicts. +M. de Marmont knows this well, else he had not asked me to accompany him +to-day nor offered me a mount to enable me to do so. But if you prefer +it," he added lightly, "I can go for a stroll while you discuss these +graver matters." + +He would have risen from the table only that Emery immediately detained +him. + +"No offence, Sir," said the surgeon-captain bluntly. + +"None, I give you my word," assented the Englishman. "It is only natural +that you should wish to discuss such grave matters in private. Let me go +and see to our _déjeuner_ in the meanwhile. I feel sure that the +fricandeau is done to a turn by now. I'll have it dished up in ten +minutes. I pray you take no heed of me," he added in response to +murmured protestations from both de Marmont and Emery. "I would much +prefer to know nothing of these grave matters which you are about to +discuss." + +This time Emery did not detain him as he rose and turned to go within in +order to find mine host or Annette. The two Frenchmen took no further +heed of him: wrapped up in the all engrossing subject-matter they +remained seated at the table, leaning across it, their faces close to +one another, their eyes dancing with excitement, questions and +answers--as soon as the stranger's back was turned--already tumbling out +in confusion from their lips. + +Clyffurde turned to have a last look at them before he went into the +house, and while he did so his habitual, pleasant, gently-ironical smile +still hovered round his lips. But anon a quickly-suppressed sigh chased +the smile away, and over his face there crept a strange shadow--a look +of longing and of bitter regret. + +It was only for a moment, however, the next he had passed his hand +slowly across his forehead, as if to wipe away that shadow and smooth +out those lines of unspoken pain. + +Soon his cheerful voice was heard, echoing along the low rafters of the +little inn, loudly calling for Annette and for news of the baked +omelette and the fricandeau. + + +V + +"You really could have talked quite freely before Mr. Clyffurde, my good +Emery," said de Marmont as soon as Bobby had disappeared inside the inn. +"He really takes no part in politics. He is a friend alike of the Comte +de Cambray and of glovemaker Dumoulin. He has visited our Bonapartist +Club. Dumoulin has vouched for him. You see, he is not a fighting man." + +"I suppose that you are equally sure that he is not an English spy," +remarked Emery drily. + +"Of course I am sure," asserted de Marmont emphatically. "Dumoulin has +known him for years in business, though this is the first time that +Clyffurde has visited Grenoble. He is in the glove trade in England: his +interests are purely commercial. He came here with introductions to the +Comte de Cambray from a mutual friend in England who seems to be a +personage of vast importance in his own country and greatly esteemed by +the Comte--else you may be sure that that stiff-necked aristocrat would +never have received a tradesman as a guest in his house. But it was in +Dumoulin's house that I first met Bobby Clyffurde. We took a liking to +one another, and since then have ridden a great deal together. He is a +splendid horseman, and I was very glad to be able to offer him a mount +at different times. But our political conversations have never been +very heated or very serious. Clyffurde maintains a detached impersonal +attitude both to the Bonapartist and the royalist cause. I asked him to +accompany me this morning and he gladly consented, for he dearly loves a +horse. I assure you, you might have said anything before him." + +"_Eh bien!_ I'm sorry if I've been obstinate and ungracious," said the +surgeon-captain, but in a tone that obviously belied his words, "though, +frankly, I am very glad that we are alone for the moment." + +He paused, and with a wave of his thick, short-fingered hand he +dismissed this less important subject-matter and once more spoke with +his wonted eagerness on that which lay nearest his heart. + +"Now listen, my good de Marmont," he said, "do you recollect last April +when the Empress--poor wretched, misguided woman--fled so precipitately +from Paris, abandoning the capital, France and her crown at one and the +same time, and taking away with her all the Crown diamonds and money and +treasure belonging to the Emperor? She was terribly ill-advised, of +course, but . . ." + +"Yes, I remember all that perfectly well," broke in de Marmont +impatiently. + +"Well, then, you know that that abominable Talleyrand sent one of his +emissaries after the Empress and her suite . . . that this +emissary--Dudon was his name--reached Orleans just before Marie Louise +herself got there. . . ." + +"And that he ordered, in Talleyrand's name, the seizure of the Empress' +convoy as soon as it arrived in the city," broke in de Marmont again. +"Yes. I recollect that abominable outrage perfectly. Dudon, backed by +the officers of the gendarmerie, managed to rob the Empress of +everything she had, even to the last knife and fork, even to the last +pocket handkerchief belonging to the Emperor and marked with his +initials. Oh! it was monstrous! hellish! devilish! It makes my blood +boil whenever I think of it . . . whenever I think of those fatuous, +treacherous Bourbons gloating over those treasures at the Tuileries, +while our Empress went her way as effectually despoiled as if she had +been waylaid by so many brigands on a public highway." + +"Just so," resumed Emery quietly after de Marmont's violent storm of +wrath had subsided. "But I don't know if you also recollect that when +the various cases containing the Emperor's belongings were opened at the +Tuileries, there was just as much disappointment as gloating. Some of +those fatuous Bourbons--as you so rightly call them--expected to find +some forty or fifty millions of the Emperor's personal savings +there--bank-notes and drafts on the banks of France, of England and of +Amsterdam, which they were looking forward to distributing among +themselves and their friends. Your friend the Comte de Cambray would no +doubt have come in too for his share in this distribution. But M. de +Talleyrand is a very wise man! always far-seeing, he knows the +improvidence, the prodigality, the ostentation of these new masters whom +he is so ready to serve. Ere Dudon reached Paris with his booty, M. de +Talleyrand had very carefully eliminated therefrom some five and twenty +million francs in bank-notes and bankers' drafts, which he felt would +come in very usefully once for a rainy day." + +"But M. de Talleyrand is immensely rich himself," protested de Marmont. + +"Ah! he did not eliminate those five and twenty millions for his own +benefit," said Emery. "I would not so boldly accuse him of theft. The +money has been carefully put away by M. de Talleyrand for the use of His +Corpulent Majesty Louis de Bourbon, XVIIIth of that name." + +Then as Emery here made a dramatic pause and looked triumphantly across +at his companion, de Marmont rejoined somewhat bewildered: + +"But . . . I don't understand . . ." + +"Why I am telling you this?" retorted Emery, still with that triumphant +air. "You shall understand in a moment, my friend, when I tell you that +those five and twenty millions were never taken north to Paris, they +were conveyed in strict secrecy south to Grenoble!" + +"To Grenoble?" exclaimed de Marmont. + +"To Grenoble," reasserted Emery. + +"But why? . . . why such a long way?--why Grenoble?" queried the young +man in obvious puzzlement. + +"For several reasons," replied Emery. "Firstly both the préfet of the +department and the military commandant are hot royalists, whilst the +province of Dauphiné is not. In case of any army corps being sent down +there to quell possible and probable revolt, the money would have been +there to hand: also, if you remember, there was talk at the time of the +King of Naples proving troublesome. There, too, in case of a campaign on +the frontier, the money lying ready to hand at Grenoble could prove very +useful. But of course I cannot possibly pretend to give you all the +reasons which actuated M. de Talleyrand when he caused five and twenty +millions of stolen money to be conveyed secretly to Grenoble rather than +to Paris. His ways are more tortuous than any mere army-surgeon can +possibly hope to gauge. Enough that he did it and that at this very +moment there are five and twenty millions which are the rightful +property of the Emperor locked up in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +at Grenoble." + +"But . . ." murmured de Marmont, who still seemed very bewildered at all +that he had heard, "are you sure?" + +"Quite sure," affirmed Emery emphatically. "Dumoulin brought news of it +to the Emperor at Elba several months ago, and you know that he and his +Bonapartist Club always have plenty of spies in and around the +préfecture. The money is there," he reiterated with still greater +emphasis, "now the question is how are we going to get hold of it." + +"Easily," rejoined de Marmont with his habitual enthusiasm, "when the +Emperor marches into Grenoble and the whole of the garrison rallies +around him, he can go straight to the Hôtel de Ville and take everything +that he wants." + +"Always supposing that M. le préfet does not anticipate the Emperor's +coming by conveying the money to Paris or elsewhere before we can get +hold of it," quoth Emery drily. + +"Oh! Fourier is not sufficiently astute for that." + +"Perhaps not. But we must not neglect possibilities. That money would be +a perfect godsend to the Emperor. It was originally his too, _par Dieu!_ +Anyhow, my good de Marmont, that is what I wanted to talk over quietly +with you before I get into Grenoble. Can you think of any means of +getting hold of that money in case Fourier has the notion of conveying +it to some other place of safety?" + +"I would like to think that over, Emery," said de Marmont thoughtfully. +"As you say, we of the Bonapartist Club at Grenoble have spies inside +the Hôtel de Ville. We must try and find out what Fourier means to do as +soon as he realises that the Emperor is marching on Grenoble: and then +we must act accordingly and trust to luck and good fortune." + +"And to the Emperor's star," rejoined Emery earnestly; "it is once more +in the ascendant. But the matter of the money is a serious one, de +Marmont. You will deal with it seriously?" + +"Seriously!" ejaculated de Marmont. + +Once more the unquenchable fire of undying devotion to his hero glowed +in the young man's eyes. + +"Everything pertaining to the Emperor," he said fervently, "is serious +to me. For a whim of his I would lay down my life. I will think of all +you have told me, Emery, and here, beneath the blue dome of God's sky, +I swear that I will get the Emperor the money that he wants or lose mine +honour and my life in the attempt. + +"Amen to that," rejoined Emery with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You +are a brave man, de Marmont, would to heaven every Frenchman was like +you. And now," he added with sudden transition to a lighter mood, "let +Annette dish up the fricandeau. Here's our friend the tradesman, who was +born to be a soldier. M. Clyffurde," he added loudly, calling to the +Englishman who had just appeared in the doorway of the inn, "my grateful +thanks to you--not only for your courtesy, but for expediting that +delicious _déjeuner_ which tickles my appetite so pleasantly. I pray you +sit down without delay. I shall have to make an early start after the +meal, as I must be inside Grenoble before dark." + +Clyffurde, good-humoured, genial, quiet as usual, quickly responded to +the surgeon-captain's desire. He took his seat once more at the table +and spoke of the weather and the sunshine, the Alps and the snows the +while Annette spread a cloth and laid plates and knives and forks before +the distinguished gentlemen. + +"We all want to make an early start, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" ejaculated +de Marmont gaily. "We have serious business to transact this night with +M. le Comte de Cambray, and partake too of his gracious hospitality, +what?" + +Emery laughed. + +"Not I forsooth," he said. "M. le Comte would as soon have Satan or +Beelzebub inside his doors. And I marvel, my good de Marmont, that you +have succeeded in keeping on such friendly terms with that royalist +ogre." + +"I?" said de Marmont, whose inward exultation radiated from his entire +personality, "I, my dear Emery? Did you not know that I am that royalist +ogre's future son-in-law? _Par Dieu!_ but this is a glorious day for me +as well as a glorious day for France! Emery, dear friend, wish me joy +and happiness. On Tuesday I wed Mademoiselle Crystal de +Cambray--to-night we sign our marriage contract! Wish me joy, I say! +she's a bride well worth the winning! Napoleon sets forth to conquer a +throne--I to conquer love. And you, old sober-face, do not look so +glum!" he added, turning to Clyffurde. + +And his ringing laugh seemed to echo from end to end of the narrow +valley. + +After which a lighter atmosphere hung around the table outside the +"Auberge du Grand Dauphin." There was but little talk of the political +situation, still less of party hatred and caste prejudices. The hero's +name was still on the lips of the two men who worshipped him, and +Clyffurde, faithful to his attitude of detachment from political +conflicts, listened quite unmoved to the impassioned dithyrambs of his +friends. + +But so absorbed were these two in their conversation and their joy that +they failed to notice that Clyffurde hardly touched the excellent +_déjeuner_ set before him and left mine host's fine Burgundy almost +untasted. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE OLD REGIME + + +I + +On that same day and at about the same time when Victor de Marmont and +his English friend first turned their horses up the bridle path and +sighted Notre Dame de Vaulx (when, if you remember, the young Frenchman +drew rein and fell to apostrophising the hamlet, the day, the hour and +the glorious news which he was expecting to hear) at about that +self-same hour, I say, in the Château de Brestalou, situate on the right +bank of the Isère at a couple of kilomètres from Grenoble, the big +folding doors of solid mahogany which lead from the suite of vast +reception rooms to the small boudoir beyond were thrown open and Hector +appeared to announce that M. le Comte de Cambray would be ready to +receive Mme. la Duchesse in the library in a quarter of an hour. + +Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen thereupon closed the gilt-edged, +much-bethumbed Missal which she was reading--since this was Sunday and +she had been unable to attend Mass owing to that severe twinge of +rheumatism in her right knee--and placed it upon the table close to her +elbow; then with delicate, bemittened hand she smoothed out one unruly +crease in her puce silk gown and finally looked up through her round, +bone-rimmed spectacles at the sober-visaged, majestic personage who +stood at attention in the doorway. + +"Tell M. le Comte, my good Hector," she said with slow deliberation, +"that I will be with him at the time which he has so graciously +appointed." + +Hector bowed himself out of the room with that perfect decorum which +proclaims the well-trained domestic of an aristocratic house. As soon as +the tall mahogany doors were closed behind him, Mme. la Duchesse took +her spectacles off from her high-bred nose and gave a little sniff, +which caused Mademoiselle Crystal to look up from her book and mutely to +question Madame with those wonderful blue eyes of hers. + +"Ah ça, my little Crystal," was Madame's tart response to that eloquent +enquiry, "does Monsieur my brother imagine himself to be a second +Bourbon king, throning it in the Tuileries and granting audiences to the +ladies of his court? or is it only for my edification that he plays this +magnificent game of etiquette and ceremonial and other stupid +paraphernalia which have set me wondering since last night? M. le Comte +will receive Mme. la Duchesse in a quarter of an hour forsooth," she +added, mimicking Hector's pompous manner; "_par Dieu!_ I should think +indeed that he would receive his own sister when and where it suited her +convenience--not his." + +Crystal was silent for a moment or two: and in those same expressive +eyes which she kept fixed on Madame's face, the look of mute enquiry had +become more insistent. It almost seemed as if she were trying to +penetrate the underlying thoughts of the older woman, as if she tried to +read all that there was in that kindly glance of hidden sarcasm, of +humour or tolerance, or of gentle contempt. Evidently what she read in +the wrinkled face and the twinkling eyes pleased and reassured her, for +now the suspicion of a smile found its way round the corners of her +sensitive mouth. + +There are some very old people living in Grenoble at the present day +whose mothers or fathers have told them that they remembered +Mademoiselle Crystal de Cambray quite well in the year that M. le Comte +returned from England and once more took possession of his ancestral +home on the bank of the Isère, which those awful Terrorists of '92 had +taken away from him. Louis XVIII., the Benevolent king, had promptly +restored the old château to its rightful owner, when he himself, after +years of exile, mounted the throne of his fathers, and the usurper +Bonaparte was driven out of France by the armies of Europe allied +against him, and sent to cool his ambitions in the island fastnesses of +Elba. + +Mademoiselle de Cambray was just nineteen in that year 1814 which was so +full of grace for the Bourbon dynasty and all its faithful adherents, +and in February of the following year she attained her twentieth +birthday. Of course you know that she was born in England, and that her +mother was English, for had not M. le Comte been obliged to fly before +the fury of the Terrorists, whose dreaded Committee of Public Safety had +already arrested him as a "suspect" and condemned him to the guillotine. +He had contrived to escape death by what was nothing short of a miracle, +and he had lived for twenty years in England, and there had married a +beautiful English girl from whom Mademoiselle Crystal had inherited the +deep blue eyes and brilliant skin which were the greatest charm of her +effulgent beauty. + +I like to think of her just as she was on that memorable day early in +March of the year 1815--just as she sat that morning on a low stool +close to Mme. la Duchesse's high-backed chair, and with her eyes fixed +so enquiringly upon Madame's kind old face. Her fair hair was done up in +the quaint loops and curls which characterised the mode of the moment: +she had on a white dress cut low at the neck and had wrapped a soft +cashmere shawl round her shoulders, for the weather was cold and there +was no fire in the stately open hearth. + +Having presumably arrived at the happy conclusion that Madame's wrath +was only on the surface, Crystal now said gently: + +"Father loves all this etiquette, _ma tante_; it brings back memories of +a very happy past. It is the only thing he has left now," she added with +a little sigh, "the only bit out of the past which that awful revolution +could not take away from him. You will try to be indulgent to him, aunt +darling, won't you?" + +"Indulgent?" retorted the old lady with a shrug of her shoulders, "of +course I'll be indulgent. It's no affair of mine and he does as he +pleases. But I should have thought that twenty years spent in England +would have taught him commonsense, and twenty years' experience in +earning a precarious livelihood as a teacher of languages in . . ." + +"Hush, aunt, for pity's sake," broke in Crystal hurriedly, and she put +up her hands almost as if she wished to stop the words in the old lady's +mouth. + +"All right! all right! I won't mention it again," said Mme. la Duchesse +good-humouredly. "I have only been in this house four and twenty hours, +my dear child, but I have already learned my lesson. I know that the +memory of the past twenty years must be blotted right out of our +minds--out of the minds of every one of us. . . ." + +"Not of mine, aunt, altogether," murmured Crystal softly. + +"No, my dear--not altogether," rejoined Mme. la Duchesse as she placed +one of her fine white hands on the fair head of her niece; "your +beautiful mother belongs to the unforgettable memories, of those twenty +years. . . ." + +"And not only my beautiful mother, aunt dear. There are men living in +England to-day whose names must remain for ever engraved upon my +father's heart, as well as on mine--if we should ever forget those +names and neglect for one single day our prayers of gratitude for their +welfare and their reward, we should be the meanest and blackest of +ingrates." + +"Ah!" said Madame, "I am glad that Monsieur my brother remembers all +that in the midst of his restored grandeur." + +"Have you been wronging him in your heart all this while, _ma tante_?" +asked Crystal, and there was a slight tone of reproach in her voices +"you used not to be so cynical once upon a time." + +"Cynical!" exclaimed the Duchesse, "bless the child's heart! Of course I +am cynical--at my age what can you expect?--and what can I expect? But +there, don't distress yourself, I am not wronging your father--far from +it--only this grandeur--the state dinner last night--his gracious +manner--all that upset me. I am not used to it, my dear, you see. Twenty +years in that diminutive house in Worcester have altered my tastes, I +see, more than they did your father's . . . and these last ten months +which he seems to have spent in reviving the old grandeur of his +ancestral home, I spent, remember, with the dear little Sisters of Mercy +at Boulogne, praying amidst very humble surroundings that the future may +not become more unendurable than the past." + +"But you are glad to be back at Brestalou again? and you _will_ remain +here with us--always?" queried Crystal, and with tender eagerness she +clasped the older woman's hands closely in her own. + +"Yes, dear," replied Madame gently. "I am glad to be back in the old +château--my dear old home--where I was very happy and very young +once--oh, so very long ago! And I will remain with your father and look +after him all the time that his young bird is absent from the nest." + +Again she stroked her niece's soft, wavy hair with a gesture which +apparently was habitual with her, and it seemed as if a note of sadness +had crept into her brisk, sharp voice. Over Crystal's cheeks a wave of +crimson had quickly swept at her aunt's last words: and the eyes which +she now raised to Madame's kindly face were full of tears. + +"It seems so terribly soon now, _ma tante_," she said wistfully. + +"Hm, yes!" quoth Mme. la Duchesse drily, "time has a knack now and then +of flying faster than we wish. Well, my dear, so long as this day brings +you happiness, the old folk who stay at home have no right to grumble." + +Then as Crystal made no reply and held her little head resolutely away, +Madame said more insistently: + +"You are happy, Crystal, are you not?" + +"Of course I am happy, _ma tante_," replied Crystal quickly, "why should +you ask?" + +But still she would not look straight into Madame's eyes, and the tone +of Madame's voice sounded anything but satisfied. + +"Well!" she said, "I ask, I suppose, because I want an answer . . . a +satisfactory answer." + +"You have had it, _ma tante_, have you not?" + +"Yes, my dear. If you are happy, I am satisfied. But last night it +seemed to me as if your ideas of your own happiness and those of your +father on the same subject were somewhat at variance, eh?" + +"Oh no, _ma tante_," rejoined Crystal quietly, "father and I are quite +of one mind on that subject." + +"But your heart is pulling a different way, is that it?" + +Then as Crystal once more relapsed into silence and two hot tears +dropped on the Duchesse's wrinkled hands, the old woman added softly: + +"St. Genis, who hasn't a sou, was out of the question, I suppose." + +Crystal shook her head in silence. + +"And that young de Marmont is very rich?" + +"He is his uncle's heir," murmured Crystal. + +"And you, child, are marrying a kinsman of that abominable Duc de Raguse +in order to regild our family escutcheon." + +"My father wished it so very earnestly," rejoined Crystal, who was +bravely swallowing her tears, "and I could not bear to run counter to +his desire. The Duc de Raguse has promised father that when I am a de +Marmont he will buy back all the forfeited Cambray estates and restore +them to us: Victor will be allowed to take up the name of Cambray and +. . . and . . . Oh!" she exclaimed passionately, "father has had such a +hard life, so much sorrow, so many disappointments, and now this poverty +is so horribly grinding. . . . I couldn't have the heart to disappoint +him in this!" + +"You are a good child, Crystal," said Madame gently, "and no doubt +Victor de Marmont will prove a good husband to you. But I wish he wasn't +a Marmont, that's all." + +But this remark, delivered in the old lady's most uncompromising manner, +brought forth a hot protest from Crystal: + +"Why, aunt," she said, "the Duc de Raguse is the most faithful servant +the king could possibly wish to have. It was he and no one else who +delivered Paris to the allies and thus brought about the downfall of +Bonaparte, and the restoration of our dear King Louis to the throne of +France." + +"Tush, child, I know that," said Madame with her habitual tartness of +speech, "I know it just as well as history will know it presently, and +methinks that history will pass on the Duc de Raguse just about the same +judgment as I passed on him in my heart last year. God knows I hate that +Bonaparte as much as anyone, and our Bourbon kings are almost as much a +part of my religion as is the hierarchy of saints, but a traitor like +de Marmont I cannot stomach. What was he before Bonaparte made him a +marshal of France and created him Duc de Raguse?--An out-at-elbows +ragamuffin in the ranks of the republican army. To Bonaparte he owed +everything, title, money, consideration, even the military talents which +gave him the power to turn on the hand that had fed him. Delivered Paris +to the allies indeed!" continued the Duchesse with ever-increasing +indignation and volubility, "betrayed Bonaparte, then licked the boots +of the Czar of Russia, of the Emperor, of King Louis, of all the deadly +enemies of the man to whom he owed his very existence. Pouah! I hate +Bonaparte, but men like Ney and Berthier and de Marmont sicken me! Thank +God that even in his life-time, de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, has already +an inkling of what posterity will say of him. Has not the French +language been enriched since the capitulation of Paris with a new word +that henceforth and for all times will always spell disloyalty: and +to-day when we wish to describe a particularly loathsome type of +treachery, do we not already speak of a 'ragusade'?" + +Crystal had listened in silence to her aunt's impassioned tirade. Now +when Madame paused--presumably for want of breath--she said gently: + +"That is all quite true, _ma tante_, but I am afraid that father would +not altogether see eye to eye with you in this. After all," she added +naively, "a pagan may become converted to Christianity without being +called a traitor to his false gods, and the Duc de Raguse may have +learnt to hate the idol whom he once worshipped, and for this profession +of faith we should honour him, I think." + +"Yes," grunted Madame, unconvinced, "but we need not marry into his +family." + +"But in any case," retorted Crystal, "poor Victor cannot help what his +uncle did." + +"No, he cannot," assented the Duchesse decisively, "and he is very rich +and he loves you, and as your husband he will own all the old Cambray +estates which his uncle of ragusade fame will buy up for him, and +presently your son, my darling, will be Comte de Cambray, just as if +that awful revolution and all that robbing and spoliation had never +been. And of course everything will be for the best in the best possible +world, if only," concluded the old lady with a sigh, "if only I thought +that you would be happy." + +Crystal took care not to meet Madame's kindly glance just then, for of a +surety the tears would have rushed in a stream to her eyes. But she +would not give way to any access of self-pity: she had chosen her part +in life and this she meant to play loyally, without regret and without +murmur. + +"But of course, _ma tante_, I shall be happy," she said after a while; +"as you say, M. de Marmont is very kind and good and I know that father +will be happy when Brestalou and Cambray and all the old lands are once +more united in his name. Then he will be able to do something really +great and good for the King and for France . . . and I too, perhaps. +. . ." + +"You, my poor darling!" exclaimed Madame, "what can you do, I should +like to know." + +A curious, dreamy look came into the girl's eyes, just as if a +foreknowledge of the drama in which she was so soon destined to play the +chief _rôle_ had suddenly appeared to her through the cloudy and distant +veils of futurity. + +"I don't know, _ma tante_," she said slowly, "but somehow I have always +felt that one day I might be called upon to do something for France. +There are times when that feeling becomes so strong that all thoughts of +myself and of my own happiness fade from my knowledge, and it seems as +if my duty to France and to the King were more insistent than my duty to +God." + +"Poor France!" sighed Madame. + +"Yes! that is just what I feel, _ma tante_. Poor France! She has +suffered so much more than we have, and she has regained so much less! +Enemies still lurk around her; the prowling wolf is still at her gate: +even the throne of her king is still insecure! Poor, poor France! our +country, _ma tante_! she should be our pride, our glory, and she is weak +and torn and beset by treachery! Oh, if only I could do something for +France and for the King I would count myself the happiest woman on God's +earth." + +Now she was a woman transformed. She seemed taller and stronger. Her +girlishness, too, had vanished. Her cheeks burned, her eyes glowed, her +breath came and went rapidly through her quivering nostrils. Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen looked down on her niece with naive admiration. + +"_Hé_ my little Joan of Arc!" she said merrily, "_par Dieu_, your +eloquence, _ma mignonne_, has warmed up my old heart too. But, please +God, our dear old country will not have need of heroism again." + +"I am not so sure of that, _ma tante_." + +"You are thinking of that ugly rumour which was current in Grenoble +yesterday." + +"Yes!" + +"If that Corsican brigand dares to set his foot again upon this land +. . ." began the old lady vehemently. + +"Let him come, _ma tante_," broke in Crystal exultantly, "we are ready +for him. Let him come, and this time when God has punished him again, it +won't be to Elba that he will be sent to expiate his villainies!" + +"Amen to that, my child," concluded Madame fervently. "And now, my dear, +don't let me forget the hour of my audience. Hector will be back in a +moment or two, and I must not lose any more time gossiping. But before I +go, little one, will you tell me one thing?" + +"Of course I will, _ma tante_." + +"Quite frankly?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Well then, I want to know . . . about that English friend of yours. +. . ." + +"Mr. Clyffurde, you mean?" asked Crystal. "What about him?" + +"I want to know, my dear, what I ought to make of this Mr. Clyffurde." + +Crystal laughed lightly, and looked up with astonished, inquiring, +wide-open eyes to her aunt. + +"What should you want to make of him, _ma tante_?" she asked, wholly +unperturbed under the scrutinising gaze of Madame. + +"Nothing," said the Duchesse abruptly. "I have had my answer, thank you, +dear." + +Evidently she had no intention of satisfying the girl's obvious +curiosity, for she suddenly rose from her chair, gathered her lace shawl +round her shoulders, and said with abrupt transition: + +"The hour for my audience is at hand. Not one minute must I keep my +august brother waiting. I can hear Hector's footsteps in the corridor, +and I will not have him see me in a fluster." + +Crystal looked as if she would have liked to question Madame a little +more closely about her former cryptic utterance, but there was something +in the sarcastic twinkle of those sharp eyes which caused the young girl +to refrain from too many questions, and--very wisely--she decided to +hold her peace. + +Madame la Duchesse threw a quick glance into the gilt-framed mirror +close by. She smoothed a stray wisp of hair which had escaped from under +her lace cap: she gave a tug to her fichu and a pat to her skirts. Then, +as the folding doors were once more thrown open, and Hector--stiff, +solemn and pompous--appeared under the lintel, Madame threw back her +head in the grand manner pertaining to the old days at Versailles. + +"Precede me, Hector," she said with consummate dignity, "to M. le +Comte's audience chamber." + +And with hands folded before her, her aristocratic head very erect, her +mouth and eyes composed to reposeful majesty, she sailed out through the +mahogany doors in a style which no one who had never curtsied to the +Bien-aimé Monarque could possibly hope to imitate. + + +II + +For some little while after her aunt had sailed out of the room Crystal +remained where she was sitting on the low stool beside the high-backed +chair just vacated by the Duchess. + +Her eyes were still glowing with the enthusiasm which had excited the +admiration of the older woman a while ago, and the high colour in her +cheeks, the tremor of her nostrils showed that that same enthusiasm +still kept her nerves on the quiver and caused the young, hot blood to +course swiftly through her veins. + +But something of the lightness of her mood had vanished, something of +the exultant joy of the heroine had given place to the calmer +resignation of the potential martyr. Gradually the colour faded from her +cheeks, the light died slowly out of her eyes, and the young fair head +so lately tossed triumphantly in the ardour of patriotism sunk gradually +upon the still heaving breast. + +Crystal was alone, and she was not ashamed to let the tears well up to +her eyes. Despite her proud profession of faith the insistent longing +for happiness, which is the inalienable share of youth, knocked at the +portals of her heart. + +Not even to the devoted aunt who had brought her up, who had known her +every childish sorrow and gleaned her every childish tear, not even to +her would she show what it cost her to sink her individuality, her +longings, her hopes of happiness into that overwhelming sense of duty to +her father's wishes and to the demands of her name, her country and her +caste. + +She had repeated it to herself often and often that her father had +suffered so much for the sake of his convictions, had endured poverty +and exile where opportunism would have dictated submission to the +usurper Bonaparte and the acceptance of riches and honours at his hands, +he had remained loyal in his beliefs, steadfast to his King through +twenty years of misery, akin to squalor, the remembrance of which would +for ever darken the rest of his life, but he had endured all that +without bitterness, scarcely without a murmur. And now that twenty years +of self-abnegation were at last finding their reward, now that the King +had come into his own, and the King's faithful friends were being +compensated in accordance with the length of the King's purse, would it +not be arrant cowardice and disloyalty for her--an only child--to oppose +her father's will in the ordering of her own future, to refuse the rich +marriage which would help to restore dignity and grandeur to the ancient +name and to the old home? + +Crystal de Cambray was born in England: she had lived the whole of her +life in a small provincial town in this country. But she had been +brought up by her aunt, the Duchesse douairière d'Agen, and through that +upbringing she had been made to imbibe from her earliest childhood all +the principles of the old regime. These principles consisted chiefly of +implicit obedience by the children to the parents' decrees anent +marriage, of blind worship of the dignity of station, and of duty to +name and caste, to king and country. + +The thought would never have entered Crystal's head that she could have +the right to order her own future, or to demand from life her own +special brand of happiness. + +Now her fate had been finally decided on by her father, and she was on +the point of taking--at his wish--the irrevocable step which would bind +her for ever to a man whom she could never love. But she did not think +of rebellion, she had no thought of grumbling at Fate or at her father: +Crystal de Cambray had English blood in her veins, the blood that makes +men and women accept the inevitable with set teeth and a determination +to do the right thing even if it hurts. Crystal, therefore, had no +thought of rebellion; she only felt an infinity of regret for something +sweet and intangible which she had hardly realised, hardly expected, +which had been too elusive to be called hope, too remote to be termed +happiness. She gave herself the luxury of this short outburst of +tears--since nobody was near and nobody could see: there was a fearful +pain in her heart while she rested her head against the cushion of the +stiff high-backed chair and cried till it seemed that she never could +cry again whatever sorrow life might still have in store for her. + +But when that outburst of grief had subsided she dried her eyes +resolutely, rose to her feet, arranged her hair in front of the mirror, +and feeling that her eyes were hot and her head heavy, she turned to the +tall French window, opened it and stepped out into the garden. + + +It had suffered from years of neglect, the shrubs grew rank and stalky, +the paths were covered with weeds, but there was a slight feeling of +spring in the air, the bare branches of the trees seemed swollen with +the rising sap, and upon the edge of the terrace balustrade a +red-breasted robin cocked its mischievous little eye upon her. + +At the bottom of the garden there was a fine row of ilex, with here and +there a stone seat, and in the centre an old stone fountain moss-covered +and overshadowed by the hanging boughs of the huge, melancholy trees. +Crystal was very fond of this avenue; she liked to sit and watch the +play of sunshine upon the stone of the fountain: the melancholy quietude +of the place suited her present mood. It was so strange to look on these +big evergreen trees and on the havoc caused by weeds and weather on the +fine carving of the fountain, and to think of their going on here year +after year for the past twenty years, while that hideous revolution had +devastated the whole country, while men had murdered each other, +slaughtered women and children and committed every crime and every +infamy which lust of hate and revenge can engender in the hearts of men. +The old trees and the stone fountain had remained peaceful and still the +while, unscathed and undefiled, grand, dignified and majestic, while the +owner of the fine château of the gardens and the fountain and of half +the province around earned a precarious livelihood in a foreign land, +half-starved in wretchedness and exile. + +She, Crystal, had never seen them until some ten months ago, when her +father came back into his own, and leading his daughter by the hand, had +taken her on a tour of inspection to show her the magnificence of her +ancestral home. She had loved at once the fine old château with its +lichen-covered walls, its fine portcullis and crenelated towers, she had +wept over the torn tapestries, the broken furniture, the family +portraits which a rough and impious rabble had wilfully damaged, she had +loved the wide sweep of the terrace walls, the views over the Isère and +across the mountain range to the peaks of the Grande Chartreuse, but +above all she had loved this sombre row of ilex trees, the broken +fountain, the hush and peace which always lay over this secluded portion +of the neglected garden. + +The earth was moist and soft under her feet, the cheeky robin, curious +after the manner of his kind, had followed her and was flying from seat +to seat ahead of her watching her every movement. + +"Crystal!" + +At first she thought that it was the wind sighing through the trees, so +softly had her name been spoken, so like a sigh did it seem as it +reached her ears. + +"Crystal!" + +This time she could not be mistaken, someone had called her name, +someone was walking up the avenue rapidly, behind her. She would not +turn round, for she knew who it was that had called and she would not +allow surprise to resuscitate the outward signs of regret. But she stood +quite still while those hasty footsteps drew nearer, and she made a +great and successful effort to keep back the tears which once more +threatened to fill her eyes. + +A minute later she felt herself gently drawn to the nearest stone seat, +and she sank down upon it, still trying very hard to remain calm and +above all not to cry. + +"Oh! why, why did you come, Maurice?" she said at last, when she felt +that she could look with some semblance of composure on the +half-sitting, half-kneeling figure of the young man beside her. Despite +her obstinate resistance he had taken her hand in his and was covering +it with kisses. + +"Why did you come," she reiterated pleadingly, "you must know that it is +no use. . . ." + +"I can't believe it. I won't believe it," he protested passionately. +"Crystal, if you really cared you would not send me away from you." + +"If I really cared?" she said dully. "Maurice, sometimes I think that if +_you_ really cared you would not make it so difficult for me. Can't you +see," she added more vehemently, "that every time you come you make me +more wretched, and my duty seem more hard? till sometimes I feel as if I +could not bear it any longer--as if in the struggle my poor heart would +suddenly break." + +"And because your father is so heartless . . ." he began vehemently. + +"My father is not heartless, Maurice," she broke in firmly, "but you +must try and see for yourself how impossible it was for him to give his +consent to our marriage even if he knew that my happiness was bounded by +your love. . . . Just think it over quietly--if you had a sister who was +all the world to you, would _you_ consent to such a marriage? . . ." + +"With a penniless, out-at-elbows, good-for-nothing, you mean?" he said, +with a kind of resentful bitterness. "No! I dare say I should not. +Money!" he cried impetuously as he jumped to his feet, and burying his +hands in the pockets of his breeches he began pacing the path up and +down in front of her. "Money! always money! Always talk of duty and of +obedience . . . always your father and his sorrows and his desires . . . +do I count for nothing, then? Have I not suffered as he has suffered? +did I not live in exile as he did? Have I not made sacrifices for my +king and for my ideals? Why should I suffer in the future as well as in +the past? Why, because my king is powerless or supine in giving me back +what was filched from my father, should that be taken from me which +alone gives me incentive to live . . . you, Crystal," he added as once +again he knelt beside her. He encircled her shoulders with his arms, +then he seized her two hands and covered them with kisses. "You are all +that I want in this world. After all, we can live in poverty . . . we +have been brought up in poverty, you and I . . . and even then it is +only a question of a few years . . . months, perhaps . . . the King must +give us back what that abominable Revolution took from us--from us who +remained loyal to him and because we were loyal. My father owned rich +lands in Burgundy . . . the King must give those back to me . . . he +must . . . he shall . . . he will . . . if only you will be patient, +Crystal . . . if only you will wait. . . ." + +The fiery blood of his race had rushed into Maurice de St. Genis' head. +He was talking volubly and at random, but he believed for the moment +everything that he said. Tears of passion and of fervour came to his +eyes and he buried his head in the folds of Crystal's white gown and +heavy sobs shook his bent shoulders. She, moved by that motherly +tenderness which is seldom absent from a good woman's love, stroked with +soothing fingers the matted hair from his hot forehead. For a while she +remained silent while the paroxysm of his passionate revolt spent itself +in tears, then she said quite softly: + +"I think, Maurice, that in your heart you do us all an injustice--to me, +to father, to yourself, even to the King. The King cannot give you that +which is not his; your property--like ours--was confiscated by that +awful revolutionary government because your father and mine followed +their king into exile. The rich lands were sold for the benefit of the +nation: the nation presumably has spent the money, but the people who +bought the lands in good faith cannot be dispossessed by our King +without creating bitter ill-feeling against himself, as you well know, +and once more endangering his throne. Those are the facts, Maurice, +against which no hot-blooded argument, no passionate outbursts can +prevail. The King gave my father back this dear old castle, because it +happened to have proved unsaleable, and was still on the nation's hands. +Our rich lands--like yours--can never be restored to us: that hard fact +has been driven into poor father's head for the past ten months, and now +it has gone home at last. These grey walls, this neglected garden, a few +sticks of broken furniture, a handful of money from an over-generous +king's treasury is all that Fate has rescued for him from out the ashes +of the past. My father is every whit as penniless as you are yourself, +Maurice, as penniless as ever he was in England, when he gave French and +drawing lessons to a lot of young ragamuffins in a middle-class school. +But Victor de Marmont is rich, and his money--once I am his wife--will +purchase back all the estates which have been in our family for +hundreds of years. For my father's sake, for the sake of the name which +I bear, I must give my hand to Victor de Marmont, and pray to God that +some semblance of peace, the sense of duty accomplished, will compensate +me for the happiness to which I shall bid good-bye to-day." + +"And you are willing to be sold to young de Marmont for the price of a +few acres of land!" retorted Maurice de St. Genis hotly. "Oh! it's +monstrous, Crystal, monstrous! All the more monstrous as you seem quite +unconscious of the iniquity of such a bargain." + +"Women of our caste, Maurice," she said in her turn with a touch of +bitterness, "have often before now been sacrificed for the honour of +their name. Men have been accustomed to look to them for help when their +own means of gilding their escutcheons have failed." + +"And you are willing, Crystal, to be sold like this?" he insisted. + +"My father wishes me to marry Victor de Marmont," she replied with calm +dignity, "and after all that he has suffered for the honour and dignity +of our name, I should deem myself craven and treacherous if I refused to +obey him in this." + +Maurice de St. Genis once more rose to his feet. All his vehemence, his +riotous outbreak of rebellion seemed to have been smothered beneath a +pall of dreary despair. His young, good-looking face appeared sombre and +sullen, his restless, dark eyes wandered obstinately from Crystal's fair +bent head to her stooping shoulders, to her hands, to her feet. It +seemed as if he was trying to engrave an image of her upon his turbulent +brain, or that he wished to force her to look on him again before she +spoke the last words of farewell. + +But she wouldn't look at him. She kept her head resolutely averted, +looking far out over the undulating lands of Dauphiné and Savoie to +where in the far distant sky the stately Alps reared their snow-crowned +heads. At last, unable to bear her silence any longer, he said dully: + +"Then it is your last word, Crystal?" + +"You know that it must be, Maurice," she murmured in reply. "My marriage +contract will be signed to-night, and on Tuesday I go to the altar with +Victor de Marmont." + +"And you mean to tear your love for me out of your heart?" + +"Yes!" + +"Were its roots a little deeper, a little stronger, you could not do it, +Crystal. But they are not so deep as those of your love for your +father." + +She made no reply . . . perhaps something in her heart told her that +after all he might be right, that, unbeknown to herself even, there were +tendrils of affection in her that bound her, ivylike, and so closely--to +her father that even her girlish love for Maurice de St. Genis--the +first hint of passion that had stirred the smooth depths of her young +heart--could not tear her from that bulwark to which she clung. + +"This is the last time that I shall see you, Crystal," said Maurice with +a sigh, seeing that obviously she meant to allow his taunt to pass +unchallenged. + +"You are going away?" she asked. + +"How can I stay--here, under this roof, where anon--in a few +hours--Victor de Marmont will have claims upon you which, if he +exercised them before me would make me wish to kill him or myself. I +shall leave to-morrow--early . . ." he added more quietly. + +"Where will you go?" + +"To Paris--or abroad--or the devil, I don't know which," he replied +moodily. + +"Father will be sorry if you go?" she murmured under her breath, for +once again the tears were very insistent, and she felt an awful pain in +her heart, because of the misery which she had to inflict upon him. + +"Your father has been passing kind to me. He gave me a home when I was +homeless, but it is not fitting that I should trespass any longer upon +his hospitality." + +"Have you made any plans?" + +"Not yet. But the King will give me a commission. There will be some +fighting now . . . there was a rumour in Grenoble last night that +Bonaparte had landed at Antibes, and was marching on Paris." + +"A false rumour as usual, I suppose," she said indifferently. + +"Perhaps," he replied. + +There was silence between them for awhile after that, silence only +broken by the twitter of birds wakening to the call of spring. The word +"good-bye" remained unspoken: neither of them dared to say it lest it +broke the barrier of their resolve. + +"Will you not go now, Maurice?" said Crystal at last in pitiable +pleading, "we only make each other hopelessly wretched, by lingering +near one another after this." + +"Yes, I will go, Crystal," he replied, and this time he really forced +his voice to tones of gentleness, although his inward resentment still +bubbled out with every word he spoke, "I wish I could have left this +house altogether--now--at once--but your father would resent it--and he +has been so kind . . . I wish I could go to-day," he reiterated +obstinately, "I dread seeing Victor de Marmont in this house, where the +laws of chivalry forbid my striking him in the face." + +"Maurice!" she exclaimed reproachfully. + +"Nay! I'll not say it again: I have sufficient reason left in me, I +think, to show these parvenus how we, of the old regime, bear every blow +which fate chooses to deal to us. They have taken everything from us, +these new men--our lives, our lands, our very means of subsistence--now +they have taken to filching our sweethearts--curse them! but at least +let us keep our dignity!" + +But again she was silent. What was there to say that had not been +said?--save that unspoken word "good-bye." And he asked very softly: + +"May I kiss you for the last time, Crystal?" + +"No, Maurice," she replied, "never again." + +"You are still free," he urged. "You are not plighted to de Marmont +yet." + +"No--not actually--not till to-night. . . ." + +"Then . . . mayn't I?" + +"No, Maurice," she said decisively. + +"Your hand then?" + +"If you like." He knelt down close to her; she yielded her hand to him +and he with his usual impulsiveness covered it with kisses into which he +tried to infuse the fervour of a last farewell. + +Then without another word he rose to his feet and walked away with a +long and firm stride down the avenue. Crystal watched his retreating +figure until the overhanging branches of the ilex hid him from her view. + +She made no attempt now to restrain her tears, they flowed +uninterruptedly down her cheeks and dropped hot and searing upon her +hands. With Maurice's figure disappearing down the dark avenue, with the +echo of his footsteps dying away in the distance, the last chapter of +her first book of romance seemed to be closing with relentless finality. + +The afternoon sun was hidden behind a bank of grey clouds, the northeast +wind came whistling insistently through the trees:--even that feeling of +spring in the air had vanished. It was just a bleak grey winter's day +now. Crystal felt herself shivering with cold. She drew her shawl more +closely round her shoulders, then with eyes still wet with tears, but +small head held well erect, she rose to her feet and walked rapidly back +to the house. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse had in the meanwhile followed Hector along the +corridor and down the finely carved marble staircase. At a monumental +door on the ground floor the man paused, his hand upon the massive +ormolu handle, waiting for Madame la Duchesse to come up. + +He felt a little uncomfortable at her approach for here in the big +square hall the light was very clear, and he could see Madame's keen, +searching eyes looking him up and down and through and through. She even +put up her lorgnon and though she was not very tall, she contrived to +look Hector through them straight between the eyes. + +"Is M. le Comte in there?" Madame la Duchesse deigned to ask as she +pointed with her lorgnon to the door. + +"In the small library beyond, Madame la Duchesse," replied Hector +stiffly. + +"And . . ." she queried with sharp sarcasm, "is the antechamber very +full of courtiers and ladies just now?" + +A quick, almost imperceptible blush spread over Hector's impassive +countenance, and as quickly vanished again. + +"M. le Comte," he said imperturbably, "is disengaged at the present +moment. He seldom receives visitors at this hour." + +On Madame's mobile lips the sarcastic curl became more marked. "And I +suppose, my good Hector," she said, "that since M. le Comte has only +granted an audience to his sister to-day, you thought it was a good +opportunity for putting yourself at your ease and wearing your patched +and mended clothes, eh?" + +Once more that sudden wave of colour swept over Hector's solemn old +face. He was evidently at a loss how to take Mme. la Duchesse's +remark--whether as a rebuke or merely as one of those mild jokes of +which every one knew that Madame was inordinately fond. + +Something of his dignity of attitude seemed to fall away from him as he +vainly tried to solve this portentous problem. His mouth felt dry and +his head hot, and he did not know on which foot he could stand with the +least possible discomfort, and how he could contrive to hide from Madame +la Duchesse's piercing eyes that very obvious patch in the right knee of +his breeches. + +"Madame la Duchesse will forgive me, I hope," he stammered painfully. + +But already Madame's kind old face had shed its mask of raillery. + +"Never mind, Hector," she said gently, "you are a good fellow, and +there's no occasion to tell me lies about the rich liveries which are +put away somewhere, nor about the numerous retinue and countless number +of flunkeys, all of whom are having unaccountably long holidays just +now. It's no use trying to throw dust in my eyes, my poor friend, or put +on that pompous manner with me. I know that the carpets are not all +temporarily rolled up or the best of the furniture at a repairer's in +Grenoble--what's the use of pretending with me, old Hector? Those days +at Worcester are not so distant yet, are they? when all the family had +to make a meal off a pound of sausages, or your wife Jeanne, God bless +her! had to pawn her wedding-ring to buy M. le Comte de Cambray a +second-hand overcoat." + +"Madame la Duchesse, I humbly pray your Grace . . ." entreated Hector +whose wrinkled, parchment-like face had become the colour of a peony, +and who, torn between the respect which he had for the great lady and +his horror at what she said was ready to sink through the floor in his +confusion. + +"Eh what, man?" retorted the Duchesse lightly, "there is no one but +these bare walls to hear me; and my words, you'll find, will clear the +atmosphere round you--it was very stifling, my good Hector, when I +arrived. There now!" she added, "announce me to M. le Comte and then go +down to Jeanne and tell her that I for one have no intention of +forgetting Worcester, or the pawned ring, or the sausages, and that the +array of Grenoble louts dressed up for the occasion in moth-eaten +liveries dragged up out of some old chests do not please me half as much +round a dinner table as did her dear old, streaming face when she used +to bring us the omelette straight out of the kitchen." + +She dropped her lorgnon, and folding her aristocratic hands upon her +bosom, she once more assumed the grand manner pertaining to Versailles, +and Hector having swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, threw +open the huge, folding doors and announced in a stentorian voice: + +"Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen!" + + +IV + +M. le Comte de Cambray was at this time close on sixty years of age, and +the hardships which he had endured for close upon a quarter of a century +had left their indelible impress upon his wrinkled, careworn face. + +But no one--least of all a younger man--could possibly rival him in +dignity of bearing and gracious condescension of manner. He wore his +clothes after the old-time fashion, and clung to the powdered peruque +which had been the mode at the Tuileries and Versailles before these +vulgar young republicans took to wearing their own hair in its natural +colour. + +Now as he advanced from the inner room to meet Mme. la Duchesse, he +seemed a perfect presentation or rather resuscitation of the courtly and +vanished epoch of the Roi Soleil. He held himself very erect and walked +with measured step, and a stereotyped smile upon his lips. He paused +just in front of Mme. la Duchesse, then stopped and lightly touched with +his lips the hand which she held out to him. + +"Tell me, Monsieur my brother," said Madame in her loudly-pitched voice, +"do you expect me to make before you my best Versailles curtsey, +for--with my rheumatic knee--I warn you that once I get down, you might +find it very difficult to get me up on my feet again." + +"Hush, Sophie," admonished M. le Comte impatiently, "you must try and +subdue your voice a little, we are no longer in Worcester remember--" + +But Madame only shrugged her thin shoulders. + +"Bah!" she retorted, "there's only good old Hector on the other side of +the door, and you don't imagine you are really throwing dust in _his_ +eyes do you? . . . good old Hector with his threadbare livery and his +ill-fed belly. . . ." + +"Sophie!" exclaimed M. le Comte who was really vexed this time, "I must +insist. . . ." + +"All right, all right my dear André. . . . I won't say anything more. +Take me to your audience chamber and I'll try to behave like a lady." + +A smile that was distinctly mischievous still hovered round Madame's +lips, but she forced her eyes to look grave: she held out the tips of +her fingers to her brother and allowed him to lead her in the correct +manner into the next room. + +Here M. le Comte invited her to sit in an upright chair which was placed +at a convenient angle close to his bureau while he himself sat upon a +stately throne-like armchair, one shapely knee bent, the other slightly +stretched forward, displaying the fine silk stocking and the set of his +well-cut, satin breeches. Mme. la Duchesse kept her hands folded in +front of her, and waited in silence for her brother to speak, but he +seemed at a loss how to begin, for her piercing gaze was making him +feel very uncomfortable: he could not help but detect in it the twinkle +of good-humoured sarcasm. + +Madame of course would not help him out. She enjoyed his obvious +embarrassment, which took him down somewhat from that high altitude of +dignity wherein he delighted to soar. + +"My dear Sophie," he began at last, speaking very deliberately and +carefully choosing his words, "before the step which Crystal is about to +take to-day becomes absolutely irrevocable, I desired to talk the matter +over with you, since it concerns the happiness of my only child." + +"Isn't it a little late, my good André," remarked Madame drily, "to talk +over a question which has been decided a month ago? The contract is to +be signed to-night. Our present conversation might have been held to +some purpose soon after the New Year. It is distinctly useless to-day." + +At Madame's sharp and uncompromising words a quick blush had spread over +the Comte's sunken cheeks. + +"I could not consult you before, Sophie," he said coldly, "you chose to +immure yourself in a convent, rather than come back straightaway to your +old home as we all did when our King was restored to his throne. The +post has been very disorganised and Boulogne is a far cry from +Brestalou, but I did write to you as soon as Victor de Marmont made his +formal request for Crystal's hand. To this letter I had no reply, and I +could not keep him waiting in indefinite uncertainty." + +"Your letter did not reach me until a month after it was written, as I +had the honour to tell you in my reply." + +"And that same reply only reached me a fortnight ago," retorted the +Comte, "when Crystal had been formally engaged to Victor de Marmont for +over a month and the date for the signature of the contract and the +wedding-day had both been fixed. I then sent a courier at great expense +and in great haste immediately to you," he added with a tone of +dignified reproach, "I could do no more." + +"Or less," she assented tartly. "And here I am, my dear brother, and I +am not blaming you for delays in the post. I merely remarked that it was +too late now to consult me upon a marriage which is to all intents and +purposes, an accomplished fact already." + +"That is so of course. But it would be a great personal satisfaction to +me, my good Sophie, to hear your views upon the matter. You have brought +Crystal up from babyhood: in a measure, you know her better than even +I--her father--do and therefore you are better able than I am to judge +whether Crystal's marriage with de Marmont will be conducive to her +permanent happiness." + +"As to that, my good André," quoth Madame, "you must remember that when +our father and mother decided that a marriage between me and M. le Duc +d'Agen was desirable, my personal feelings and character were never +consulted for a moment . . . and I suppose that--taking life as it is--I +was never particularly unhappy as his wife." + +"And what do you adduce from those reminiscences, my dear Sophie?" +queried the Comte de Cambray suavely. + +"That Victor de Marmont is not a bad fellow," replied Madame, "that he +is no worse than was M. le Duc d'Agen and that therefore there is no +reason to suppose that Crystal will be any more unhappy than I was in my +time." + +"But . . ." + +"There is no 'but' about it, my good André. Crystal is a sweet girl and +a devoted daughter. She will make the best, never you fear! of the +circumstances into which your blind worship of your own dignity and of +your rank have placed her." + +"My good Sophie," broke in the Count hotly, "you talk _par Dieu_, as if +I was forcing my only child into a distasteful marriage." + +"No, I do not talk as if you were forcing Crystal into a distasteful +marriage, but you know quite well that she only accepted Victor de +Marmont because it was your wish, and because his millions are going to +buy back the old Cambray estates, and she is so imbued with the sense of +her duty to you and to the family escutcheon, that she was willing to +sacrifice every personal feeling in the fulfilment of that duty." + +"By 'personal feeling' I suppose that you mean St. Genis." + +"Well, yes . . . I do," said Madame laconically. + +"Crystal was very much in love with him at one time." + +"She still is." + +"But even you, my dear sister, must admit that a marriage with St. Genis +was out of the question," retorted the Count in his turn with some +acerbity. "I am very fond of Maurice and his name is as old and great as +ours, but he hasn't a sou, and you know as well as I do by now that the +restoration of confiscated lands is out of the question . . . parliament +will never allow it and the King will never dare. . . ." + +"I know all that, my poor André," sighed Madame in a more conciliatory +spirit, "I know moreover that you yourself haven't a sou either, in +spite of your grandeur and your prejudices. . . . Money must be got +somehow, and our ancient family 'scutcheon must be regilt at any cost. I +know that we must keep up this state pertaining to the old regime, we +must have our lacqueys and our liveries, sycophants around us and gaping +yokels on our way when we sally out into the open. . . . We must blot +out from our lives those twenty years spent in a democratic and +enlightened country where no one is ashamed either of poverty or of +honest work--and above all things we must forget that there has ever +been a revolution which sent M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Ordre du Lys, Seigneur of +Montfleury and St. Eynard, hereditary Grand Chamberlain of France, to +teach French and drawing in an English Grammar School. . . ." + +"You wrong me there, Sophie, I wish to forget nothing of the past twenty +years." + +"I thought that you had given your memory a holiday." + +"I forget nothing," he reiterated with dignified emphasis, "neither the +squalid poverty which I endured, nor the bitter experiences which I +gleaned in exile." + +"Nor the devotion of those who saved your life." + +"And yours . . ." he interposed. + +"And mine, at risk of their own." + +"Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that not a day goes by but +Crystal and I speak of Sir Percy Blakeney, and of his gallant League of +the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Well! we owe our lives to them," said Madame with deep-drawn sigh. "I +wonder if we shall ever see any of those fine fellows again!" + +"God only knows," sighed M. le Comte in response. "But," he continued +more lightly, "as you know the League itself has ceased to be. We saw +very little of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney latterly for we were too poor +ever to travel up to London. Crystal and I saw them, before we left +England, and I then had the opportunity of thanking Sir Percy Blakeney +for the last time, for the many valuable French lives which his plucky +little League had saved." + +"He is indeed a gallant gentleman," said Mme. la Duchesse gently, even +whilst her bright, shrewd eyes gazed straight out before her as if on +the great bare walls of her own ancestral home, the ghostly hand of +memory had conjured up pictures of long ago:--her own, her husband's and +her brother's arrest here in this very room, the weeping servants, the +rough, half-naked soldiery--then the agony of a nine days' imprisonment +in a dark, dank prison-cell filled to overflowing with poor wretches in +the same pitiable plight as herself--the hasty trial, the insults, the +mockery:--her husband's death in prison and her own thoughts of +approaching death! + +Then the gallant deed!--after all these years she could still see +herself, her brother and Jeanne, her faithful maid, and poor devoted +Hector all huddled up in a rickety tumbril, being dragged through the +streets of Paris on the road to death. On ahead she had seen the weird +outline of the guillotine silhouetted against the evening sky, whilst +all around her a howling, jeering mob sang that awful refrain: "Cà ira! +Cà ira! les aristos à la lanterne!" + +Then it was that she had felt unseen hands snatching her out of the +tumbril, she had felt herself being dragged through that yelling crowd +to a place where there was silence and darkness and where she knew that +she was safe: thence she was conveyed--she hardly realised how--to +England, where she and her brother and Jeanne and Hector, their faithful +servants, had found refuge for over twenty years. + +"It was a gallant deed!" whispered Mme. la Duchesse once again, "and one +which will always make me love every Englishman I meet, for the sake of +one who was called The Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Then why should you attribute vulgar ingratitude to me?" retorted the +Comte reproachfully. "My feelings I imagine are as sensitive as your +own. Am I not trying my best to be kind to that Mr. Clyffurde, who is an +honoured guest in my house--just because it was Sir Percy Blakeney who +recommended him to me?" + +"It can't be very difficult to be kind to such an attractive young man," +was Mme. la Duchesse's dry comment. "Recommendation or no recommendation +I liked your Mr. Clyffurde and if it were not so late in the day and +there was still time to give my opinion, I should suggest that Mr. +Clyffurde's money could quite well regild our family 'scutcheon. He is +very rich too, I understand." + +"My good Sophie!" exclaimed the Comte in horror, "what can you be +thinking of?" + +"Crystal principally," replied the Duchesse. "I thought Clyffurde a far +nicer fellow than de Marmont." + +"My dear sister," said the Comte stiffly, "I really must ask you to +think sometimes before you speak. Of a truth you make suggestions and +comments at times which literally stagger one." + +"I don't see anything so very staggering in the idea of a penniless +aristocrat marrying a wealthy English gentleman. . . ." + +"A gentleman! my dear!" exclaimed the Comte. + +"Well! Mr. Clyffurde is a gentleman, isn't he?" + +"His family is irreproachable, I believe." + +"Well then?" + +"But . . . Mr. Clyffurde . . . you know, my dear. . . ." + +"No! I don't know," said Madame decisively. "What is the matter with Mr. +Clyffurde?" + +"Well! I didn't like to tell you, Sophie, immediately on your arrival +yesterday," said the Comte, who was making visible efforts to mitigate +the horror of what he was about to say: "but . . . as a matter of fact +. . . this Mr. Clyffurde whom you met in my house last night . . . who +sat next to you at my table . . . with whom you had that long and +animated conversation afterwards . . . is nothing better than a +shopkeeper!" + +No doubt M. le Comte de Cambray expected that at this awful +announcement, Mme. la Duchesse's indignation and anger would know no +bounds. He was quite ready even now with a string of apologies which he +would formulate directly she allowed him to speak. He certainly felt +very guilty towards her for the undesirable acquaintance which she had +made in her brother's own house. Great was his surprise therefore when +Madame's wrinkled face wreathed itself into a huge smile, which +presently broadened into a merry laugh, as she threw back her head, and +said still laughing: + +"A shopkeeper, my dear Comte? A shopkeeper at your aristocratic table? +and your meal did not choke you? Why! God forgive you, but I do believe +you are actually becoming human." + +"I ought to have told you sooner, of course," began the Comte stiffly. + +"Why bless your heart, I knew it soon enough." + +"You knew it?" + +"Of course I did. Mr. Clyffurde told me that interesting fact before he +had finished eating his soup." + +"Did he tell you that . . . that he traded in . . . in gloves?" + +"Well! and why not gloves?" she retorted. "Gloves are very nice things +and better manufactured at Grenoble than anywhere else in the world. The +English coquettes are very wise in getting their gloves from Grenoble +through the good offices of Mr. Clyffurde." + +"But, my dear Sophie . . . Mr. Clyffurde buys gloves here from Dumoulin +and sells them again to a shop in London . . . he buys and sells other +things too and he does it for profit. . . ." + +"Of course he does. . . . You don't suppose that any one would do that +sort of thing for pleasure, do you? Mr. Clyffurde," continued Madame +with sudden seriousness, "lost his father when he was six years old. His +mother and four sisters had next to nothing to live on after the bulk of +what they had went for the education of the boy. At eighteen he made up +his mind that he would provide his mother and sisters with all the +luxuries which they had lacked for so long and instead of going into the +army--which had been the burning ambition of his boyhood--he went into +business . . . and in less than ten years has made a fortune." + +"You seem to have learnt a great deal of the man's family history in so +short a time." + +"I liked him: and I made him talk to me about himself. It was not easy, +for these English men are stupidly reticent, but I dragged his story out +of him bit by bit--or at least as much of it as I could--and I can tell +you, my good André, that never have I admired a man so much as I do this +Mr. Clyffurde . . . for never have I met so unselfish a one. I declare +that if I were only a few years younger," she continued whimsically, +"and even so . . . heigh! but I am not so old after all. . . ." + +"My dear Sophie!" ejaculated the Comte. + +"Eh, what?" she retorted tartly, "you would object to a tradesman as a +brother-in-law, would you? What about a de Marmont for a son? Eh?" + +"Victor de Marmont is a soldier in the army of our legitimate King. His +uncle the Duc de Raguse. . . ." + +"That's just it," broke in Madame again, "I don't like de Marmont +because he is a de Marmont." + +"Is that the only reason for your not liking him?" + +"The only one," she replied. "But I must say that this Mr. Clyffurde +. . ." + +"You must not harp on that string, Sophie," said the Comte sternly. "It +is too ridiculous. To begin with Clyffurde never cared for Crystal, and, +secondly, Crystal was already engaged to de Marmont when Clyffurde +arrived here, and, thirdly, let me tell you that my daughter has far too +much pride in her ever to think of a shopkeeper in the light of a +husband even if he had ten times this Mr. Clyffurde's fortune." + +"Then everything is comfortably settled, André. And now that we have +returned to our sheep, and have both arrived at the conclusion that +nothing stands in the way of Crystal's marriage with Victor de Marmont, +I suppose that I may presume that my audience is at an end." + +"I only wished to hear your opinion, my good Sophie," rejoined M. le +Comte. And he rose stiffly from his chair. + +"Well! and you have heard it, André," concluded Madame as she too rose +and gathered her lace shawl round her shoulders. "You may thank God, my +dear brother, that you have in Crystal such an unselfish and obedient +child, and in me such a submissive sister. Frankly--since you have +chosen to ask my opinion at this eleventh hour--I don't like this de +Marmont marriage, though I have admitted that I see nothing against the +young man himself. If Crystal is not unhappy with him, I shall be +content: if she is, I will make myself exceedingly disagreeable, both to +him and to you, and that being my last word, I have the honour to wish +you a polite 'good-day.'" + +She swept her brother an imperceptibly ironical curtsey, but he detained +her once again, as she turned to go. + +"One word more, Sophie," he said solemnly. "You will be amiable with +Victor de Marmont this evening?" + +"Of course I will," she replied tartly. "Ah, ça, Monsieur my brother, do +you take me for a washerwoman?" + +"I am entertaining the préfet for the _souper du contrat_," continued +the Comte, quietly ignoring the old lady's irascibility of temper, "and +the general in command of the garrison. They are both converted +Bonapartists, remember." + +"Hm!" grunted Madame crossly, "whom else are you going to entertain?" + +"Mme. Fourier, the préfet's wife, and Mlle. Marchand, the general's +daughter, and of course the d'Embruns and the Genevois." + +"Is that all?" + +"Some half dozen or so notabilities of Grenoble. We shall sit down +twenty to supper, and afterwards I hold a reception in honour of the +coming marriage of Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou with M. Victor de +Marmont. One must do one's duty. . . ." + +"And pander to one's love of playing at being a little king in a limited +way. . . . All right! I won't say anything more. I promise that I won't +disgrace you, and that I'll put on a grand manner that will fill those +worthy notabilities and their wives with awe and reverence. And now, I'd +best go," she added whimsically, "ere my good resolutions break down +before your pomposity . . . I suppose the louts from the village will be +again braced up in those moth-eaten liveries, and the bottles of thin +Médoc purchased surreptitiously at a local grocer's will be duly +smothered in the dust of ages. . . . All right! all right! I'm going. +For gracious' sake don't conduct me to the door, or I'll really disgrace +you under Hector's uplifted nose. . . . Oh! shades of cold beef and +treacle pies of Worcester . . . and washing-day . . . do you remember? +. . . all right! all right, Monsieur my brother, I am dumb as a carp at +last." + +And with a final outburst of sarcastic laughter, Madame finally sailed +across the room, while Monsieur fell back into his throne-like chair +with a deep sigh of relief. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR + + +I + +But even as Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen placed her aristocratic +hand upon the handle of the door, it was opened from without with what +might almost be called undue haste, and Hector appeared in the doorway. + +Hector in truth! but not the sober-faced, pompous, dignified Hector of +the household of M. le Comte de Cambray, but a red-visaged, excited, +fussy Hector, who for the moment seemed to have forgotten where he was, +as well as the etiquette which surrounded the august personality of his +master. He certainly contrived to murmur a humble if somewhat hasty +apology, when he found himself confronted at the door by Mme. la +Duchesse herself, but he did not stand aside to let her pass. + +She had stepped back into the room at sight of him, for obviously +something very much amiss must have occurred thus to ruffle Hector's +ingrained dignity, and even M. le Comte was involuntarily dragged out of +his aristocratic aloofness and almost--though not quite--jumped up from +his chair. + +"What is it, Hector?" he exclaimed, peremptorily. + +"M. le Comte," gasped Hector, who seemed to be out of breath from sheer +excitement, "the Corsican . . . he has come back . . . he is marching on +Grenoble . . . M. le préfet is here! . . ." + +But already M. le Comte had--with a wave of the hand as it were--swept +the unwelcome news aside. + +"What rubbish is this?" he said wrathfully. "You have been dreaming in +broad daylight, Hector . . . and this excitement is most unseemly. Show +Mme. la Duchesse to her apartments," he added with a great show of calm. + +Hector--thus reproved, coloured a yet more violent crimson to the very +roots of his hair. He made a great effort to recover his pomposity and +actually took up the correct attitude which a well-trained servant +assumes when he shows a great lady out of a room. But even then--despite +the well-merited reproof--he took it upon himself to insist: + +"M. le préfet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received +at once." + +"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired," +said the Comte with quiet dignity. + +"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait +and hear what M. le préfet has to say. The news--if news there be--is +too interesting to be kept waiting for me." + +And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la +Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the +chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur +of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for +orders. + +M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should +leave the room before the préfet was shown in: he did not approve of +women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly +showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le préfet +alone. But he said nothing--probably because he knew that words would be +useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently +had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector: + +"Show M. le préfet in." + +He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped chair--one leg +bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf +and well-shod foot. M. le préfet Fourier, mathematician of great renown, +and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to +whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity. + +And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two +men--the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the +new--presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray +calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and +moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques +Fourier, man of science and préfet of the Isère department, short of +stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid! + +Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very +best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to +kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had +finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said +with kindly condescension: + +"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!" + +"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy préfet, still somewhat out of +breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ." + +"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was +meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject +matter. + +"What news?" exclaimed the préfet who, on the other hand, was unable to +contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't +you heard? . . ." + +"No," replied the Comte. + +And Madame also shook her head. + +"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added +M. le Comte gravely. + +"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to be calling Heaven +to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . . +But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days +ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and +swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!" + +"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le préfet," rejoined the Comte drily. +"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this +half-year past." + +"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier, +who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had +succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The préfet of the Var +department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on +Thursday last to the préfet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier +straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in +command of the troops in that district, promptly evacuated Digue because +they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it +seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since +then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted +in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a +triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the +news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming +nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it +immediately." + +"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful +and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?" + +"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne +yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard +turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population +acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The préfet and the +general in command had intended to resist his entry into the city, but +all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the +préfet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with +him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has +retreated on Sisteron." + +Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the préfet's narrative +with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some +of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed +cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which +toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted +steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes +were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin +lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what +he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak. +It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly: + +"And in your department, M. le préfet, in Grenoble itself, is the +garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?" + +M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure. + +"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would +not care to prophesy. Général Marchand does not intend to trust entirely +to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambéry for +reinforcements . . . but . . ." + +The préfet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in +the loyalty of those reinforcements either. + +M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you +don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the +King?" + +But M. le préfet apparently had meant to suggest it. + +"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear in mind that the +whole of the Dauphiné has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism." + +"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte. + +"Général Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M. +le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never +been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack +there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be +fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere +sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le +Comte, and in the Dauphiné; alas! the army is only too ready to cry: +'Vive l'Empereur!'" + +There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the +tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still +nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his +overheated brow. + +"For God's sake, André, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse +after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves." + +"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily. + +He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own +nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it +himself. His attitude was on the verge of incorrectness. Where was the +aristocratic sangfroid which should have made him proof even against so +much perturbing news? What had become of the lesson in decorum which +should have been taught to this vulgar little bureaucrat? + +M. le Comte pulled himself together with a jerk: he straightened out his +spare figure, put on that air of detachment which became him so well, +and finally turned once more to the préfet a perfectly calm and +unruffled countenance. + +Then he said with his accustomed urbanity: + +"And now, my good M. Fourier, since you have so admirably put the +situation before me, will you also tell me in what way I may be of +service to you in this--or to Général Marchand?" + +"I am coming to that, M. le Comte," replied the préfet. "It will explain +the reason of my disturbing you at this hour, when I was coming anyhow +to partake of your gracious hospitality later on. But I do want your +assistance, M. le Comte, as the matter of which I wish to speak with you +concerns the King himself." + +"Everything that you have told me hitherto, my good M. Fourier, concerns +His Majesty and the security of his throne. I cannot help wondering how +much of this news has reached him by now." + +"All of it at this hour, I should say. For already on Friday the Prince +d'Essling sent a despatch to His Majesty--by courier as far as Lyons and +thence by aërial telegraph to Paris. The King--may God preserve him!" +added the ex-Bonapartist fervently, "knows as much of the Corsican's +movements at the present moment as we do; and God alone knows what he +will decide to do." + +"Whatever happens," interjected the Comte de Cambray solemnly, "Louis de +Bourbon, XVIIIth of his name, by the Grace of God, will act like a king +and a gentleman." + +"Amen to that," retorted the préfet. "And now let me come to my point, +M. le Comte, and the chief object of my visit to you." + +"I am at your service, my dear M. Fourier." + +"You will remember, M. le Comte, that directly you were installed at +Brestalou and I was confirmed in my position as préfet of this +department, I thought it was my duty to tell you of the secret funds +which are kept in the cellars of our Hôtel de Ville by order of M. de +Talleyrand." + +"Yes, of course I remember that perfectly. French money, which the +unfortunate wife of that brigand Bonaparte was taking out of the +country." + +"Quite so," assented Fourier. "The funds are in a convenient and +portable form, being chiefly notes and bankers' drafts to bearer, but +the amount is considerable, namely, twenty-five millions of francs." + +"A comfortable sum," interposed Mme. la Duchesse drily. "I did not know +that Grenoble sheltered so vast a treasure." + +"The money was seized," said the Comte, "from Marie Louise when she was +fleeing the country. Talleyrand did it all, and it was his idea to keep +the money in this part of the country against likely emergencies." + +"But the emergency has arisen," exclaimed M. Fourier excitedly, "and the +money at Grenoble is useless to His Majesty in Paris. Nay! it is worse +than useless, it is in danger of spoliation," he added with unconscious +_naiveté_. "If the Corsican marches into Grenoble, if the garrison and +the townspeople rally to him, he will of a truth occupy the Hôtel de +Ville and the brigand will seize the King's treasure which lies now in +one of its cellars." + +"True," mused the Comte, "I hadn't thought of that." + +"Well!" exclaimed Madame with light sarcasm, "seeing that the money was +originally taken from his wife, the brigand will not be committing an +altogether unlikely act, I imagine, by taking what was originally his." + +"His, my good Sophie?" exclaimed the Comte, highly shocked. "Money +robbed by that usurper from France--his?" + +"We won't argue, André," said Madame sharply, "let us hear what M. le +préfet proposes." + +"Propose, Mme. la Duchesse," ejaculated the unfortunate préfet, "I have +nothing to propose! I am at my wits' end what to do! I came to M. le +Comte for advice." + +"And you were quite right, my dear M. Fourier," said the Comte affably. + +He paused for a few seconds in order to collect his thoughts, then +continued: "Now let us consider this question from every side, and then +see to what conclusion we can arrive that will be for the best. Firstly, +of course, there is the possibility of your following the example of the +préfet of the Basses-Alpes and taking yourself and the money to a +convenient place outside Grenoble." + +But at this suggestion M. Fourier was ready to burst into tears. + +"Impossible, M. le Comte," he cried pitiably, "I could not do it. . . . +Where could I go? . . . The existence of the money is known . . . known +to the Bonapartists, I am convinced. . . . There's Dumoulin, the +glovemaker, he knows everything that goes on in Grenoble . . . and his +friend Emery, who is an army surgeon in the pay of Bonaparte . . . both +these men have been to and from Elba incessantly these past few months +. . . then there's the Bonapartist club in Grenoble . . . with a +membership of over two thousand . . . the members have friends and spies +everywhere . . . even inside the Hôtel de Ville . . . why! the other day +I had to dismiss a servant who . . ." + +"Easy, easy, M. le préfet," broke in M. le Comte impatiently, "the long +and the short of it is that you would not feel safe with the money +anywhere outside Grenoble." + +"Or inside it, M. le Comte." + +"Very well, then, the money must be deposited there, where it will be +safe. Now what do you think of Dupont's Bank?" + +"Oh, M. le Comte! an avowed Bonapartist! . . . M. de Talleyrand would +not trust him with the money last year." + +"That is so . . . but . . ." + +"It seems to me," here interposed Mme. la Duchesse abruptly, "that by +far the best plan--since this district seems to be a hot-bed of +disloyalty--would be to convey the money straightway to Paris, and then +the King or M. de Talleyrand can dispose of it as best they like." + +"Ah, Mme. la Duchesse," sighed M. Fourier ecstatically as he clasped his +podgy little hands together and looked on Madame with eyes full of +admiration for her wisdom, "how cleverly that was spoken! If only I +could be relieved from that awful responsibility . . . five and twenty +millions under my charge and that Corsican ogre at our gates! . . ." + +"That is all very well!" quoth the Comte with marked impatience, "but +how is it going to be done? 'Convey the money to Paris' is easily said. +But who is going to do it? M. le préfet here says that the Bonapartists +have spies everywhere round Grenoble, and . . ." + +"Ah, M. le Comte!" exclaimed the préfet eagerly. "I have already thought +of such a beautiful plan! If only you would consent . . ." + +M. le Comte's thin lips curled in a sarcastic smile. + +"Oh! you have thought it all out already, M. le préfet?" he said. "Well! +let me hear your plan, but I warn you that I will not have the money +brought here. I don't half trust the peasantry of the neighbourhood, and +I won't have a fight or an outrage committed in my house!" + +M. le préfet was ready with a protest: + +"No, no, M. le Comte!" he said, "I wouldn't suggest such a thing for the +world. If the Corsican brigand is successful in capturing Grenoble, no +place would be sacred to him. No! My idea was if you, M. le Comte--who +have oft before journeyed to Paris and back--would do it now . . . +before Bonaparte gets any nearer to Grenoble . . . and take the money +with you . . ." + +"I?" exclaimed the Comte. "But, man, if--as you say--Grenoble is full of +Bonapartist spies, my movements are no doubt just as closely watched as +your own." + +"No, no, M. le Comte, not quite so closely, I am sure." + +The insinuating manner of the worthy man, however, was apparently +getting on M. le Comte's nerves. + +"Ah, ça, M. le préfet," he ejaculated abruptly, "but meseems that the +splendid plan you thought on merely consists in transferring +responsibility from your shoulders to mine own." + +And M. le Comte cast such a wrathful look on poor M. Fourier that the +unfortunate man was stricken dumb with confusion. + +"Moreover," concluded the Comte, "I don't know that you, M. le préfet, +have the right to dispose of this money which was entrusted to you by M. +de Talleyrand in the King's behalf without consulting His Majesty's +wishes in the matter." + +"Bah, André," broke in the Duchesse in her incisive way, "you are +talking nonsense, and you know it. There is no time for red-tapeism now +with that ogre at our gates. How are you going to consult His Majesty's +wishes--who is in Paris--between now and Tuesday, I would like to know?" +she added with a shrug of the shoulders. + +Whereupon M. le Comte waxed politely sarcastic. + +"Perhaps," he said, "you would prefer us to consult yours." + +"You might do worse," she retorted imperturbably. "The question is one +which is very easily solved. Ought His Majesty the King to have that +money, or should M. le préfet here take the risk of its falling in +Bonaparte's hands? Answer me that," she said decisively, "and then I +will tell you how best to succeed in carrying out your own wishes." + +"What a question, my good Sophie!" said the Comte stiffly. "Of course we +desire His Majesty to have what is rightfully his." + +"You mean he ought to have the twenty-five millions which the Prince de +Bénévant stole from Marie Louise. Very well then, obviously that money +ought to be taken to Paris before Bonaparte gets much nearer to +Grenoble--but it should not be taken by you, my good André, nor yet by +M. le préfet." + +"By whom then?" queried the Comte irritably. + +"By me," replied Mme. la Duchesse. + +"By you, Sophie! Impossible!" + +"And God alive, why impossible, I pray you?" she retorted. "The money, I +understand, is in a very portable form, notes and bankers' drafts, which +can be stowed away quite easily. Why shouldn't I be journeying back to +Paris after Crystal's wedding? Who would suspect me, I should like to +know, of carrying twenty-five millions under my petticoats? All I should +want would be a couple of sturdy fellows on the box to protect me +against footpads. Impossible?" she continued tartly. "Men are always so +ready with that word. Get a sensible woman, I say, and she will solve +your difficulties before you have finished exclaiming: 'Impossible!'" + +And she looked triumphantly from one man to the other. There was obvious +relief on the ruddy face of little M. Fourier, and even M. le Comte was +visibly taken with the idea. + +"Well!" he at last condescended to say, "it does sound feasible after +all." + +"Feasible? Of course it's feasible," said Madame with a shrug of +contempt. "Either the King is in want of the money, or he is not. Either +Bonaparte is likely to get it or he is not. If the King wants it, he +must have it at any cost and any risk. Twenty-five millions in +Bonaparte's hands at this juncture would help him to reconstitute his +army and make it very unpleasant for the King and for us all. M. le +préfet, who has been in charge of the money all along, and M. le Comte +de Cambray, who is the only true royalist in the district, are both +marked down by spies: ergo Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen is the only possible +agent for the business, and an inoffensive old woman without any +political standing is the least likely to be molested in her task. If I +fail, I fail," concluded Madame decisively, "if I am stopped on the way +and the money taken from me, well! I am stopped, that's all! and M. le +préfet or M. le Comte de Cambray or any male agent they may have sent +would have been stopped likewise. But I maintain that a woman travelling +alone is far safer at this business and more likely to succeed than a +man. So now, for God's sake, don't let's argue any more about it. +Crystal is to be married on Tuesday and I could start that same +afternoon. Can you bring the money over with you to-night?" + +She put her query directly to the préfet, who was obviously overjoyed, +and intensely relieved at the suggestion. + +M. le Comte too seemed to be won over by his sister's persuasive +rhetoric: her strength of mind and firmness of purpose always imposed +themselves on those over whom she chose to exert her will: and men of +somewhat weak character like the Comte de Cambray came very easily under +the sway of her dominating personality. + +But he thought it incumbent upon his dignity to make one more protest +before he finally yielded to his sister's arguments. + +"I don't like," he said, "the idea of your travelling alone through the +country without sufficient escort. The roads are none too safe and +. . ." + +"Bah!" broke in Madame impatiently. "I pray you, Monsieur my brother, to +strengthen your arguments, if you are really determined to oppose this +sensible scheme of mine. Travelling alone, forsooth! Did I not arrive +only yesterday, having travelled all the way from Boulogne and with no +escort save two louts on the box of a hired coach?" + +"You chose to travel alone, my dear sister, for reasons best known to +yourself," retorted the Comte, greatly angered that M. le préfet should +hear the fact that Mme. la Duchesse douairière had travelled at any time +without an escort. + +"And who shall say me nay, if I choose to travel back alone again, I +should like to know? So now if you have exhausted your string of +objections, my dear brother, perhaps you will allow M. le préfet to +answer my question." + +Whereupon M. le préfet promptly satisfied Mme. la Duchesse on the point: +he certainly could and would bring the money over with him this evening. +And M. le Comte had no further objections to offer. + +In the archives of the Ministry of War in Paris, any one who looks may +read that in the subsequent trial of Général Marchand for high +treason--after the Hundred Days and Napoleon's second abdication--préfet +Fourier during the course of his evidence gave a detailed account of +this same interview which he had with M. le Comte de Cambray and Mme. la +Duchesse douairière d'Agen on Sunday, March the 5th. In his deposition +he naturally laid great stress upon his own zeal in the matter, +declaring that he it was who finally overcame by his eloquence M. le +Comte's objections to the scheme and decided him to give his +acquiescence thereto.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Déposition de Fourier. (Dossier de Marchant Arch. Guerre.)] + +Certain it is that there was but little argument after this between Mme. +la Duchesse and the two men, and that the details of the scheme were +presently discussed soberly and in all their bearings. + +"I shall have the honour presently," said Fourier, "of coming back here +to respond to M. le Comte's gracious invitation to dinner. Why +shouldn't I bring the money with me then?" + +"Indeed you must bring the money then," retorted the irascible old lady, +"and let there be no shirking or delay. Promptitude is our great chance +of success. I ought not to start later than Tuesday, and I could do so +soon after the wedding ceremony. I could arrange to sleep at Lyons that +night, at Dijon the next day, be in Paris by Thursday evening and in the +King's presence on Friday." + +"Provided you are not delayed," sighed the Comte. + +"If I am delayed, my good André, then anyhow the game is up. But we are +not going to anticipate misfortune and we are going to believe in our +lucky star." + +"Would to God I could bring myself to approve wholeheartedly of this +expedition! The whole thing seems to me chivalrous and romantic rather +than prudent, and Heaven knows how prudent we should be just now!" + +"You look back on history, my dear brother," remarked Madame drily, "and +you'll see that more great events have been brought about by chivalry +and romance than by prudence and circumspection. The romance of Joan of +Arc delivered France from foreign yoke, the chivalry of François I. +saved the honour of France after the disaster of Pavie, and it certainly +was not prudence which set Henry of Navarre upon the throne of France +and in the heart of his people. So for gracious' sake do not let us talk +of prudence any more. Rather let us allow M. le préfet to return quietly +to the Hôtel de Ville, so that he and Mme. Fourier may proceed to dress +for to-night's ceremony, just as if nothing untoward had happened. In +the meanwhile I will complete my preparations for Tuesday. There are one +or two little details in connection with my journey--hostelries, +servants, horses and so on--which you, my dear André, will kindly decide +for me. And now, gentlemen," she added, rising from her chair, "I have +the honour to wish you both a very good afternoon." + +She did not wait long enough to allow M. le Comte time to ring for +Hector, and she appeared so busy with her lace shawl that she was unable +to do more than acknowledge with a slight inclination of the head M. le +préfet's respectful salute. But then Mme. la Duchesse douairière +d'Agen--though a fervent royalist herself--had a wholesome contempt for +these opportunists. Fourier, celebrated mathematician, loaded with gifts +and honours by Napoleon, who had made him a member of the Institute of +Science and given him the prefecture of the Isère, had turned his coat +very readily at the Restoration, and the oaths of loyalty which he had +tendered to the Emperor seemed not to weigh overheavily upon his +conscience when he reiterated them to the King. + +Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen, therefore, did not willingly place her +aristocratic fingers in the hand of a renegade, who she felt might turn +renegade again if his personal interest so dictated it. Perhaps +something of what lay behind Madame's curt nod to him, struck the +préfet's sensibilities, for the high colour suddenly fled from his round +face, and he did not attempt to approach her for the ceremonial +hand-kissing. But he ran across the room as fast as his short legs would +carry him, and he opened the door for her and bowed to her as she sailed +past him with all the deference which in the olden days of the Empire he +had accorded to the Empress Marie Louise. + +"It is a mad scheme, my good M. Fourier," sighed the Comte when he found +himself once more alone with the préfet, "but such as it is I can think +of nothing better." + +"M. le Comte," exclaimed the préfet with delight, "no one could think of +anything better. Ah, the women of France!" he added ecstatically, "the +women! how often have they saved France in moments of crises? France +owes her grandeur to her women, M. le Comte!" + +"And also her reverses, my dear M. Fourier," remarked the Comte drily. + + +II + +When Bobby Clyffurde came back to Brestalou, after his long day's ride, +he found the stately rooms of the old castle already prepared for the +arrival of M. le Comte's guests. The large reception hall had been +thrown open, as--after supper--M. le Comte would be receiving some of +the notabilities of Grenoble in honour of a great occasion: the +signature of the _contrat de mariage_ between Mlle. Crystal de Cambray +de Brestalou and M. Victor de Marmont. There was an array of liveried +servants in the hall and along the corridor through which Bobby had to +pass on the way to his own room: their liveries of purple with canary +facings--the heraldic colours of the family of Cambray de +Brestalou--hardly showed, in the flickering light of wax candles, the +many ravages of moth and mildew which twenty years of neglect had +wrought upon the once fine and brilliant cloth. + +Downstairs the formal supper which was to precede the reception was laid +for twenty guests. The table was resplendent with the silver so kindly +lent by a benevolent and far-seeing king to those of his friends who had +not the means of replacing the ancient family treasures filched from +them by the revolutionary government. + +There were no flowers upon the table, and only very few wax candles +burned in the ormolu and crystal chandelier overhead. Flowers and wax +candles were luxuries which must be paid for with ready money--a +commodity which was exceedingly scarce in the grandiose Château de +Brestalou--but they also were a luxury which could easily be dispensed +with, for did not M. le Comte de Cambray set the fashions and give the +tone to the whole _département_? and if he chose to have no flowers upon +his supper table and but few candles in his silver sconces, why then +society must take it for granted that such now was _bon ton_ and the +prevailing fashion at the Tuileries. + +Bobby, knowing his host's fastidious tastes in such matters, had made a +very careful toilet, all the while that his thoughts were busy with the +wonderful news which Emery had brought this day, and which was all over +Grenoble by now. He and his two companions had left Notre Dame de Vaulx +soon after their _déjeuner_, and together had entered the city at five +o'clock in the afternoon. On their way they had encountered the +travelling-coach of Général Mouton-Duveret, who, accompanied by his +aide-de-camp, was on his way to Gap, where he intended to organise +strong resistance against Bonaparte. + +He parleyed some time with Emery, whom he knew by sight and suspected of +being an emissary of the Corsican. Emery, with true southern verve, gave +the worthy general a highly-coloured account of the triumphal progress +through Provence and the Dauphiné of Napoleon, whom he boldly called +"the Emperor." Mouton--in no way belying his name--was very upset not +only by the news, but by his own helplessness with regard to Emery, who +he knew would presently be in Grenoble distributing the usurper's +proclamations all over the city, whilst he--Mouton--with his one +aide-de-camp and a couple of loutish servants on the box of his coach, +could do nothing to detain him. + +As soon as the three men had ridden away, however, he sent his +aide-de-camp back to Grenoble by a round-about way, ordering him to make +as great speed as possible, and to see Général Marchand as soon as may +be, so that immediate measures might be taken to prevent that emissary +if not from entering the city, at least from posting up proclamations on +public buildings. + +But Mouton's aide-de-camp was no match against the enthusiasm and +ingenuity of Emery and de Marmont, and when he--in his turn--entered +Grenoble soon after five o'clock, he was confronted by the printed +proclamations signed by the familiar and dreaded name "Napoleon" affixed +to the gates of the city, to the Hôtel de Ville, the mairie, the prison, +the barracks, and to every street corner in Grenoble. + +The three friends had parted at the porte de Bonne, Emery to go to his +friend Dumoulin, the glovemaker--de Marmont to his lodgings in the rue +Montorge, whilst Bobby Clyffurde rode straight back to Brestalou. + +A couple of hours later Victor de Marmont had also arrived at the +castle. He too had made an elaborate toilet, and then had driven over in +a hackney coach in advance of the other guests, seeing that he desired +to have a final interview with M. le Comte before he affixed his name to +his _contrat de mariage_ with Mlle. de Cambray. An air of solemnity sat +well upon his good-looking face, but it was obvious that he was +trying--somewhat in vain--to keep an inward excitement in check. + +M. le Comte de Cambray, believing that this excitement was entirely due +to the solemnity of the occasion, had smiled indulgently--a trifle +contemptuously too--at young de Marmont's very apparent eagerness. A +vulgar display of feelings, an inability to control one's words and +movements when under the stress of emotion was characteristic of the +parvenus of to-day, and de Marmont's unfettered agitation when coming to +sign his own marriage contract was only on a par with préfet Fourier's +nervousness this afternoon. + +The Comte received his future son-in-law with a gracious smile. The +thought of an alliance between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and a de +Marmont of Nowhere had been a bitter pill to swallow, but M. le Comte +was too proud to show how distasteful it had been. Chatting pleasantly +the two men repaired together to the library. + + +III + +Bobby Clyffurde--immaculately dressed in fine cloth coat and satin +breeches, with fine Mechlin lace at throat and wrist, and his light +brown hair tied at the nape of the neck with a big black bow--came down +presently to the reception room. He found the place silent and deserted. + +But the stately apartment looked more cosy and home-like than usual. A +cheerful fire was burning in the monumental hearth and the soft light of +the candles fixed in sconces round the walls tempered to a certain +degree that bare and severe look of past grandeur which usually hung +upon every corner of the old château. + +Clyffurde went up to the tall hearth. He rested his hand on the ledge of +the mantel and leaning his forehead against it he stared moodily into +the fire. + +Thoughts of all that he had learned in the past few hours, of the new +chapter in the book of the destinies of France, begun a few days ago in +the bay of Jouan, crowded in upon his mind. What difference would the +unfolding of that new chapter make to the destinies of the Comte de +Cambray and of Crystal? What had Fate in store for the bold adventurer +who was marching across France with a handful of men to reconquer a +throne and remake an empire? what had she in store for the stiff-necked +aristocrat of the old regime who still believed that God himself had +made special laws for the benefit of one class of humanity, and that He +had even created them differently to the rest of mankind? + +And what had Fate in store for the beautiful, delicate girl whose future +had been so arbitrarily settled by two men--father and lover--one the +buyer, the other the seller of her exquisite person, the shrine of her +pure and idealistic soul--and bargained for by father and lover as the +price of so many acres of land--a farm--a château--an ancestral estate? + +Father and lover were sitting together even now discussing values--the +purchase price--"You give me back my lands, I will give you my +daughter!" Blood money! soul money! Clyffurde called it as he ground his +teeth together in impotent rage. + +What folly it was to care! what folly to have allowed the tendrils of +his over-sensitive heart to twine themselves round this beautiful girl, +who was as far removed from his destiny as were the ambitions of his +boyhood, the hopes, the dreams which the hard circumstances of fate had +forced him to bury beneath the grave-mound of rigid and unswerving duty. + +But what a dream it had been, this love for Crystal de Cambray! It had +filled his entire soul from the moment when first he saw her--down in +the garden under an avenue of ilex trees which cast their mysterious +shadows over her; her father had called to her and she had come across +to where he--Clyffurde--stood silently watching this approaching vision +of loveliness which never would vanish from his mental gaze again. + +Even at that supreme moment, when her blue eyes, her sweet smile, the +exquisite grace of her took possession of his soul, even then he knew +already that his dream could have but one awakening. She was already +plighted to another, a happier man, but even if she were free, Crystal +would never have bestowed a thought upon the stranger--the commonplace +tradesman, whose only merit in her sight lay in his friendship with +another gallant English gentleman. + +And knowing this--when he saw her after that, day after day, hour after +hour--poor Bobby Clyffurde grew reconciled to the knowledge that the +gates of his Paradise would for ever be locked against him: he grew +contented just to peep through those gates; and the Angel who was on +guard there, holding the flaming sword of caste prejudice against him, +would relent at times and allow him to linger on the threshold and to +gaze into a semblance of happiness. + +Those thoughts, those dreams, those longings, he had been able to +endure; to-day reality had suddenly become more insistent and more +stern: the Angel's flaming sword would sear his soul after this, if he +lingered any longer by the enchanted gates: and thus had the semblance +of happiness yielded at last to dull regret. + +He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. + + +IV + +The sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the soft frou-frou of a +woman's skirt roused him from his gloomy reverie, and caused him to jump +to his feet. + +Mlle. Crystal was coming across the long reception room, walking with a +slow and weary step toward the hearth. She was obviously not yet aware +of Clyffurde's presence, and he had full leisure to watch her as she +approached, to note the pallor of her cheeks and lips and that pathetic +look of childlike self-pity and almost of appeal which veiled the +brilliance of her deep blue eyes. + +A moment later she saw him and came more quickly across the room, with +hand extended, and an air of gracious condescension in her whole +attitude. + +"Ah! M. Clyffurde," she said in perfect English, "I did not know you +were here . . . and all alone. My father," she added, "is occupied with +serious matters downstairs, else he would have been here to receive +you." + +"I know, Mademoiselle," he said after he had kissed the tips of three +cold little fingers which had been held out to him. "My friend de +Marmont is with him just now: he desired to speak with M. le Comte in +private . . . on a matter which closely concerns his happiness." + +"Ah! then you knew?" she asked coldly. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, I knew," he replied. + +She had settled herself down in a high-backed chair close to the hearth, +the ruddy light of the wood-fire played upon her white satin gown, upon +her bare arms, and the ends of her lace scarf, upon her satin shoes and +the bunch of snowdrops at her breast, but her face was in shadow and she +did not look up at Clyffurde, whilst he--poor fool!--stood before her, +absorbed in the contemplation of this dainty picture which mayhap after +to-night would never gladden his eyes again. + +"You are a great friend of M. de Marmont?" she asked after a while. + +"Oh, Mademoiselle--a friend?" he replied with a self-deprecatory shrug +of the shoulders, "friendship is too great a name to give to our chance +acquaintanceship. I met Victor de Marmont less than a fortnight ago, in +Grenoble. . . ." + +"Ah yes! I had forgotten--he told me that he had first met you at the +house of a M. Dumoulin . . ." + +"In the shop of M. Dumoulin, Mademoiselle," broke in Clyffurde with his +good-humoured smile. "M. Dumoulin, the glovemaker, with whom I was +transacting business at the moment when M. de Marmont walked in, in +order to buy himself a pair of gloves." + +"Of course," she added coldly, "I had forgotten. . . ." + +"You were not likely to remember such a trivial circumstance, +Mademoiselle. M. de Marmont saw me after that here as guest in your +father's house. He was greatly surprised at finding me--a mere +tradesman--in such an honoured position. Surprise laid the foundation of +pleasing intercourse between us, but you see, Mademoiselle, that M. de +Marmont has no cause to boast of his friendship with me." + +"Oh! M. de Marmont is not so prejudiced. . . ." + +"As you are, Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly, for she had paused and he +saw that she bit her lips with her tiny white teeth as if she meant to +check the words that would come tumbling out. + +Thus directly questioned she gave a little shrug of disdain. + +"My opinions in the matter are not in question, Sir," she said coldly. + +She smothered a little yawn which may have been due to ennui, but also +to the tingling of her nerves. Clyffurde saw that her hands were never +still for a moment; she was either fingering the snowdrops in her belt +or smoothing out the creases in her lace scarf; from time to time she +raised her head and a tense expression came into her face, as if she +were trying to listen to what was going on elsewhere in the +house--downstairs perhaps--in the library where she was being finally +bargained for and sold. + +Clyffurde felt an intense--an unreasoning pity for her, and because of +that pity--the gentle kinsman of fierce love--he found it in his heart +to forgive her all her prejudices, that almost arrogant pride of caste +which was in her blood, for which she was no more responsible than she +was for the colour of her hair or the vivid blue of her eyes; she seemed +so forlorn--such a child, in the midst of all this decadent grandeur. +She was being so ruthlessly sacrificed for ideals that were no longer +tenable, that had ceased to be tenable five and twenty years ago when +this château and these lands were overrun by a savage and vengeful mob, +who were loudly demanding the right to live in happiness, in comfort, +and in freedom. That right had been denied to them through the past +centuries by those who were of her own kith and kin, and it was +snatched with brutal force, with lust of hate and thirst for reprisals, +by the revolutionary crowd when it came into its own at last. + +Something of the pity which he felt for this beautiful and innocent +victim of rancour, oppression and prejudice, must have been manifest in +Clyffurde's earnest eyes, for when Crystal looked up to him and met his +glance she drew herself up with an air of haughty detachment. And with +that, she wished to convey still more tangibly to him the idea of that +barrier of caste which must for ever divide her from him. + +Obviously his look of pity had angered her, for now she said abruptly +and with marked coldness: + +"My father tells me, Sir, that you are thinking of leaving France +shortly." + +"Indeed, Mademoiselle," he replied, "I have trespassed too long as it is +on M. le Comte's gracious hospitality. My visit originally was only for +a fortnight. I thought of leaving for England to-morrow." + +A little lift of the eyebrows, an unnecessary smoothing of an invisible +crease in her gown and Crystal asked lightly: + +"Before the . . . my wedding, Sir?" + +"Before your wedding, Mademoiselle." + +She frowned--vaguely stirred to irritation by his ill-concealed +indifference. "I trust," she rejoined pointedly, "that you are satisfied +with your trade in Grenoble." + +The little shaft was meant to sting, but if Bobby felt any pain he +certainly appeared to bear it with perfect good-humour. + +"I am quite satisfied," he said. "I thank you, Mademoiselle." + +"It must be very pleasing to conclude such affairs satisfactorily," she +continued. + +"Very pleasing, Mademoiselle." + +"Of course--given the right temperament for such a career--it must be so +much more comfortable to spend one's life in making money--buying and +selling things and so on--rather than to risk it every day for the +barren honour of serving one's king and country." + +"As you say, Mademoiselle," he said quite imperturbably, "given the +right temperament, it certainly is much more comfortable." + +"And you, Sir, I take it, are the happy possessor of such a +temperament." + +"I suppose so, Mademoiselle." + +"You are content to buy and to sell and to make money? to rest at ease +and let the men who love their country and their king fight for you and +for their ideals?" + +Her voice had suddenly become trenchant and hard, her manner +contemptuous--at strange variance with the indifferent kindliness +wherewith she had hitherto seemed to regard her father's English guest. +Certainly her nerves--he thought--were very much on edge, and no doubt +his own always unruffled calm--the combined product of temperament, +nationality and education--had an irritating effect upon her. Had he not +been so intensely sorry for her, he would have resented this final taunt +of hers--an arrow shot this time with intent to wound. + +But as it was he merely said with a smile: + +"Surely, Mademoiselle, my contentment with my own lot, and any other +feelings of which I may be possessed, are of such very little +consequence--seeing that they are only the feelings of a very +commonplace tradesman--that they are not worthy of being discussed." + +Then as quickly her manner changed: the contemptuous look vanished from +her eyes, the sarcastic curl from her lips, and with one of those quick +transitions of mood which were perhaps the principal charm of Crystal de +Cambray's personality, she looked up at Bobby with a winning smile and +an appeal for forgiveness. + +"Your pardon, Sir," she said softly. "I was shrewish and ill-tempered, +and deserve a severe lesson in courtesy. I did not mean to be +disagreeable," she added with a little sigh, "but my nerves are all +a-quiver to-day and this awful news has weighed upon my spirit. . . ." + +"What awful news, Mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"Surely you have heard?" + +"You mean the news about Napoleon . . . ?" + +"I mean the awful certainty," she retorted with a sudden outburst of +vehemence, "that that brigand, that usurper, that scourge of mankind has +escaped from an all too lenient prison where he should never have been +confined, seeing how easy was escape from it. I mean that all the +horrors of the past twenty years will begin again now, misery, +starvation, exile probably. Oh, surely," she added with ever-increasing +passion, "surely God will not permit such an awful thing to happen; +surely he will strike the ogre dead, ere he devastates France once +again!" + +"I am afraid that you must not reckon quite so much on divine +interference, Mademoiselle. A nation--like every single individual--must +shape its own destiny, and must not look to God to help it in its +political aims." + +"And France must look once more to England, I suppose. It is humiliating +to be always in need of help," she said with an impatient little sigh. + +"Each nation in its turn has it in its power to help a sister. Sometimes +help may come from the weaker vessel. Do you remember the philosopher's +fable of the lion and the mouse? France may be the mouse just now--some +day it may be in her power to requite the lion." + +She shook her head reprovingly. "I don't know," she said, "that I +approve of your calling France--the mouse." + +"I only did so in order to drive my parable still further home." + +Then as she looked a little puzzled, he continued--speaking very slowly +this time and with an intensity of feeling which was quite different to +his usual pleasant, good-tempered, oft-times flippant manner: +"Mademoiselle Crystal--if you will allow me to speak of such an +insignificant person as I am--I am at present in the position of the +mouse with regard to your father and yourself--the lions of my parable. +You might so easily have devoured me, you see," he added with a quaint +touch of humour. "Well! the time may come when you may have need of a +friend, just as I had need of one when I came here--a stranger in a +strange land. Events will move with great rapidity in the next few days, +Mademoiselle Crystal, and the mouse might at any time be in a position +to render a service to the lion. Will you remember that?" + +"I will try, Monsieur," she replied. + +But already her pride was once more up in arms. She did not like his +tone, that air of protection which his attitude suggested. And indeed +she could not think of any eventuality which would place the Comte de +Cambray de Brestalou in serious need of a tradesman for his friend. + +Then as quickly again her mood softened and as she raised her eyes to +his he saw that they were full of tears. + +"Indeed! indeed!" she said gently, "I do deserve your contempt, Sir, for +my shrewishness and vixenish ways. How can I--how can any of us--afford +to turn our backs upon a loyal friend? To-day too, of all days, when +that awful enemy is once more at our gates! Oh!" she added, clasping her +hands together with a sudden gesture of passionate entreaty, "you are +English, Sir--a friend of all those gallant gentlemen who saved my dear +father and his family from those awful revolutionaries--you will be +loyal to us, will you not? The English hate Bonaparte as much as we do! +you hate him too, do you not? you will do all you can to help my poor +father through this awful crisis? You will, won't you?" she pleaded. + +"Have I not already offered you my humble services, Mademoiselle?" he +rejoined earnestly. + +Indeed this was a very serious ordeal for quiet, self-contained Bobby +Clyffurde--an Englishman, remember--with all an Englishman's shyness of +emotion, all an Englishman's contempt of any display of sentiment. Here +was this beautiful girl--whom he loved with all the passionate ardour of +his virile, manly temperament--sitting almost at his feet, he looking +down upon her fair head, with its wealth of golden curls, and into her +blue eyes which were full of tears. + +Who shall blame him if just then a desperate longing seized him to throw +all prudence, all dignity and honour to the winds and to clasp this +exquisite woman for one brief and happy moment in his arms--to forget +the world, her position and his--to risk disgrace and betray +hospitality, for the sake of one kiss upon her lips? The temptation was +so fierce--indeed for one short second it was all but irresistible--that +something of the battle which was raging within his soul became +outwardly visible, and in the girl's tear-dimmed eyes there crept a +quick look of alarm--so strange, so ununderstandable was his glance, the +rigidity of his attitude--as if every muscle had become taut and every +nerve strained to snapping point, while his face looked hard and lined, +almost as if he were fighting physical pain. + + +V + +Thus a few seconds went by in absolute silence--while the great gilt +clock upon its carved bracket ticked on with stolid relentlessness, +marking another minute--and yet another--of this hour which was so full +of portent for the destinies of France. Clyffurde would gladly have +bartered the future years of his life for the power to stay the hand of +Time just now--for the power to remain just like this, standing before +this beautiful woman whom he loved, feeling that at any moment he could +take her in his arms and kiss her eyes and her lips, even if she were +unwilling, even if she hated him for ever afterwards. + +The sense of power to do that which he might regret to the end of his +days was infinitely sweet, the power to fight against that +all-compelling passion was perhaps sweeter still. Then came the pride of +victory. The habits of a lifetime had come to his aid: self-respect and +self-control, hard and wilful taskmasters, fought against passion, until +it yielded inch by inch. + +The battle was fought and won in those few moments of silence: the +strain of the man's attitude relaxed, the set lines on his face +vanished, leaving it serene and quietly humorous, calm and +self-deprecatory. Only his voice was not quite so steady as usual, as he +said softly: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal, is there anything that I can do for you?--now at +once, I mean? If there is, I do entreat you most earnestly to let me +serve you." + +Had the pure soul of the woman been touched by the fringe of that +magnetic wave of passion even as it rose to its utmost height, nearly +sweeping the man off his feet, and in its final retreat leaving him with +quivering nerves and senses bruised and numb? Did something of the man's +suffering, of his love and of his despair appear--despite his +efforts--upon his face and in the depth of his glance?--and thus made +visible did they--even through their compelling intensity--cause that +invisible barrier of social prejudices to totter and to break? It were +difficult to say. Certain it is that Crystal's whole heart warmed to the +stranger as it had never warmed before. She felt that here was a _man_ +standing before her now, whose promises would never be mere idle words, +whose deeds would speak more loudly than his tongue. She felt that in +the midst of all the enmity which encompassed her and her father in +their newly regained home and land, here at any rate was a friend on +whom they could count to help, to counsel and to accomplish. And deep +down in the very bottom of her soul there was a curious unexplainable +longing that circumstances should compel her to ask one day for his +help, and a sweet knowledge that that help would be ably rendered and +pleasing to receive. + +But for the moment, of course, there was nothing that she could ask: she +would be married in a couple of days--alas! so soon!--and after that it +would be to her husband that she must look for devotion, for guidance +and for sympathy. + +A little sigh of regret escaped her lips, and she said gently: + +"I thank you, Sir, from the bottom of my heart, for the words of +friendship which you have spoken. I shall never forget them, never! and +if at any time in my life I am in trouble . . ." + +"Which God forbid!" he broke in fervently. + +"If any time I have need of a friend," she resumed, "I feel that I +should find one in you. Oh! if only I could think that you would extend +your devotion to my poor country, and to our King . . ." she exclaimed +with passionate earnestness. + +"You love your country very dearly, Mademoiselle," he rejoined. + +"I think that I love France more than anything else in the world," she +replied, "and I feel that there is no sacrifice which I would deem too +great to offer up for her." + +"And by France you mean the Bourbon dynasty," he said almost +involuntarily, and with an impatient little sigh. + +"I mean the King, by the grace of God!" she retorted proudly. + +She had thrown back her head with an air of challenge as she said this, +meeting his glance eye to eye: she looked strong and wilful all of a +sudden, no longer girlish and submissive. And to the man who loved her, +this trait of power and latent heroism added yet another to the many +charms which he saw in her. Loyal to her country and to her king she +would be loyal in all things--to husband, kindred and to friends. + +But he realised at the same time how impossible it would be for any man +to win her love if he were an enemy to her cause. St. Genis--royalist, +émigré, retrograde like herself--had obviously won his way to her heart +chiefly by the sympathy of his own convictions. But what of de Marmont, +to whom she was on the eve of plighting her troth? de Marmont the +hot-headed Bonapartist who owned but one god--Napoleon--and yet had +deliberately, and with cynical opportunism hidden his fanatical aims and +beliefs from the woman whom he had wooed and won? + +The thought of that deception--and of the awakening which would await +the girl-wife on the very morrow of her wedding-day mayhap, was terribly +repellent to Clyffurde's straightforward, loyal nature, and bitter was +the contention within his soul as he found himself at the cross-roads of +a divided duty. Every instinct of chivalry towards the woman loudly +demanded that he should warn her--now--at once--before it was too +late--before she had actually pledged her life and future to a man whom +her very soul--if she knew the truth--would proclaim a renegade and a +traitor; and every instinct of loyalty to the man--that male solidarity +of sex which will never permit one man--if he be a gentleman--to betray +another--prompted him to hold his peace. + +Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his ear. Vaguely only +did he hear what she said. She was still speaking of France, of all that +the country had suffered and all that was due to her from her sons and +daughters: she spoke of the King, God's own anointed as she called him, +endowed with rights divine, and all the while his thoughts were far +away, flying on the wings of memory to the little hamlet among the +mountains where two enthusiasts had exhausted every panegyric in praise +of their own hero, whom this girl called a usurper and a brigand. He +remembered every trait in de Marmont's face, every inflexion of his +voice as he said with almost cruel cynicism: "She will learn to love me +in time." + +That, Clyffurde knew now, Crystal de Cambray would never do. Indifferent +to de Marmont to-day, she would hate and loathe him the day that she +discovered how infamously he had deceived her: and to Clyffurde's +passionate temperament the thought of Crystal's future unhappiness was +absolutely intolerable. + +Here indeed was a battle far more strenuous and difficult of issue than +that of a man's will against his passions: here was a problem far more +difficult to solve than any that had assailed Bobby Clyffurde throughout +his life. + +His heart cried out "She must know the truth: she must. To-day! this +minute, while there was yet time! Anon she will be pledged irrevocably +to a man who has lied to her, whom she will curse as a renegade, a +traitor, false to his country, false to his king!" + +And the words hovered on his lips: "Mademoiselle Crystal! do not plight +your troth to de Marmont! he is no friend of yours, his people are not +your people! his God is not your God! and there is neither blessing nor +holiness in an union 'twixt you and him!" + +But the words remained unspoken, because the unwritten code--the bond +'twixt man and man--tried to still this natural cry of his heart and +reason argued that he must hold his peace. His heart rebelled, +contending that to remain silent was cowardly--that his first duty was +to the woman whom he loved better than his soul, whilst ingrained +principles, born and bred in the bone of him, threw themselves into the +conflict, warning him that if he spoke he would be no better than an +informer, meriting the contempt alike of those whom he wished to help +and of the man whom he would betray. + +It was one sound coming from below which settled the dispute 'twixt +heart and reason--the sound of de Marmont's voice which though he was +apparently speaking of indifferent matters had that same triumphant ring +in it which Clyffurde had heard at Notre Dame de Vaulx this morning. + +The sound had caused Crystal to give a quick gasp and to clasp her hands +against her breast, as she said with a nervous little laugh: + +"Imagine how happy we are to have M. de Marmont's support in this +terrible crisis! His influence in Grenoble and in the whole province is +very great: his word in the town itself may incline the whole balance of +public feeling on the side of the King, and who knows, it may even help +to strengthen the loyalty of the troops. Oh! that Corsican brigand +little guesses what kind of welcome we in the Dauphiné are preparing for +him!" + +Her enthusiasm, her trust, her loyalty ended the conflict in Clyffurde's +mind far more effectually than any sober reasoning could have done. He +realised in a moment that neither abstract principles, nor his own +feelings in the matter, were of the slightest account at such a +juncture. + +What was obvious, certain, and not to be shirked, was duty to a woman +who was on the point of being shamefully deceived, also duty to the man +whose hospitality he had enjoyed. To remain silent would be cowardly--of +that he became absolutely certain, and once Bobby had made up his mind +what duty was no power on earth could make him swerve from its +fulfilment. + +"Mlle. Crystal," he began slowly and deliberately, "just now, when I was +bold enough to offer you my friendship, you deigned to accept it, did +you not?" + +"Indeed I did, Sir," she replied, a little astonished. "Why should you +ask?" + +"Because the time has come sooner than I expected for me to prove the +truth of that offer to you. There is something which I must say to you +which no one but a friend ought to do. May I?" + +But before she could frame the little "Yes!" which already trembled on +her lips, her father's voice and de Marmont's rang out from the further +end of the room itself. + +The folding doors had been thrown open: M. le Comte and his son-in-law +elect were on the point of entering and had paused for a moment just +under the lintel. De Marmont was talking in a loud voice and apparently +in response to something which M. le Comte had just told him. + +"Ah!" he said, "Mme. la Duchesse will be leaving Brestalou? I am sorry +to hear that. Why should she go so soon?" + +"An affair of business, my dear de Marmont," replied the Comte. "I will +tell you about it at an early opportunity." + +After which there was a hubbub of talk in the corridors outside, the +sound of greetings, the pleasing confusion of questions and answers +which marks the simultaneous arrival of several guests. + +Crystal rose and turned to Bobby with a smile. + +"You will have to tell me some other time," she said lightly. "Don't +forget!" + +The psychological moment had gone by and Clyffurde cursed himself for +having fought too long against the promptings of his heart and lost the +precious moments which might have changed the whole of Crystal's +future. He cursed himself for not having spoken sooner, now that he saw +de Marmont with glowing eyes and ill-concealed triumph approach his +beautiful fiancée and with the air of a conqueror raise her hand to his +lips. + +She looked very pale, and to the man who loved her so ardently and so +hopelessly it seemed as if she gave a curious little shiver and that for +one brief second her blue eyes flashed a pathetic look of appeal up to +his. + + +VI + +M. le Comte's guests followed closely on the triumphant bridegroom's +heels: M. le préfet, fussy and nervous, secretly delighted at the idea +of affixing his official signature to such an aristocratic _contrat de +mariage_ as was this between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and M. Victor +de Marmont, own nephew to Marshal the duc de Raguse; Madame la préfète, +resplendent in the latest fashion from Paris, the Duc and Duchesse +d'Embrun, cousins of the bride, the Vicomte de Génevois and his mother, +who was Abbess of Pont Haut and godmother by proxy to Crystal de +Cambray; whilst Général Marchand, in command of the troops of the +district, fresh from the Council of War which he had hastily convened, +was trying to hide behind a _débonnaire_ manner all the anxiety which +"the brigand's" march on Grenoble was causing him. + +The chief notabilities of the province had assembled to do honour to the +occasion, later on others would come, lesser lights by birth and +position than this select crowd who would partake of the _souper des +fiançailles_ before the _contrat_ was signed in their presence as +witnesses to the transaction. + +Everyone was talking volubly: the ogre's progress through France--no +longer to be denied--was the chief subject of conversation. Some spoke +of it with contempt, others with terror. The ex-Bonapartists Fourier +and Marchand were loudest in their curses against "the usurper." + +Clyffurde, silent and keeping somewhat aloof from the brilliant throng, +saw that de Marmont did not enter into any of these conversations. He +kept resolutely close to Crystal, and spoke to her from time to time in +a whisper, and always with that assured air of the conqueror, which +grated so unpleasantly on Clyffurde's irritable nerves. + +The Comte, affable and gracious, spoke a few words to each of his guests +in turn, whilst Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen was talking openly of +her forthcoming return journey to the North. + +"I came in great haste," she said loudly to the circle of ladies +gathered around her, "for my little Crystal's wedding. But I was in the +middle of a Lenten retreat at the Sacred Heart, and I only received +permission from my confessor to spend three days in all this gaiety." + +"When do you leave us again, Mme. la Duchesse?" queried Mlle. Marchand, +the General's daughter, in a honeyed voice. + +"On Tuesday, directly after the religious ceremony, Mademoiselle," +replied Madame, whilst M. le préfet tried to look unconcerned. He had +brought the money over as Mme. la Duchesse had directed. Twenty-five +millions of francs in notes and drafts had been transferred from the +cellar of the Hôtel de Ville to his own pockets first and then into the +keeping of Madame. He had driven over from the Hôtel de Ville in his +private coach, he himself in an agony of fear every time the road looked +lonely, or he heard the sound of horse's hoofs upon the road behind +him--for there might be mounted highwaymen about. Now he felt infinitely +relieved; he had shifted all responsibility of that vast sum of money on +to more exalted shoulders than his own, and inwardly he was marvelling +how coolly Mme. la Duchesse seemed to be taking such an awful +responsibility. + +Now Hector threw open the great doors and announced that M. le Comte was +served. Through the vast corridor beyond appeared a vista of liveried +servants in purple and canary, wearing powdered perruque, silk stockings +and buckled shoes. + +There was a general hubbub in the room, the men moved towards the ladies +who had been assigned to them for partners. M. le Comte in his grandest +manner approached Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun in order to conduct her down +to supper. An air of majestic grandeur, of solemnity and splendid +decorum pervaded the fine apartment; it sought out every corner of the +vast reception room, flickered round every wax candle; it spread itself +over the monumental hearth, the stiff brocade-covered chairs, the gilt +consoles and tall mirrors. It emanated alike from the graciousness of M. +le Comte de Cambray and the pompousness of his majordomo. Hector in fact +appeared at this moment as the high priest in a temple of good manners +and bon ton: the muscles of his face were rigid, his mouth was set as if +ready to pronounce sacrificial words; in his right hand he carried a +gold-headed wand, emblem of his high office. + +But suddenly there was a disturbance--an unseemly noise came from the +further end of the corridor, where rose the magnificent staircase. +Hector's face became a study in rapidly changing expressions: from +pompousness, to astonishment, then horror, and finally wrath when he +realised that an intruder in stained cloth clothes and booted and +spurred was actually making his way through the ranks of liveried and +gaping servants and loudly demanding to speak with M. le Comte. + +Such an unseemly disturbance had not occurred at the Château de +Brestalou since Hector had been installed there as majordomo nearly +twelve months ago, and he was on the point of literally throwing +himself upon the impious malapert who thus dared to thrust his ill-clad +person upon the brilliant company, when he paused--more aghast than +before. In this same impious malapert he had recognised M. le Marquis de +St. Genis! + +The young man looked to be labouring under terrible excitement: his face +was flushed and he was panting as if he had been running hard: + +"M. le Comte!" he cried breathlessly as soon as he caught sight of +Hector, "tell M. le Comte that I must speak with him at once." + +"But M. le Marquis . . . M. le Marquis . . ." + +This was all that poor, bewildered Hector could stammer: his +slowly-moving brain was torn between the duties of his position and his +respect for M. le Marquis, and in the struggle the worthy man was +enduring throes of anxiety. + +Fortunately M. le Comte himself put an end to Hector's dilemma. He had +recognised St. Genis' voice. Unlike his majordomo, he knew at once that +something terribly grave must have happened, else the young man would +never have committed such a serious breach of good manners. And M. le +Comte himself was never at a loss how to turn any situation to a +dignified and proper issue: he murmured a quick and courteous apology to +Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun and a comprehensive one to all his guests, +then he hastened to meet St. Genis at the door. + +Already St. Genis had entered. His rough clothes and muddy boots looked +strangely in contrast to the immaculate get-up of the Comte's guests, +but of this he hardly seemed to be aware. His face was flushed; with his +right hand he clutched a small riding cane, and his glowering dark eyes +swept a rapid glance over every one in the room. + +And to the Comte he said hoarsely: "I must offer you my humblest +apologies, my dear Comte, for obtruding my very untidy person upon you +at this hour. I have walked all the way from Grenoble, as I could not +get a hackney-coach, else I had been here earlier and spared you this +unpleasantness." + +"You are always welcome in this house, my good Maurice," said the Comte +in his loftiest manner, "and at any hour of the day." + +And he added with a certain tone of dignified reproach: "I did ask you +to be my guest to-night, if you remember." + +"And I," said St. Genis, "was churlish enough to refuse. I would not +have come now only that I felt I might be in time to avert the most +awful catastrophe that has yet fallen upon your house." + +Again his restless, dark eyes--sullen and wrathful and charged with a +look of rage and of hate--wandered over the assembled company. The look +frightened the ladies. They took to clinging to one another, standing in +compact little groups together, like frightened birds, watchful and +wide-eyed. They feared that the young man was mad. But the men exchanged +significant glances and significant smiles. They merely thought that St. +Genis had been drinking, or that jealousy had half-turned his brain. + +Only Clyffurde, who stood somewhat apart from the others, knew--by some +unexplainable intuition--what it was that had brought Maurice de St. +Genis to this house in this excited state and at this hour. He felt +excited too, and mightily thankful that the catastrophe would be brought +about by others--not by himself. + +But all his thoughts were for Crystal, and an instinctive desire to +stand by her and to shield her if necessary from some unknown or +unguessed evil, made him draw nearer to her. She stood on the fringe of +the little crowd--as isolated as Bobby was himself. + +De Marmont--whose face had become the colour of dead ashes--had left +her side: one step at a time and very slowly he was getting nearer and +nearer to St. Genis, as if the latter's wrath-filled eyes were drawing +him against his will. + +At the young man's ominous words, M. le Comte's sunken cheeks grew a +shade more pale. + +"What catastrophe, _mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, "could fall on my house +that would be worse than twenty years of exile?" + +"An alliance with a traitor, M. le Comte," said St. Genis firmly. + +A gasp went round the room, a sigh, a cry. The women looked in mute +horror from one man to the other, the men already had their right hand +on their swords. But Clyffurde's eyes were fixed upon Crystal, who pale, +silent, rigid as a marble statue, with lips parted and nostrils +quivering, stood not five paces away from him, her dilated eyes +wandering ceaselessly from the face of St. Genis to that of de Marmont +and thence to that of her father. But beyond that look of tense +excitement she revealed nothing of what she thought and felt. + +Already de Marmont--his hand upon his sword--had advanced menacingly +towards St. Genis. + +"M. le Marquis," he said between set teeth, "you will, by God! eat those +words, or----" + +"Eat my words, man?" retorted St. Genis with a harsh laugh. "By Heaven! +have I not come here on purpose to throw my words into your lying face?" + +There was a brief but violent skirmish, for de Marmont had made a +movement as if he meant to spring at his rival's throat, and Général +Marchand and the Vicomte de Génevois, who happened to be near, had much +ado to seize and hold him: even so they could not stop the hoarse cries +which he uttered: + +"Liar! Liar! Liar! Let me go! Let me get to him! I must kill him! I must +kill him!" + +The Comte interposed his dignified person between the two men. + +"Maurice," he said, in tones of calm and dispassionate reproof, "your +conduct is absolutely unjustifiable. You seem to forget that you are in +the presence of ladies and of my guests. If you had a quarrel with M. de +Marmont. . . ." + +"A quarrel, my dear Comte?" exclaimed St. Genis, "nay, 'tis no quarrel I +have with him: and my conduct would have been a thousand times more vile +if I had not come to-night and stopped his hand from touching that of +Mlle. Crystal de Cambray--his hand which was engaged less than two hours +ago in affixing to the public buildings of Grenoble the infamous message +of the Corsican brigand to the army and the people of France." + +A hoarse murmur--a sure sign that men or women are afraid--came from +every corner of the room. + +"The message?--What message?" + +Some people turned instinctively to M. le préfet, others to Général +Marchand. Every one knew that Bonaparte had landed on the Littoral, +every one had heard the rumour that he was marching in triumph through +Provence and the Dauphiné--but no one had altogether believed this--as +for a message--a proclamation--a call to the army--and this in Grenoble +itself. No one had heard of that--every one had been at home, getting +dressed for this festive function, thinking of good suppers and of +wedding bells. It was as if after a clap of thunder and a flash of +lightning the house was found to be in flames. M. le préfet in answer to +these mute queries had shrugged his shoulders, and Général Marchand +looked grim and silent. + +But St. Genis with arm uplifted and shaking hand pointed a finger at de +Marmont. + +"Ask him," he cried. "Ask him, my dear Comte, ask the miserable traitor +who with lies and damnable treachery has stolen his way into your +house, has stolen your regard, your hospitality, and was on the point of +stealing your most precious treasure--your daughter! Ask him! He knows +every word of that infamous message by heart! I doubt not but a copy of +it is inside his coat now. Ask him! Général Mouton-Duveret met him +outside Grenoble in company with that cur Emery and I saw him with mine +own eyes distributing these hellish papers among our townspeople and +pinning them up at the street-corners of our city." + +While St. Genis was speaking--or rather screaming--for his voice, +pitched high, seemed to fill the entire room--every glance was fixed +upon de Marmont. Every one of course expected a contradiction as hot and +intemperate as was the accusation. It was unthinkable, impossible that +what St. Genis said could be true. They all knew de Marmont well. Nephew +of the Duc de Raguse who had borne the lion's share in surrendering +Paris to the allies and bringing about the downfall of the Corsican +usurper, he was one of the most trusted members of the royalist set in +Dauphiné. They had talked quite freely before him, consulted with him +when local Bonapartism appeared uncomfortably rampant. De Marmont was +one of themselves. + +And yet he said nothing even now when St. Genis accused him and hurled +insult upon insult at him:--he said nothing to refute the awful +impeachment, to justify his conduct, to explain his companionship with +Emery. His face was still livid, but it was with rage--not indignation. +Marchand and Génevois still held him by the arms, else he and St. Genis +would have been at one another's throat before now. But his gestures as +he struggled to free himself, the imprecations which he uttered were +those of a man who was baffled and found out--not of one who is +innocent. + +But as St. Genis continued to speak and worked himself up every moment +into a still greater state of excitement, de Marmont gradually seemed to +calm down. He ceased to curse: he ceased to struggle, and on his +face--which still was livid--there gradually crept a look of +determination and of defiance. He dug his teeth into his under lip until +tiny drops of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and trickled +slowly down his chin. + +Marchand and Génevois relaxed the grip upon his arms, since he no longer +fought, and thus released he contrived to pull himself together. He +tossed back his head and looked his infuriated accuser boldly in the +face. + +By the time St. Genis paused in his impassioned denunciation, he had +himself completely under control: only his eyes appeared to glow with an +unnatural fire, and little beads of moisture appeared upon his brow and +matted the dark hair against his forehead. The Comte de Cambray at this +juncture would certainly have interposed with one of those temperate +speeches, full of dignity and brimming over with lofty sentiments, which +he knew so well how to deliver, but de Marmont gave him no time to +begin. When St. Genis paused for breath, he suddenly freed himself +completely with a quick movement, from Marchand's and Génevois' hold; +and then he turned to the Comte and to the rest of the company: + +"And what if I did pin the Emperor's proclamation on the walls of +Grenoble," he said proudly and with a tremor of enthusiasm in his voice, +"the Emperor, whom treachery more vile than any since the days of the +Iscariot sent into humiliation and exile! The Emperor has come back!" +cried the young devotee with that extraordinary fervour which Napoleon +alone--of all men that have ever walked upon this earth--was able to +suscitate: "his Imperial eagles once more soar over France carrying on +their wings her honour and glory to the outermost corners of Europe. His +proclamation is to his people who have always loved him, to his +soldiers who in their hearts have always been true to him. His +proclamation?" he added as with a kind of exultant war-cry he drew a +roll of paper from his pocket and held it out at arm's length above his +head, "his proclamation? Here it is! Vive l'Empereur! by the grace of +God!" + +Who shall attempt to describe the feelings of all those who were +assembled round this young enthusiast as he hurled his challenge right +in the face of those who called him a liar and a traitor? Surely it were +a hard task for the chronicler to search into the minds and hearts of +this score of men and women--who worshipped one God and reverenced one +King--at the moment when they saw that King threatened upon his throne, +their faith mocked and their God blasphemed: that the young man spoke +words of truth no one thought of denying. Napoleon's name had the power +to strike terror in the heart of every citizen who desired peace above +all things and of every royalist who wished to see King Louis in +possession of the throne of his fathers. But the army which had fought +under him, the army which he had led in triumph and to victory from one +end of the Continent of Europe to the other, that army still loved him +and had never been rightly loyal to King Louis. The horrors of war which +had lain so heavily over France and over Europe for the past twenty +years were painfully vivid still in everybody's mind, and all these +horrors were intimately associated with the name which stood out now in +bold characters on the paper which de Marmont was triumphantly waving. + +M. le Comte had become a shade or two paler than he had been before: he +looked very old, very careworn, all of a sudden, and his pale eyes had +that look in them which comes into the eyes of the old after years of +sorrow and of regret. + +But never for a moment did he depart from his attitude of dignity. When +de Marmont's exultant cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" had ceased to echo round +the majestic walls of this stately château, he straightened out his +spare figure and with one fine gesture begged for silence from his +guests. + +Then he said very quietly: "M. Marmont, this is neither the place nor +the opportunity which I should have chosen for confronting you with all +the lies which you have told in the past ten months ever since you +entered my house as an honoured guest. But M. de St. Genis has left me +no option. Burning with indignation at your treachery he came hot-foot +to unmask you, before my daughter's fair hand had affixed her own +honourable name beneath that of a cheat and a traitor. . . . Yes! M. de +Marmont," he reiterated with virile force, breaking in on the hot +protests which had risen to the young man's lips, "no one but a cheat +and a traitor could thus have wormed himself into the confidence of an +old man and of a young girl! No one but a villainous blackguard could +have contemplated the abominable deceptions which you have planned +against me and against my daughter." + +For a moment or two after the old man had finished speaking Victor de +Marmont remained silent. There were murmurs of indignation among the +guests, also of approval of the Comte's energetic words. De Marmont was +in the midst of a hostile crowd and he knew it. Here was no drawing-room +quarrel which could be settled at the point of a sword. Though--as Fate +and man so oft ordain it--a woman was the primary reason for the +quarrel, she was not its cause; and the hostility expressed against him +by every glance which de Marmont encountered was so general and so +great, that it overawed him even in the midst of his enthusiasm. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, and he made a great effort to appear +indifferent and unconcerned, "I wish for your daughter's sake that M. +de St. Genis had chosen some other time to make this fracas. We who have +learned chivalry at the Emperor's school would have hit our enemy when +he was in a position to defend himself. This, obviously, I cannot do at +this moment without trespassing still further upon your hospitality, and +causing Mlle. Crystal still more pain. I might even make a direct appeal +to her, since the decision in this matter rests, I imagine, primarily +with her, but with the Emperor at our gates, with the influence of his +power and of his pride dominating my every thought, I will with your +gracious permission relieve you of my unwelcome presence without taking +another leaf out of M. de St. Genis' book." + +"As you will, Monsieur," said the Comte stiffly. + +De Marmont bowed quite ceremoniously to him, and the Comte--courtly and +correct to the last--returned his salute with equal ceremony. Then the +young man turned to Crystal. + +For the first time, perhaps, since the terrible fracas had begun, he +realised what it all must mean to her. She did not try to evade his +look, or to turn away from him. On the contrary she looked him straight +in the face, and watched him while he approached her, without retreating +one single step. But she watched him just as one would watch an abject +and revolting cur, that was too vile and too mean even to merit a kick. + +Crystal's blue eyes were always expressive, but they had never been so +expressive as they were just then. De Marmont met her glance squarely, +and he read in it everything that she meant to convey--her contempt, her +loathing, her hatred--but above all her contempt. So overwhelming, so +complete was this contempt that it made him wince, as if he had been +struck in the face with a whip. + +He stood still, for he knew that she would never allow him to kiss her +hand in farewell, and he had had enough of insults--he knew that he +could not bear that final one. + +A red mist suddenly gathered before his eyes, a mad desire to strike, to +wound or to kill, and with it a wave of passion--he called it Love--for +this woman, such as he had never felt for her before. He gave her back +with a glance, hatred for hatred, but whereas her hatred for him was +smothered in contempt, his for her was leavened with a fierce and +dominant passion. + +All this had taken but a few seconds in accomplishment. M. le Comte had +not done more than give a sign to Hector to see M. de Marmont safely out +of the castle, and Maurice de St. Genis had only had time to think of +interposing, if de Marmont tried to take Crystal's hand. + +Only a few seconds, but a lifetime of emotion was crammed into them. +Then de Marmont, with Crystal's look of loathing still eating into his +soul, caught sight of Clyffurde who stood close by--Clyffurde whose one +thought throughout all this unhappy scene had been of Crystal, who +through it all had eyes and ears only for her. + +Some kind of instinct made the young girl look up to him just then: +probably only in response to a wave of memory which brought back to her +at that very moment, the words of devotion and offer of service which he +had spoken awhile ago; or it may have been that same sense which had +told her at the time that here was a man whom she could always trust, +that he would always prove a friend, as he had promised, and the look +which she gave him was one of simple confidence. + +But de Marmont just happened to intercept that look. He had never been +jealous of Clyffurde of course. Clyffurde--the foreigner, the bourgeois +tradesman--never could under any circumstances be a rival to reckon +with. At any other time he would have laughed at the idea of Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray bestowing the slightest favour upon the Englishman. +But within the last few seconds everything had become different. Victor +de Marmont, the triumphant and wealthy suitor of Mlle. de Cambray, had +become a pariah among all these ladies and gentlemen, and he had become +a man scorned by the woman whom he had wooed and thought to win so +easily. + +The fierce love engendered for Crystal in his turbulent heart by all the +hatred and all the scorn which she lavished upon him, brought an +unreasoning jealousy into being. He felt suddenly that he detested +Clyffurde. He remembered Clyffurde's nationality and its avowed hatred +of the hero whom he--de Marmont--worshipped. And he realised also that +that same hatred must of necessity be a bond between the Englishman and +Crystal de Cambray. + +Therefore--though this new untamed jealousy seized hold of him with +extraordinary power, though it brought that ominous red film before his +eyes, which makes a man strike out blindly and stupidly against his +rival, it also suggested to de Marmont a far simpler and far more +efficacious way of ridding himself once for all of any fear of rivalry +from Clyffurde. + +When he had bowed quite formally to Crystal he looked up at Bobby and +gave him a pleasant and friendly nod. + +"I suppose you will be coming with me, my good Clyffurde," he said +lightly, "we are rowing in the same boat, you and I. We were a very +happy party, were we not? you and Emery and I when Général Mouton met us +outside Grenoble: for we had just heard the glorious news that the +Emperor is marching triumphantly through France." + +Then he turned once more to St. Genis: "Did not," he said, "the +General's aide-de-camp tell you that, M. de St. Genis?" + +St. Genis had--during these few seconds while de Marmont held the centre +of the stage--succeeded in controlling his excitement, at any rate +outwardly. He was so absolutely master of the situation and had put his +successful rival so completely to rout, that the sense of satisfaction +helped to soothe his nerves: and when de Marmont spoke directly to him, +he was able to reply with comparative calm. + +"Had you," he said to de Marmont, "attempted to deny the accusation +which I have brought against you, I was ready to confront you with the +report which Général Mouton's aide-de-camp brought into the town." + +"I had no intention of denying my loyalty to the Emperor," rejoined de +Marmont, "but I would like to know what report Général Mouton's +aide-de-camp brought into Grenoble. The worthy General did not belie his +name, I assure you, he looked mightily scared when he recognised Emery." + +"He was alone with his aide-de-camp and in his coach," retorted St. +Genis, "whilst that traitor Emery, you and your friend Mr. Clyffurde +were on horseback--you gave him the slip easily enough." + +"That's true, of course," said de Marmont simply. "Well, shall we go, my +dear Clyffurde?" + +He had accomplished the purpose of his jealousy even more effectually +than he could have wished. He looked round and saw that everyone had +thrown a casual glance of contempt upon Clyffurde and then turned away +to murmur with scornful indifference: "I always mistrusted that man." +Or: "The Comte ought never to have had the fellow in the house," while +the words: "English spy!" and "Informer" were on every lip. + +But Clyffurde had made no movement during this brief colloquy. He +saw--just as de Marmont did--that everyone was listening more with +indifference than with horror. He--the stranger--was of so little +consequence after all!--a tradesman and an Englishman--what mattered +what his political convictions were? De Marmont was an object of +hatred, but he--Clyffurde--was only one of contempt. + +He heard the muttered words: "English spy!" "Informer!" and others of +still more overwhelming disdain. But he cared little what these people +said. He knew that they would never trouble to hear any justification +from himself--they would not worry their heads about him a moment longer +once he had left the house in company with de Marmont. + +He was not quite sure either whether de Marmont's spite had been +directed against himself, personally, or that it was merely the outcome +of his present humiliating position. + +M. le Comte had not bestowed more than a glance upon him and that from +under haughtily raised brows and across half the width of the room: but +Crystal had looked up to him, and was still looking, and it was that +look which had driven all the blood from Clyffurde's face and caused his +lips to set closely as if with a sense of physical pain. + +The insults which her father's guests were overtly murmuring, she had in +her mind and her eyes were conveying them to him far more plainly than +her lips could have done: + +"English spy--traitor to friendship and to trust--liar, deceiver, +hypocrite." That and more did her scornful glance imply. But she said +nothing. He tried to plead with eyes as expressive as were her own, and +she merely turned away from him, just as if he no longer existed. She +drew her skirt closer round her and somehow with that gesture she seemed +to sweep him entirely out of her existence. + +Even Mme. la Duchesse had not one glance for him. To these passionate, +hot-headed, impulsive royalists, an adherent of the Corsican ogre was +lower than the scum of the earth. They loathed de Marmont because he had +been one of themselves: he was a traitor, and not one man there but +would have liked to see him put up against a wall and summarily shot. +But the stranger they wiped out of their lives. + +Was there any chance for Clyffurde, if he tried to defend himself? None +of a certainty. He could not call the accusation a lie, since he had +been in the company of Emery and of de Marmont most of the day, and mere +explanations would have fallen on deaf and unwilling ears. + +Clyffurde knew this, nor did he attempt any explanation. There is a +certain pride in the heart of every English gentleman which in moments +of acute crisis rises to its full power and height. That pride would not +allow Clyffurde to utter a single word in his own defence. The futility +of attempting it also influenced his decision. He scorned the idea of +speaking on his own behalf, words which were doomed to be disbelieved. + +In a moment he had found himself absolutely isolated in the centre of +the room, not far from the hearth where he had stood a little while ago +talking to Crystal, and close to the chair where she had sat with the +light of the fire playing upon her satin gown. The cushions still bore +the impress of her young figure as she had leaned up against them: the +sight of it was an additional pain which almost made Clyffurde wince. + +He bowed silently and very low to Crystal and to Mme. la Duchesse, and +then to all the ladies and gentlemen who cold-shouldered him with such +contemptuous ostentation. De Marmont with head erect and an air of +swagger was already waiting for him at the door. Clyffurde in taking +leave of M. le Comte made a violent effort to say at any rate the one +word which weighed upon his heart. + +"Will you at least permit me, M. le Comte," he said, "to thank you for +. . ." + +But already the Comte had interrupted him, even before the words were +clearly out of his mouth. + +"I will not permit you, Sir," he broke in firmly, "to speak a single +word other than a plain denial of M. de St. Genis' accusations against +you." + +Then as Clyffurde relapsed into silence, M. le Comte continued with +haughty peremptoriness: + +"A plain 'yes' or 'no' will suffice, Sir. Were you or were you not in +the company of those traitors Emery and de Marmont when Général +Mouton-Duvernet came upon them outside Grenoble?" + +"I was," replied Clyffurde simply. + +With a stiff nod of the head the Comte turned his back abruptly upon +him; no one took any further notice of the "English spy." The accused +had been condemned without enquiry and without trial. In times like +these all one's friends must be above suspicion. Clyffurde knew that +there was nothing to be said. With a quickly suppressed sigh, he too +turned away and in his habitual, English, dogged way he resolutely set +his teeth, and with a firm soldierly step walked quietly out of the +room. + +"Hector, see that M. de Marmont's coach is ready for him," said M. le +Comte with well assumed indifference; "and that supper is no longer +delayed." + +He then once more offered his arm to Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun. "Mme. la +Duchesse," he said in his most courtly manner, "I beg that you will +accept my apologies for this unforeseen interruption. May I have the +honour of conducting you to supper?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS + + +I + +De Marmont, having successfully shot his poisoned arrow and brought down +his enemy, had no longer any ill-feeling against Clyffurde. His jealousy +had been short-lived; it was set at rest by the brief episode which had +culminated in the Englishman's final exit from the Castle of Brestalou. + +Not a single detail of that moving little episode had escaped de +Marmont's keen eyes: he had seen Crystal's look of positive abhorrence +wherewith she had regarded Clyffurde, he had seen the gathering up of +her skirts away--as it were--from the contaminating propinquity of the +"English spy." + +And de Marmont was satisfied. + +He was perfectly ready to pick up the strained strands of friendship +with the Englishman and affected not to notice the latter's absorption +and moodiness. + +"Can I drive you into Grenoble, my good Clyffurde?" he asked airily as +he paused on the top of the perron steps, waiting for the hackney coach. + +"I thank you," replied Clyffurde; "I prefer to walk." + +"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night." + +"I know my way, I thank you." + +"Just as you like." + +He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde +started walking down the monumental steps. + +"Well, I'll say 'good-night,' de Marmont," he said coldly. "And +'good-bye,' too." + +"You are not going away?" queried the other. + +"As soon as I can get the means of going." + +"Troops will be on the move all over the country soon. Foreigners will +be interned. You will have some difficulty in getting away." + +"I know that. That's why I want to make arrangements as early as +possible." + +"Where will you stay in the meanwhile?" + +"Possibly at the 'Trois-Dauphins' if I can get a room." + +"I shall see you again then. The Emperor will stay there while he is in +Grenoble. Well, good-night, my dear friend," said de Marmont, as he +extended a cordial hand to Clyffurde, who, in the dark, evidently failed +to see it. "And don't take the insults of all these fools too much to +heart." And he gave an expressive nod in the direction of the stately +castle behind him. + +"They are dolts," he continued airily; "if they possessed a grain of +sense they would have kept on friendly terms with me. As that old fool's +son-in-law I could have saved him from all the reprisals which will +inevitably fall on all these royalist traitors, now that the Emperor has +come into his own again." + +Clyffurde was half-way down the stone steps when these words of de +Marmont struck upon his ear. Instinctively he retraced his steps. There +was a suggestion of impending danger to Crystal in what the young man +had said. + +"What do you mean by talking about reprisals?" he asked. + +"Oh! . . . only the inevitable," replied de Marmont. "The people of the +Dauphiné never cared for these royalists, you know . . . and didn't +learn to like them any better in these past eleven months since the +Restoration. M. le Comte de Cambray has been very high and mighty since +his return from exile. He may yet come to wish that he had never quitted +the comfortable little provincial town in England where he gave drawing +lessons and French lessons to some very bourgeois boys. . . . But here's +that coach at last!" he continued with that jaunty air which he had +assumed since turning his back upon the reception halls of Brestalou. +"Are you sure that you would rather walk than drive with me?" + +"No," replied Clyffurde abruptly, "I am not sure. Thank you very much. I +think that if you don't object to my somewhat morose company I would +like a lift as far as Grenoble." + +He wanted to make de Marmont talk, to hear what the young man had to +say. From it he thought that he could learn more accurately what danger +would threaten Brestalou in the event of Napoleon's successful march to +Paris. + +That the great adventurer's triumph would be short-lived Clyffurde was +perfectly sure. He knew the temper of England and believed in the +military genius of Wellington. England would never tolerate for a moment +longer than she could help that the firebrand of Europe should once more +sit upon the throne of France, and unless the allies had greatly altered +their policy in the past ten months and refused England the necessary +support, Wellington would be more than a match for the decimated army of +Bonaparte. + +But a few weeks--months, perhaps, might elapse before Napoleon was once +again put entirely out of action--and this time more completely and more +effectually than with a small kingdom wherein to dream again of European +conquests; during those weeks and months Brestalou and its inhabitants +would be at the mercy of the man from Corsica--the island of unrest and +of never sleeping vendetta. + +De Marmont was ready enough to talk. He knew nothing, of course, of +Napoleon's plans and ideas save what Emery had told him. But what he +lacked in knowledge he more than made up in imagination. Excitement too +had made him voluble. He talked freely and incessantly: "The Emperor +would do this. . . . The Emperor will never tolerate that . . ." was all +the time on his lips. + +He bragged and he swaggered, launched into passionate eulogies of the +Emperor, and fiery denunciations of his enemies. Berthier, Clark, +Foucher, de Marmont, they all deserved death. Ney alone was to be +pardoned, for Ney was a fine soldier--always supposing that Ney would +repent. But men like the Comte de Cambray were a pest in any +country--mischief-making and intriguing. Bah! the Emperor will never +tolerate them. + +Suddenly Clyffurde--who had become half-drowsy, lulled to somnolence by +de Marmont's incessant chatter and the monotonous jog-trot of the +horses--woke to complete consciousness. He pricked his ears and in a +moment was all attention. + +"They think that they can deceive me," de Marmont was saying airily. +"They think that I am as great a fool as they are, with their talk of +Mme. la Duchesse's journey north, directly after the wedding! Bah! any +dolt can put two and two together: the Comte tells me in one breath that +he had a visit from Fourier in the afternoon, and that the Duchesse--who +only arrived in Brestalou yesterday--would leave again for Paris on the +day after to-morrow, and he tells it me with a mysterious air, and adds +a knowing wink, and a promise that he would explain himself more fully +later on. I could have laughed--if it were not all so miserably stupid." + +He paused for want of breath and tried to peer through the window of the +coach. + +"It is pitch-dark," he said, "but we can't be very far from the city +now." + +"I don't see," rejoined Clyffurde, ostentatiously smothering a yawn, +"what M. le préfet's visit to Brestalou had to do with the Duchesse's +journey to the north. You have got intrigues on the brain, my good de +Marmont." + +And with well-feigned indifference, he settled himself more cosily into +the dark corner of the carriage. + +De Marmont laughed. "What Fourier's afternoon visit has to do with Mme. +d'Agen's journey?" he retorted, "I'll tell you, my good Clyffurde. +Fourier went to see M. le Comte de Cambray this afternoon because he is +a poltroon. He is terrified at the thought that the unfortunate Empress' +money and treasure are still lying in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +and he went out to Brestalou in order to consult with the Comte what had +best be done with the money." + +"I didn't know the ex-Empress' money was lying in the cellar of the +Hôtel de Ville," remarked Clyffurde with well-assumed indifference. + +"Nor did I until Emery told me," rejoined de Marmont. "The money is +there though: stolen from the Empress Marie Louise by that +arch-intriguer Talleyrand. Twenty-five millions in notes and drafts! the +Emperor reckons on it for current expenses until he has reached Paris +and taken over the Treasury." + +"Even then I don't see what Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen has to do with it." + +"You don't," said de Marmont drily: "but I did in a moment. Fourier +wouldn't keep the money at the Hôtel de Ville: the Comte de Cambray +would not allow it to be deposited in his house. They both want the +Bourbon to have it. So--in order to lull suspicion--they have decided +that Madame la Duchesse shall take the money to Paris." + +"Well!--perhaps!--" said Clyffurde with a yawn. "But are we not in +Grenoble yet?" + +Once more he lapsed into silence, closed his eyes and to all intents and +purposes fell asleep, for never another word did de Marmont get out of +him, until Grenoble was reached and the rue Montorge. + +Here de Marmont had his lodgings, three doors from the "Hôtel des +Trois-Dauphins," where fortunately Clyffurde managed to secure a +comfortable room for himself. + +He parted quite amicably from de Marmont, promising to call in upon him +in the morning. It would be foolish to quarrel with that young wind-bag +now. He knew some things, and talked of a great many more. + + +II + +Preparations against the arrival of the Corsican ogre were proceeding +apace. Général Marchand had been overconfident throughout the day--which +was the 5th of March: "The troops," he said, "were loyal to a man. They +were coming in fast from Chambéry and Vienne; the garrison would and +could repulse that band of pirates, and take upon itself to fulfil the +promise which Ney had made to the King--namely to bring the ogre to His +Majesty bound and gagged in an iron cage." + +But the following day, which was the 6th, many things occurred to shake +the Commandant's confidence: Napoleon's proclamation was not only posted +up all over the town, but the citizens were distributing the printed +leaflets among themselves: one of the officers on the staff pointed out +to Général Marchand that the 4th regiment of artillery quartered in +Grenoble was the one in which Bonaparte had served as a lieutenant +during the Revolution--the men, it was argued, would never turn their +arms against one whom they had never ceased to idolize: it would not be +safe to march out into the open with men whose loyalty was so very +doubtful. + +There was a rumour current in the town that when the men of the 5th +regiment of engineers and the 4th of artillery were told that Napoleon +had only eleven hundred men with him, they all murmured with one accord: +"And what about us?" + +Therefore Général Marchand, taking all these facts into consideration, +made up his mind to await the ogre inside the walls of Grenoble. Here at +any rate defections and desertions would be less likely to occur than in +the field. He set to work to organise the city into a state of defence; +forty-seven guns were put in position upon the ramparts which dominate +the road to the south, and he sent a company of engineers and a +battalion of infantry to blow up the bridge of Ponthaut at La Mure. + +The royalists in the city, who were beginning to feel very anxious, had +assembled in force to cheer these troops as they marched out of the +city. But the attitude of the sapeurs created a very unpleasant +impression: they marched out in disorder, some of them tore the white +cockade from their shakos, and one or two cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" +were distinctly heard in their ranks. + +At La Mure, M. le Maire argued very strongly against the destruction of +the bridge of Ponthaut: "It would be absurd," he said, "to blow up a +valuable bridge, since not one kilometre away there was an excellent +ford across which Napoleon could march his troops with perfect ease." +The sapeurs murmured an assent, and their officer, Colonel Delessart, +feeling the temper of his men, did not dare insist. + +He quartered them at La Mure to await the arrival of the infantry, and +further orders from Général Marchand. When the 5th regiment of infantry +was reported to have reached Laffray, Delessart had the sapeurs out and +marched out to meet them, although it was then close upon midnight. + +While Delessart and his troops encamped at Laffray, Cambronne--who was +in command of Napoleon's vanguard--himself occupied La Mure. This was on +the 7th. The Mayor--who had so strongly protested against the +destruction of the bridge of Ponthaut--gathered the population around +him, and in a body men, women and children marched out of the borough +along the Corps-Sisteron road in order to give "the Emperor" a rousing +welcome. + +It was still early morning. Napoleon at the head of his Old Guard +entered La Mure; a veritable ovation greeted him, everyone pressed round +him to see him or touch his horse, his coat, his stirrups; he spoke to +the people and held the Mayor and municipal officials in long +conversation. + +Just as practically everywhere else on his route, he had won over every +heart; but his small column which had been eleven hundred strong when he +landed at Jouan, was still only eleven hundred strong: he had only +rallied four recruits to his standard. True, he had met with no +opposition, true that the peasantry of the Dauphiné had loudly acclaimed +him, had listened to his harangues and presented him with flowers, but +he had not had a single encounter with any garrison on his way, nor +could he boast of any defections in his favour; now he was nearing +Grenoble--Grenoble, which was strongly fortified and well +garrisoned--and Grenoble would be the winning or losing cast of this +great gamble for the sovereignty of France. + +It was close on eleven when the great adventurer set out upon this +momentous stage of his journey: the Polish Lancers leading, then the +chasseurs of his Old Guard with their time-worn grey coats and heavy +bear-skins; some of them were on foot, others packed closely together in +wagons and carts which the enthusiastic agriculturists of La Mure had +placed at the disposal of "the Emperor." + +Napoleon himself followed in his coach, his horse being led along. +Amidst thundering cries of "God speed" the small column started on its +way. + +As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history; every phase of it has +been put on record:--Delessart--worried in his mind that he had not been +able to obey Général Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of +Ponthaut--his desire to communicate once more with the General; his +decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the +narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to +oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side. + +On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons +wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself, +the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open +windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the +chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond +the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead +Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still +hidden--the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the +ignominy of irretrievable failure. + +History has made a record of it all, and it is not the purpose of this +true chronicle to do more than recall with utmost brevity the chief +incident of that memorable encounter, the Polish Lancers galloping back +with the report that the narrow pass was held against them in strong +force: the Old Guard climbing helter-skelter out of carts and wagons, +examining their arms, making ready: Napoleon stepping quickly out of his +coach and mounting his charger. + +On the other side Delessart holding hurried consultation with the +Vicomte de St. Genis whom Général Marchand has despatched to him with +orders to shoot the brigand and his horde as he would a pack of wolves. + +Napoleon is easily recognisable in the distance, with his grey overcoat, +his white horse and his bicorne hat; presently he dismounts and walks up +and down across the narrow road, evidently in a state of great mental +agitation. + +Delessart's men are sullen and silent; a crowd of men and women from +Grenoble have followed them up thus far; they work their way in and out +among the infantrymen: they have printed leaflets in their hands which +they cram one by one into the hands or pockets of the soldiers--copies +of Napoleon's proclamation. + +Now an officer of the Old Guard is seen to ride up the pass. Delessart +recognises him. They were brothers in arms two years ago and served +together under the greatest military genius the world has ever known. +Napoleon has sent the man on as an emissary, but Delessart will not +allow him to speak. + +"I mean to do my duty," he declares. + +But in his voice too there has already crept that note of sullenness +which characterised the sapeurs from the first. + +Then Captain Raoul, own aide-de-camp to Napoleon, comes up at full +gallop: nor does he draw rein till he is up with the entire front of +Delessart's battalion. + +"Your Emperor is coming," he shouts to the soldiers, "if you fire, the +first shot will reach him: and France will make you answerable for this +outrage!" + +While he shouts and harangues the men are still sullen and silent. And +in the distance the lances of the Polish cavalry gleam in the sun, and +the shaggy bear-skins of the Old Guard are seen to move forward up the +pass. Delessart casts a rapid piercing glance over his men. Sullenness +had given place to obvious terror. + +"Right about turn! . . . Quick! . . . March!" he commands. + +Resistance obviously would be useless with these men, who are on the +verge of laying down their arms. He forces on a quick march, but the +Polish Lancers are already gaining ground: the sound of their horses' +hoofs stamping the frozen ground, the snorting, the clanging of arms is +distinctly heard. Delessart now has no option. He must make his men turn +once more and face the ogre and his battalion before they are attacked +in the rear. + +As soon as the order is given and the two little armies stand face to +face the Polish Lancers halt and the Old Guard stand still. + +And it almost seems for the moment as if Nature herself stood still and +listened, and looked on. The genial midday sun is slowly melting the +snow on pine trees and rocks; one by one the glistening tiny crystals +blink and vanish under the warmth of the kiss; the hard, white road +darkens under the thaw and slowly a thin covering of water spreads over +the icy crust of the lakes. + +Napoleon tells Colonel Mallet to order the men to lower their arms. +Mallet protests, but Napoleon reiterates the command, more peremptorily +this time, and Mallet must obey. Then at the head of his old chasseurs, +thus practically disarmed, the Emperor--and he is every inch an Emperor +now--walks straight up to Delessart's opposing troops. + +Hot-headed St. Genis cries: "Here he is!--Fire, in Heaven's name!" + +But the sapeurs--the old regiment in which Napoleon had served as a +young lieutenant in those glorious olden days--are now as pale as death, +their knees shake under them, their arms tremble in their hands. + +At ten paces away from the foremost ranks Napoleon halts: + +"Soldiers," he cries loudly. "Here I am! your Emperor, do you know me?" + +Again he advances and with a calm gesture throws open his well-worn grey +redingote. + +"Fire!" cries St. Genis in mad exasperation. + +"Fire!" commands Delessart in a voice rendered shaky with overmastering +emotion. + +Silence reigns supreme. Napoleon still advances, step by step, his +redingote thrown open, his broad chest challenging the first bullet +which would dare to end the bold, adventurous, daring life. + +"Is there one of you soldiers here who wants to shoot his Emperor? If +there is, here I am! Fire!" + +Which of these soldiers who have served under him at Jena and Austerlitz +could resist such a call. His voice has lost nothing yet of its charm, +his personality nothing of its magic. Ambitious, ruthless, selfish he +may be, but to the army, a friend, a comrade as well as a god. + +Suddenly the silence is broken. Shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" rend the +air, they echo down the narrow valley, re-echo from hill to hill and +reverberate upon the pine-clad heights of Taillefer. Broken are the +ranks, white cockades fly in every direction, tricolours appear in their +hundreds everywhere. Shakos are waved on the points of the bayonets, and +always, always that cry: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Sapeurs and infantrymen crowd around the little man in the worn grey +redingote, and he with that rough familiarity which bound all soldiers' +hearts to him, seizes an old sergeant by the ends of his long moustache: + +"So, you old dog," he says, "you were going to shoot your Emperor, were +you?" + +"Not me," replies the man with a growl. "Look at our guns. Not one of +them was loaded." + +Delessart, in despair yet shaken to the heart, his eyes swimming in +tears, offers his sword to Napoleon, whereupon the Emperor grasps his +hand in friendship and comforts him with a few inspiring words. + +Only St. Genis has looked on all this scene with horror and contempt. +His royalist opinions are well known, his urgent appeal to Delessart a +while ago to "shoot the brigand and his hordes" still rings in every +soldier's ear. He is half-crazy with rage and there is quite an element +of terror in the confused thoughts which crowd in upon his brain. + +Already the sapeurs and infantrymen have joined the ranks of the Old +Guard, and Napoleon, with that inimitable verve and inspiring eloquence +of which he was pastmaster, was haranguing his troops. Just then three +horsemen, dressed in the uniform of officers of the National Guard and +wearing enormous tricolour cockades as large as soup-plates on their +shakos, are seen to arrive at a break-neck gallop down the pass from +Grenoble. + +St. Genis recognised them at a glance: they were Victor de Marmont, +Surgeon-Captain Emery and their friend the glovemaker, Dumoulin. The +next moment these three men were at the feet of their beloved hero. + +"Sire," said Dumoulin the glovemaker, "in the name of the citizens of +Grenoble we hereby offer you our services and one hundred thousand +francs collected in the last twenty-four hours for your use." + +"I accept both," replied the Emperor, while he grasped vigorously the +hands of his three most devoted friends. + +St. Genis uttered a loud and comprehensive curse: then he pulled his +horse abruptly round and with such a jerk that it reared and plunged +madly forward ere it started galloping away with its frantic rider in +the direction of Grenoble. + + +III + +And Grenoble itself was in a turmoil. + +In the barracks the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" were incessant; Général +Marchand was indefatigable in his efforts to still that cry, to rouse in +the hearts of the soldiers a sense of loyalty to the King. + +"Your country and your King," he shouted from barrack-room to +barrack-room. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" responded the soldiers with ever-growing +enthusiasm. + +The spirit of the army and of the people were Bonapartist to the core. +They had never trusted either Marchand or préfet Fourier, who had turned +their coats so readily at the Restoration: they hated the émigrés--the +Comte de Cambray, the Vicomte de St. Genis, the Duc d'Embrun--with their +old-fashioned ideas of the semi-divine rights of the nobility second +only to the godlike ones of the King. They thought them arrogant and +untamed, over-ready to grab once more all the privileges which a bloody +Revolution had swept away. + +To them Napoleon, despite the brilliant days of the Empire, despite his +autocracy, his militarism and his arrogance, represented "the people," +the advanced spirit of the Revolution; his downfall had meant a return +to the old regime--the regime of feudal rights, of farmers general, of +heavy taxation and dear bread. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was cried in the barracks and "Vive l'Empereur!" at +the street corners. + +A squadron of Hussars had marched into Grenoble from Vienne just before +noon: the same squadron which a few months ago at a revue by the Comte +d'Artois in the presence of the King had shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" What +faith could be put in their loyalty now? + +But two infantry regiments came in at the same time from Chambéry and on +these Général Marchand hoped to be able to reckon. The Comte Charles de +la Bédoyère was in command of the 7th regiment, and though he had served +in Prussia under Napoleon he had tendered his oath loyally to Louis +XVIII. at the Restoration. He was a tried and able soldier and Marchand +believed in him. The General himself reviewed both infantry regiments on +the Place d'Armes on their arrival, and then posted them upon the +ramparts of the city, facing direct to the southeast and dominating the +road to La Mure. + +De la Bédoyère remained in command of the 7th. + +For two hours he paced the ramparts in a state of the greatest possible +agitation. The nearness of Napoleon, of the man who had been his comrade +in arms first and his leader afterwards, had a terribly disturbing +effect upon his spirit. From below in the city the people's mutterings, +their grumbling, their sullen excitement seemed to rise upwards like an +intoxicating incense. The attitude of the troops, of the gunners, as +well as of the garrison and of his own regiment, worked more potently +still upon the Colonel's already shaken loyalty. + +Then suddenly his mind is made up. He draws his sword and shouts: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +"Soldiers!" he calls. "Follow me! I will show you the way to duty! +Follow me! Vive l'Empereur!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferate the troops. + +"After me, my men! to the Bonne Gate! After me!" cries De la Bédoyère. + +And to the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" the 7th regiment of infantry +passes through the gate and marches along the streets of the suburb on +towards La Mure. + +Général Marchand, hastily apprised of the wholesale defection, sends +Colonel Villiers in hot haste in the wake of De la Bédoyère. Villiers +comes up with the latter two kilomètres outside Grenoble. He talks, he +persuades, he admonishes, he scolds, De la Bédoyère and his men are +firm. + +"Your country and your king!" shouts Villiers. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" respond the men. And they go to join the +Old Guard at Laffray while Villiers in despair rides back into Grenoble. + +In the town the desertion of the 7th has had a very serious effect. The +muttered cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" are open shouts now. Général +Marchand is at his wits' ends. He has ordered the closing of every city +gate, and still the soldiers in batches of tens and twenties at a time +contrive to escape out of the town carrying their arms and in many cases +baggage with them. The royalist faction--the women as well as the +men--spend the whole day in and out of the barrack-rooms talking to the +men, trying to infuse into them loyalty to the King, and to cheer them +up by bringing them wine and provisions. + +In the afternoon the Vicomte de St. Genis, sick, exhausted, his horse +covered with lather, comes back with the story of the pass of Laffray, +and Napoleon's triumphant march toward Grenoble. Marchand seriously +contemplates evacuating the city in order to save the garrison and his +stores. + +Préfet Fourier congratulates himself on his foresight and on that he has +transferred the twenty-five million francs from the cellars of the Hôtel +de Ville into the safe keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray. He and Général +Marchand both hope and think that "the brigand and his horde" cannot +possibly be at the gates of Grenoble before the morrow, and that Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen would be well on her way to Paris with the money by that +time. + +Marchand in the meanwhile has made up his mind to retire from the city +with his troops. It is only a strategical measure, he argues, to save +bloodshed and to save his stores, pending the arrival of the Comte +d'Artois at Lyons, with the army corps. He gives the order for the +general retreat to commence at two o'clock in the morning. + +Satisfied that he has done the right thing, he finally goes back to his +quarters in the Hotel du Dauphiné close to the ramparts. The Comte de +Cambray is his guest at dinner, and toward seven o'clock the two men at +last sit down to a hurried meal, both their minds filled with +apprehension and not a little fear as to what the next few days will +bring. + +"It is, of course, only a question of time," says the Comte de Cambray +airily. "Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois will be at Lyons directly with +forty thousand men, and he will easily crush that marauding band of +pirates. But this time the Corsican after his defeat must be put more +effectually out of harm's way. I, personally, was never much in favour +of Elba." + +"The English have some islands out in the Atlantic or the Pacific," +responds Général Marchand with firm decision. "It would be safest to +shoot the brigand, but failing that, let the English send him to one of +those islands, and undertake to guard him well." + +"Let us drink to that proposition, my dear Marchand," concludes M. le +Comte with a smile. + +Hardly had the two men concluded this toast, when a fearful din is +heard, "regular howls" proceeding from the suburb of Bonne. The windows +of the hotel give on the ramparts and the house itself dominates the +Bonne Gate and the military ground beyond it. Hastily Marchand jumps up +from the table and throws open the window. He and the Comte step out +upon the balcony. + +The din has become deafening: with a hand that slightly trembles now +Général Marchand points to the extensive grounds that lie beyond the +city gate, and M. le Comte quickly smothers an exclamation of terror. + +A huge crowd of peasants armed with scythes and carrying torches which +flicker in the frosty air have invaded the slopes and flats of the +military zone. They are yelling "Vive l'Empereur!" at the top of their +voices, and from walls and bastions reverberates the answering cry "Vive +l'Empereur!" vociferated by infantrymen and gunners and sapeurs, and +echoed and re-echoed with passionate enthusiasm by the people of +Grenoble assembled in their thousands in the narrow streets which abut +upon the ramparts. + +And in the midst of the peasantry, surrounded by them as by a cordon, +Napoleon and his small army, just reinforced by the 7th regiment of +infantry, have halted--expectant. + +Napoleon's aide-de-camp, Capitaine Raoul, accompanied by half a dozen +lancers, comes up to the palisade which bars the immediate approach to +the city gates. + +"Open!" he cries loudly, so loudly that his young, firm voice rises +above the tumult around. "Open! in the name of the Emperor!" + +Marchand sees it all, he hears the commanding summons, hears the +thunderous and enthusiastic cheers which greet Captain Raoul's call to +surrender. He and the Comte de Cambray are still standing upon the +balcony of the hotel that faces the gate of Bonne and dominates from its +high ground the ramparts opposite. White-cheeked and silent the two men +have gazed before them and have understood. To attempt to stem this tide +of popular enthusiasm would inevitably be fatal. The troops inside +Grenoble were as ready to cross over to "the brigand's" standard as was +Colonel de la Bédoyère's regiment of infantry. + +The ramparts and the surrounding military zone were lit up by hundreds +of torches; by their flickering light the two men on the balcony could +see the faces of the people, and those of the soldiers who were even now +being ordered to fire upon Raoul and the Lancers. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command of the troops at the gate, sends a +hasty messenger to Général Marchand: "The brigand demands that we open +the gate!" reports the messenger breathlessly. + +"Tell the Colonel to give the order to fire," is Marchand's peremptory +response. + +"Are you coming with me, M. le Comte?" he asks hurriedly. But he does +not wait for a reply. Wrapping his cloak around him, he goes in the wake +of the messenger. M. le Comte de Cambray is close on his heels. + +Five minutes later the General is up on the ramparts. He has thrown a +quick, piercing glance round him. There are two thousand men up here, +twenty guns, ammunition in plenty. Out there only peasants and a +heterogeneous band of some fifteen hundred men. One shot from a gun +perhaps would send all that crowd flying, the first fusillade might +scatter "the band of brigands," but Marchand cannot, dare not give the +positive order to fire; he knows that rank insubordination, positive +refusal to obey would follow. + +He talks to the men, he harangues, he begs them to defend their city +against this "horde of Corsican pirates." + +To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a +captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be +tried and loyal royalists. + +"If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the +officers at least fire the first shot?" + +"M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was +filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners +have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to +pieces with their own batteries." + +The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in +from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the +town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more +insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades +which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the +gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly +resisting axe or pick. + +"Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!" + +They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What +price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners. + +"Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no +danger of the Emperor getting any." + +The women sing the old couplet: + + "Bon! Bon! Napoléon + Va rentrer dans sa maison!" + +and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain: + + "Nous allons voir le grand Napoléon + Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!" + +"What can we do, M. le Comte?" says Général Marchand at last. "We shall +have to give in." + +"I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame." + +Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of +an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the +tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de +Marmont and Colonel de la Bédoyère he advances as far as the gate which +still stands barred defiantly against him. + +"I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take +orders from the General himself." + +"He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon. + +"I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the +General." + +Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with +rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid +light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the +Emperor, who are being forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous +officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!" + +His shrill and frantic cries seem to precipitate the inevitable climax. +The tumult has become absolutely delirious. The soldiers on the ramparts +tumble over one another in a mad rush for the gate, which they try to +break open with the butt-end of their rifles; but they dare not actually +attack their own officers, and in any case they know that the keys of +the city are still in the hands of Général Marchand, and Général +Marchand has suddenly disappeared. + +Feeling the hopelessness and futility of further resistance, he has gone +back to his hotel, and is even now giving orders and making preparations +for leaving Grenoble. Préfet Fourier, hastily summoned, is with him, and +the Comte de Cambray is preparing to return immediately to Brestalou. + +"We shall all leave for Paris to-morrow, as early as possible," he says, +as he finally takes leave of the General and the préfet, "and take the +money with us, of course. If the King--which God forbid!--is obliged to +leave Paris, it will be most acceptable to him, until the day when the +allies are once more in the field and ready to crush, irretrievably this +time, this Corsican scourge of Europe." + +One or two of the royalist officers have succeeded in massing together +some two or three hundred men out of several regiments who appear to be +determined to remain loyal. + +St. Genis is not among these: his men had been among the first to cry +"Vive l'Empereur!" when ordered to fire on the brigand and his hordes. +They had even gone so far as to threaten their officers' lives. + +Now, covered with shame, and boiling with wrath at the defection, St. +Genis asks leave of the General to escort M. le Comte de Cambray and his +party to Paris. + +"We shall be better off for extra protection," urges M. le Comte de +Cambray in support of St. Genis' plea for leave. "I shall only have the +coachman and two postillions with me. M. de St. Genis would be of +immense assistance in case of footpads." + +"The road to Paris is quite safe, I believe," says Général Marchand, +"and at Lyons you will meet the army of M. le Comte d'Artois. But +perhaps M. de St. Genis had better accompany you as far as there, at any +rate. He can then report himself at Lyons. Twenty-five millions is a +large sum, of course, but the purpose of your journey has remained a +secret, has it not?" + +"Of course," says M. le Comte unhesitatingly, for he has completely +erased Victor de Marmont from his mind. + +"Well then, all you need fear is an attack from footpads--and even that +is unlikely," concludes Général Marchand, who by now is in a great hurry +to go. "But M. de St. Genis has my permission to escort you." + +The General entrusts the keys of the Bonne Gate to Colonel Roussille. He +has barely time to execute his hasty flight, having arranged to escape +out of Grenoble by the St. Laurent Gate on the north of the town. In the +meanwhile a carter from the suburb of St. Joseph outside the Bonne Gate +has harnessed a team of horses to one of his wagons and brought along a +huge joist: twenty pairs of willing and stout arms are already +manipulating this powerful engine for the breaking open of the resisting +gate. Already the doors are giving way, the hinges creak; and while +Général Marchand and préfet Fourier with their small body of faithful +soldiers rush precipitately across the deserted streets of the town, +Colonel Roussille makes ready to open the Gate of Bonne to the Emperor +and to his soldiers. + +"My regiment was prepared to turn against me," he says to his men, "but +I shall not turn against them." + +Then he formally throws open the gate. + +Ecstatic delight, joyful enthusiasm, succeeds the frantic cries of a +while ago. Napoleon entering the city of Grenoble was nearly crushed to +death by the frenzy of the crowd. Cheered to the echoes, surrounded by +a delirious populace which hardly allowed him to move, it was hours +before he succeeded in reaching the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins, where he +was resolved to spend the night, since it was kept by an ex-soldier, one +of his own Old Guard of the Italian campaign. + +The enthusiasm was kept up all night. The town was illuminated. Until +dawn men and women paraded the streets singing the "Marseillaise" and +shouting "Vive l'Empereur!" + +In a small room, simply furnished but cosy and comfortable, the great +adventurer, who had conquered half the world and lost it and had now set +out to conquer it again, sat with half a dozen of his most faithful +friends: Cambronne and Raoul, Victor de Marmont and Emery. + +On the table spread out before him was an ordnance map of the province; +his clenched hand rested upon it; his eyes, those eagle-like, piercing +eyes which had so often called his soldiers to victory, gazed out +straight before him, as if through the bare, white-washed walls of this +humble hotel room he saw the vision of the brilliant halls of the +Tuileries, the imperial throne, the Empress beside him, all her +faithlessness and pusillanimity forgiven, his son whom he worshipped, +his marshals grouped around him; and with a gesture of proud defiance he +threw back his head and said loudly: + +"Until to-day I was only an adventurer. To-night I am a prince once +more." + + +IV + +It was the next morning in that same sparsely-furnished and uncarpeted +room of the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins that Napoleon spoke to Victor de +Marmont, to Emery and Dumoulin about the money which had been stolen +last year from the Empress and which he understood had been deposited +in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville. + +"I am not going," he said, "to levy a war tax on my good city of +Grenoble, but my good and faithful soldiers must be paid, and I must +provision my army in case I encounter stronger resistance at Lyons than +I can cope with, and am forced to make a détour. I want the money--the +Empress' money, which that infamous Talleyrand stole from her. So you, +de Marmont, had best go straight away to the Hôtel de Ville and in my +name summon the préfet to appear before me. You can tell him at once +that it is on account of the money." + +"I will go at once, Sire," replied de Marmont with a regretful sigh, +"but I fear me that it is too late." + +"Too late?" snapped out the Emperor with a frown, "what do you mean by +too late?" + +"I mean that Fourier has left Grenoble in the trail of Marchand, and +that two days ago--unless I'm very much mistaken--he disposed of the +money." + +"Disposed of the money? You are mad, de Marmont." + +"Not altogether, Sire. When I say that Fourier disposed of the Empress' +money I only mean that he deposited it in what he would deem a safe +place." + +"The cur!" exclaimed Napoleon with a yet tighter clenching of his hand +and mighty fist, "turning against the hand that fed him and made him +what he is. Well!" he added impatiently, "where is the money now?" + +"In the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray at Brestalou," replied de +Marmont without hesitation. + +"Very well," said the Emperor, "take a company of the 7th regiment with +you to Brestalou and requisition the money at once." + +"If--as I believe--the Comte no longer has the money by him?----" + +"Make him tell you where it is." + +"I mean, Sire, that it is my belief that M. le Comte's sister and +daughter will undertake to take the money to Paris, hoping by their sex +and general air of innocence to escape suspicion in connection with the +money." + +"Don't worry me with all these details, de Marmont," broke in Napoleon +with a frown of impatience. "I told you to take a company with you and +to get me the Empress' money. See to it that this is done and leave me +in peace." + +He hated arguing, hated opposition, the very suggestion of any +difficulty. His followers and intimates knew that; already de Marmont +had repented that he had allowed his tongue to ramble on quite so much. +Now he felt that silence must redeem his blunder--silence now and +success in his undertaking. + +He bent the knee, for this homage the great Corsican adventurer and +one-time dictator of civilised Europe loved to receive: he kissed the +hand which had once wielded the sceptre of a mighty Empire and was ready +now to grasp it again. Then he rose and gave the military salute. + +"It shall be done, Sire," was all that he said. + +His heart was full of enthusiasm, and the task allotted to him was a +congenial one: the baffling and discomfiture of those who had insulted +him. If--as he believed--Crystal would be accompanying her aunt on the +journey toward Paris, then indeed would his own longing for some sort of +revenge for the humiliation which he had endured on that memorable +Sunday evening be fully gratified. + +It was with a light and swinging step that he ran down the narrow stairs +of the hotel. In the little entrance hall below he met Clyffurde. + +In his usual impulsive way, without thought of what had gone before or +was likely to happen in the future, he went up to the Englishman with +outstretched hand. + +"My dear Clyffurde," he said with unaffected cordiality, "I am glad to +see you! I have been wondering what had become of you since we parted on +Sunday last. My dear friend," he added ecstatically, "what glorious +events, eh?" + +He did not wait for Clyffurde's reply, nor did he appear to notice the +latter's obvious coldness of manner, but went prattling on with great +volubility. + +"What a man!" he exclaimed, nodding significantly in the direction +whence he had just come. "A six days' march--mostly on foot and along +steep mountain paths! and to-day as fresh and vigorous as if he had just +spent a month's holiday at some pleasant watering place! What luck to be +serving such a man! And what luck to be able to render him really useful +service! The tables will be turned, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" he added, +giving his taciturn friend a jovial dig in the ribs, "and what lovely +discomfiture for our proud aristocrats, eh? They will be sorry to have +made an enemy of Victor de Marmont, what?" + +Whereupon Clyffurde made a violent effort to appear friendly and jovial +too. + +"Why," he said with a pleasant laugh, "what madcap ideas are floating +through your head now?" + +"Madcap schemes?" ejaculated de Marmont. "Nothing more or less, my dear +Clyffurde, than complete revenge for the humiliation those de Cambrays +put upon me last Sunday." + +"Revenge? That sounds exciting," said Clyffurde with a smile, even while +his palm itched to slap the young braggart's face. + +"Exciting, _par Dieu!_ Of course it will be exciting. They have no idea +that I guessed their little machinations. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +travelling to Paris forsooth! Aye! but with five and twenty millions +sewn somewhere inside her petticoats. Well! the Emperor happens to want +his own five and twenty millions, if you please. So Mme. la Duchesse or +M. le Comte will have to disgorge. And I shall have the pleasing task +of _making_ them disgorge. What say you to that, friend Clyffurde?" + +"That I am sorry for you," replied the other drily. + +"Sorry for me? Why?" + +"Because it is never a pleasing task to bully a defenceless woman--and +an old one at that." + +De Marmont laughed aloud. "Bully Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen?" he exclaimed. +"_Sacré tonnerre!_ what do you take me for. I shall not bully her. Fifty +soldiers don't bully a defenceless woman. We shall treat Mme. la +Duchesse with every consideration: we shall only remove five and twenty +millions of stolen money from her carriage, that is all." + +"You may be mistaken about the money, de Marmont. It may be anywhere +except in the keeping of Mme. la Duchesse." + +"It may be at the Château de Brestalou in the keeping of M. le Comte de +Cambray: and this I shall find out first of all. But I must not stand +gossiping any longer. I must see Colonel de la Bédoyère and get the men +I want. What are your plans, my dear Clyffurde?" + +"The same as before," replied Bobby quietly. "I shall leave Grenoble as +soon as I can." + +"Let the Emperor send you on a special mission to Lord Grenville, in +London, to urge England to remain neutral in the coming struggle." + +"I think not," said Clyffurde enigmatically. + +De Marmont did not wait to ask him to what this brief remark had +applied; he bade his friend a hasty farewell, then he turned on his +heel, and gaily whistling the refrain of the "Marseillaise," stalked out +of the hotel. + +Clyffurde remained standing in the narrow panelled hall, which just then +reeked strongly of stewed onions and of hot coffee; he never moved a +muscle, but remained absolutely quiet for the space of exactly two +minutes; then he consulted his watch--it was then close on midday--and +finally went back to his room. + + +V + +An hour after dawn that self-same morning the travelling coach of M. le +Comte de Cambray was at the perron of the Château de Brestalou. + +At the last moment, when M. le Comte, hopelessly discouraged by the +surrender of Grenoble to the usurper, came home at a late hour of the +night, he decided that he too would journey to Paris with his sister and +daughter, taking the money with him to His Majesty, who indeed would +soon be in sore need of funds. + +At that same late hour of the night M. le Comte discovered that with the +exception of faithful Hector and one or two scullions in the kitchen his +male servants both indoor and out had wandered in a body out to Grenoble +to witness "the Emperor's" entry into the city. They had marched out of +the château to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and outside the gates had +joined a number of villagers of Brestalou who were bent on the same +errand. + +Fortunately one of the coachmen and two of the older grooms from the +stables returned in the early dawn after the street demonstrations +outside the Emperor's windows had somewhat calmed down, and with the +routine of many years of domestic service had promptly and without +murmurings set to to obey the orders given to them the day before: to +have the travelling berline ready with four horses by seven o'clock. + +It was very cold: the coachman and postillions shivered under their +threadbare liveries. The coachman had wrapped a woollen comforter round +his neck and pulled his white beaver broad-brimmed hat well over his +brows, as the northeast wind was keen and would blow into his face all +the way to Lyons, where the party would halt for the night. He had +thick woollen gloves on and of his entire burly person only the tip of +his nose could be seen between his muffler and the brim of his hat. The +postillions, whip in hand, could not wrap themselves up quite so snugly: +they were trying to keep themselves warm by beating their arms against +their chest. + +M. le Comte, aided by Hector, was arranging for the disposal of leather +wallets underneath the cushions of the carriage. The wallets contained +the money--twenty-five millions in notes and drafts--a godsend to the +King if the usurper did succeed in driving him out of the Tuileries. + +Presently the ladies came down the perron steps with faithful Jeanne in +attendance, who carried small bags and dressing-cases. Both the ladies +were wrapped in long fur-lined cloaks and Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen had +drawn a hood closely round her face; but Crystal de Cambray stood +bareheaded in the cold frosty air, the hood of her cloak thrown back, +her own fair hair, dressed high, forming the only covering for her head. + +Her face looked grave and even anxious, but wonderfully serene. This +should have been her wedding morning, the bells of old Brestalou church +should even now have been ringing out their first joyous peal to +announce the great event. Often and often in the past few weeks, ever +since her father had formally betrothed her to Victor de Marmont, she +had thought of this coming morning, and steeled herself to be brave +against the fateful day. She had been resigned to the decree of the +father and to the necessities of family and name--resigned but terribly +heartsore. She was obeying of her own free will but not blindly. She +knew that her marriage to a man whom she did not love was a sacrifice on +her part of every hope of future happiness. Her girlish love for St. +Genis had opened her eyes to the possibilities of happiness; she knew +that Life could hold out a veritable cornucopia of delight and joy in a +union which was hallowed by Love, and her ready sacrifice was therefore +all the greater, all the more sublime, because it was not offered up in +ignorance. + +But all that now was changed. She was once more free to indulge in those +dreams which had gladdened the days and nights of her lonely girlhood +out in far-off England: dreams which somehow had not even found their +culmination when St. Genis first told her of his love for her. They had +always been golden dreams which had haunted her in those distant days, +dreams of future happiness and of love which are seldom absent from a +young girl's mind, especially if she is a little lonely, has few +pleasures and is surrounded with an atmosphere of sadness. + +Crystal de Cambray, standing on the perron of her stately home, felt but +little sorrow at leaving it to-day: she had hardly had the time in one +brief year to get very much attached to it: the sense of unreality which +had been born in her when her father led her through its vast halls and +stately parks had never entirely left her. The little home in England, +the tiny sitting-room with its bow window, and small front garden edged +with dusty evergreens, was far more real to her even now. She felt as if +the last year with its pomp and gloomy magnificence was all a dream and +that she was once more on the threshold of reality now, on the point of +waking, when she would find herself once more in her narrow iron bed and +see the patched and darned muslin curtains gently waving in the draught. + +But for the moment she was glad enough to give herself to the delight of +this sudden consciousness of freedom. She sniffed the sharp, frosty air +with dilated nostrils like a young Arab filly that scents the +illimitable vastness of meadowland around her. The excitement of the +coming adventure thrilled her: she watched with glowing eyes the +preparations for the journey, the bestowal under the cushions of the +carriage of the money which was to help King Louis to preserve his +throne. + +In a sense she was sorry that her father and her aunt were coming too. +She would have loved to fly across country as a trusted servant of her +King; but when the time came to make a start she took her place in the +big travelling coach with a light heart and a merry face. She was so +sure of the justice of the King's cause, so convinced of God's wrath +against the usurper, that she had no room in her thoughts for +apprehension or sadness. + +The Comte de Cambray on the other hand was grave and taciturn. He had +spent hours last evening on the ramparts of Grenoble. He had watched the +dissatisfaction of the troops grow into open rebellion and from that to +burning enthusiasm for the Corsican ogre. St. Genis had given him a +vivid account of the encounter at Laffray, and his ears were still +ringing with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which had filled the +streets and ramparts of Grenoble until he himself fled back to his own +château, sickened at all that he had seen and heard. + +He knew that the King's own brother, M. le Comte d'Artois, was at Lyons +even now with forty thousand men who were reputed to be loyal, but were +not the troops of Grenoble reputed to be loyal too? and was it likely +that the regiments at Lyons would behave so very differently to those at +Grenoble? + +Thus the wearisome journey northwards in the lumbering carriage +proceeded mostly in silence. None of the occupants seemed to have much +to say. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen and M. le Comte sat on the back seats +leaning against the cushions; Crystal de Cambray and ever-faithful +Jeanne sat in front, making themselves as comfortable as they could. + +There was a halt for _déjeuner_ and change of horses at Rives, and here +Maurice de St. Genis overtook the party. He proposed to continue the +journey as far as Lyons on horseback, riding close by the off side of +the carriage. Here as well as at the next halt, at St. André-le-Gaz, +Maurice tried to get speech with Crystal, but she seemed cold in manner +and unresponsive to his whispered words. He tried to approach her, but +she pleaded fatigue and anxiety, and he was glad then that he had made +arrangements not to travel beside her in the lumbering coach. His +position on horseback beside the carriage would, he felt, be a more +romantic one, and he half-hoped that some enterprising footpad would +give him a chance of displaying his pluck and his devotion. + +A start was made from St. André-le-Gaz at six o'clock in the afternoon. +Crystal was getting very cramped and tired, even the fine views over the +range of the Grande Chartreuse and the long white plateau of the Dent de +Crolles, with the wintry sunset behind it, failed to enchain her +attention. Her father and her aunt slept most of the time each in a +corner of the carriage, and after the start from St. André-le-Gaz, +comforted with hot coffee and fresh bread and the prospect of Lyons now +only some sixty kilomètres away, Crystal settled herself against the +cushions and tried to get some sleep. + +The incessant shaking of the carriage, the rattle of harness and wheels, +the cracking of the postillions' whips, all contributed to making her +head ache, and to chase slumber away. But gradually her thoughts became +more confused, as the dim winter twilight gradually faded into night and +a veil of impenetrable blackness spread itself outside the windows of +the coach. + +The northeasterly wind had not abated: it whistled mournfully through +the cracks in the woodwork of the carriage and made the windows rattle +in their framework. On the box the coachman had much ado to see well +ahead of him, as the vapour which rose from the flanks and shoulders of +his steaming horses effectually blurred every outline on the road. The +carriage lanthorns threw a weird and feeble light upon the ever-growing +darkness. To right and left the bare and frozen common land stretched +its lonely vastness to some distant horizon unseen. + + +VI + +Suddenly the cumbrous vehicle gave a terrific lurch, which sent the +unsuspecting Jeanne flying into Mme. la Duchesse's lap and threw Crystal +with equal violence against her father's knees. There was much cracking +of whips, loud calls and louder oaths from coachman and postillions, +much creaking and groaning of wheels, another lurch--more feeble this +time--more groaning, more creaking, more oaths and finally the coach +with a final quivering as it were of all its parts settled down to an +ominous standstill. + +Whereafter the oaths sounded more muffled, while there was a scampering +down from the high altitude of the coachman's box and a confused murmur +of voices. + +It was then close on eight o'clock: Lyons was distant still some dozen +miles or so--and the night by now was darker than pitch. + +M. le Comte, roused from fitful slumbers and trying to gather his +wandering wits, put his head out of the window: "What is it, Pierre?" he +called out loudly. "What has happened?" + +"It's this confounded ditch, M. le Comte," came in a gruff voice from +out the darkness. "I didn't know the bridge had entirely broken down. +This sacré government will not look after the roads properly." + +"Are you there, Maurice?" called the Comte. + +But strangely enough there came no answer to his call. M. de St. Genis +must have fallen back some little distance in the rear, else he surely +would have heard something of the clatter, the shouts and the swearing +which were attending the present unfortunate contretemps. + +"Maurice! where are you?" called the Comte again. And still no answer. + +Pierre was continuing his audible mutterings. "Darkness as black +as----": then he shouted with a yet more forcible volley of oaths: +"Jean! you oaf! get hold of the off mare, can't you? And you, what's +your name, you fool? ease the near gelding. Heavens above, what dolts!" + +"Stop a moment," cried M. le Comte, "wait till the ladies can get out. +This pulling and lurching is unbearable." + +"Ease a moment," commanded Pierre stolidly. "Go to the near door, Jean, +and help the master out of the carriage." + +"Hark! what was that?" It was M. le Comte who spoke. There had been a +momentary lull in the creaking and groaning of the wheels, while the two +young postillions obeyed the coachman's orders to "ease a moment," and +one of them came round to help the ladies and his master out of the +lurching vehicle; only the horses' snorting, the champing of their bits +and pawing of the hard ground broke the silence of the night. + +M. le Comte had opened the near door and was half out of the carriage +when a sound caught his ear which was in no way connected with the +stranded vehicle and its team of snorting horses. Yet the sound came +from horses--horses which were on the move not very far away and which +even now seemed to be coming nearer. + +"Who goes there? Maurice, is that you?" called M. le Comte more loudly. + +"Stand and deliver!" came the peremptory response. + +"Stand yourself or I fire," retorted the Comte, who was already groping +for the pistol which he kept inside the carriage. + +"You murderous villain!" came with the inevitable string of oaths from +Pierre the coachman. "You . . ." + +The rest of this forceful expletive was broken and muffled. Evidently +Pierre had been summarily gagged. There was a short, sharp scuffle +somewhere on ahead; cries for help from the two postillions which were +equally sharply smothered. The horses began rearing and plunging. + +"One of you at the leaders' heads," came in a clear voice which in this +impenetrable darkness sounded weirdly familiar to the occupants of the +carriage, who awed, terrified by this unforeseen attack sat motionless, +clinging to one another inside the vehicle. + +Alone the Comte had not lost his presence of mind. Already he had jumped +out of the carriage, banging the door to behind him, despite feeble +protests from his sister; pistol in hand he tried with anxious eyes to +pierce the inky blackness around him. + +A muffled groan on his right caused him to turn in that direction. + +"Release my coachman," he called peremptorily, "or I fire." + +"Easy, M. le Comte," came as a sharp warning out of the night, in those +same weirdly familiar tones; "as like as not you would be shooting your +own men in this infernal darkness." + +"Who is it?" whispered Crystal hoarsely. "I seem to know that voice." + +"God protect us," murmured Jeanne. "It's the devil's voice, +Mademoiselle." + +Mme. la Duchesse said nothing. No doubt she was too frightened to speak. +Her thin, bony fingers were clasped tightly round her niece's hands. + +Suddenly there was another scuffle by the door, the sharp report of a +pistol and then that strangely familiar voice called out again: + +"Merely as a matter of form, M. le Comte!" + +"You will hang for this, you rogue," came in response from the Comte. + +But already Crystal had torn her hands out of Mme. la Duchesse's grasp +and now was struggling to free herself from Jeanne's terrified and +clinging embrace. + +"Father!" she cried wildly. "Maurice! Maurice! Help! Let me go, Jeanne! +They are hurting him!" + +She had succeeded in pushing Jeanne roughly away and already had her +hand on the door, when it was opened from the outside, and the +flickering light of a carriage lanthorn fell full on the interior of the +vehicle. Neither Crystal nor Mme. la Duchesse could effectually suppress +a sudden gasp of terror, whilst Jeanne threw her shawl right over her +head, for of a truth she thought that here was the devil himself. + +The light illumined the lanthorn-bearer only fitfully, but to the +terror-stricken women he appeared to be preternaturally tall and broad, +with wide caped coat pulled up to his ears and an old-fashioned tricorne +hat on his head; his face was entirely hidden by a black mask, and his +hands by black kid gloves. + +"I pray you ladies," he said quietly, and this time the voice was +obviously disguised and quite unrecognisable. "I pray you have no fear. +Neither I nor my men will do you or yours the slightest harm, if you +will allow me without any molestation on your part to make an +examination of the interior of your carriage." + +Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne remained silent: the one from fear, the +other from dignity. But it was not in Crystal's nature to submit quietly +to any unlawful coercion. + +"This is an infamy," she protested loudly, "and you, my man, will swing +on the nearest gallows for it." + +"No doubt I should if I were found out," said the man imperturbably, +"but the military patrols of M. le Comte d'Artois don't come out as far +as this: nevertheless I must ask you ladies not to detain me on my +business any longer. My men are at the door and it is over a quarter of +an hour ago since we placed M. de St. Genis temporarily yet effectually +hors de combat. I pray you, therefore, step out without delay so that I +may proceed to ascertain whether there is anything in this carriage +likely to suit my requirements." + +"You must be a madman as well as a thief," retorted Crystal loudly, "to +imagine that we would submit to such an outrage." + +"If you do not submit, Madame," said the man calmly, "I will order my +man to shoot M. le Comte in the right leg." + +"You would not dare. . . ." + +But the miscreant turned his head slowly round and called over his +shoulder into the night: + +"Attention, my men! M. le Comte de Cambray!--have you got him?" + +"Aye! aye, sir!" came from out the darkness. + +Crystal gave a wild scream, and with an agonised gesture of terror +clutched the highway robber by the coat. + +"No! no!" she cried. "Stop! stop! no! Father! Help!" + +"Mademoiselle," said the man, quietly releasing his coat from her +clinging hands, "remember that M. le Comte is perfectly safe if you will +deign to step out of the carriage without further delay." + +He held the lanthorn in one hand, the other was suddenly imprisoned by +Crystal's trembling fingers. + +"Sir," she pleaded in a voice broken by terror and anxiety, "we are +helpless travellers on our way to Paris, driven out of our home by the +advancing horde of Corsican brigands. Our little all we have with us. +You cannot take that all from us. Let us give you some money of our own +free will, then the shame of robbing women who have in the darkness of +the night been rendered helpless will not rest upon you. Oh! have pity +upon us. Your voice is so gentle you must be good and kind. You will let +us proceed on our way, will you not? and we'll take a solemn oath that +we'll not attempt to put any one on your track. You will, won't you? I +swear to you that you will be doing a far finer deed thereby than you +can possibly dream of." + +"I have some jewelry about my person," here interposed Madame's sharp +voice drily, "also some gold. I agree to what my niece says. We'll swear +to do nothing against you when we reach Lyons, if you will be content +with what we give you of our own free will and let us go in peace." + +The man allowed both ladies to speak without any interruption on his +part. He even allowed Crystal's dainty fingers to cling around his +gloved hand for as long as she chose: no doubt he found some pleasure in +this tearful appeal from such beautiful lips, for Crystal looked +divinely pretty just then, with the flickering light of the lanthorn +throwing her fair head into bold relief against the surrounding gloom. +Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears, her delicate mouth was +quivering with the piteousness of her appeal. + +But when Mme. la Duchesse had finished speaking and began to divest +herself of her rings he released his hand very gently and said in his +even, quiet voice: + +"Your pardon, Madame; but as it happens I have no use for ladies' +trinkets, while all that you have been good enough to tell me only makes +me the more eager to examine the contents of this carriage." + +"But there's nothing of value in it," asserted Madame unblushingly, +"except what we are offering you now." + +"That is as may be, Madame. I would wish to ascertain." + +"You impious malapert!" she cried out wrathfully, "would you dare lay +hands upon a woman?" + +"No, Madame, certainly not," he replied. "I will merely, as I have had +the honour to tell you, order my men to shoot M. le Comte de Cambray in +the right leg." + +"You vagabond! you thief! you wouldn't dare," expostulated Madame, who +seemed now on the verge of hysteria. + +"Attention, my men!" he called once more over his left shoulder. + +"It is no use, _ma tante_," here interposed Crystal with sudden calm. +"We must yield to brute force. Let us get out and allow this abominable +thief to wreak his impious will with us, else we lay ourselves open to +further outrage at his hands. Be sure that retribution, swift and +certain, will overtake him in the end." + +"Come! that's wisely spoken," said the man, who seemed in no way +perturbed by the scornful glances which Crystal and Madame now freely +darted upon him. He stood a little aside, holding the door open for them +to step out of the carriage. + +"Where is M. le Comte de Cambray?" queried Crystal as she brushed past +him. + +"Close by," he replied, "to your right now, Mademoiselle, and perfectly +safe, and M. le Marquis de St. Genis is not two hundred mètres away, +equally secure and equally safe. Here, le Bossu," he added, calling out +into the night, "ease the gag round your prisoner's mouth a little so +that he may speak to the ladies." + +While Madame la Duchesse groped her way along in the direction whence +came sounds of stirring, groaning and not a little cursing which +proclaimed the presence of some men held captive by others, Crystal +remained beside the carriage door as if rooted to the spot. The feeble +light of the lanthorn had shown her at a glance that the masked +miscreant had taken every precaution for the success of his nefarious +purpose. How many men he had with him altogether, she could not of +course ascertain: half a dozen perhaps, seeing that her father, the +coachman and two postillions had been overpowered and were being closely +guarded, whilst she distinctly saw that two men at least were standing +behind their chief at this moment in order to ward off any possible +attack against him from the rear, while he himself was engaged in the +infamous task of robbing the coach of its contents. + +Crystal saw him start to work in a most methodical manner. He had stood +the lanthorn on the floor of the carriage and was turning over every +cushion and ransacking every pocket. The leather wallets which he found, +he examined with utmost coolness, seeing indeed that they were stuffed +full of banknotes and drafts. His huge caped coat appeared to have +immense pockets, into which those precious wallets disappeared one by +one. + +She knew of course that resistance was useless: the occasional glint of +the feeble lanthorn light upon the pistols held by the men close beside +her taught her the salutary lesson of silence and dignity. She clenched +her hands until her nails were almost driven into the flesh of her +palms, and her face now glowed with a fierce and passionate resentment. +This money which might have saved the King and France from the immediate +effects of the usurper's invasion was now the booty of a common thief! +Wild thoughts of vengeance coursed through her brain: she felt like a +tiger-cat that was being robbed of its young. Once--unable to control +herself--she made a wild dash forward, determined to fight for her +treasure, to scratch or to bite--to do anything in fact rather than +stand by and see this infamous spoliation. But immediately her hands +were seized, and an ominous word of command rang out weirdly through the +night. + +"Resistance here! Attention over there!" + +Her father's safety was a guarantee of her own acquiescence. Struggling, +fighting was useless! the abominable thief must be left to do his work +in peace. + +It did not take long. A minute or two later he too had stepped out of +the carriage. He ordered one of his followers to hold the lanthorn and +then quietly took up his stand beside the open door. + +"Now, ladies, an you desire it," he said calmly, "you may continue your +journey. Your coachman and your men are close here, on the road, +securely bound. M. de St. Genis is not far off--straight up the +road--you cannot miss him. We leave you free to loosen their bonds. To +horse, my men!" he added in a loud, commanding voice. "Le Bossu, hold my +horse a moment! and you ladies, I pray you accept my humble apologies +that I do not stop to see you safely installed." + +As in a dream Crystal heard the bustle incident on a number of men +getting to horse: in the gloom she saw vague forms moving about +hurriedly, she heard the champing of bits, the clatter of stirrup and +bridle. The masked man was the last to move. After he had given the +order to mount he stood for nearly a minute by the carriage door, +exactly facing Crystal, not five paces away. + +His companion had put the lanthorn down on the step, and by its light +she could see him distinctly: a mysterious, masked figure who, with +wanton infamy, had placed the satisfaction of his dishonesty and of his +greed athwart the destiny of the King of France. + +Crystal knew that through the peep-holes of his mask, the man's eyes +were fixed intently upon her and the knowledge caused a blush of +mortification and of shame to flood her cheeks and throat. At that +moment she would gladly have given her life for the power to turn the +tables upon that abominable rogue, to filch from him that precious +treasure which she had hoped to deposit at the feet of the King for the +ultimate success of his cause: and she would have given much for the +power to tear off that concealing mask, so that for the rest of her life +she might be able to visualise that face which she would always +execrate. + +Something of what she felt and thought must have been apparent in her +expressive eyes, for presently it seemed to her as if beneath the narrow +curtain that concealed the lower part of the man's face there hovered +the shadow of a smile. + +The next moment he had the audacity slightly to raise his hat and to +make her a bow before he finally turned to go. Crystal had taken one +step backward just then, whether because she was afraid that the man +would try and approach her, or because of a mere sense of dignity, she +could not herself have said. Certain it is that she did move back and +that in so doing her foot came in contact with an object lying on the +ground. The shape and size of it were unmistakable, it was the pistol +which the Comte must have dropped when first he stepped out of the +carriage, and was seized upon by this band of thieves. Guided by that +same strange and wonderful instinct which has so often caused women in +times of war to turn against the assailants of their men or devastation +of their homes, Crystal picked up the weapon without a moment's +hesitation; she knew that it was loaded, and she knew how to use it. +Even as the masked man moved away into the darkness, she fired in the +direction whence his firm footsteps still sent their repeated echo. + +The short, sharp report died out in the still, frosty air; Crystal +vainly strained her ears to catch the sound of a fall or a groan. But in +the confusion that ensued she could not distinguish any individual +sound. She knew that Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne had screamed, she heard +a few loud curses, the clatter of bits and bridles, the snorting of +horses and presently the noise of several horses galloping away, out in +the direction of Chambéry. + +Then nothing more. + + +VII + +M. le Comte as well as the coachman and postillions were lying helpless +and bound somewhere in the darkness. It took the three women some time +to find them first and then to release them. + +Crystal with great presence of mind had run to the horses' heads, +directly after she had fired that random shot. The poor, frightened +animals had reared and plunged, and had thereby succeeded in dragging +the heavy carriage out of the ditch. After which they had stopped, rigid +for a moment and trembling as horses will sometimes when they are +terrified, before they start running away for dear life. That moment was +Crystal's opportunity and fortunately she took it at the right time and +in the right way. + +A hand on the leaders' bridles, a soothing voice, the absence of further +alarming noises tended at once to quieten the team--a set of good steady +Normandy draft-horses with none too much corn in their bellies to heat +their sluggish blood. + +While Crystal stood at her post, Mme. la Duchesse--cool and +practical--found her way firstly to M. le Comte, then to the coachman +and postillions, and ordering Jeanne to help her, she succeeded in +freeing the men from their bonds. + +Then calling to one of them to precede her with a lanthorn, she started +on the quest for Maurice de St. Genis. He was found--as that abominable +thief had said--some two hundred yards up the road, very securely bound +and with his own handkerchief tied round his mouth, but otherwise +comfortably laid on a dry bit of roadside grass. + +Mme. la Duchesse would not reply to his questions, but after he was +released and able to stand up she made him give her a brief account of +his adventure. It had all been so sudden and so quick--he had fallen +back a little behind the carriage as soon as the night had set in, as he +thought it safer to keep along the edge of the road. He was feeling +tired and drowsy, and allowing his horse to amble along in the slow +jog-trot peculiar to its race. No doubt his attention had for some time +been on the wander, when, all at once, in the darkness someone seized +hold of his horse by the bridle and forced it back upon its haunches. +The next moment Maurice felt himself grabbed by the leg, and dragged off +his horse: he shouted for help, but the carriage was on ahead and its +own rattle prevented the shouts from being heard. After which he was +bound and gagged and summarily left to lie by the roadside. He had had +no chance against the ruffians, as they were numerous, but they did not +attempt to ill-use him in any way. + +Slowly hobbling towards the carriage beside Mme. la Duchesse, for he was +cramped and stiff, Maurice told her all there was to tell. He had heard +the distant scuffle, the shouts and calls, also one pistol-shot at the +end, but he had been rendered helpless even before the carriage had come +to a halt in the ditch. + +It was M. le Comte who in his accustomed measured tones now gave Maurice +de St. Genis the details of this awful adventure: the ransacking of the +carriage by the mysterious miscreant--the loss of the twenty-five +millions, the complete shattering of all hope to help the King with this +money in the hour of his need, and finally Crystal's desperate act of +revenge, as she shot the pistol off into the darkness, hoping at least +to disable the impudent rogue who had done them and the King such a +fatal injury. + +St. Genis listened to it all with lips held tightly pressed together, +firm determination causing every muscle in his body to grow taut and +firm with the earnestness of his resolve. + +When M. le Comte had finished speaking, and with a sigh of +discouragement had suggested an immediate continuation of his journey, +Maurice said resolutely: + +"Do you go on straightway to Lyons with the ladies, my dear Comte, but I +shall not leave this neighbourhood till by some means or other I find +those miscreants and lay their infamous leader by the heel." + +"Well spoken, Maurice," said the Comte guardedly, "but how will you do +it?--it is late and the night darker than ever." + +"You must spare me one of your horses, my dear Comte," replied the young +man, "as mine apparently has been stolen by those abominable thieves, +and I'll ride back to the nearest village--you remember we passed it not +half an hour ago. I'll get lodgings there and get some information. In +the meanwhile perhaps you will see M. le Comte d'Artois immediately, +tell him all that has happened and beg him to send me as early in the +morning as possible a dozen cavalrymen or so, to help me scour the +country. I'll be on the look-out for them on this road by six o'clock, +and, please God! the day shall not go by before we have those infamous +marauders by the heels. Twenty-five millions, remember, are not dragged +about open country quite so easily as those thieves imagine. They are +bound to leave some trace of their whereabouts sometimes." + +He appeared so confident and so cheerful that some of his optimism +infected M. le Comte too. The latter promised to get an audience of M. +le Comte d'Artois that very evening, and of course the necessary cavalry +patrol would at once be forthcoming. + +"God grant you success, Maurice," he added fervently, and the young +man's energy and enthusiasm were also rewarded by a warm, glowing look +from Crystal. + +A quarter of an hour afterwards, M. le Comte's travelling coach was once +more ready for departure. Pierre had been given his orders to make due +haste for Lyons, and to drive a unicorn team of three horses instead of +a regulation four, whereupon he had muttered a string of oaths which +would have caused a Paris wine-shop loafer to blush. + +One of the horses thereupon was detached from the team for Maurice's use +and made ready with one of the postillions' saddles; the other +postillion had to climb up to the seat next to the coachman: all three +men were feeling not a little shamed at the sorry rôle which they had +just played, and they vowed revenge against the mysterious thieves who +had sprung upon them unawares and in the dark, or Mordieu! they would +have suffered severely for their impudence. + +In silence M. le Comte, Mme. la Duchesse and Crystal, followed by +faithful Jeanne, re-entered the carriage. No one had been hurt. M. le +Comte's arms felt a little stiff from the cords which had bound them +behind his back and Jeanne was inclined to be hysterical, but Crystal +felt a fierce resentment burning in her heart. Somehow she had no hope +that Maurice would succeed, even though she threw him at the last a +kindly and encouraging smile. Her one hope was that she had inflicted a +painful if not a deadly wound upon the shameless robber of the King's +money. + +Soon the party was once more comfortably settled and the cumbrous +vehicle, after another violent lurch, was once more on its way. + +"Farewell, Maurice! good luck!" called M. le Comte at the last. + +The young man waited until the heavy carriage swung more easily upon its +springs, then he mounted his horse, turned its head in the opposite +direction and rode slowly back up the road. + +Inside the vehicle all was silent for a while, then M. le Comte asked +quietly: + +"Did he find everything?" + +"Everything," replied Crystal. + +"I put in five wallets." + +"Yes. He took them all." + +"It is curious they should have fallen on us just by that broken +bridge." + +"They were lying in wait for us, of course." + +"Knowing that we had the money, do you think?" asked the Comte. + +"Of course," replied Crystal with still that note of bitter resentment +in her voice. + +"But who, besides ourselves and the préfet? . . ." began the Comte, who +clearly was very puzzled. + +"Victor de Marmont for one . . ." retorted the girl. + +"Surely you don't suppose that he would play the rôle of a highwayman +and . . ." + +"No, I don't," she broke in somewhat impatiently, "he wouldn't have the +pluck for one thing, and moreover the masked man was considerably taller +than Victor." + +"Well, then?" + +"It is only an idea, father, dear," she said more gently, "but somehow I +cannot believe that this was just ordinary highway robbery. This road is +supposed to be quite safe: travellers are not warned against armed +highwaymen, and marauders wouldn't be so well horsed and clothed. My +belief is that it was a paid gang stationed at the broken bridge on +purpose to rob us and no one else." + +"Maurice will soon be after them to-morrow, and I'll see M. le Comte +d'Artois directly we get to Lyons," said the Comte after a slight pause, +during which he was obviously pondering over his daughter's suggestion. + +"It won't be any use, father," Crystal said with a sigh. "The whole +thing has been organised, I feel sure, and the head that planned this +abominable robbery will know how to place his booty in safety." + +Whereupon the Comte sighed, for he was too well-bred to curse in the +presence of his daughter and his sister, Mme. la Duchesse had said +nothing all this while: nor did she offer any comment upon the +mysterious occurrence all the time that the next stage of the wearisome +journey proceeded. + + +VIII + +Less than an hour later the coach came to a halt once more. + +M. le Comte woke up with a start. + +"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is it now?" + +Crystal had not been asleep: her thoughts were too busy, her brain too +much tormented with trying to find some plausible answer to the riddle +which agitated her: "Who had planned this abominable robbery? Was it +indeed Victor de Marmont himself? or had a greater, a mightier mind than +his discovered the secret of this swift journey to Paris and ordered the +clever raid upon the treasure?" + +The rumble of the wheels had--though she was awake--prevented her from +hearing the rapid approach of a number of horses in the wake of the +coach, until a peremptory: "Halt! in the name of the Emperor!" suddenly +chased every other thought away; like her father she murmured: "My God! +what is it now?" + +This time there was no mystery, there would be no puzzlement as to the +meaning of this fresh attack. The air was full of those sounds that +denote the presence of many horses and of many men; there was, too, the +clinking of metal, the champing of steel bits, the brief words of +command which proclaimed the men to be soldiers. + +They appeared to be all round the coach, for the noise of their presence +came from everywhere at once. + +Already the Comte had put his head out of the window: "What is it now?" +he asked again, more peremptorily this time. + +"In the name of the Emperor!" was the loud reply. + +"We do not halt in the name of an usurper," said the Comte. "En avant, +Pierre!" + +"You urge those horses on at your peril, coachman," was the defiant +retort. + +A quick word of command was given, there was more clanking of metal, +snorting of horses, loud curses from Pierre on the box, and the +commanding voice spoke again: + +"M. le Comte de Cambray!" + +"That is my name!" replied the Comte. "And who is it, pray, who dares +impede peaceful travellers on their way?" + +"By order of the Emperor," was the curt reply. + +"I know of no such person in France!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was shouted defiantly in response. + +Whereupon M. le Comte de Cambray--proud, disdainful and determined to +show no fear or concern, withdrew from the window and threw himself back +against the cushions of the carriage. + +"What in the Virgin's name is the meaning of this?" murmured Mme. la +Duchesse. + +"God in heaven only knows," sighed the Comte. + +But obviously the coach had not been stopped by a troop of mounted +soldiers for the mere purpose of proclaiming the Emperor's name on the +high road in the dark. The same commanding voice which had answered the +Comte's challenge was giving rapid orders to dismount and to bring along +one of the carriage lanthorns. + +The next moment the door of the coach was opened from without, and the +light of the lanthorn held up by a man in uniform fell full on the +figure and on the profile of Victor de Marmont. + +"M. le Comte, I regret," he said coldly, "in the name of the Emperor I +must demand from you the restitution of his property." + +The Comte shrugged his shoulders and vouchsafed no reply. + +"M. le Comte," said de Marmont, more peremptorily this time, "I have +twenty-four men with me, who will seize by force if necessary that which +I herewith command you to give up voluntarily." + +Still no reply. M. le Comte de Cambray would think himself bemeaned were +he to parley with a traitor. + +"As you will, M. le Comte," was de Marmont's calm comment on the old +man's attitude. "Sergeant!" he commanded, "seize the four persons in +this coach. Three of them are women, so be as gentle as you can. Go +round to the other door first." + +"Father," now urged Crystal gently, "do you think that this is wise--or +dignified?" + +"Wisely spoken, Mlle. Crystal," rejoined de Marmont. "Have I not said +that I have two dozen soldiers with me--all trained to do their duty? +Why should M. le Comte allow them to lay hands upon you and on Mme. la +Duchesse?" + +"It is an outrage," broke in the Comte savagely. "You and your soldiers +are traitors, rebels and deserters." + +"But we are in superior numbers, M. le Comte," said de Marmont with a +sneer. "Would it not be wiser to yield with a good grace? Mme. la +Duchesse," he added with an attempt at geniality, "yours was always the +wise head, I am told, that guided the affairs of M. le Comte de Cambray +in the past. Will you not advise him now?" + +"I would, my good man," retorted the Duchesse, "but my wise counsels +would benefit no one now, seeing that you have been sent on a fool's +errand." + +De Marmont laughed. + +"Does Mme. la Duchesse mean to deny that twenty-five million francs +belonging to the Emperor are hidden at this moment inside this coach?" + +"I deny, Monsieur de Marmont, that any twenty-five million francs belong +to the son of an impecunious Corsican attorney--and I also deny that any +twenty-five million francs are in this coach at the present moment." + +"That is exactly what I desire to ascertain, Madame." + +"Ascertain by all means then," quoth Madame impatiently, "the other +thief ascertained the same thing an hour ago, and I must confess that he +did so more profitably than you are like to do." + +"The other thief?" exclaimed de Marmont, greatly puzzled. + +"It is as Mme. la Duchesse has deigned to tell you," here interposed the +Comte coolly. "I have no objection to your knowing that I had intended +to convey to His Majesty the King--its rightful owner--a sum of +money--originally stolen by the Corsican usurper from France--but that +an hour ago a party of armed thieves--just like yourself--attacked us, +bound and gagged me and my men, ransacked my coach and made off with the +booty." + +"And I thank God now," murmured Crystal involuntarily, "that the money +has fallen into the hands of a common highwayman rather than in those of +the scourge of mankind." + +"M. le Comte . . ." stammered de Marmont, who, still incredulous, yet +vaguely alarmed, was nevertheless determined not to accept this +extraordinary narrative with blind confidence. + +But M. le Comte de Cambray's dignity rose at last to the occasion: "You +choose to disbelieve me, Monsieur?" he asked quietly. + +De Marmont made no reply. + +"Will my word of honour not suffice?" + +"My orders, M. le Comte," said de Marmont gruffly, "are that I bring +back to my Emperor the money that is his. I will not leave one stone +unturned . . ." + +"Enough, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with calm dignity. "We will +alight now, if your soldiers will stand aside." + +And for the second time on this eventful night, Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +and Mlle. Crystal de Cambray, together with faithful Jeanne, were forced +to alight from the coach and to stand by while the cushions of the +carriage were being turned over by the light of a flickering lanthorn +and every corner of the interior ransacked for the elusive treasure. + +"There is nothing here, mon Colonel," said a gruff voice out of the +darkness, after a while. + +A loud curse broke from de Marmont's lips. + +"You are satisfied?" asked the Comte coldly, "that I have told you the +truth?" + +"Search the luggage in the boot," cried de Marmont savagely, without +heeding him, "search the men on the box! bring more light here! That +money is somewhere in this coach, I'll swear. If I do not find it I'll +take every one here back a prisoner to Grenoble . . . or . . ." + +He paused, himself ashamed of what he had been about to say. + +"Or you will order your soldiers to lay hands upon our persons, is that +it, M. de Marmont?" broke in Crystal coldly. + +He made no reply, for of a truth that had been his thought: foiled in +his hope of rendering his beloved Emperor so signal a service, he had +lost all sense of chivalry in this overwhelming feeling of baffled rage. + +Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt +ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had +done. He hated the Comte . . . he hated all royalists and all enemies of +the Emperor . . . but he hated the Comte doubly because of the insults +which he (de Marmont) had had to endure that evening at Brestalou. He +had looked upon this expedition as a means of vengeance for those +insults, a means, too, of showing his power and his worth before Crystal +and of winning her through that power which the Emperor had given him, +and through that worth which the Emperor had recognised. + +But, though he hated the Comte he knew him to be absolutely incapable of +telling a deliberate lie, and absolutely incapable of bartering his word +of honour for the sake of his own safety. + +Crystal's words brought this knowledge back to his mind; and now the +desire seized him to prove himself as chivalrous as he was powerful. He +was one of those men who are so absolutely ignorant of a woman's nature +that they believe that a woman's love can be won by deeds as apart from +personality, and that a woman's dislike and contempt can be changed into +love. He loved Crystal more absolutely now than he had ever done in the +days when he was practically her accepted suitor: his unbridled and +capricious nature clung desperately to that which he could not hold, and +since he had felt--that evening at Brestalou--that his political +convictions had placed an insuperable barrier between himself and +Crystal de Cambray, he felt that no woman on earth could ever be quite +so desirable. + +His mistake lay in this: that he believed that it was his political +convictions alone which had turned Crystal away from him: he felt that +he could have won her love through her submission once she was his wife, +now he found that he would have to win her love first and her wifely +submission would only follow afterwards. + +Just now--though in the gloom he could only see the vague outline of her +graceful form, and only heard her voice as through a veil of +darkness--he had the longing to prove himself at once worthy of her +regard and deserving of her gratitude. + +Without replying to her direct challenge, he made a vigorous effort to +curb his rage, and to master his disappointment. Then he gave a few +brief commands to his sergeant, ordering him to repair the disorder +inside the coach, and to stop all further searching both of the vehicle +and of the men. + +Finally he said with calm dignity: "M. le Comte, I must offer you my +humble apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected. +I humbly beg Mme. la Duchesse and Mademoiselle Crystal to accept these +expressions of my profound regret. A soldier's life and a soldier's duty +must be my excuse for the part I was forced to take in this untoward +happening. Mme. la Duchesse, I pray you deign to re-enter your carriage. +M. le Comte, if there is aught I can do for you, I pray you command me. +. . ." + +Neither the Duchesse nor the Comte, however, deigned to take the +slightest notice of the abominable traitor and of his long tirade. +Madame was shivering with cold and yawning with fatigue, and in her +heart consigned the young brute to everlasting torments. + +The Comte would have thought it beneath his dignity to accept any +explanation from a follower of the Corsican usurper. Without a word he +was now helping his sister into the carriage. + +Jeanne, of course, hardly counted--she was dazed into semi-imbecility by +the renewed terrors she had just gone through: so for the moment Victor +felt that Crystal was isolated from the others. She stood a little to +one side--he could only just see her, as the sergeant was holding up the +lanthorn for Mme. la Duchesse to see her way into the coach. M. le Comte +went on to give a few directions to the coachman. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly. + +And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the +carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind +word for me?" + +"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an +outrage?" + +"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty." + +"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont--a soldier of the King. Now you +are only a deserter." + +"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to +victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back +into his own once more." + +"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from +different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to +discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt +in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me." + +"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he +urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on +the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks +to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness +under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have +not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon." + +"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all +that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage +door. + +Victor smothered a curse. These aristos were as arrogant as ever. What +lesson had the revolution and the guillotine taught them? None. This +girl who had spent her whole life in poverty and exile, and was +like--after a brief interregnum--to return to exile and poverty again, +was not a whit less proud than her kindred had been when they walked in +their hundreds up the steps of the guillotine with a smile of lofty +disdain upon their lips. + +Victor de Marmont was a son of the people--of those who had made the +revolution and had fought the whole of Europe in order to establish +their right to govern themselves as they thought best, and he hated all +these aristos--the men who had fled from their country and abandoned it +when she needed her sons' help more than she had ever done before. + +The aristocrat was for him synonymous with the émigré--with the man who +had raised a foreign army to fight against France, who had brought the +foreigner marching triumphantly into Paris. He hated the aristocrat, but +he loved Crystal, the one desirable product of that old regime system +which he abhorred. + +But with him a woman's love meant a woman's submission. He was more +determined than ever now to win her, but he wanted to win her through +her humiliation and his triumph--excitement had turned his brain? Well! +so be it, fear and oppression would turn her heart and crush her pride. + +He made no further attempt to detain her: he had asked for a kind word +and she had given him withering scorn. Excitement had turned his brain +. . . he was not even worthy of parley--not even worthy of a formal +refusal! + +To his credit be it said that the thought of immediate revenge did not +enter his mind then. He might have subjected her then and there to +deadly outrage--he might have had her personal effects searched, her +person touched by the rough hands of his soldiers. But though his +estimate of a woman's love was a low one, it was not so base as to +imagine that Crystal de Cambray would ever forgive so dastardly an +insult. + +As she walked past him to the door, however, he said under his breath: + +"Remember, Mademoiselle, that you and your family at this moment are +absolutely in my power, and that it is only because of my regard for you +that I let you all now depart from here in peace." + +Whether she heard or not, he could not say; certain it is that she made +no reply, nor did she turn toward him at all. The light of the lanthorn +lit up her delicate profile, pale and drawn, her tightly pressed lips, +the look of utter contempt in her eyes, which even the fitful shadow +cast by her hair over her brows could not altogether conceal. + +The Comte had given what instructions he wished to Pierre. He stood by +the carriage door waiting for his daughter: no doubt he had heard what +went on between her and de Marmont, and was content to leave her to deal +what scorn was necessary for the humiliation of the traitor. + +He helped Crystal into the carriage, and also the unfortunate Jeanne; +finally he too followed, and pulled the door to behind him. + +Victor did not wait to see the coach make a start. He gave the order to +remount. + +"How far are we from St. Priest?" he asked. + +"Not eight kilomètres, mon Colonel," was the reply. + +"En avant then, ventre-à-terre!" he commanded, as he swung himself into +the saddle. + +The great high road between Grenoble and Lyons is very wide, and Pierre +had no need to draw his horses to one side, as de Marmont and his troop, +after much scrambling, champing of bits and clanking of metal, rode at a +sharp trot past the coach and him. + +For some few moments the sound of the horses' hoofs on the hard road +kept the echoes of the night busy with their resonance, but soon that +sound grew fainter and fainter still--after five minutes it died away +altogether. + +M. de Comte put his head out of the window. + +"Eh bien, Pierre," he called, "why don't we start?" + +The postillion cracked his whip; Pierre shouted to his horses; the heavy +coach groaned and creaked and was once more on its way. + +In the interior no one spoke. Jeanne's terror had melted in a silent +flow of tears. + + +Lyons was reached shortly before midnight. M. le Comte's carriage had +some difficulty in entering the town, as by orders of M. le Comte +d'Artois it had already been placed in a state of defence against the +possible advance of the "band of pirates from Corsica." The bridge of La +Guillotière had been strongly barricaded and it took M. le Comte de +Cambray some little time to establish his identity before the officer in +command of the post allowed him to proceed on his way. + +The town was fairly full owing to the presence of M. le Comte d'Artois, +who had taken up his quarters at the archiepiscopal palace, and of his +staff, who were scattered in various houses about the town. Nevertheless +M. le Comte and his family were fortunate enough in obtaining +comfortable accommodation at the Hotel Bourbon. + +The party was very tired, and after a light supper retired to bed. + +But not before M. le Comte de Cambray had sent a special autographed +message to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois explaining to him under what +tragic circumstances the sum of twenty-five million francs destined to +reach His Majesty the King had fallen into a common highwayman's hands +and begging that a posse of cavalry be sent out on the road after the +marauders and be placed under the orders of M. le Marquis de St. Genis, +who would be on the look-out for their arrival. He begged that the posse +should consist of not less than thirty men, seeing that some armed +followers of the Corsican brigand were also somewhere on the way. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE RIVALS + + +I + +The weather did not improve as the night wore on: soon a thin, cold +drizzle added to the dreariness and to Maurice de St. Genis' +ever-growing discomfort. + +He had started off gaily enough, cheered by Crystal's warm look of +encouragement and comforted by the feeling of certainty that he would +get even with that mysterious enemy who had so impudently thrown himself +athwart a plan which had service of the King for its sole object. + +Maurice had not exchanged confidences with Crystal since the adventure, +but his ideas--without his knowing it--absolutely coincided with hers. +He, too, was quite sure that no common footpad had engineered their +daring attack. Positive knowledge of the money and its destination had +been the fountain from which had sprung the comedy of the masked +highwayman and his little band of robbers. Maurice mentally reckoned +that there must have been at least half a dozen of these bravos--of the +sort that in these times were easily enough hired in any big city to +play any part, from that of armed escort to nervous travellers to that +of seeker of secret information for the benefit of either political +party--loafers that hung round the wine-shops in search of a means of +earning a few days' rations, discharged soldiers of the Empire some of +them, whose loyalty to the Restoration had been questioned from the +first. + +Maurice had no doubt that whatever motive had actuated the originator of +the bold plan to possess himself of twenty-five million francs, he had +deliberately set to work to employ men of that type to help him in his +task. + +It had all been very audacious and--Maurice was bound to admit--very +well carried out. As for the motive, he was never for a moment in doubt. +It was a Bonapartist plot, of that he felt sure, as well as of the fact +that Victor de Marmont was the originator of it all. He probably had not +taken any active part in the attack, but he had employed the +men--Maurice would have taken an oath on that! + +The Comte de Cambray must have let fall an unguarded hint in the course +of his last interview with de Marmont at Brestalou, and when Victor went +away disgraced and discomfited he, no doubt, thought to take his revenge +in the way most calculated to injure both the Comte and the royalist +cause. + +Satisfied with this mental explanation of past events, St. Genis had +ridden on in the darkness, his spirits kept up with hopes and thoughts +of a glaring counter revenge. But his limbs were still stiff and bruised +from the cramped position in which he had lain for so long, and +presently, when the cold drizzle began to penetrate to his bones, his +enthusiasm and confidence dwindled. The village seemed to recede further +and further into the distance. He thought when he had ridden through it +earlier in the evening that it was not very far from the scene of the +attack--a dozen kilomètres perhaps--now it seemed more like thirty; he +thought too that it was a village of some considerable size--five +hundred souls or perhaps more--he had noticed as he rode through it a +well-illuminated, one-storied house, and the words "Débit de vins" and +"Chambres pour voyageurs" painted in bold characters above the front +door. But now he had ridden on and on along the dark road for what +seemed endless hours--unconscious of time save that it was dragging on +leaden-footed and wearisome . . . and still no light on ahead to betray +the presence of human habitations, no distant church bells to mark the +progress of the night. + +At last, in desperation, Maurice de St. Genis had thought of wrapping +himself in his cloak and getting what rest he could by the roadside, for +he was getting very tired and saddle-sore, when on his left he perceived +in the far distance, glimmering through the mist, two small lights like +bright eyes shining in the darkness. + +What kind of a way led up to those welcome lights, Maurice had, of +course, no idea; but they proclaimed at any rate the presence of human +beings, of a house, of the warmth of fire; and without hesitation the +young man turned his horse's head at right angles from the road. + +He had crossed a couple of ploughed fields and an intervening ditch, +when in the distance to his right and behind him he heard the sound of +horses at a brisk trot, going in the direction of Lyons. + +Maurice drew rein for a moment and listened until the sound came nearer. +There must have been at least a score of mounted men--a military patrol +sent out by M. le Comte d'Artois, no doubt, and now on its way back to +Lyons. Just for a second or two the young man had thoughts of joining up +with the party and asking their help or their escort: he even gave a +vigorous shout which, however, was lost in the clang and clatter of +horses' hoofs and of the accompanying jingle of metal. + +He turned his horse back the way he had come; but before he had +recrossed one of the ploughed fields, the troop of mounted men--whatever +they were--had passed by, and Maurice was left once more in solitude, +shouting and calling in vain. + +There was nothing for it then, but to turn back again, and to make his +way as best he could toward those inviting lights. In any case nothing +could have been done in this pitch-dark night against the highway +thieves, and St. Genis had no fear that M. le Comte d'Artois would fail +to send him help for his expedition against them on the morrow. + +The lights on ahead were getting perceptibly nearer, soon they detached +themselves still more clearly in the gloom--other lights appeared in the +immediate neighbourhood--too few for a village--thought Maurice, and +grouped closely together, suggesting a main building surrounded by other +smaller ones close by. + +Soon the whole outline of the house could be traced through the +enveloping darkness: two of the windows were lighted from within, and an +oil lamp, flickering feebly, was fixed in a recess just above the door. +The welcome words: "Chambres pour voyageurs. Aristide Briot, +propriétaire," greeted Maurice's wearied eyes as he drew rein. Good luck +was apparently attending him for, thus picking his way across fields, he +had evidently struck an out-of-the-way hostelry on some bridle path off +the main road, which was probably a short cut between Chambéry and +Vienne. + +Be that as it may, he managed to dismount--stiff as he was--and having +tried the door and found it fastened, he hammered against it with his +boot. + +A few moments later, the bolts were drawn and an elderly man in blue +blouse and wide trousers, his sabots stuffed with straw, came shuffling +out of the door. + +"Who's there?" he called in a feeble, querulous voice. + +"A traveller--on horseback," replied Maurice. "Come, petit père," he +added more impatiently, "will you take my horse or call to one of your +men?" + +"It is too late to take in travellers," muttered the old man. "It is +nearly midnight, and everyone is abed except me." + +"Too late, morbleu?" exclaimed the young man peremptorily. "You surely +are not thinking of refusing shelter to a traveller on a night like +this. Why, how far is it to the nearest village?" + +"It is very late," reiterated the old man plaintively, "and my house is +quite full." + +"There's a shake-down in the kitchen anyway, I'll warrant, and one for +my horse somewhere in an outhouse," retorted Maurice as without more ado +he suddenly threw the reins into the old man's hand and unceremoniously +pushed him into the house. + +The man appeared to hesitate for a moment or two. He grumbled and +muttered something which Maurice did not hear, and his shrewd eyes--the +knowing eyes of a peasant of the Dauphiné--took a rapid survey of the +belated traveller's clothes, the expensive caped coat, the well-made +boots, the fashionable hat, which showed up clearly now by the light +from within. + +Satisfied that there could be no risk in taking in so well-dressed a +traveller, feeling moreover that a good horse was always a hostage for +the payment of the bill in the morning, the man now, without another +word or look at his guest, turned his back on the house and led the +horse away--somewhere out into the darkness--Maurice did not take the +trouble to ascertain where. + +He was under shelter. There was the remnant of a wood-fire in the hearth +at the corner, some benches along the walls. If he could not get a bed, +he could certainly get rest and warmth for the night. He put down his +hat, took off his coat, and kicked the smouldering log into a blaze; +then he drew a chair close to the fire and held his numbed feet and +hands to the pleasing warmth. + +Thoughts of food and wine presented themselves too, now that he felt a +little less cold and stiff, and he awaited the old man's return with +eagerness and impatience. + +The shuffling of wooden sabots outside the door was a pleasing sound: a +moment or two later the old man had come back and was busying himself +with once more bolting his front door. + +"Well now, père Briot," said Maurice cheerily, "as I take it you are the +proprietor of this abode of bliss, what about supper?" + +"Bread and cheese if you like," muttered the man curtly. + +"And a bottle of wine, of course." + +"Yes. A bottle of wine." + +"Well! be quick about it, petit père. I didn't know how hungry I was +till you talked of bread and cheese." + +"Would you like some cold meat?" queried the man indifferently. + +"Of course I should! Have I not said that I was hungry?" + +"You'll pay for it all right enough?" + +"I'll pay for the supper before I stick a fork into it," rejoined +Maurice impatiently, "but in Heaven's name hurry up, man! I am half dead +with sleep as well as with hunger." + +The old man--a real peasant of the Dauphiné in his deliberate manner and +shrewd instincts of caution--once more shuffled out of the room, and St. +Genis lapsed into a kind of pleasant torpor as the warmth of the fire +gradually crept through his sinews and loosened all his limbs, while the +anticipation of wine and food sent his wearied thoughts into a happy +day-dream. + +Ten minutes later he was installed before a substantial supper, and +worthy Aristide Briot was equally satisfied with the two pieces of +silver which St. Genis had readily tendered him. + +"You said your house was full, petit père," said Maurice after a while, +when the edge of his hunger had somewhat worn off. "I shouldn't have +thought there were many travellers in this out-of-the-way place." + +"The place is not out-of-the-way," retorted the old man gruffly. "The +road is a good one, and a short cut between Vienne and Chambéry. We get +plenty of travellers this way!" + +"Well! I did not strike the road, unfortunately. I saw your lights in +the distance and cut across some fields. It was pretty rough in the +dark, I can tell you." + +"That's just what those other cavaliers said, when they turned up here +about an hour ago. A noisy crowd they were. I had no room for them in my +house, so they had to go." + +St. Genis at once put down his knife and fork. + +"A noisy crowd of travellers," he exclaimed, "who arrived here an hour +ago?" + +"Parbleu!" rejoined the other, "and all wanting beds too. I had no room. +I can only put up one or two travellers. I sent them on to Levasseur's, +further along the road. Only the wounded man I could not turn away. He +is up in our best bedroom." + +"A wounded man? You have a wounded man here, petit père?" + +"Oh! it's not much of a wound," explained the old man with unconscious +irrelevance. "He himself calls it a mere scratch. But my old woman took +a fancy to him: he is young and well-looking, you understand. . . . She +is clever at bandages too, so she has looked after him as if he were her +own son." + +Mechanically, St. Genis had once more taken up his knife and fork, +though of a truth the last of his hunger had vanished. But these +Dauphiné peasants were suspicious and queer-tempered, and already the +young man's surprise had matured into a plan which he would not be able +to carry through without the help of Aristide Briot. Noisy cavaliers--he +mused to himself--a wounded man! . . . wounded by the stray shot aimed +at him by Crystal de Cambray! Indeed, St. Genis had much ado to keep his +excitement in check, and to continue with a pretence at eating while +Briot watched him with stolid indifference. + +"Petit père," said the young man at last with as much unconcern as he +could affect. "I have been thinking that you have--unwittingly--given me +an excellent piece of news. I do believe that the man in your best +bedroom upstairs is a friend of mine whom I was to have met at Lyons +to-day and whose absence from our place of tryst had made me very +anxious. I was imagining that all sorts of horrors had happened to him, +for he is in the secret service of the King and exposed to every kind of +danger. His being wounded in some skirmish either with highway robbers +or with a band of the Corsican's pirates would not surprise me in the +least, and the fact that he had some half-dozen mounted men with him +confirms me in my belief that indeed it is my friend who is lying +upstairs, as he often has to have an escort in the exercise of his +duties. At any rate, petit père," he concluded as he rose from the +table, "by your leave, I'll go up and ascertain." + +While he rattled off these pretty proceeds of his own imagination, +Maurice de St. Genis kept a sharp watch on Aristide Briot's face, ready +to note the slightest sign of suspicion should it creep into the old +man's shrewd eyes. + +Briot, however, did not exhibit any violent interest in his guest's +story, and when the latter had finished speaking he merely said, +pointing to the remnants of food upon the table: + +"I thought you said that you were hungry." + +"So I was, petit père," rejoined Maurice impatiently, "so I was: but my +hunger is not so great as it was, and before I eat another morsel I must +satisfy myself that it is my friend who is safe and well in your old +woman's care." + +"Oh! he is well enough," grunted Briot, "and you can see him in the +morning." + +"That I cannot, for I shall have to leave here soon after dawn. And I +could not get a wink of sleep whilst I am in such a state of uncertainty +about my friend." + +"But you can't go and wake him now. He is asleep for sure, and my old +woman wouldn't like him to be disturbed, after all the care she has +given him." + +St. Genis, fretting with impatience, could have cursed aloud or shaken +the obstinate old peasant roughly by the shoulders. + +"I shouldn't wake him," he retorted, irritated beyond measure at the +man's futile opposition. "I'll go up on tiptoe, candle in hand--you +shall show me the way to his room--and I'll just ascertain whether the +wounded man is my friend or not, then I'll come down again quietly and +finish my supper. + +"Come, petit père, I insist," he added more peremptorily, seeing that +Briot--with the hesitancy peculiar to his kind--still made no movement +to obey, but stood close by scratching his scanty locks and looking +puzzled and anxious. + +Fortunately for him Maurice understood the temperament of these peasants +of the Dauphiné, he knew that with their curious hesitancy and inherent +suspiciousness it was always the easiest to make up their minds for +them. + +So now--since he was absolutely determined to come to grips with that +abominable thief upstairs, before the night was many minutes older--he +ceased to parley with Briot. + +A candle stood close to his hand on the table, a bit of kindling wood +lay in a heap in one corner, with the help of the one he lighted the +other, then candle in hand he walked up to the door. + +"Show me the way, petit père," he said. + +And Aristide Briot, with a shrug of the shoulders which implied that he +there and then put away from him any responsibility for what might or +might not occur after this, and without further comment, led the way +upstairs. + + +II + +On the upper landing at the top of the stairs Briot paused. He pointed +to a door at the end of the narrow corridor, and said curtly: + +"That's his room." + +"I thank you, petit père," whispered St. Genis in response. "Don't wait +for me, I'll be back directly." + +"He is not yet in bed," was Briot's dry comment. + +A thin streak of light showed underneath the door. As St. Genis walked +rapidly toward it he wondered if the door would be locked. That +certainly was a contingency which had not occurred to him. His design +was to surprise a wounded and helpless thief in his sleep and to force +him then and there to give up the stolen money, before he had time to +call for help. + +But the miscreant was evidently on the watch, Briot still lingered on +the top of the stairs, there were other people sleeping in the house, +and St. Genis suddenly realised that his purpose would not be quite so +easy of execution as he had hot-headedly supposed. + +But the end in view was great, and St. Genis was not a man easily +deterred from a set purpose. There was the royalist cause to aid and +Crystal to be won if he were successful. + +He knocked resolutely at the door, then tried the latch. The door was +locked: but even as the young man hesitated for a moment wondering what +he would do next, a firm step resounded on the floor on the other side +of the partition and the next moment the door was opened from within, +and a peremptory voice issued the usual challenge: + +"Who goes there?" + +A tall figure appeared as a massive silhouette under the lintel. St. +Genis had the candle in his hand. He dropped it in his astonishment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde!" he exclaimed. + +At sight of St. Genis the Englishman, whose right arm was in a sling, +had made a quick instinctive movement back into the room, but equally +quickly Maurice had forestalled him by placing his foot across the +threshold. + +Then he turned back to Aristide Briot. + +"That's all right, petit père," he called out airily, "it is indeed my +friend, just as I thought. I'm going to stay and have a little chat with +him. Don't wait up for me. When he is tired of my company I'll go back +to the parlour and make myself happy in front of the fire. Good-night!" + +As Clyffurde no longer stood in the doorway, St. Genis walked straight +into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving good old Aristide +to draw what conclusions he chose from the eccentric behaviour of his +nocturnal visitors. + +With a rapid and wrathful gaze, St. Genis at once took stock of +everything in the room. A sigh of satisfaction rose to his lips. At any +rate the rogue could not deny his guilt. There, hanging on a peg, was +the caped coat which he had worn, and there on the table were two +damning proofs of his villainy--a pair of pistols and a black mask. + +The whole situation puzzled him more than he could say. Certainly after +the first shock of surprise he had felt his wrath growing hotter and +hotter every moment, the other man's cool assurance helped further to +irritate his nerves, and to make him lose that self-control which would +have been of priceless value in this unlooked-for situation. + +Seeing that Maurice de St. Genis was absolutely speechless with surprise +as well as with anger, there crept into Clyffurde's deep-set grey eyes a +strange look of amusement, as if the humour of his present position was +more obvious than its shame. + +"And what," he asked pleasantly, "has procured me the honour at this +late hour of a visit from M. le Marquis de St. Genis?" + +His words broke the spell. There was no longer any mystery in the +situation. The condemnatory pieces of evidence were there, Clyffurde's +connection with de Marmont was well known--the plot had become obvious. +Here was an English adventurer--an alien spy--who had obviously been +paid to do this dirty work for the usurper, and--as Maurice now +concluded airily--he must be made to give up the money which he had +stolen before he be handed over to the military authorities at Lyons and +shot as a spy or a thief--Maurice didn't care which: the whole thing was +turning out far simpler and easier than he had dared to hope. + +"You know quite well why I am here," he now said, roughly. "Of a truth, +for the moment I was taken by surprise, for I had not thought that a man +who had been honoured by the friendship of M. le Comte de Cambray and of +his family was a thief, as well as a spy." + +"And now," said Clyffurde, still smiling and apparently quite +unperturbed, "that you have been enlightened on this subject to your own +satisfaction, may I ask what you intend to do?" + +"Force you to give up what you have stolen, you impudent thief," +retorted the other savagely. + +"And how are you proposing to do that, M. de St. Genis?" asked the +Englishman with perfect equanimity. + +"Like this," cried Maurice, whose exasperation and fury had increased +every moment, as the other man's assurance waxed more insolent and more +cool. + +"Like this!" he cried again, as he sprang at his enemy's throat. + +A past master in the art of self-defence, Clyffurde--despite his wounded +arm--was ready for the attack. With his left on guard he not only +received the brunt of the onslaught, but parried it most effectually +with a quick blow against his assailant's jaw. + +St. Genis--stunned by this forcible contact with a set of exceedingly +hard knuckles--fell back a step or two, his foot struck against some +object on the floor, he lost his balance and measured his length +backwards across the bed. + +"You abominable thief . . . you . . ." he cried, choking with rage and +with discomfiture as he tried to struggle to his feet. + +But this he at once found that he could not do, seeing that a pair of +firm and muscular knees were gripping and imprisoning his legs, even +while that same all-powerful left hand with the hard knuckles had an +unpleasant hold on his throat. + +"I should have tried some other method, M. de St. Genis, had I been in +your shoes," came in irritatingly sarcastic accents from his calm +antagonist. + +Indeed, the insolent rogue did not appear in the least overwhelmed by +the enormity of his crime or by the disgrace of being so ignominiously +found out. From his precarious position across the bed St. Genis had a +good view of the rascal's finely knit figure, of his earnest face, now +softened by a smile full of kindly humour and good-natured contempt. + +An impartial observer viewing the situation would certainly have thought +that here was an impudent villain vanquished and lying on his back, +whilst being admonished for his crimes by a just man who had might as +well as right on his side. + +"Let me go, you confounded thief," St. Genis cried, as soon as the +unpleasant grip on his throat had momentarily relaxed, "you accursed spy +. . . you . . ." + +"Easy, easy, my young friend," said the other calmly; "you have called +me a thief quite often enough to satisfy your rage: and further epithets +might upset my temper." + +"Let go my throat!" + +"I will in a moment or two, as soon as I have made up my mind what I am +going to do with you, my impetuous young friend--whether I shall truss +you like a fowl and put you in charge of our worthy host, as guilty of +assaulting one of his guests, or whether I shall do you some trifling +injury to punish you for trying to do me a grave one." + +"Right is on my side," said St. Genis doggedly. "I do not care what you +do to me." + +"Right is apparently on your side, my friend. I'll not deny it. +Therefore, I still hesitate." + +"Like a rogue and a vagabond at dead of night you attacked and robbed +those who have never shown you anything but kindness." + +"Until the hour when they turned me out of their house like a dishonest +lacquey, without allowing me a word of explanation." + +"Then this is your idea of vengeance, is it, Mr. Clyffurde?" + +"Yes, M. de St. Genis, it is. But not quite in the manner that you +suppose. I am going to set you free now in order to set your mind at +rest. But let me warn you that I shall be just as much on the alert +against another attack from you as ever I was before, and that I could +ward off two or even three assailants with my left arm and knee as +easily as I warded off one. It is a way we have in England." + +He relaxed his hold on Maurice's legs and throat, and the young +man--fretting and fuming, wild with impotent wrath and with +mortification--struggled to his feet. + +"Are you proposing to give me some explanation to mitigate your crime?" +he said roughly. "If so, let me tell you that I will accept none. +Putting the question aside of your abominable theft, you have committed +an outrage against people whom I honour, and against the woman whom I +love." + +"Nor do I propose to give you any explanation, M. de St. Genis," +retorted Clyffurde, who still spoke quite quietly and evenly. "But for +the sake of your own peace of mind, which you will I hope communicate to +the people whom you honour, I will tell you a few simple facts." + +Neither of the men sat down: they stood facing one another now across +the table whereon stood a couple of tallow candles which threw fitful, +yellow lights on their faces--so different, so strangely +contrasted--young and well-looking both--both strongly moved by passion, +yet one entirely self-controlled, while in the other's eyes that passion +glowed fierce and resentful. + +"I listen," said St. Genis curtly. + +And Clyffurde began after a slight pause: "At the time that you fell +upon me with such ill-considered vigour, M. de St. Genis," he said, "did +you know that but for my abominable outrage upon the persons whom you +honour, the money which they would gladly have guarded with their life +would have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte's agents?" + +"In theirs or yours, what matters?" retorted St. Genis savagely, "since +His Majesty is deprived of it now." + +"That is where you are mistaken, my young friend," said the other +quietly. "His Majesty is more sure of getting the money now than he was +when M. le Comte de Cambray with his family and yourself started on that +quixotic if ill-considered errand this morning." + +St. Genis frowned in puzzlement: + +"I don't understand you," he said curtly. + +"Isn't it simple enough? You and your friends credited me with +friendship for de Marmont: he is hot-headed and impetuous, and words +rush out of his mouth that he should keep to himself. I knew from +himself that Bonaparte had charged him to recover the twenty-five +millions which M. le préfet Fourier had placed in the Comte de Cambray's +charge." + +"Why did you not warn the Comte then?" queried St. Genis, who, still +mistrustful, glowered at his antagonist. + +"Would he have listened to me, think you?" asked the other with a quiet +smile. "Remember, he had turned me out of his house two nights before, +without a word of courtesy or regret--on the mere suspicion of my +intercourse with de Marmont. Were you too full with your own rage to +notice what happened then? Mlle. Crystal drew away her skirts from me as +if I were a leper. What credence would they have given my words? Would +the Comte even have admitted me into his presence?" + +"And so . . . you planned this robbery . . . you . . ." stammered St. +Genis, whose astonishment and puzzlement were rendering him as +speechless as his rage had done. "I'll not believe it," he continued +more firmly; "you are fooling me, now that I have found you out." + +"Why should I do that? You are in my hands, and not I in yours. +Bonaparte is victorious at Grenoble. I could take the money to him and +earn his gratitude, or use the money for mine own ends. What have I to +fear from you? What cause to fool you? Your opinion of me? M. le Comte's +contempt or goodwill? Bah! after to-night are we likely to meet again?" + +St. Genis said nothing in reply. Of a truth there was nothing that he +could say. The Englishman's whole attitude bore the impress of truth. +Even through that still seething wrath which refused to be appeased, St. +Genis felt that the other was speaking the truth. His mind now was in +turmoil of wonderment. This man who stood here before him had done +something which he--St. Genis--could not comprehend. Vaguely he realised +that beneath the man's actions there still lay a yet deeper foundation +of dignity and of heroism and one which perhaps would never be wholly +fathomed. + +It was Clyffurde who at last broke the silence between them: + +"You, M. de St. Genis," he said lightly, "would under like circumstances +have acted just as I did, I am sure. The whole idea was so easy of +execution. Half a dozen loafers to aid me, the part of highwayman to +play--an old man and two or three defenceless women--my part was not +heroic, I admit," he added with a smile, "but it has served its purpose. +The money is safe in my keeping now, within a few days His Majesty the +King of France shall have it, and all those who strive to serve him +loyally can rest satisfied." + +"I confess I don't understand you," said St. Genis, as he seemed to +shake himself free from some unexplainable spell that held him. "You +have rendered us and the legitimate cause of France a signal service! +Why did you do it?" + +"You forget, M. de St. Genis, that the legitimate cause of France is +England's cause as well." + +"Are you a servant of your country then? I thought you were a tradesman +engaged in buying gloves." + +Clyffurde smiled. "So I am," he said, "but even a tradesman may serve +his country, if he has the opportunity." + +"I hope that your country will be duly grateful," said Maurice, with a +sigh. "I know that every royalist in France would thank you if they +knew." + +"By your leave, M. de St. Genis, no one in France need know anything but +what you choose to tell them. . . ." + +"You mean . . ." + +"That except for reassuring M. le Comte de Cambray and . . . and Mlle. +Crystal, there is no reason why they should ever know what passed +between us in this room to-night." + +"But if the King is to have the money, he . . ." + +"He will never know from me, from whence it comes." + +"He will wish to know. . . ." + +"Come, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde, with a slight hint of +impatience, "is it for me to tell you that Great Britain has more than +one agent in France these days--that the money will reach His Majesty +the King ultimately through the hands of his foreign minister M. le +Comte de Jaucourt . . . and that my name will never appear in connection +with the matter? . . . I am a mere servant of Great Britain--doing my +duty where I can . . . nothing more." + +"You mean that you are in the British Secret Service? No?--Well! I don't +profess to understand you English people, and you seem to me more +incomprehensible than any I have known. Not that I ever believed that +you were a mere tradesman. But what shall I say to M. le Comte de +Cambray?" he added, after a slight pause, during which a new and strange +train of thought altered the expression of wonderment on his face, to +one that was undefinable, almost furtive, certainly undecided. + +"All you need say to M. le Comte," replied Clyffurde, with a slight tone +of impatience, "is that you are personally satisfied that the money will +reach His Majesty's hand safely, and in due course. At least, I presume +that you are satisfied, M. de St. Genis," he continued, vaguely +wondering what was going on in the young Frenchman's brain. + +"Yes, yes, of course I am satisfied," murmured the other, "but . . ." + +"But what?" + +"Mlle. Crystal would want to know something more than that. She will ask +me questions . . . she . . . she will insist . . . I had promised her to +get the money back myself . . . she will expect an explanation . . . +she . . ." + +He continued to murmur these short, jerky sentences almost inaudibly, +avoiding the while to meet the enquiring and puzzled gaze of the +Englishman. + +When he paused--still murmuring, but quite inaudibly now--Clyffurde made +no comment, and once more there fell a silence over the narrow room. The +candles flickered feebly, and Bobby picked up the metal snuffers from +the table and with a steady and deliberate hand set to work to trim the +wicks. + +So absorbed did he seem in this occupation that he took no notice of St. +Genis, who with arms crossed in front of him, was pacing up and down the +narrow room, a heavy frown between his deep-set eyes. + + +III + +Somewhere in the house down below, an old-fashioned clock had just +struck two. Clyffurde looked up from his absorbing task. + +"It is late," he remarked casually; "shall we say good-night, M. de St. +Genis?" + +The sound of the Englishman's voice seemed to startle Maurice out of his +reverie. He pulled himself together, walked firmly up to the table and +resting his hand upon it, he faced the other man with a sudden gaze made +up partly of suddenly conceived resolve and partly of lingering +shamefacedness. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," he began abruptly. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you any cause to hate me?" + +"Why no," replied Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile. "Why +should I have?" + +"Have you any cause to hate Mlle. Crystal de Cambray?" + +"Certainly not." + +"You have no desire," insisted Maurice, "to be revenged on her for the +slight which she put upon you the other night?" + +His voice had grown more steady and his look more determined as he put +these rapid questions to Clyffurde, whose expressive face showed no sign +of any feeling in response save that of complete and indifferent +puzzlement. + +"I have no desire with regard to Mlle. de Cambray," replied Bobby +quietly, "save that of serving her, if it be in my power." + +"You can serve her, Sir," retorted Maurice firmly, "and that right +nobly. You can render the whole of her future life happy beyond what she +herself has ever dared to hope." + +"How?" + +Maurice paused: once more, with a gesture habitual to him, he crossed +his arms over his chest and resumed his restless march up and down the +narrow room. + +Then again he stood still, and again faced the Englishman, his dark +enquiring eyes seeming to probe the latter's deepest thoughts. + +"Did you know, Mr. Clyffurde," he asked slowly, "that Mlle. Crystal de +Cambray honours me with her love?" + +"Yes. I knew that," replied the other quietly. + +"And I love her with my heart and soul," continued Maurice impetuously. +"Oh! I cannot tell you what we have suffered--she and I--when the +exigencies of her position and the will of her father parted +us--seemingly for ever. Her heart was broken and so was mine: and I +endured the tortures of hell when I realised at last that she was lost +to me for ever and that her exquisite person--her beautiful soul--were +destined for the delight of that low-born traitor Victor de Marmont." + +He drew breath, for he had half exhausted himself with the volubility +and vehemence of his diction. Also he seemed to be waiting for some +encouragement from Clyffurde, who, however, gave him none, but sat +unmoved and apparently supremely indifferent, while a suffering heart +was pouring out its wails of agony into his unresponsive ear. + +"The reason," resumed St. Genis somewhat more calmly, "why M. le Comte +de Cambray was opposed to our union, was purely a financial one. Our +families are of equal distinction and antiquity, but alas! our fortunes +are also of equal precariousness: we, Sir, of the old noblesse gave up +our all, in order to follow our King into exile. Victor de Marmont was +rich. His fortune could have repurchased the ancient Cambray estates and +restored to that honoured name all the brilliance which it had +sacrificed for its principles." + +Still Clyffurde remained irritatingly silent, and St. Genis asked him +somewhat tartly: + +"I trust I am making myself clear, Sir?" + +"Perfectly, so far," replied the other quietly, "but I am afraid I don't +quite see how you propose that I could serve Mlle. Crystal in all this." + +"You can with one word, one generous action, Sir, put me in a position +to claim Crystal as my wife, and give her that happiness which she +craves for, and which is rightly her due." + +A slight lifting of the eyebrows was Clyffurde's only comment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," now said Maurice, with the obvious firm resolve to end +his own hesitancy at last, "you say yourself that by taking this money +to His Majesty, or rather to his minister, you, individually, will get +neither glory nor even gratitude--your name will not appear in the +transaction at all. I am quoting your own words, remember. That is so, +is it not?" + +"It is so--certainly." + +"But, Sir, if a Frenchman--a royalist--were able to render his King so +signal a service, he would not only gain gratitude, but recognition and +glory. . . . A man who was poor and obscure would at once become rich +and distinguished. . . ." + +"And in a position to marry the woman he loved," concluded Bobby, +smiling. + +Then as Maurice said nothing, but continued to regard him with glowing, +anxious eyes, he added, smiling not altogether kindly this time, + +"I think I understand, M. de St. Genis." + +"And . . . what do you say?" queried the other excitedly. + +"Let me make the situation clear first, as I understand it, Monsieur," +continued Bobby drily. "You are--and I mistake not--suggesting at the +present moment that I should hand over the twenty-five millions to you, +in order that you should take them yourself to the King in Paris, and by +this act obtain not only favours from him, but probably a goodly share +of the money, which you--presumably--will have forced some unknown +highwayman to give up to you. Is that it?" + +"It was not money for myself I thought of, Sir," murmured St. Genis +somewhat shamefacedly. + +"No, no, of course not," rejoined Clyffurde with a tone of sarcasm quite +foreign to his usual easy-going good-nature. "You were thinking of the +King's favours, and of a future of distinction and glory." + +"I was thinking chiefly of Crystal, Sir," said the other haughtily. + +"Quite so. You were thinking of winning Mlle. Crystal by a . . . a +subterfuge." + +"An innocent one, Sir, you will admit. I should not be robbing you in +any way. And remember that it is only Crystal's hand that is denied me: +her love I have already won." + +A look of pain--quickly suppressed and easily hidden from the other's +self-absorbed gaze--crossed the Englishman's earnest face. + +"I do remember that, Monsieur," he said, "else I certainly would never +lend a hand in the . . . subterfuge." + +"You will do it then?" queried the other eagerly. + +"I have not said so." + +"Ah! but you will," pleaded Maurice hotly. "Sir! the eternal gratitude +of two faithful hearts would be yours always--for Crystal will know it +all, once we are married, I promise you that she will. And in the midst +of her happiness she will find time to bless your generosity and your +selflessness . . . whilst I . . ." + +"Enough, I beg of you, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde now, with +angry impatience. "Believe me! I do not hug myself with any thought of +my own virtues, nor do I desire any gratitude from you: if I hand over +the money to you, it is sorely against my better judgment and distinctly +against my duty: but since that duty chiefly lies in being assured that +the King of France will receive the money safely, why then by handing it +over to you I have that assurance, and my conscience will rest at +comparative ease. You shall have the money, Sir, and you shall marry +Mlle. Crystal on the strength of the King's gratitude towards you. And +Mlle. Crystal will be happy--if you keep silence over this transaction. +But for God's sake let's say no more about it: for of a truth you and I +are playing but a sorry rôle this night." + +"A sorry rôle?" protested the other. + +"Yes, a sorry rôle. Are you not deceiving a woman? Am I not running +counter to my duty?" + +"I but deceive Crystal temporarily. I love her and only deceive in order +to win her. The end justifies the means: Nor do you, in my opinion, run +counter to your duty. . . ." + +But Clyffurde interrupted him roughly: "I pray you, Sir, make no comment +on mine actions. My own silent comments on these are hard enough to +bear: your eulogies would raise bounds to my patience." + +Whereupon he walked quickly up to the bed and from under the mattress +extricated five leather wallets which he threw one by one upon the +table. + +"Here is the King's money," he said curtly; "you could never have taken +it from me by force, but I give it over to you willingly now. If within +a week from now I hear that the King has not received it, I will +proclaim you a liar and a thief." + +"Sir . . . you dare . . ." + +"Nay! we'll not quarrel. I don't want to do you any hurt. You know from +experience that I could kill you or wring your neck as easily as you +could kill a child; but Mlle. Crystal's love is like a protecting shield +all round you, so I'll not touch you again. But don't ask me to measure +my words, for that is beyond my power. Take the money, M. de St. Genis, +and earn not only the King's gratitude but also Mlle. Crystal's, which +is far better worth having. And now, I pray you, leave me to rest. You +must be tired too. And our mutual company hath become irksome to us +both." + +He turned his back on St. Genis and sat down at the table, drawing +paper, pen and inkhorn toward him, and with clumsy, left hand began +laboriously to form written characters, as if St. Genis' presence or +departure no longer concerned him. + +An importunate beggar could not have been more humiliatingly dismissed. +St. Genis had flushed to the very roots of his hair. He would have given +much to be able to chastise the insolent Englishman then and there. But +the latter had not boasted when he said that he could wring Maurice's +neck as easily with his left hand as with his right, and Maurice within +his heart was bound to own that the boast was no idle one. He knew that +in a hand-to-hand fight he was no match for that heavy-framed, +hard-fisted product of a fog-ridden land. + +He would not trust himself to speak any more, lest another word cause +prudence to yield to exasperation. Another moment of hesitation, a shrug +of the shoulders--perhaps a muttered curse or two--and St. Genis picked +up one by one the wallets from the table. + +Clyffurde never looked up while he did so: he continued to form awkward, +illegible characters upon the paper before him, as if his very life +depended on being able to write with his left hand. + +The next moment St. Genis had walked rapidly out of the room. Bobby left +off writing, threw down his pen, and resting his elbow upon the table +and his head in his hand, he remained silent and motionless while St. +Genis' quick and firm footsteps echoed first along the corridor, then +down the creaking stairs and finally on the floor below. After which +there came the sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the dragging +of a chair across a wooden floor, and nothing more. + +All was still in the house at last. The old-fashioned clock downstairs +struck half-past two. + +With a smothered cry of angry contempt Clyffurde seized on the papers +that lay scattered on the table and crushed them up in his hand with a +gesture of passionate wrath. + +Then he strode up to the window, threw open the rickety casement and let +the pure cold air of night pour into the room and dissipate the +atmosphere of cowardice, of falsehood and of unworthy love that still +seemed to hang there where M. le Marquis de St. Genis had basely +bargained for his own ends, and outraged the very name of Love by +planning base deeds in its name. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CRIME + + +I + +Victor de Marmont had spent that same night in wearisome agitation. His +mortification and disappointment would not allow him to rest. + +He had brought his squad of cavalry up as far as St. Priest, which lies +a little off the main road, about half-way between Lyons and the scene +of de Marmont's late discomfiture. Here he and his men had spent the +night, only to make a fresh start early the next morning--back for +Grenoble--seeing that M. le Comte d'Artois with thirty or forty thousand +troops was even now at Lyons. + +When, an hour after leaving St. Priest, the little troop came upon a +solitary horseman, riding a heavy carriage horse with a postillion's +bridle, de Marmont at first had no other thought save that of malicious +pleasure at recognising the man, whom just now he hated more cordially +than any other man in the world. + +M. de St. Genis--for indeed it was he--was peremptorily challenged and +questioned, and his wrath and impotent attempts at arrogance greatly +delighted de Marmont. + +To make oneself actively unpleasant to a rival is apt to be a very +pleasurable sensation. Victor had an exceedingly disagreeable half-hour +to avenge and to declare St. Genis a prisoner of war, to order his +removal to Grenoble pending the Emperor's pleasure, to command him to +be silent when he desired to speak was so much soothing balsam spread +upon the wounds which his own pride had suffered at Brestalou last +Sunday eve. + +It was not until a casual remark from the sergeant under his command +caused him to notice the bulging pockets of St. Genis' coat, that Victor +thought to give the order to search the prisoner. + +The latter entered a vigorous protest: he fought and he threatened: he +promised de Marmont the hangman's rope and his men terrible reprisals, +but of course he was fighting a losing battle. He was alone against five +and twenty, his first attempt at getting hold of the pistols in his belt +was met with a threat of summary execution: he was dragged out of the +saddle, his arms were forced behind his back, while rough hands turned +out the precious contents of his coat-pockets! All that he could do was +to curse fate which had brought these pirates on his way, and his own +short-sightedness and impatience in not waiting for the armed patrol +which undoubtedly would have been sent out to him from Lyons in response +to M. le Comte de Cambray's request. + +Now he had the deadly chagrin and bitter disappointment of seeing the +money which he had wrested from Clyffurde last night at the price of so +much humiliation, transferred to the pockets of a real thief and +spoliator who would either keep it for himself or--what in the +enthusiastic royalist's eyes would be even worse--place it at the +service of the Corsican usurper. He could hardly believe in the reality +of his ill luck, so appalling was it. In one moment he saw all the hopes +of which he had dreamed last night fly beyond recall. He had lost +Crystal more effectually, more completely than he ever had done before. +If the Englishman ever spoke of what had occurred last night . . . if +Crystal ever knew that he had been fool enough to lose the treasure +which had been in his possession for a few hours--her contempt would +crush the love which she had for him: nor would the Comte de Cambray +ever relent. + +De Marmont's triumph too was hard to bear: his clumsy irony was terribly +galling. + +"Would M. le Marquis de St. Genis care to continue his journey to Lyons +now? would he prefer not to go to Grenoble?" + +St. Genis bit his tongue with the determination to remain silent. + +"M. de St. Genis is free to go whither he chooses." + +The permission was not even welcome. Maurice would as lief be taken +prisoner and dragged back to Grenoble as face Crystal with the story of +his failure. + +Quite mechanically he remounted, and pulled his horse to one side while +de Marmont ordered his little squad to form once more, and after the +brief word of command and a final sarcastic farewell, galloped off up +the road back toward Lyons at the head of his men, not waiting to see if +St. Genis came his way too or not. + +The latter with wearied, aching eyes gazed after the fast disappearing +troop, until they became a mere speck on the long, straight road, and +the distant morning mist finally swallowed them up. + +Then he too turned his horse's head in the same direction back toward +Lyons once more, and allowing the reins to hang loosely in his hand, and +letting his horse pick its own slow way along the road, he gave himself +over to the gloominess of his own thoughts. + + +II + +He too had some difficulty in entering the town. M. le Duc d'Orléans, +cousin of the King, had just arrived to support M. le Comte d'Artois, +and together these two royal princes had framed and posted up a +proclamation to the brave Lyonese of the National Guard. + +The whole city was in a turmoil, for M. le Duc d'Orléans--who was +nothing if not practical--had at once declared that there was not the +slightest chance of a successful defence of Lyons, and that by far the +best thing to do would be to withdraw the troops while they were still +loyal. + +M. le Comte d'Artois protested; at any rate he wouldn't do anything so +drastic till after the arrival of Marshal Macdonald, to whom he had sent +an urgent courier the day before, enjoining him to come to Lyons without +delay. In the meanwhile he and his royal cousin did all they could to +kindle or at any rate to keep up the loyalty of the troops, but +defection was already in the air: here and there the men had been seen +to throw their white cockades into the mud, and more than one cry of +"Vive l'Empereur!" had risen even while Monsieur himself was reviewing +the National Guard on the Place Bellecour. + +The bridge of La Guillotière was stoutly barricaded, but as St. Genis +waited out in the open road while his name was being taken to the +officer in command he saw crowds of people standing or walking up and +down on the opposite bank of the river. + +They were waiting for the Emperor, the news of whose approach was +filling the townspeople with glee. + +Heartsick and wretched, St. Genis, after several hours of weary waiting, +did ultimately obtain permission to enter the city by the ferry on the +south side of the city. Once inside Lyons, he had no difficulty in +ascertaining where such a distinguished gentleman as M. le Comte de +Cambray had put up for the night, and he promptly made his way to the +Hotel Bourbon, his mind, at this stage, still a complete blank as to how +he would explain his discomfiture to the Comte and to Crystal. + +In the present state of M. le Comte d'Artois' difficulties the money +would have been thrice welcome, and St. Genis felt the load of failure +weighing thrice as heavily on his soul, and dreaded the +reproaches--mute or outspoken--which he knew awaited him. If only he +could have thought of something! something plausible and not too +inglorious! There was, of course, the possibility that he had failed to +come upon the track of the thieves at all--but then he had no business +to come back so soon--and he didn't want to come back, only that there +was always the likelihood of the Englishman speaking of what had +occurred--not necessarily with evil intent . . . but . . . some words of +his: "If within a week I hear that the King of France has not received +this money, I will proclaim you a liar and a thief!" rang unpleasantly +in St. Genis' ears. + +The young man's mind, I repeat, was at this point still a blank as to +what explanation he would give to the Comte de Cambray of his own +miserable failure. + +He was returning--after an ardent promise to overtake the thief and to +force him to give up the money--without apparently having made any +effort in that direction--or having made the effort, failing signally +and ignominiously--a foolish and unheroic position in either case. + +To tell the whole unvarnished truth, his interview with Clyffurde and +his thoughtlessness in wandering along the road all alone, laden with +twenty-five million francs, not waiting for the arrival of M. le Comte +d'Artois' patrol, was unthinkable. + +Then what? St. Genis, determined not to tell the truth, found it a +difficult task to concoct a story that would be plausible and at the +same time redound to his credit. His disappointment was so bitter now, +his hopes of winning Crystal and glory had been so bright, that he found +it quite impossible to go back to the hard facts of life--to his own +poverty and the unattainableness of Crystal de Cambray--without making a +great effort to win back what Victor de Marmont had just wrested from +him. + +Through the whirl of his thoughts, too, there was a vague sense of +resentment against Clyffurde--coupled with an equally vague sense of +fear. He, Maurice, might easily keep silent over the transaction of last +night, but Clyffurde might not feel inclined to do so. He would want to +know sooner or later what had become of the money . . . had he not +uttered a threat which made Maurice's cheeks even now flush with wrath +and shame? + +Certain words and gestures of the Englishman had stood out before +Maurice's mind in a way that had stirred up those latent jealousies +which always lurk in the heart of an unsuccessful wooer. Clyffurde had +been generous--blind to his own interests--ready to sacrifice what +recognition he had earned: he had spared his assailant and agreed to an +unworthy subterfuge, and St. Genis' tormented brain began to wonder why +he had done all this. + +Was it for love of Crystal de Cambray? + +St. Genis would not allow himself to answer that question, for he felt +that if he did he would hate that hard-fisted Englishman more thoroughly +than he had ever hated any man before--not excepting de Marmont. De +Marmont was an evil and vile traitor who never could cross Crystal's +path of life again. . . . But not so the Englishman, who had planned to +serve her and who would have succeeded so magnificently but for +his--Maurice's--interference! + +If this explanation of Clyffurde's strangely magnanimous conduct was the +true one, then indeed St. Genis felt that he would have everything to +fear from him. For indeed was it so very unlikely that the Englishman +was throughout acting in collusion with Victor de Marmont, who was known +to be his friend? + +Was it so very unlikely that--seeing himself unmasked--he had found a +sure and rapid way of allowing the money to pass through St. Genis' +hands into those of de Marmont, and at the same time hopelessly +humiliating and discrediting his rival in the affections of Mlle. de +Cambray? + +That the suggestion of handing the money over to him had come originally +from Maurice de St. Genis himself, the young man did not trouble himself +to remember. The more he thought this new explanation of past events +over, the more plausible did it seem and the more likely of acceptance +by M. le Comte de Cambray and by Crystal, and St. Genis at last saw his +way to appearing before them not only zealous but heroic--even if +unfortunate--and it was with a much lightened heart that he finally drew +rein outside the Hotel Bourbon. + + +III + +M. le Comte de Cambray, it seems, was staying at the Hotel for a few +days, so the proprietor informed M. de St. Genis. M. le Comte had gone +out, but Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen was upstairs with Mlle. de Cambray. + +With somewhat uncertain step St. Genis followed the obsequious +proprietor, who had insisted on conducting M. le Marquis to the ladies' +apartments himself. They occupied a suite of rooms on the first floor, +and after a timid knock at the door, it was opened by Jeanne from +within, and Maurice found himself in the presence of Crystal and of the +Duchesse and obliged at once to enter upon the explanation which, with +their first cry of surprise, they already asked of him. + +"Well!" exclaimed Crystal eagerly, "what news?" + +"Of the money?" murmured Maurice vaguely, who above all things was +anxious to gain time. + +"Yes! the King's money!" rejoined the girl with slight impatience. "Have +you tracked the thieves? Do you know where they are? Is there any hope +of catching them?" + +"None, I am afraid," he replied firmly. + +Crystal gave a cry of bitter disappointment and reproach. "Then, +Maurice," she exclaimed almost involuntarily, "why are you here?" + +And Mme. la Duchesse, folding her mittened hands before her, seemed +mutely to be asking the same question. + +"But did you come upon the thieves at all?" continued Crystal with eager +volubility. "Where did they go to for the night? You must have come on +some traces of their passage. Oh!" she added vehemently, "you ought not +to have deserted your post like this!" + +"What could I do," he murmured. "I was all alone . . . against so many. +. . ." + +"You said that you would get on the track of the thieves," she urged, +"and father told you that he would speak with M. le Comte d'Artois as +soon as possible. Monsieur has promised that an armed patrol would be +sent out to you, and would be on the lookout for you on the road." + +"An armed patrol would be no use. I came back on purpose to stop one +being sent." + +"But why, in Heaven's name?" exclaimed the Duchesse. + +"Because a troop of deserters with that traitor Victor de Marmont is +scouring the road, and . . ." + +"We know that," said Crystal, "we were stopped by them last night, after +you left us. They were after the money for the usurper, who had sent +them, and I thanked God that twenty-five millions had enriched a common +thief rather than the Corsican brigand." + +"Surely, Maurice," said the Duchesse with her usual tartness, "you were +not fool enough to allow the King's money to fall into that abominable +de Marmont's hands?" + +"How could I help it?" now exclaimed the young man, as if driven to the +extremity of despair. "The whole thing was a huge plot beyond one man's +power to cope with. I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence +as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the +beaten track--at dead of night--a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I +tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to +me." + +"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then +. . ." + +"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling +himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees, +and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my +pockets at last." + +"You forced him--how splendid!" reiterated Crystal, whose glowing eyes +were fixed upon Maurice with all the admiration which she felt. + +"Yes! that money was in my pocket for the rest of the happy night, but +the abominable thief knew well that his friend Victor de Marmont was on +the road with five and twenty armed deserters in the pay of the Corsican +brigand. Hardly had I left the hostelry and found my way back to the +main road when I was surrounded, assailed, searched and robbed. I +repeat!" continued St. Genis, warming to his own narrative, "what could +I do alone against so many?--the thief and his hirelings I managed +successfully, but with the money once in my possession I could not risk +staying an hour longer than I could help in that den of cutthroats. But +they were in league with de Marmont, and, though I would have guarded +the King's money with my life, it was filched from me ere I could draw a +single weapon in its defence." + +He had sunk in a chair, half exhausted with the effort of his own +eloquence, and now, with elbows resting on his knees and head buried in +his hands, he looked the picture of heroic misery. + +Crystal said nothing for a while; there was a deep frown of puzzlement +between her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said resolutely at last, "you said just now that the +thief was in collusion with his friend de Marmont. What did you mean by +that?" + +"I would rather that you guessed what I meant, Crystal," replied Maurice +without looking up at her. + +"You mean . . . that . . ." she began slowly. + +"That it was Mr. Clyffurde, our English friend," broke in Madame tartly, +"who robbed us on the broad highway. I suspected it all along." + +"You suspected it, _ma tante_, and said nothing?" asked the girl, who +obviously had not taken in the full significance of Maurice's statement. + +"I said absolutely nothing," replied Madame decisively, "firstly, +because I did not think that I would be doing any good by putting my own +surmises into my brother's head, and, secondly, because I must confess +that I thought that nice young Englishman had acted pour le bon motif." + +"How could you think that, _ma tante_?" ejaculated Crystal hotly: "a +good motive? to rob us at dead of night--he, a friend of Victor de +Marmont--an adherent of the Corsican! . . ." + +"Englishmen are not adherents of the Corsican, my dear," retorted Madame +drily, "and until Maurice's appearance this morning, I was satisfied +that the money would ultimately reach His Majesty's own hands." + +"But we were taking the money to His Majesty ourselves." + +"And Victor de Marmont was after it. Mr. Clyffurde may have known that. +. . . Remember, my dear," continued Madame, "that these were my +impressions last night. Maurice's account of the den of cutthroats has +modified these entirely." + +Again Crystal was silent. The frown had darkened on her face: there was +a line of bitter resentment round her lips--a look of contempt, of hate, +of a desire to hurt, in her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said abruptly at last. + +"Yes?" + +"I did wound that thief, did I not?" + +"Yes. In the shoulder . . . it gave me a slight advantage . . ." he said +with affected modesty. + +"I am glad. And you . . . you were able to punish him too, I hope." + +"Yes. I punished him." + +He was watching her very closely, for inwardly he had been wondering how +she had taken his news. She was strangely agitated, so Maurice's +troubled, jealous heart told him; her face was flushed, her eyes were +wet and a tiny lace handkerchief which she twisted between her fingers +was nothing but a damp rag. + +"Oh! I hate him! I hate him!" she murmured as with an impatient gesture +she brushed the gathering tears from her eyes. "Father had been so kind +to him--so were we all. How could he? how could he?" + +"His duty, I suppose," said St. Genis magnanimously. + +"His duty?" she retorted scornfully. + +"To the cause which he served." + +"Duty to a usurper, a brigand, the enemy of his country. Was he, then, +paid to serve the Corsican?" + +"Probably." + +"His being in trade--buying gloves at Grenoble--was all a plant then?" + +"I am afraid so," said St. Genis, who much against his will now was +sinking ever deeper and deeper in the quagmire of lying and cowardice +into which he had allowed himself to drift. + +"And he was nothing better than a spy!" + +No one, not even Crystal herself, could have defined with what feelings +she said this. Was it solely contempt? or did a strange mixture of +regret and sorrow mingle with the scorn which she felt? Swiftly her +thoughts had flown back to that Sunday evening--a very few days +ago--when the course of her destiny was so suddenly changed once more, +when her marriage with a man whom she could never love was broken off, +when the possibilities once more rose upon the horizon of her life, of a +renewed existence of poverty and exile in the wake of a dispossessed +king. + +That same evening a man whom she had hardly noticed before--a man +neither of her own nationality nor of her own caste--this same +Englishman, Clyffurde, had entered into her life--not violently or +aggressively, but just with a few words of intense sympathy and with a +genuine offer of friendship; and she somehow, despite much kindness +which encompassed her always, had felt cheered and warmed by his words, +and a strange and sweet sense of security against hurt and sorrow had +entered her heart as she listened to them. + +And now she knew that all that was false--false his sympathy, false his +offers of friendship--his words were false, his hand-grasp false. +Treachery lurked behind that kindly look in his eyes, and falsehood +beneath his smile. + +"He was nothing better than a spy!" The sting of that thought hurt her +more than she could have thought possible. She had so few real friends +and this one had proved a sham. Had she been alone she would have given +way to tears, but before Maurice or even her aunt she was ashamed of her +grief, ashamed of her feelings and of her thoughts. There was a great +deal yet that she wished to know, but somehow the words choked her when +she wanted to ask further questions. Fortunately Mme. la Duchesse was +taking Maurice thoroughly to task. She asked innumerable questions, and +would not spare him the relation of a single detail. + +"Tell us all about it from the beginning, Maurice," she said. "Where did +you first meet the rogue?" + +And Maurice--weary and ashamed--was forced to embark on a minute account +of adventures that were lies from beginning to end: he had stumbled +across the wayside hostelry on a lonely by-path: he had found it full of +cut-throats: he had stalked and waylaid their chief in his own room, +and forced him to give up the money by the weight of his fists. + +It was paltry and pitiable: nevertheless, St. Genis, as he warmed to his +tale, lost the shame of it; only wrath remained with him: anger that he +should be forced into this despicable rôle through the intrigues of a +rival. + +In his heart he was already beginning to find innumerable excuses for +his cowardice: and his rage and hatred grew against Clyffurde as +Madame's more and more persistent questions taxed his imagination almost +to exhaustion. + +When, after half an hour of this wearying cross-examination, Madame at +last granted him a respite, he made a pretext of urgent business at M. +le Comte d'Artois' headquarters and took his leave of the ladies. He +waited in vain hope that the Duchesse's tact would induce her to leave +him alone for a moment with Crystal. Madame stuck obstinately to her +chair and was blind and deaf to every hint of appeal from him, whilst +Crystal, who was singularly absorbed and had lent but a very indifferent +ear to his narrative, made no attempt to detain him. + +She gave him her hand to kiss, just as Madame had done; it lay hot and +moist in his grasp. + +"Crystal," he continued to murmur as his lips touched her fingers, "I +love you . . . I worked for you . . . it is not my fault that I failed." + +She looked at him kindly and sympathetically through her tears, and gave +his hand a gentle little pressure. + +"I am sure it was not your fault," she replied gently, "poor Maurice. +. . ." + +It was not more than any kind friend would say under like circumstances, +but to a lover every little word from the beloved has a significance of +its own, every look from her has its hidden meaning. Somewhat satisfied +and cheered Maurice now took his final leave: + +"Does M. le Comte propose to continue his journey to Paris?" he asked at +the last. + +"Oh, yes!" Crystal replied, "he could not stay away while he feels that +His Majesty may have need of him. Oh, Maurice!" she added suddenly, +forgetting her absorption, her wrath against Clyffurde, her own +disappointment--everything--in face of the awful possible calamity, and +turning anxious, appealing eyes upon the young man, "you don't think, do +you, that that abominable usurper will succeed in ousting the King once +more from his throne?" + +And St. Genis--remembering Laffray and Grenoble, remembering what was +going on in Lyons at this moment, the silent grumblings of the troops, +the defaced white cockades, the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which he +himself had heard as he rode through the town--St. Genis, remembering +all this, could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders in miserable +doubt. + +When he had gone at last, Crystal's thoughts veered back once more to +Clyffurde and to his treachery. + +"What abominable deceit, _ma tante_!" she cried, and quite against her +will tears of wrath and of disappointment rose to her eyes. "What +villainy! what odious, execrable treachery!" + +Madame shrugged her shoulders and took up her knitting. + +"These days, my dear," she said with unwonted placidity, "the world is +so full of treachery that men and women absorb it by every pore." + +"But I shall not leave it at that," rejoined Crystal resolutely. "I'll +find a means of punishing that vile traitor . . . I'll make him feel the +hatred which he has so richly deserved--I shall not rest till I have +made him suffer as he makes me suffer now. . . ." + +"My dear--my dear--" protested Mme. la Duchesse, not a little shocked at +the girl's vehemence. + +Indeed, Crystal's otherwise sweet, gentle, yielding personality seemed +completely transformed: for the moment she was just a sensitive woman +who has been hit and hurt, and whose desire for retaliation is keener, +more relentless than that of a man. All the soft look in her blue eyes +had gone--they looked dark and hard--her fair curls were matted against +her damp forehead; indeed, Madame thought that for the moment all +Crystal's beauty had gone--the sweet, submissive beauty of the girl, the +grace of movement, the shy, appealing gentleness of her ways. She now +looked all determination, resentment, and, above all, revenge. + +"The dear child," sighed the Duchesse over her knitting, "it is the +English blood in her. Those people never know how to accept the +inevitable: they are always wanting to fight someone for something and +never know when they are beaten." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL + + +I + +And the triumphal march from the gulf of Jouan continued uninterrupted +to Paris. + +After Laffray and Grenoble, Lyons, where the silk-weavers of La +Guillotière assembled in their thousands to demolish the barricades +which had been built up on their bridge against the arrival of the +Emperor, and watched his entry into their city waving kerchiefs and hats +in his honour, and tricolour flags and cockades fished out of cupboards, +where they had lain hidden but not forgotten for one whole year. + +After Lyons, Villefranche, where sixty thousand peasants and workmen +awaited his arrival at the foot of the tree of Liberty, on the top of +which a brass eagle, the relic of some old standard, glistened like gold +as it caught the rays of the setting sun. + +And Nevers, where the townsfolk urged the regiments as they march +through the city to tear the white cockades from their hats! And +Chalon-sur-Saône, where the workpeople commandeer a convoy of artillery +destined for the army of M. le Comte d'Artois! + +The préfets of the various départements, the bureaucracy of provinces +and cities, are not only amazed but struck with terror: + +"This is a new Revolution!" they cry in dismay. + +Yes! it is a new Revolution! the revolt of the peasantry of the poor, +the humble, the oppressed! The hatred which they felt against that old +regime which had come back to them with its old arrogance and its former +tyrannies had joined issue with the cult of the army for the Emperor who +had led it to glory, to fortune and to fame. + +The people and the army were roused by the same enthusiasm, and marched +shoulder to shoulder to join the standard of Napoleon--the little man in +the shabby hat and the grey redingote, who for them personified the +spirit of the great revolution, the great struggle for liberty and its +final victory. + +The army of the Comte d'Artois--that portion of it which remained +loyal--was powerless against the overwhelming tide of popular +enthusiasm, powerless against dissatisfaction, mutterings and constant +defections in its ranks. The army would have done well in Provence--for +Provence was loyal and royalist, man, woman and child: but Napoleon took +the route of the Alps, and avoided Provence; by the time he reached +Lyons he had an army of his own and M. le Comte d'Artois--fearing more +defections and worse defeats--had thought it prudent to retire. + +It has often been said that if a single shot had been fired against his +original little band Napoleon's march on Paris would have been stopped. +Who shall tell? There are such "ifs" in the world, which no human mind +can challenge. Certain it is that that shot was not fired. At Laffray, +Randon gave the order, but he did not raise his musket himself; on the +walls of Grenoble St. Genis, in command of the artillery and urged by +the Comte de Cambray, did not dare to give the order or to fire a gun +himself. "The men declare," he had said gloomily, "that they would blow +their officers from their own guns." + +And at Lyons there was not militiaman, a royalist, volunteer or a pariah +out of the streets who was willing to fire that first and "single shot": +and though Marshal Macdonald swore ultimately that he would do it +himself, his determination failed him at the last when surrounded by his +wavering troops he found himself face to face with the conqueror of +Austerlitz and Jena and Rivoli and a thousand other glorious fights, +with the man in the grey redingote who had created him Marshal of France +and Duke of Tarente on the battlefields of Lombardy, his comrade-in-arms +who had shared his own scanty army rations with him, slept beside him +round the bivouac fires, and round whom now there rose a cry from end to +end of Lyons: "Vive l'Empereur!" + + +II + +Victor de Marmont did not wait for the arrival of the Emperor at Lyons: +nor did he attempt to enter the city. He knew that there was still some +money in the imperial treasury brought over from Elba, and his +mind--always in search of the dramatic--had dwelt with pleasure on +thoughts of the day when the Emperor, having entered Fontainebleau, or +perhaps even Paris and the Tuileries, would there be met by his faithful +de Marmont, who on bended knees in the midst of a brilliant and admiring +throng would present to him the twenty-five million francs originally +the property of the Empress herself and now happily wrested from the +cupidity of royalist traitors. + +The picture pleased de Marmont's fancy: he dwelt on it with delight, he +knew that no one requited a service more amply and more generously than +Napoleon: he knew that after this service rendered there was nothing to +which he--de Marmont--young as he was, could not aspire--title, riches, +honours, anything he wanted would speedily become his, and with these to +his credit he could claim Crystal de Cambray once more. + +Oh! she would be humbled again by then, she and her father too, the +proud aristocrats, doomed once more to penury and exile, unless he--de +Marmont--came forth like the fairy prince to the beggarmaid with hands +laden with riches, ready to lay these at the feet of the woman he loved. + +Yes! Crystal de Cambray would be humbled! De Marmont, though he felt +that he loved her more and better than any man had ever loved any woman +before, nevertheless had a decided wish that she should be humbled and +suffer bitterly thereby. He felt that her pride was his only enemy: her +pride and royalist prejudices. Of the latter he thought but little: +confident of his Emperor's success, he thought that all those hot-headed +royalists would soon realise the hopelessness of their cause--rendered +all the more hopeless through its short-lived triumph of the past +year--and abandon it gradually and surely, accepting the inevitable and +rejoicing over the renewed glory which would come over France. + +As for her pride! well! that was going to be humbled, along with the +pride of the Bourbon princes, of that fatuous old king, of all those +arrogant aristocrats who had come back after years of exile, as +arrogant, as tyrannical as ever before. + +These were pleasing thoughts which kept Victor de Marmont company on his +way between Lyons and Fontainebleau. Once past Villefranche he sent the +bulk of his escort back to Lyons, where the Emperor should have arrived +by this time: he had written out a superficial report of his expedition, +which the sergeant in charge of the little troop was to convey to the +Emperor's own hands. He only kept two men with him, put himself and them +into plain, travelling clothes which he purchased at Villefranche, and +continued his journey to the north without much haste; the roads were +safe enough from footpads, he and his two men were well armed, and what +stragglers from the main royalist army he came across would be far too +busy with their own retreat and their own disappointment to pay much +heed to a civilian and seemingly harmless traveller. + +De Marmont loved to linger on the way in the towns and hamlets where the +news of the Emperor's approach had already been wafted from Grenoble, or +Lyons, or Villefranche on the wings of wind or birds, who shall say? +Enough that it had come, that the peasants, assembled in masses in their +villages, were whispering together that he was coming--the little man in +the grey redingote--l'Empereur! + +And de Marmont would halt in those villages and stop to whisper with the +peasants too: Yes! he was coming! and the whole of France was giving him +a rousing welcome! There was Laffray and Grenoble and Lyons! the army +rallied to his standard as one man! + +And de Marmont would then pass on to another village, to another town, +no longer whispering after a while, but loudly proclaiming the arrival +of the Emperor who had come into his own again. + +After Nevers he was only twenty-four hours ahead of Napoleon and his +progress became a triumphant one: newspapers, despatches had filtrated +through from Paris--news became authentic, though some of it sounded a +little wild. Wherever de Marmont arrived he was received with +acclamations as the man who had seen the Emperor, who had assisted at +the Emperor's magnificent entry into Grenoble, who could assure citizens +and peasantry that it was all true, that the Emperor would be in Paris +again very shortly and that once more there would be an end to tyranny +and oppression, to the rule of the aristocrats and a number of +incompetent and fatuous princes. + +He did not halt at Fontainebleau, for now he knew that the Court of the +Tuileries was in a panic, that neither the Comte d'Artois, nor the Duc +de Berry, nor any of the royal princes had succeeded in keeping the army +together: that defections had been rife for the past week, even before +Napoleon had shown himself, and that Marshal Ney, the bravest soldier +in France, had joined his Emperor at Auxerre. + +No! de Marmont would not halt at Fontainebleau. It was Paris that he +wanted to see! Paris, which to-day would witness the hasty flight of the +gouty and unpopular King whom it had never learned to love! Paris +decking herself out like a bride for the arrival of her bridegroom! +Paris waiting and watching, while once again on the Tuileries and the +Hôtel de Ville, on the Louvre and the Luxembourg, on church towers and +government buildings the old tricolour flag waved gaily in the wind. + +He slept that night at a small hotel in the Louvre quarter, but the +whole evening he spent on the Place du Carrousel with the crowd outside +the Tuileries, watching the departure from the palace of the infirm King +of France and of his Court. The crowd was silent and obviously deeply +moved. The spectacle before it of an old, ailing monarch, driven forth +out of the home of his ancestors, and forced after an exile of three and +twenty years and a brief reign of less than one, to go back once more to +misery and exile, was pitiable in the extreme. + +Many forgot all that the brief reign had meant in disappointments and +bitter regrets, and only saw in the pathetic figure that waddled +painfully from portico to carriage door a monarch who was unhappy, +abandoned and defenceless: a monarch, too, who, in his unheroic, +sometimes grotesque person, was nevertheless the representative of all +the privileges and all the rights, of all the dignity and majesty +pertaining to the most ancient ruling dynasty in Europe, as well as of +all the humiliations and misfortunes which that same dynasty had +endured. + + +III + +It is late in the evening of March 20th. A thin mist is spreading from +the river right over Paris, and from the Place du Carrousel the lighted +windows of the Tuileries palace appear only like tiny, dimly-flickering +stars. + +Here an immense crowd is assembled. It has waited patiently hour after +hour, ever since in the earlier part of the afternoon a courier has come +over from Fontainebleau with the news that the Emperor is already there +and would be in Paris this night. + +It is the same crowd which twenty-four hours ago shed a tear or two in +sympathy for the departing monarch: now it stands here--waiting, +excited, ready to cheer the return of a popular hero--half-forgotten, +wildly acclaimed, madly welcomed, to be cursed again, and again +forgotten so soon. It was a heterogeneous crowd forsooth! made up in +great part of the curious, the idle, the indifferent, and in great part, +too, of the Bonapartist enthusiasts and malcontents who had groaned +under the reactionary tyranny of the Restoration--of malcontents, too, +of no enthusiasm, who were ready to welcome any change which might bring +them to prominence or to fortune. With here and there a sprinkling of +hot-headed revolutionaries, cursing the return of the Emperor as +heartily as they had cursed that of the Bourbon king: and here and there +a few heart-sick royalists, come to watch the final annihilation of +their hopes. + +Victor de Marmont, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood among the crowd for a +while. He knew that the Emperor would probably not be in Paris before +night, and he loved to be in the very midst of the wave of enthusiasm +which was surging higher and ever higher in the crowd, and hear the +excited whispers, and to feel all round him, wrapping him closely like a +magic mantle of warmth and delight, the exaltation of this mass of men +and women assembled here to acclaim the hero whom he himself adored. +Closely buttoned inside his coat he had scraps of paper worth the ransom +of any king. + +Among the crowd, too, Bobby Clyffurde moved and stood. He was one of +those who watched this enthusiasm with a heart filled with forebodings. +He knew well how short this enthusiasm would be: he knew that within a +few weeks--days perhaps--the bold and reckless adventurer who had so +easily reconquered France would realise that the Imperial crown would +never be allowed to sit firmly upon his head. None in this crowd knew +better that the present pageant and glory would be short-lived, than did +this tall, quiet Englishman who listened with half an ear and a smile of +good-natured contempt to the loud cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose +spontaneously whenever the sound of horses' hoofs or rattles of wheels +from the direction of Fontainebleau suggested the approach of the hero +of the day. None knew better than he that already in far-off England +another great hero, named Wellington, was organising the forces which +presently would crush--for ever this time--the might and ambitions of +the man whom England had never acknowledged as anything but a usurper +and a foe. + +And closely buttoned inside his coat Clyffurde had a letter which he had +received at his lodgings in the Alma quarter only a few moments before +he sallied forth into the streets. That letter was an answer to a +confidential enquiry of his own sent to the Chief of the British Secret +Intelligence Department resident in Paris, desiring to know if the +Department had any knowledge of a vast sum of money having come +unexpectedly into the hands of His Majesty the King of France, before +his flight from the capital. + +The answer was an emphatic "No!" The Intelligence Department knew of no +such windfall. But its secret agents reported that Victor de Marmont, +captain of the usurper's body-guard, had waylaid M. le Marquis de St. +Genis on the high road not far from Lyons. The escort which had +accompanied Victor de Marmont on that occasion had been dismissed by him +at Villefranche, and the information which the British Secret +Intelligence Department had obtained came through the indiscretion of +the sergeant in charge of the escort, who had boasted in a tavern at +Lyons that he had actually searched M. de St. Genis and found a large +sum of money upon him, of which M. de Marmont promptly took possession. + +When Bobby Clyffurde received this letter and first mastered its +contents, the language which he used would have done honour to a Toulon +coal-heaver. He cursed St. Genis' stupidity in allowing himself to be +caught; but above all he cursed himself for his soft-heartedness which +had prompted him to part with the money. + +The letter which brought him the bad news seemed to scorch his hand, and +brand it with the mark of folly. He had thought to serve the woman he +loved, first, by taking the money from her, since he knew that Victor de +Marmont with an escort of cavalry was after it, and, secondly, by +allowing the man whom she loved to have the honour and glory of laying +the money at his sovereign's feet. The whole had ended in a miserable +fiasco, and Clyffurde felt sore and wrathful against himself. + +And also among the crowd--among those who came, heartsick, hopeless, +forlorn, to watch the triumph of the enemy as they had watched the +humiliation of their feeble King--was M. le Comte de Cambray with his +daughter Crystal on his arm. + +They had come, as so many royalists had done, with a vague hope that in +the attitude of the crowd they would discern indifference rather than +exultation, and that the active agents of their party, as well as those +of England and of Prussia, would succeed presently in stirring up a +counter demonstration, that a few cries of "Vive le roi!" would prove to +the army at least and to the people of Paris that acclamations for the +usurper were at any rate not unanimous. + +But the crowd was not indifferent--it was excited: when first the Comte +de Cambray and Crystal arrived on the Place du Carrousel, a number of +white cockades could be picked out in the throng, either worn on a hat +or fixed to a buttonhole, but as the afternoon wore on there were fewer +and fewer of these small white stars to be seen: the temper of the crowd +did not brook this mute reproach upon its enthusiasm. One or two +cockades had been roughly torn and thrown into the mud, and the wearer +unpleasantly ill-used if he persisted in any royalistic demonstration. +Crystal, when she saw these incidents, was not the least frightened. She +wore her white cockade openly pinned to her cloak; she was far too +loyal, far too enthusiastic and fearless, far too much a woman to yield +her convictions to the popular feeling of the moment; and she looked so +young and so pretty, clinging to the arm of her father, who looked a +picturesque and harmless representative of the fallen regime, that with +the exception of a few rough words, a threat here and there, they had so +far escaped active molestation. + +And the crowd presently had so much to see that it ceased to look out +for white cockades, or to bait the sad-eyed royalists. A procession of +carriages, sparse at first and simple in appearance, had begun to make +its way from different parts of the town across the Place du Carrousel +toward the Tuileries. They arrived very quietly at first, with as little +clatter as possible, and drew up before the gates of the Pavillon de +Flore with as little show as may be: the carriage doors were opened +unostentatiously, and dark, furtive figures stepped out from them and +almost ran to the door of the palace, so eager were they to escape +observation, their big cloaks wrapped closely round them to hide the +court dress or uniform below. + +Ministers, dignitaries of the Court, Councillors of State; majordomos, +stewards, butlers, body-servants; they all came one by one or in groups +of twos or threes. As the afternoon wore on these arrivals grew less and +less furtive; the carriages arrived with greater clatter and to-do, with +finer liveries and more gorgeous harness. Those who stepped out of the +carriage doors were no longer quick and stealthy in their movements: +they lingered near the step to give an order or to chat to a friend; the +big cloak no longer concealed the gorgeous uniform below, it was allowed +to fall away from the shoulder, so as to display the row of medals and +stars, the gold embroidery, the magnificence of the Court attire. + +The Emperor had left Fontainebleau! Within an hour he would be in Paris! +Everyone knew it, and the excitement in the crowd that watched grew more +and more intense. Last night these same men and women had looked with +mute if superficial sympathy on the departure of Louis XVIII. through +these same palace gates: many eyes then became moist at the sight, as +memory flew back twenty years to the murdered king--his flight to +Varennes, his ignominious return, his weary Calvary from prison to court +house and thence to the scaffold. And here was his brother--come back +after twenty-three years of exile, acclaimed by the populace, cheered by +foreign soldiers--Russians, Austrians, English--anything but French--and +driven forth once more to exile after the brief glory that lasted not +quite a year. + +But this the crowd of to-day has already forgotten with the completeness +peculiar to crowds: men, women, and children too, they are no longer +mute, they talk and they chatter; they scream with astonishment and +delight whenever now from more and more carriages, more and more +gorgeously dressed folk descend. The ladies are beginning to arrive: the +wives of the great Court dignitaries, the ladies of the Court and +household of the still-absent Empress: they do not attempt to hide their +brilliant toilettes, their bare shoulders and arms gleam through the +fastenings of their cloaks, and diamonds sparkle in their hair. + +The crowd has recognised some of the great marshals, the men who in the +Emperor's wake led the French troops to victory in Italy, in Prussia, in +Austria: Maret Duc de Bassano is there and the crowd cheers him, the Duc +de Rovigo, Marshal Davout, Prince d'Eckmühl, General Excelmans, one of +Napoleon's oldest companions at arms, the Duke of Gaeta, the Duke of +Padua, a crowd of generals and superior officers. It seems like the +world of the Sleeping Beauty and of the Enchanted Castle--which a kiss +has awakened from its eleven months' sleep. The Empire had only been +asleep, it had dreamed a bad dream, wherein its hero was a prisoner and +an exile: now it is slowly wakening back to life and to reality. + +The night wears on: darkness and fog envelop Paris more and more. +Excitement becomes akin to anxiety. If the Emperor did leave +Fontainebleau when the last courier said that he did, he should +certainly be here by now. There are strange whispers, strange waves of +evil reports that spread through the waiting crowd: "A royalist fanatic +had shot at the Emperor! the Emperor was wounded! he was dead!" + +Oh! the excitement of that interminable wait! + +At last, just as from every church tower the bells strike the hour of +nine, there comes the muffled sound of a distant cavalcade: the sound of +horses galloping and only half drowning that of the rumbling of coach +wheels. + +It comes from the direction of the embankment, and from far away now is +heard the first cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" The noise gets louder and more +clear, the cries are repeated again and again till they merge into one +great, uproarious clamour. Like the ocean when lashed by the wind, the +crowd surges, moves, rises on tiptoe, subsides, falls back to crush +forward again and once more to retreat as a heavy coach, surrounded by +a thousand or so of mounted men, dashes over the cobbles of the Place du +Carrousel, whilst the clamour of the crowd becomes positively deafening. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + +The officers in the courtyard of the palace rush to the coach as it +draws up at the Pavillon de Flore: one of them succeeds in opening the +carriage door. The Emperor is literally torn out of the carriage, +carried to the vestibule, where more officers seize him, raise him from +the crowd, bear him along, hoisted upon their shoulders, up the +monumental staircase. + +Their enthusiasm is akin to delirium: they nearly tear their hero to +pieces in their wild, mad, frantic welcome. + +"In Heaven's name, protect his person," exclaims the Duc de Vicence +anxiously; and he and Lavalette manage to get hold of the banisters and +by dint of fighting and pushing succeed in walking backwards step by +step in front of the Emperor, thus making a way for him. + +Lavalette can hardly believe his eyes, and the Duc de Vicence keeps +murmuring: "It is the Emperor! It is the Emperor!" + +And he--the little stout man in green cloth coat and white +breeches--walks up the steps of his reconquered palace like a man in a +dream: his eyes are fixed apparently on nothing, he makes no movement to +keep his too enthusiastic friends away: the smile upon his lips is +meaningless and fixed. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferates the crowd. + +Vive l'Empereur for one hundred days: a few weeks of joy, a few weeks of +anxiety, a few weeks of indecision, of wavering and of doubt. Then +defeat more irrevocable than before! exile more distant! despair more +complete. + +Vive l'Empereur while we shout with excitement, while we remember the +disappointments of the past year, while we hope for better things from +a hand that has lost its cunning, a mind that has lost its power. + +Vive l'Empereur! Let him live for an hundred days, while we forget our +enthusiasm and Europe prepares its final crushing blow. Let him live +until we remember once again the horrors of war, the misery, the famine, +the devastated homes! until once more we see the maimed and crippled +crawling back wearily from the fields of glory, until our ears ring with +the wails of widows and the cries of the fatherless. + +Then let him no longer live, for he it is who has brought this misery on +us through his will and through his ambition, and France has suffered so +much from the aftermath of glory, that all she wants now is rest. + + +IV + +Gradually--but it took some hours--the tumult and excitement in and +round the Tuileries subsided. The Emperor managed to shut himself up in +his study and to eat some supper in peace, while gradually outside his +windows the crowd--who had nothing more to see and was getting tired of +staring up at glittering panes of glass--went back more or less quietly +to their homes. + +Only in the courtyard of the Tuileries, the troopers of the cavalry +which had formed the Emperor's escort from Fontainebleau tethered their +horses to the railings, rolled themselves in their mantles and slept on +the pavements, giving to this portion of the palace the appearance of a +bivouac in a place which has been taken by storm. + +One of the last to leave the Place du Carrousel was Bobby Clyffurde. The +crowd was thin by this time, but it was the tired and the +indifferent--the merely curious--who had been the first to go. Those who +remained to the last were either the very enthusiastic who wanted to set +up a final shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" after their idol had entirely +disappeared from their view, or the malcontents who would not lose a +moment to discuss their grievances, to murmur covert threats, or suggest +revolt in some shape or form or kind. + +Bobby slipped quickly past several of these isolated groups, indifferent +to the dark and glowering looks of suspicion that were cast at his tall, +muscular figure with the firm step and the defiant walk that was vaguely +reminiscent of the British troops that had been in Paris last year at +the time of the foreign occupation. He had skirted the Tuileries gardens +and was walking along the embankment which now was dark and solitary +save for some rowdy enthusiasts on ahead who, arm in arm in two long +rows that reached from the garden railings to the parapet, were +obstructing the roadway and shouting themselves hoarse with "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +Clyffurde, who was walking faster than they did, was just deliberating +in his mind whether he would turn back and go home some other way or +charge this unpleasant obstruction from the rear and risk the +consequences, when he noticed two figures still further on ahead walking +in the same direction as he himself and the rowdy crowd. + +One of these two figures--thus viewed in the distance, through the mist +and from the back--looked nevertheless like that of a woman, which fact +at once decided Bobby as to what he would do next. He sprinted toward +the crowd as fast as he could, but unfortunately he did not come up with +them in time to prevent the two unfortunate pedestrians being surrounded +by the turbulent throng which, still arm in arm and to the accompaniment +of wild shouts, had formed a ring around them and were now vociferating +at the top of raucous voices: + +"À bas la cocarde blanche! À bas! Vive l'Empereur!" + +A flickering street lamp feebly lit up this unpleasant scene. Bobby saw +the vague outline of a man and of a woman, standing boldly in the midst +of the hostile crowd while two white cockades gleamed defiantly against +the dark background of their cloaks. To an Englishman, who was a +pastmaster in the noble art of using fists and knees to advantage, the +situation was neither uncommon nor very perilous. The crowd was noisy it +is true, and was no doubt ready enough for mischief, but Clyffurde's +swift and scientific onslaught from the rear staggered and disconcerted +the most bold. There was a good deal more shouting, plenty of cursing; +the Englishman's arms and legs seemed to be flying in every direction +like the arms of a windmill; a good many thuds and bumps, a few groans, +a renewal of the attack, more thuds and groans, and the discomfited +group of roisterers fled in every direction. + +Bobby with a smile turned to the two motionless figures whom he had so +opportunely rescued from an unpleasant plight. + +"Just a few turbulent blackguards," he said lightly, as he made a quick +attempt at readjusting the set of his coat and the position of his satin +stock. "There was not much fight in them really, and . . ." + +He had, of course, lost his hat in the brief if somewhat stormy +encounter and now--as he turned--the thin streak of light from the +street-lamp fell full upon his face with its twinkling, deep-set eyes, +and the half-humorous, self-deprecatory curl of the firm mouth. + +A simultaneous exclamation came from his two protégés and stopped the +easy flow of his light-hearted words. He peered closely into the gloom +and it was his turn now to exclaim, half doubting, wholly astonished: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal . . . M. le Comte. . . ." + +"Indeed, Sir," broke in the Comte slowly, and with a voice that seemed +to be trembling with emotion, "it is to my daughter and to myself that +you have just rendered a signal and generous service. For this I tender +you my thanks, yet believe me, I pray you when I say that both she and +I would rather have suffered any humiliation or ill-usage from that +rough crowd than owe our safety and comfort to you." + +There was so much contempt, hatred even, in the tone of voice of this +old man whose manner habitually was a pattern of moderation and of +dignity that for the moment Clyffurde was completely taken aback. +Puzzlement fought with resentment and with the maddening sense that he +was anyhow impotent to avenge even so bitter an insult as had just been +hurled upon him--against a man of the Comte's years and status. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, "will you let me remind you that the +other day when you turned me out of your house like a dishonest servant, +you would not allow me to say a single word in my own justification? The +man on whose word you condemned me then without a hearing, is a +scatter-brained braggart who you yourself must know is not a man to be +trusted and . . ." + +"Pardon me, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with perfect sangfroid, "even +if I acted on that evening with undue haste and ill-considered judgment, +many things have happened since which you yourself surely would not wish +to discuss with me, just when you have rendered me a signal service." + +"Your pardon, M. le Comte," retorted Clyffurde with equal coolness, "I +know of nothing which could possibly justify the charges which, not +later than last Sunday, you laid at my door." + +"The charge which I laid at your door then, Mr. Clyffurde, has not been +lifted from its threshold yet. I charged you with deliberately +conspiring against my King and my country all the while that you were +eating bread and salt at my table. I charged you with striving to render +assistance to that Corsican usurper whom may the great God punish, and +you yourself practically owned to this before you left my house." + +"This I did not, M. le Comte," broke in Clyffurde hotly. "As a man of +honour I give you my word, that except for my being in de Marmont's +company on the day that he posted up the Emperor's proclamation in +Grenoble, I had no hand in any political scheme." + +"And you would have me believe you," exclaimed the Comte, with +ever-growing vehemence, "when you talk of that Corsican brigand as 'the +Emperor.' Those words, Sir, are an insult, and had you not saved my +daughter and me just now from violence I would--old as I am--strike you +in the face for them." + +With an impatient sigh at the old man's hot-headed obstinacy, Clyffurde +turned with a look of appeal to Crystal, who up to now had taken no part +in the discussion: "Mademoiselle," he said gently, "will you not at +least do me justice? Cannot you see that I am clumsy at defending mine +own honour, seeing that I have never had to do it before?" + +"I only see, Monsieur," she retorted coldly, "that you are making vain +and pitiable efforts to regain my father's regard--no doubt for purposes +of your own. But why should you trouble? You have nothing more to gain +from us. Your clever comedy of a highwayman on the road has succeeded +beyond your expectations. The Corsican who now sits in the armchair +lately vacated by an infirm monarch whom you and yours helped to +dethrone, will no doubt reward you for your pains. As for me I can only +echo my father's feelings: I would ten thousand times sooner have been +torn to pieces by a rough crowd of ignorant folk than owe my safety to +your interference." + +She took her father's arm and made a movement to go: instinctively +Clyffurde tried to stop her: at her words he had flushed with anger to +the very roots of his hair. The injustice of her accusation maddened +him, but the bitter resentment in the tone of her voice, the look of +passionate hatred with which she regarded him as she spoke, positively +appalled him. + +"M. le Comte," he said firmly, "I cannot let you go like this, whilst +such horrible thoughts of me exist in your mind. England gave you +shelter for three and twenty years; in the name of my country's kindness +and hospitality toward you, I--as one of her sons--demand that you tell +me frankly and clearly exactly what I am supposed to have done to +justify this extraordinary hatred and contempt which you and +Mademoiselle Crystal seem now to have for me." + +"One of England's sons, Monsieur!" retorted the Comte equally firmly. +"Nay! you are not even that. England stands for right and for justice, +for our legitimate King and the punishment of the usurper." + +"Great God!" he exclaimed, more and more bewildered now, "are you +accusing me of treachery against mine own country? This will I allow no +man to do, not even . . ." + +"Then, Sir, I pray you," rejoined Crystal proudly, "go and seek a +quarrel with the man who has unmasked you; who caught you red-handed +with the money in your possession which you had stolen from us, who +forced you to give up what you had stolen, and whom then you and your +friend Victor de Marmont waylaid and robbed once more. Go then, Mr. +Clyffurde, and seek a quarrel with the Marquis de St. Genis, who has +already struck you in the face once and no doubt will be ready to do so +again." + +And what of Clyffurde's thoughts while the woman whom he loved with all +the strength of his lonely heart poured forth these hideous insults upon +him? Amazement, then wrath, bewilderment, then final hopelessness, all +these sensations ran riot through his brain. + +St. Genis had behaved like an abominable blackguard! this he gathered +from what she said: he had lied like a mean skunk and betrayed the man +who had rendered him an infinitely great service. Of him Clyffurde +wouldn't even think! Such despicable, crawling worms did exist on God's +earth: he knew that! but he possessed the happy faculty, the sunny +disposition that is able to pass a worm by and ignore its existence +while keeping his eyes fixed upon all that is beautiful in earth and in +the sky. Of St. Genis, therefore, he would not think; some day, perhaps, +he might be able to punish him--but not now--not while this poor, +forlorn, heartsick girl pinned her implicit faith upon that wretched +worm and bestowed on him the priceless guerdon of her love. An infinity +of pity rose in his kindly heart for her and obscured every other +emotion. That same pity he had felt for her before, a sweet, protecting +pity--gentle sister to fiercer, madder love which had perhaps never been +so strong as it was at this hour when, for the second time, he was about +to make a supreme sacrifice for her. + +That the sacrifice must be made, he already knew: knew it even when +first St. Genis' name escaped her lips. She loved St. Genis and she +believed in him, and he, Clyffurde, who loved her with every fibre of +his being, with all the passionate ardour of his lonely heart, could +serve her no better than by accepting this awful humiliation which she +put upon him. If he could have justified himself now, he would not have +done it, not while she loved St. Genis, and he--Clyffurde--was less than +nothing to her. + +What did it matter after all what she thought of him? He would have +given his life for her love, but short of that everything else was +anyhow intolerable--her contempt, her hatred? what mattered? since +to-night anyhow he would pass out of her life for ever. + +He was ready for the sacrifice--sacrifice of pride, of honour, of peace +of mind--but he did want to know that that sacrifice would be really +needed and that when made it would not be in vain: and in order to gain +this end he put a final question to her: + +"One moment, Mademoiselle," he said, "before you go will you tell me one +thing at least; was it M. de St. Genis himself who accused me of +treachery?" + +"There is no reason why I should deny it, Sir," she replied coldly. "It +was M. de St. Genis himself who gave to my father and to me a full +account of the interview which he had with you at a lonely inn, some few +kilomètres from Lyons, and less than two hours after we had been +shamefully robbed on the highroad of money that belonged to the King." + +"And did M. de St. Genis tell you, Mademoiselle, that I purposed to use +that money for mine own ends?" + +"Or for those of the Corsican," she retorted impatiently. "I care not +which. Yes! Sir, M. de St. Genis told me that with his own lips and when +I had heard the whole miserable story of your duplicity and your +treachery, I--a helpless, deceived and feeble woman--did then and there +register a vow that I too would do you some grievous wrong one day--a +wrong as great as you had done not only to the King of France but to me +and to my father who trusted you as we would a friend. What you did +to-night has of course altered the irrevocableness of my vow. I owe, +perhaps, my father's life to your timely intervention and for this I +must be grateful, but . . ." + +Her voice broke in a kind of passionate sob, and it took her a moment or +two to recover herself, even while Clyffurde stood by, mute and with +well-nigh broken heart, his very soul so filled with sorrow for her that +there was no room in it even for resentment. + +"Father let us go now," Crystal said after a while with brusque +transition and in a steady voice; "no purpose can be served by further +recriminations." + +"None, my dear," said the Comte in his usual polished manner. +"Personally I have felt all along that explanations could but aggravate +the unpleasantness of the present position. Mr. Clyffurde understands +perfectly, I am sure. He had his axe to grind--whether personal or +political we really do not care to know--we are not likely ever to meet +again. All we can do now is to thank him for his timely intervention on +our behalf and . . ." + +"And brand him a liar," broke in Clyffurde almost involuntarily and with +bitter vehemence. + +"Your pardon, Monsieur," retorted the Comte coldly, "neither my daughter +nor I have done that. It is your deeds that condemn you, your own +admissions and the word of M. de St. Genis. Would you perchance suggest +that he lied?" + +"Oh, no," rejoined Clyffurde with perfect calm, "it is I who lied, of +course." + +He had said this very slowly and as if speaking with mature +deliberation: not raising his voice, nor yet allowing it to quiver from +any stress of latent emotion. And yet there was something in the tone of +it, something in the man's attitude, that suggested such a depth of +passion that, quite instinctively, the Comte remained silent and awed. +For the moment, however, Clyffurde seemed to have forgotten the older +man's presence; wounded in every fibre of his being by the woman whom he +loved so tenderly and so devotedly, he had spoken only to her, +compelling her attention and stirring--even by this simple admission of +a despicable crime--an emotion in her which she could not--would not +define. + +She turned large inquiring eyes on him, into which she tried to throw +all that she felt of hatred and contempt for him. She had meant to wound +him and it seemed indeed as if she had succeeded beyond her dearest +wish. By the dim, flickering light of the street-lamp his face looked +haggard and old. The traitor was suffering almost as much as he +deserved, almost as much--Crystal said obstinately to herself--as she +had wished him to do. And yet, at sight of him now, Crystal felt a +strong, unconquerable pity for him: the womanly instinct no doubt to +heal rather than to hurt. + +But this pity she was not prepared to show him: she wanted to pass right +out of his life, to forget once and for all that sense of warmth of the +soul, of comfort and of peace which she had felt in his presence on that +memorable evening at Brestalou. Above all, she never wanted to touch his +hand again, the hand which seemed to have such power to protect and to +shield her, when on that same evening she had placed her own in it. + +Therefore, now she took her father's arm once more: she turned +resolutely to go. One more curt nod of the head, one last look of +undying enmity, and then she would pass finally out of his life for +ever. + + +V + +How Clyffurde got back to his lodgings that night he never knew. +Crystal, after his final admission, had turned without another word from +him, and he had stood there in the lonely, silent street watching her +retreating form--on her father's arm--until the mist and gloom swallowed +her up as in an elvish grave. Then mechanically he hunted for his hat +and he, too, walked away. + +That was the end of his life's romance, of course. The woman whom he +loved with his very soul, who held his heart, his mind, his imagination +captive, whose every look on him was joy, whose every smile was a +delight, had gone out of his life for ever! She had turned away from him +as she would from a venomous snake! she hated him so cruelly that she +would gladly hurt him--do him some grievous wrong if she could. And +Clyffurde was left in utter loneliness with only a vague, foolish +longing in his heart--the longing that one day she might have her wish, +and might have the power to wound him to death--bodily just as she had +wounded him to the depth of his soul to-night. + +For the rest there was nothing more for him to do in France. King Louis +was not like to remain at Lille very long: within twenty-four hours +probably he would continue his journey--his flight--to Ghent--where once +more he would hold his court in exile, with all the fugitive royalists +rallied around his tottering throne. + +Clyffurde had already received orders from his chief at the Intelligence +Department to report himself first at Lille, then--if the King and court +had already left--at Ghent. If, however, there were plenty of men to do +the work of the Department it was his intention to give up his share in +it and to cross over to England as soon as possible, so as to take up +the first commission in the new army that he could get. England would be +wanting soldiers more urgently than she had ever done before: mother and +sisters would be well looked after: he--Bobby--had earned a fortune for +them, and they no longer needed a bread-winner now: whilst England +wanted all her sons, for she would surely fight. + +Clyffurde, who had seen the English papers that morning--as they were +brought over by an Intelligence courier--had realised that the debates +in Parliament could only end one way. + +England would not tolerate Bonaparte; she would not even tolerate his +abdication in favour of his own son. Austria had already declared her +intention of renewing the conflict and so had Prussia. England's +decision would, of course, turn the scale, and Bobby in his own mind had +no doubt which way that decision would go. + +The man whom the people of France loved, and whom his army idolised, was +the disturber of the peace of Europe. No one would believe his +protestations of pacific intentions now: he had caused too much +devastation, too much misery in the past--who would believe in him for +the future? + +For the sake of that past, and for dread of the future, he must go--go +from whence he could not again return, and Bobby Clyffurde--remembering +Grenoble, remembering Lyons, Villefranche and Nevers--could not +altogether suppress a sigh of regret for the brave man, the fine genius, +the reckless adventurer who had so boldly scaled for the second time the +heights of the Capitol, oblivious of the fact that the Tarpeian Rock was +so dangerously near. + + +VI + +At this same hour when Bobby Clyffurde finally bade adieu to all the +vague hopes of happiness which his love for Crystal de Cambray had +engendered in his heart, his whilom companion in the long ago--rival and +enemy now--Victor de Marmont, was laying a tribute of twenty-five +million francs at the feet of his beloved Emperor, and receiving the +thanks of the man to serve whom he would gladly have given his life. + +"What reward shall we give you for this service?" the Emperor had +deigned to ask. + +"The means to subdue a woman's pride, Sire, and make her thankful to +marry me," replied de Marmont promptly. + +"A title, what?" queried the Emperor. "You have everything else, you +rogue, to please a woman's fancy and make her thankful to marry you." + +"A title, Sire, would be a welcome addition," said de Marmont lightly, +"and the freedom to go and woo her, until France and my Emperor need me +again." + +"Then go and do your wooing, man, and come back here to me in three +months, for I doubt not by then the flames of war will have been kindled +against me again." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +I + +But the hand had lost its cunning, the mighty brain its indomitable +will-power. Genius was still there, but it was cramped now by +indecision--the indecision born of a sense of enmity around, suspicion +where there should have been nothing but enthusiasm, and the blind +devotion of the past. + +The man who, all alone, by the force of his personality and of his +prestige had reconquered France, who had been acclaimed from the Gulf of +Jouan to the gates of the Tuileries as the saviour of France, the +people's Emperor, the beloved of the nation returned from exile, the man +who on the 20th of March had said with his old vigour and his old pride: +"Failure is the nightmare of the feeble! impotence, the refuge of the +poltroon!" the man who had marched as in a dream from end to end of +France to find himself face to face with the whole of Europe in league +against him, with a million men being hastily armed to hurl him from his +throne again, now found the south of France in open revolt, the west +ready to rise against him, the north in accord with his enemies. + +He has not enough men to oppose to those millions, his arsenals are +depleted, his treasury empty. And after he has worked sixteen hours out +of the twenty-four at reorganising his army, his finances, his machinery +of war, he has to meet a set of apathetic or openly hostile ministers, +constitutional representatives, men who are ready to thwart him at every +turn, jealous only of curtailing his power, of obscuring his ascendency, +of clipping the eagle's wings, ere it soars to giddy heights again. And +to them he must give in, from them he must beg, entreat: give up, give +up all the time one hoped-for privilege after another, one power after +another. + +He yields the military dictatorship to other--far less competent--hands; +he grants liberty to the press, liberty of debate, liberty of election, +liberty to all and sundry: but suspicion lurks around him; they suspect +his sincerity, his goodwill, they doubt his promises, they mistrust that +dormant Olympian ambition which has precipitated France into humiliation +and brought the strangers' armies within her gates. + +The same man was there--the same genius who even now could have mastered +all the enemies of France and saved her from her present subjection and +European insignificance, but the men round him were not the same. He, +the guiding hand, was still there, but the machinery no longer worked as +it had done in the past before disaster had blunted and stiffened the +temper of its steel. + +The men around the Emperor were not now as they were in the days of Jena +and Austerlitz and Wagram. Their characters and temperaments had +undergone a change. Disaster had brought on slackness, the past year of +constant failures had engendered a sense of discouragement and +demoralisation, a desire to argue, to foresee difficulties, to foretell +further disasters. + +He saw it all well enough--he the man with the far-seeing mind and the +eagle-eyes that missed nothing--neither a look of indecision, nor an +indication of revolt. He saw it all but he could do nothing, for he too +felt overwhelmed by that wave of indecision and of discouragement. Faith +in himself, energy in action, had gone. He envisaged the possibility of +a vanquished and dismembered France. + +Above all he had lost belief in his Star: the star of his destiny which, +rising over the small island of Corsica, shining above a humble +middle-class home, had guided him step by step, from triumph to triumph, +to the highest pinnacle of glory to which man's ambition has ever +reached. + +That star had been dimmed once, its radiance was no longer unquenchable: +"Destiny has turned against me," he said, "and in her I have lost my +most valuable helpmate." + +And now the whole of Europe had declared war against him, and in a final +impassioned speech he turns to his ministers and to the representatives +of his people: "Help me to save France!" he begs, "afterwards we'll +settle our quarrels." + +One hundred days after he began his dream-march, from the gulf of Jouan +in the wake of his eagle, he started from Paris with the Army which he +loved and which alone he trusted, to meet Europe and his fate on the +plains of Belgium. + + +II + +And in Brussels they danced, danced late into the night. No one was to +know that within the next three days the destinies of the whole world +would be changed by the hand of God. + +And how to hide from timid eyes the sense of this oncoming destiny? how +to stop for a few brief hours the flow of women's tears? + +The ball should have been postponed--Her Grace of Richmond was willing +that it should be so. How could men and women dance, flirt and make +merry while Death was already reckoning the heavy toll of brave young +lives which she would demand on the morrow? But who knows England who +has not seen her at the hour of danger? + +Put off the ball? why! perish the thought! The timid townsfolk of +Brussels or the ladies of the French royalist party who were in great +numbers in the city might think there was something amiss. What was +amiss? some gallant young men would go on the morrow and conquer or die +for England's honour! there's nothing amiss in that! Why put off the +ball? The girls would be disappointed--they who like to dance--why +should they be deprived of partners, just because some of them would lie +dead on the battlefield to-morrow? + +Open your salons, Madame la Duchesse! The soldiers of Britain will come +to your ball. They will laugh and dance and flirt to-night as bravely as +they will die to-morrow. + +The sands of life are running low for them: in a few hours perhaps a +bullet, a bayonet, who knows? will cut short that merry laugh, still the +gallant heart that even now takes a last and fond farewell from a +blushing partner, after a waltz, in a sweet-scented alcove with sounds +of soft and distinct music around that stills the coming cannon's roar. + +Gordon and Lancey, Crawford and Ponsonby and Halkett, aye! and +Wellington too! What immortal names are spoken by the flunkeys to-night +as they usher in these brave men into the hostess' presence. The +ballroom is brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, the +women have put on their pretty dresses, displaying bare arms and +dazzling shoulders; the men are in showy uniforms, glittering with stars +and decorations: Orange, Brunswick, Nassau, English, Belgian, Scottish, +French, all are there gay with gold and silver braid. + +The confusion of tongues is greater surely than round the tower of +Babel. German and French and English, Scots accent and Irish brogue, +pedantic Hanoverian and lusty Brunswick tones, all and more of these +varied sounds mingle with one another, and half-drown by their clamour +the sweet strains of the Viennese orchestra that discoursed dreamy +waltzes from behind a bower of crimson roses; whilst ponderous Flemish +wives of city burgomasters gaze open-mouthed at the elegant ladies of +the old French noblesse, and shy Belgian misses peep enviously at their +more self-reliant English friends. + +And the hostess smiles equally graciously to all: she is ready with a +bright word of welcome for everybody now, just as she will be anon with +a mute look of farewell, when--at ten o'clock--by Wellington's commands, +one by one, one officer after another will slip out of this hospitable +house, out into the rainy night, for a hurried visit to lodgings or +barracks to collect a few necessaries, and then to work--to horse or +march--to form into the ranks of battle as they had formed for the +quadrille--squares to face the enemy--advance, deploy as they had done +in the mazes of the dance! to fight as they had danced! to give their +life as they had given a kiss. + +Bobby Clyffurde only saw Crystal de Cambray from afar. He had his +commission in Colin Halkett's brigade; his orders were the same as those +of many others to-night: to put in an appearance at Her Grace's ball, to +dispel any fears that might be confided to him through a fair partner's +lips: to show confidence, courage and gaiety, and at ten o'clock to +report for duty. + +But the crowd in the ball-room was great, and Crystal de Cambray was the +centre of a very close and exclusive little crowd, as indeed were all +the ladies of the old French noblesse, who were here in their numbers. +They had left their country in the wake of their dethroned king and +despite the anxieties and sorrows of the past three months, while the +star of the Corsican adventurer seemed to shine with renewed splendour, +and that of the unfortunate King of France to be more and more on the +wane, they had somehow filled the sleepy towns of Belgium--Ghent, +Brussels, Charleroi--with the atmosphere of their own elegance and their +unimpeachable good taste. + +Clyffurde knew that the Comte de Cambray had settled in Brussels with +his daughter and sister, pending the new turn in the fortunes of his +cause: the English colony there provided the royalist fugitives with +many friends, and Ghent was already overfull with the immediate +entourage of the King. But Bobby had never met either the Comte or +Crystal again. + +He had crossed over to England almost directly after that final and +fateful interview with them: he had obtained his commission and was back +again in Belgium--as a fighting man, ready for the work which was +expected from Britain's sons by the whole of Europe now. + +And to-night he saw her again. His instinct, intuition, prescience, what +you will, had told him that he would meet her here--and to his weary +eyes, when first he caught sight of her across the crowded room, she had +never seemed more exquisite, nor more desirable. She was dressed all in +white, with arms and shoulders bare, her fair hair dressed in the quaint +mode of the moment with a high comb and a multiplicity of curls. She had +a bunch of white roses in her belt and carried a shawl of gossamer lace +that encircled her shoulders, like a diaphanous cobweb, through which +gleamed the shimmering whiteness of her skin. + +She did not see him of course: he was only one of so many in a crowd of +English officers who were about to fight and to die for her country and +her cause as much as for their own. But to him she was the only living, +breathing person in the room--all the others were phantoms or puppets +that had no tangible existence for him save as a setting, a background +for her. + +And poor Bobby would so gladly have thrown all pride to the winds for +the right to run straight to her across the width of the room, to fall +at her feet, to encircle her knees, and to wring from her a word of +comfort or of trust. So strong was this impulse, that for one moment it +seemed absolutely irresistible; but the next she had turned to Maurice +de St. Genis, who was never absent from her side, and who seemed to +hover over her with an air of proprietorship and of triumphant mastery +which caused poor Bobby to grind his heel into the oak floor, and to +smother a bitter curse which had risen insistent to his lips. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse d'Agen spoke to him once, while he stood by watching +Crystal's dainty form walking through the mazes of a quadrille with her +hand in that of St. Genis. + +"They look well matched, do they not, Mr. Clyffurde?" Madame said in +broken English and with something of her usual tartness; "and you? are +you not going to recognise old friends, may I ask?" + +He turned abruptly, whilst the hot blood rushed up to his cheek, so +sudden had been the wave of memory which flooded his brain, at the sound +of Madame's sharp voice. Now he stooped and kissed the slender little +hand which was being so cordially held out to him. + +"Old friends, Madame la Duchesse?" he queried with a quick sigh of +bitterness. "Nay! you forget that it was as a traitor and a liar that +you knew me last." + +"It was as a young fool that I knew you all the time," she retorted +tartly, even though a kindly look and a kindly smile tempered the +gruffness of her sally. "The male creature, my dear Mr. Clyffurde," she +added, "was intended by God and by nature to be a selfish beast. When he +ceases to think of himself, he loses his bearings, flounders in a +quagmire of unprofitable heroism which benefits no one, and generally +behaves like a fool." + +"Did I do all that?" asked Clyffurde with a smile. + +"All of it and more. And look at the muddle you have made of things. +Crystal has never got over that miserably aborted engagement of hers to +de Marmont, and is no happier now with Maurice de St. Genis than she +would have been with . . . well! with anybody else who had had the good +sense to woo and win her in a straightforward, proper and selfish +masculine way." + +"Mademoiselle de Cambray, I understand," rejoined Clyffurde stiffly, "is +formally affianced now to M. de St. Genis." + +"She is not formally affianced, as you so pedantically and affectedly +put it, my friend," replied Madame with her accustomed acerbity. "But +she probably will marry him, if he comes out of this abominable war +alive, and if the King of France . . . whom may God protect--comes into +his own again. For His Majesty has taken those two young jackanapes +under his most gracious protection, and has promised Maurice a lucrative +appointment at his court--if he ever has a court again." + +"Then Mademoiselle de Cambray must be very happy, for which--if I dare +say so--I am heartily rejoiced." + +"So am I," said the Duchesse drily, "but let me at the same time tell +you this: I have always known that Englishmen were peculiarly idiotic in +certain important matters of life, but I must say that I had no idea +idiocy could reach the boundless proportions which it has done in your +case. Well!" she added with sudden gentleness, "farewell for the +present, mon preux chevalier: it is not too late, remember, to bear in +mind certain old axioms both of chivalry and of commonsense--the most +obvious of which is that nothing is gained by sitting open-mouthed, +whilst some one else gets the largest helpings at supper. And if it is +any comfort to you to know that I never believed St. Genis' story of +lonely inns, of murderous banditti and whatnots, well then, I give you +that information for what you may choose to make of it." + +And with a final friendly nod and a gentle pressure of her aristocratic +hand on his, which warmed and comforted Bobby's sore heart, she turned +away from him and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. + + +IV + +In spite of rain and blustering wind outside the fine ballroom--as the +evening progressed--became unpleasantly hot. Dancing was in full swing +and the orchestra had just struck up the first strains of that +inspiriting new dance--the latest importation from Vienna--a dreamy +waltz of which dowagers strongly disapproved, deeming it licentious, +indecent, and certainly ungraceful, but which the young folk delighted +in, and persisted in dancing, defying the mammas and all the +proprieties. + +Maurice de St. Genis after the last quadrille had led Crystal away from +the ballroom to a small boudoir adjoining it, where the cool air from +outside fanned the curtains and hangings and stirred the leaves and +petals of a bank of roses that formed a background to a couple of +seats--obviously arranged for the convenience of two persons who desired +quiet conversation well away from prying eyes and ears. + +Here Crystal had been sitting with Maurice for the past quarter of an +hour, while from the ballroom close by came as in a dream to her the +gentle lilt of the waltz, and from behind her, a cluster of +sweet-scented crimson roses filled the air with their fragrance. Crystal +didn't feel that she wanted to talk, only to sit here quietly with the +sound of the music in her ears and the scent of roses in her nostrils. +Maurice sat beside her, but he did not hold her hand. He was leaning +forward with his elbows on his knees and he talked much and earnestly, +the while she listened half absently, like one in a dream. + +She had often heard, in the olden days in England, her aunt speak of the +strange doings of that Doctor Mesmer in Paris who had even involved +proud Marie Antoinette in an unpleasant scandal with his weird +incantations and wizard-like acts, whereby people--sensible women and +men--were sent at his will into a curious torpor, which was neither +sleep nor yet wakefulness, and which produced a yet more strange sense +of unreality and dreaminess, and visions of things unsubstantial and +unearthly. + +And sitting here surrounded with roses and with that languorous lilt in +her ear, Crystal felt as if she too were under the influence of some +unseen Mesmer, who had lulled the activity of her brain into a kind of +wakeful sleep even while her senses remained keenly, vitally on the +alert. She knew, for instance, that Maurice spoke of the coming +struggle, the final fight for King and country. He had been enrolled in +a Nassau regiment, under the command of the Prince of Orange: he +expected to be in the thick of a fight to-morrow. "Bonaparte never +waits," Crystal heard him say quite distinctly, "he is always ready to +attack. Audacity and a bold use of his artillery were always his most +effectual weapons." + +And he went on to tell her of his own plans, his future, his hopes: he +spoke of the possibility of death and of this being a last farewell. +Crystal tried to follow him, tried to respond when he spoke of his love +for her--a love, the strength of which--he said--she would never be able +to gauge. + +"If it were not for the strength of my love for you, Crystal," he said +almost fiercely, "I could not bear to face possible death to-morrow +. . . not without telling you . . . not without making reparation for my +sin." + +And still in that curious trance-like sense of aloofness, Crystal +murmured vaguely: + +"Sin, Maurice? What sin do you mean?" + +But he did not seem to give her a direct reply: he spoke once more only +of his love. "Love atones for all sins!" he reiterated once or twice +with passionate earnestness. "Even God puts Love above everything on +earth. Love is an excuse for everything. Love justifies everything. +Such love as I have for you, Crystal, makes everything else--even sin, +even cowardice--seem insignificant and meaningless." + +She agreed with what he said, for indeed she felt too tired to argue the +point, or even to get his sophistry into her head. Strangely enough she +felt out of tune with him to-night--with him--Maurice--the lover of her +girlhood, the man from whom she had parted with such desperate heartache +three months ago, in the avenue at Brestalou. Then it had seemed as if +the world could never hold any happiness for her again, once Maurice had +gone out of her life. Now he had come back into it. Chance and the +favour of the King had once more made a future happy union with him +possible. She ought to have been supremely happy, yet she was out of +tune. His passionate words of love found only a cold response in her +heart. + +For the past three months she had constantly been at war with her own +self for this: she hated and despised herself for that numbness of the +heart which had so unaccountably taken all the zest and the joy out of +her life. Does one love one day and become indifferent the next? What +had become of the girlish love that had invested Maurice de St. Genis +with the attributes of a hero? What had he done that the pedestal on +which her ideality had hoisted him should have proved of such brittle +clay? + +He was still the gallant, high-born, well-bred gentleman whom she had +always known; he was on the eve of fighting for his King and country, +ready to give his life for the same cause which she loved so ardently; +he was even now speaking tender words of love and of farewell. Yet she +was out of tune with him. His words of Love almost irritated her, for +they dragged her out of that delicious dream-like torpor which +momentarily peopled the world for her with gold-headed, white-winged +mysterious angels, and filled the air with soft murmurings and sweet +sounds, and a divine fragrance that was not of this earth. + +It must have been that she grew very sleepy--probably the heat weighed +her eyelids down--certainly she found it impossible to keep her eyes +open, and Maurice apparently thought that she felt faint. Always in the +same vague way she heard him making suggestions for her comfort: "Could +he get her some wine?" or "Should he try and find Madame la Duchesse?" + +Then she realised how she longed for a little rest, for perfect +solitude, for perfect freedom to give herself over to the sweet torpor +which paralysed her brain and limbs--tired, sleepy, or under the subtle +influence of some mysterious agency--she did not know which she was; but +she did know that she would have given everything she could at this +moment for a few minutes' complete solitude. + +So she contrived to smile and to look up almost gaily into Maurice's +anxious face: "I think really, Maurice," she said, "I am just a little +bit sleepy. If I could remain alone for five minutes, I would go +honestly to sleep and not be ashamed of myself. Could you . . . could +you just leave me for five or ten minutes? . . . and . . . and, Maurice, +will you draw that screen a little nearer? . . ." she added, affecting a +little yawn; "nobody can see me then . . . and really, really I shall be +all right . . . if I could have a few minutes' quiet sleep." + +"You shall, Crystal, of course you shall," said Maurice, eager and +anxious to do all that she wanted. He arranged a cushion behind her +head, put a footstool to her feet and pulled the screen forward so that +now--where she sat--no one could see her from the ballroom, and as in +response to repeated encores from the dancers, the orchestra had +embarked upon a new waltz, she was not likely to be disturbed. + +"I'll try and find Mme. la Duchesse," he said after he had assured +himself that she was quite comfortable, "and tell her that you are quite +well, but must not be disturbed." + +She caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze. + +"You are kind, Maurice," she murmured. + +She felt exactly like a tired child, now that she had been made so +comfortable, and she liked Maurice so much, oh! so much! no brother +could have been dearer. + +"You won't go way without waking me, Maurice," she said as he bent down +to kiss her. + +"No, no, of course not," he replied; "it still wants a quarter before +ten." + +The screen shut off all the glare from the candles. The sense of +isolation was complete and delicious: the roses smelt very sweet, the +soft strains of the waltz sounded like elfin music. + + +V + +Like elfin music--tender, fitful, dreamy!--an exquisite languor stole +into Crystal's limbs. She was not asleep, yet she was in dreamland--all +alone in semi-darkness, that was restful and soothing, and with the +fragrance of crimson roses in her nostrils and their velvety petals +brushing against her cheek. + +Like elfin music!--sweet strains of infinite sadness--the tune of the +Infinite mingling with the semblance of reality! + +Like elfin music--or like the voice of a human being in pain--the note +of sadness became the only real note now! + +What really happened after this Crystal never rightly knew. Whenever in +the future her memory went back to this hour, she could not be sure +whether in truth she had been waking or dreaming, or at what precise +moment she became fully conscious of a presence close beside her--just +behind the bank of roses--and of a voice--low, earnest, quivering with +passionate emotion--that reached her ear as if through the tender +melodies played by the orchestra. + +It almost seemed to her--when she thought over all the circumstances in +her mind--that she must have been subtly conscious of the presence all +along--all the while that Maurice was still with her and she felt so +curiously languid, longing only for darkness and solitude. + +Something encompassed her now that she could not define: the warmth of +Love, the sense of protection and security--almost as if unseen arms, +that were strong and devoted and selfless, held her closely, shielding +her from evil and from the taint of selfish human passions. + +And presently she heard her name--whispered low and with a note of +tender appeal. + +Her eyes were closed and she paid no heed: but the appeal was once more +whispered--this time more insistently, and almost against her will she +murmured: + +"Who calls?" + +"An unfortunate whom you hate and despise, and who would have given his +life to serve you." + +"Who is it?" she reiterated. + +"A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep away from your side, and +longed for one more sound of your voice even though it uttered words +more cruel than man can stand." + +"What would you like to hear?" + +"One word of comfort to ease that terrible sting of hate which has +burned into my very soul, till every minute of life has become +unendurable agony." + +"How could I know," she asked, and now her eyes were wide open, gazing +out into nothingness, not turned yet in the direction whence that +dream-voice came: "how could I know that my hatred made you suffer or +that you cared for comfort from me?" + +"How could you know, Crystal?" the voice replied. "You could know that, +my dear, just as surely as you know that in a stormy night the sky is +dark, just as you know that when heavy clouds obscure the blue ether +above, no ray of sunshine warms the shivering earth. Just as you know +that you are beautiful and exquisite, so you knew, Crystal, that I loved +you from the deepest depths of my soul." + +"How could I guess?" + +"By that subtle sense which every human being has. And you did guess it, +Crystal, else you would not have hated me as you did." + +"I hated you because I thought you a traitor." + +"Is it too late to swear to you that my only thought was to serve you? +. . ." + +"By working against my King and country?" she retorted with just this +one brief flash of her old vehemence. + +"By working for my country and for yours. This I swear by your sweet +eyes--by your dear mouth that hurt me so cruelly that evening--I swear +it by the damnable agony which you made me endure . . . by the abject +cowardice which dragged me to your side now like a whining wretch that +craves for a crumb of comfort . . . by all that you have made me suffer. +. . . Crystal, I swear to you that I was never false . . . false, great +God! when with every drop of my blood, with every fibre of my heart, +with every nerve, every sinew, every thought I love you." + +The voice was so low, never above a whisper, and all around her Crystal +felt again that delicious sense of warmth--the breath of Love that +brings man's heart so near to God--the sense of security in a man's +all-encompassing Love which women prize above everything else on earth. + +The music was just an accompaniment to that low, earnest whispering; the +soft strains of the violins made it still seem like a voice that comes +through a veil of dreams. Instinctively Crystal began to hum the +waltz-tune and her little head with its quaint coronet of fair curls +beat time to the languid lilt. + +"Will you dance with me, Crystal?" + +"No! no!" she protested. + +"Just once--to-night. To-morrow we fight--let us dance to-night." + +And before she could protest further, her will seemed to fall away from +her: she knew that her father, her aunt would be angry, that--as like as +not--Maurice would make a scene. She knew that Maurice--to whom she had +plighted her troth--had branded this man as a liar and a traitor: her +father believed him to be a traitor, and she . . . Well! what had he +done to disprove Maurice's accusations? A few words of passionate +protestations! . . . Did they count? . . . He wore his King's +uniform--many careless adventurers did that these strenuous times! . . . + +And he wanted her to dance . . . ! how could she--Crystal de Cambray, +the future wife of the Marquis de St. Genis, the cynosure of a great +many eyes to-night--how could she show herself in public on his arm, in +a crowded ballroom? + +Yet she could not refuse. She could not. Surely it was all a dream, and +in a dream man is but the slave of circumstance and has no will of his +own. + +She was very young and loved to dance: and she had heard that Englishmen +danced well. Besides, it was all a dream. She would wake in a moment or +two and find herself sitting quietly among the roses with Maurice beside +her, telling her of his love, and of their happy future together. + + +VI + +But in the meanwhile the dream was lasting. Her partner was a perfect +dancer, and this new, delicious waltz--inspiriting yet languorous, +rhythmical and half barbaric--sent a keen feeling of joy and of zest +into Crystal's whole being. + +She was not conscious of the many stares that were levelled at her as +she suddenly appeared among the crowd in the ballroom, her face flushed +with excitement, her perfect figure moving with exquisite grace to the +measure of the dance. + +The last dance together! + +A few moments before, Clyffurde had made his way to the small boudoir in +search of fresh air, and had withdrawn to a window embrasure away from a +throng that maddened him in his misery of loneliness: then he realised +that Crystal was sitting quite close to him, that St. Genis, who had +been in constant attendance on her, presently left her to herself and +that without even moving from where he was he could whisper into her ear +that which had lain so heavily on his heart that at times he had felt +that it must break under the intolerable load. + +Then as the soft strains of the music from the orchestra struck upon his +ear, the insistent whim seized him to make her dance with him, just +once--to-night. To-morrow the cannon would roar once more--to-morrow +Europe would make yet another stand against the bold adventurer whom +seemingly nothing could crush. + +To-morrow a bullet--a bayonet--a sword-thrust--but to-night a last dance +together. + +Those whims come at times to those who are doomed to die. Clyffurde's +one hope of peace lay in death upon the battlefield. Life was empty now. +He had fought against the burden of loneliness left upon him when +Crystal passed finally out of his life. But the burden had proved +unconquerable. Only death could ease him of the load: for life like this +was stupid and intolerable. + +Men would die within the next few days in their hundreds and in their +thousands: men who were happy, who had wives and children, men on whose +lives Love shed its happy radiance. Then why not he? who was more lonely +than any man on earth--left lonely because the one woman who filled all +the world for him, hated him and was gone from him for ever. + +But a last dance with her to-night! The right to hold her in his arms! +this he had never done, though his muscles had often ached with the +longing to hold her. But dancing with her he could feel her against him, +clasp her closely, feel her breath against his cheek. + +She was not very tall and her head--had she chosen--could just have +rested in the hollow of his shoulder. The thought of it sent the blood +rushing hotly to his head and with his two strong hands he would at that +moment have bent a bar of iron, or smashed something to atoms, in order +to crush that longing to curse against Fate, against his destiny that +had so wantonly dangled happiness before him, only to thrust him into +utter loneliness again. + +Then he spoke to her--and finally asked for the dance. + +And now he held her, and guided her through the throng, her tiny feet +moving in unison with his. And all the world had vanished: he had her to +himself, for these few happy moments he could hold her and refuse to let +her go. He did not care--nor did she--that many curious and some angry +glances followed their every movement. Till the last bar was played, +till the final chord was struck she was absolutely his--for she had +given up her will to him. + +The last dance together! He sent his heart to her, all his heart--and +the music helped him, and the rhythm; the very atmosphere of the +room--rose-scented--helped him to make her understand. He could have +kissed her hair, so close were the heaped-up fair curls to his mouth; he +could have whispered to her, and nobody would hear: he could have told +her something at any rate, of that love which had filled his heart since +all time, not months or years since he had known her, but since all time +filling every minute of his life. He could have taught her what love +meant, thrilled her heart with thoughts of might-have-been; he could +have roused sweet pity in her soul, love's gentle mother that has the +power to give birth to Love. + +But he did not kiss her, nor did he speak: because though he was quite +sure that she would understand, he was equally sure that she could not +respond. She was not his--not his in the world of realities, at any +rate. Her heart belonged to the friend of her childhood, the only man +whom she would ever love--the man by whom he--poor Bobby!--had been +content to be defamed and vilified in order that she should remain happy +in her ideals and in her choice. So he was content only to hold her, his +arm round her waist, one hand holding hers imprisoned--she herself +becoming more and more the creature of his dreams, the angel that +haunted him in wakefulness and in sleep: immortally his bride, yet never +to be wholly his again as she was now in this heavenly moment where they +stood together within the pale of eternity. + +In this, their last dance together! + + +VII + +Far into the night, into the small hours of the morning, Crystal de +Cambray sat by the open window of her tiny bedroom in the small +apartment which her father had taken for himself and his family in the +rue du Marais. + +She sat, with one elbow resting on the window-sill, her right hand +fingering, with nervy, febrile movements, a letter which she held. +Jeanne had handed it to her when she came home from the ball: M. de St. +Genis, Jeanne explained, had given it to her earlier in the evening +. . . soon after ten o'clock it must have been . . . M. le Marquis +seemed in a great hurry, but he made Jeanne swear most solemnly that +Mademoiselle Crystal should have the letter as soon as she came home +. . . also M. le Marquis had insisted that the letter should be given to +Mademoiselle when she was alone. + +Not a little puzzled--for had she not taken fond leave of Maurice +shortly before ten o'clock, when he had told her that his orders were +to quit the ball then and report himself at once at headquarters. He had +seemed very despondent, Crystal thought, and the words which he spoke +when finally he kissed her, had in them all the sadness of a last +farewell. Crystal even had felt a tinge of remorse--when she saw how sad +he was--that she had not responded more warmly to his kiss. It almost +seemed as if her heart rebelled against it, and when he pressed her with +his accustomed passionate ardour to his breast, she had felt a curious +shrinking within herself, a desire to push him away, even though her +whole heart went out to him with pity and with sorrow. + +And now here was this letter. Crystal was a long time before she made up +her mind to open it: the paper--damp with the rain--seemed to hold a +certain fatefulness within its folds. At last she read the letter, and +long after she had read it she sat at the open window, listening to the +dreary, monotonous patter of the rain, and to the distant sounds of +moving horses and men, the rattle of wheels, the bugle calls, the +departure of the allied troops to meet the armies of the great +adventurer on the billowing plains of Belgium. + +This is what Maurice had written to her a few moments before he left; +and it must have taken him some time to pen the lengthy epistle. + + "MY BEAUTIFUL CRYSTAL, + + "I may never come back. Something tells me that my life, + such as it is--empty and worthless enough, God knows--has + nearly run its full course. But if I do come back to claim + the happiness which your love holds out for me,--I will not + face you again with so deep a stain upon mine honour. I did + not tell you before because I was too great a coward. I + could not bear to think that you would despise me--I could + not encounter the look of contempt in your eyes: so I + remained silent to the call of honour. And now I speak + because the next few hours will atone for everything. If I + come back you will forgive. If I fall you will mourn. In + either case I shall be happy that you know. Crystal! in all + my life I spoke only one lie, and that was three months + ago, when I set out to reclaim the King's money, which had + been filched from you on the high road, and returned + empty-handed. I found the money and I found the thief. No + thief he, Crystal, but just a quixotic man, who desired to + serve his country, our cause and you. That man was your + friend Mr. Clyffurde. I don't think that I was ever jealous + of him. I am not jealous of him now. Our love, Crystal, is + too great and too strong to fear rivalry from anyone. He + had taken the money from you because he knew that Victor de + Marmont, with a strong body of men to help him, would have + filched it from you for the benefit of the Corsican. He + took the money from you because he knew that neither you + nor the Comte would have listened to any warnings from him. + He took the money from you with the sole purpose of + conveying it to the King. Then I found him and taunted him, + until the temptation came to me to act the part of a coward + and a traitor. And this I did, Crystal, only because I + loved you--because I knew that I could never win you while + I was poor and in humble circumstances. I soon found out + that Clyffurde was a friend. I begged him to let me have + the money so that I might take it to the King and earn + consideration and a reward thereby. That was my sin, + Crystal, and also that I lied to you to disguise the sorry + rôle which I had played. Clyffurde gave me the money + because I told him how we loved one another--you and I--and + that happiness could only come to you through our mutual + love. He acted well, though in truth I meant to do him no + wrong. Later Victor de Marmont came upon me, and wrested + the money from me, and I was helpless to guard that for + which I had played the part of a coward. + + "I have eased my soul by telling you this, Crystal, and I + know that no hard thoughts of me will dwell in your mind + whilst I do all that a man can do for honour, King and + country. + + "Remember that the next few hours, perhaps, will atone for + everything, and that Love excuses all things. + + "Yours in love and sorrow, + + "MAURICE." + +The letter, crumpled and damp, remained in Crystal's hand all the while +that she sat by the open window, and the sound of moving horses and men +in the distance conjured up before her eyes mental visions of all that +to-morrow might mean. The letter was damp with her tears now, they had +fallen incessantly on the paper while she re-read it a second time and +then re-read it again. + +A quixotic man! Maurice said airily. How little he understood! How well +she--Crystal--knew what had been the motive of that quixotic action. She +had learned so much to-night in the mazes of a waltz. Now, when she +closed her eyes, she could still feel the dreamy motion with that strong +arm round her, and she could hear the sweet, languid lilt of the music, +and all the delicious elvish whisperings that reached her ear through +the monotonous cadence of the dance. Of what her heart had felt then, +she need now no longer be ashamed: all that should shame her now were +her thoughts in the past, the belief that the hand which had held hers +on that evening--long ago--in Brestalou could possibly have been the +hand of a traitor: that the low-toned voice that spoke to her so +earnestly of friendship then could ever be raised for the utterance of a +lie. + +Of such thoughts indeed she could be ashamed, and of her cruelty that +other night in Paris, when she had made him suffer so abominably through +her injustice and her contempt. + +"The next few hours, perhaps, will atone for everything," Maurice had +added. Ah, well! perhaps! But they could not erase the past; they could +not control the more distant future. Maurice would come back--Crystal +prayed earnestly that he should--but Clyffurde was gone out of her life +for ever. God alone knew how this renewed war would end! How could she +hope ever to meet a friend who had gone away determined never to see her +again? + +A last dance together! Well! they had had it! and that was the end. The +end of a sweet romance that had had no beginning. He had gone now, as +Maurice had gone, as all the men had gone who had listened to their +country's call, and she, Crystal, could not convey to him even by a +message, by a word, that she understood all that he had done for her, +all that his actions had meant of devotion, of self-effacement, of pure +and tender Love. + +A last dance together, and that had been the end. Even thoughts of him +would be forbidden her after this: for her thoughts were no longer free +of him, her heart was no longer free; her promise belonged to Maurice, +but her heart, her thoughts were no longer hers to give. + +It was all too late! too late! the next few hours might atone for the +past but they could not call it back. + +Weary and heart-sick Crystal crawled into bed when the grey light of +dawn peeped cold and shy into her room. She could not sleep, but she lay +quite still while one by one those distant sounds died away in the misty +morning. In this semi-dreamlike state it seemed to her as if she must be +able to distinguish the sound of _his_ horse's hoofs from among a +thousand others: it seemed as if something in herself must tell her +quite plainly where he was, what he did, when he got to horse, which way +he went. And presently she closed her eyes against the grey, monotonous +light, and during one brief moment she felt deliciously conscious of a +sweet, protecting presence somewhere near her, of soft whisperings of +fondness and of friendship: the sound of a dream-voice reached her ear +and once again as in the sweet-scented alcove she felt herself +murmuring: "Who calls?" and once more she heard the tender wailing as of +a stricken soul in pain: "A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep +away from your side." + +And memory-echoes lingered round her, bringing back every sound of his +mellow voice, every look in his eyes, the touch of his hand--oh! that +exquisite touch!--and his last words before he asked her to dance: +"With every drop of my blood, with every nerve, every sinew, every +thought I love you." + +And her heart with a long-drawn-out moan of unconquerable sorrow sent +out into the still morning air its agonised call in reply: + +"Come back, my love, come back! I cannot live without you! You have +taught me what Love is--pure, selfless and protecting--you cannot go +from me now--you cannot. In the name of that Love which your tender +voice has brought into being, come back to me. Do not leave me +desolate!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TARPEIAN ROCK + + +I + +Rain, rain! all the morning! God's little tool--innocent-looking little +tool enough--for the remodelling of the destinies of this world. + +God chose to soak the earth on that day--and the formidable artillery +that had swept the plateau of Austerlitz, the vales of Marengo, the +cemetery of Eylau, was rendered useless for the time being because up in +the inscrutable kingdom of the sky a cloud had chosen to burst--or had +burst by the will of God--and water soaked the soft, spongy soil of +Belgium and the wheels of artillery wagons sank axle-deep in the mud. + +If only the ground had been dry! if only the great gambler--the genius, +the hero, call him what you will, but the gambler for all that--if only +he had staked his crown, his honour and that of Imperial France on some +other stake than his artillery! If only . . . ! But who shall tell? + +Is it indeed a cloud-burst that changed the whole destinies of Europe? +Ye materialists, ye philosophers! answer that. + +Is it to the rain that fell in such torrents until close on midday of +that stupendous 18th of June, that must be ascribed this wonderful and +all-embracing change that came over the destinies of myriads of people, +of entire nations, kingdoms and empires? Rather is it not because God +just on that day of all days chose to show this world of pigmies--great +men, valiant heroes, controlling genius and all-powerful +conquerors--the entire extent of His might--so far and no further--and +in order to show it, He selected that simple, seemingly futile means +. . . just a heavy shower of rain. + +At half-past eleven the cannon began to roar on the plains of Mont Saint +Jean,[2] but not before. Before that it had rained: rained heavily, and +the ground was soaked through, and the all-powerful artillery of the +most powerful military genius of all times was momentarily powerless. + +[Footnote 2: _i.e._ Waterloo.] + +Had it not rained so persistently and so long that same compelling +artillery would have begun its devastating work earlier in the day--at +six mayhap, or mayhap at dawn, another five, six, seven hours to add to +the length of that awful day: another five, six, seven hours wherein to +tax the tenacity, the heroic persistence of the British troops: another +five, six, seven hours of dogged resistance on the one side, of +impetuous charges on the other, before the arrival of Blücher and his +Prussians and the turning of the scales of blind Justice against the +daring gambler who had staked his all. + +But it was only at half-past eleven that the cannon began to roar, and +the undulating plain carried the echo like a thunder-roll from heaving +billow to heaving billow till it broke against the silent majesty of the +forest of Soigne. + +Here with the forest as a background is the highest point of Mont +Saint Jean: and here beneath an overhanging elm--all day on +horseback--anxious, frigid and heroic, is Wellington--with a rain of +bullets all round him, watching, ceaselessly watching that horizon far +away, wrapped now in fog, anon in smoke and soon in gathering darkness: +watching for the promised Prussian army that was to ease the terrible +burden of that desperate stand which the British troops were bearing and +had borne all day with such unflinching courage and dogged tenacity. + +It is in vain that his aides-de-camp beg him to move away from that +perilous position. + +"My lord," cries Lord Hill at last in desperation, "if you are killed, +what are we to do?" + +"The same as I do now," replies Wellington unmoved, "hold this place to +the last man." + +Then with a sudden outburst of vehemence, that seems to pierce almost +involuntarily the rigid armour of British phlegm and British +self-control, he calls to his old comrades of Salamanca and Vittoria: + +"Boys, which of us now can think of retreating? What would England think +of us, if we do?" + +Heroic, unflinching and cool the British army has held its ground +against the overwhelming power of Napoleon's magnificent cavalry. Raw +recruits some of them, against the veterans of Jena and of Wagram! But +they have been ordered to hold the place to the last man, and in close +and serried squares they have held their ground ever since half-past +eleven this morning, while one after another the flower of Napoleon's +world-famed cavalry had been hurled against them. + +Cuirassiers, chasseurs, lancers, up they come to the charge, like +whirlwinds up the declivities of the plateau. Like a whirlwind they rush +upon those stolid, immovable, impenetrable squares, attacking from every +side, making violent, obstinate, desperate onsets upon the stubborn +angles, the straight, unshakable walls of red coats; slashing at the +bayonets with their swords, at crimson breasts with their lances, firing +their pistols right between those glowing eyes, right into those firm +jaws and set teeth. + +The sound of bullets on breastplates and helmets and epaulettes is like +a shower of hailstones upon a sheet of metal. + +Twice, thrice, nay more--a dozen times--they return to the charge, and +the plateau gleams with brandished steel like a thousand flashes of +simultaneous fork-lightning on the vast canopy of a stormy sky. + +From midday till after four, a kind of mysterious haze covers this field +of noble deeds. Fog after the rain wraps the gently-billowing Flemish +ground in a white semi-transparent veil--covers with impartial coolness +all the mighty actions, the heroic charges and still more heroic stands, +all the silent uncomplaining sufferings, the glorious deaths, all the +courage and all the endurance. + +Through the grey mists we see a medley of moving colours--blue and grey +and scarlet and black--of shakos and sabretaches, of English and French +and Hanoverian and Scotch, of epaulettes and bare knees; we hear the +sound of carbine and artillery fire, the clank of swords and bayonets, +the call of bugle and trumpet and the wail of the melancholy pibroch: +tunics and gold tassels and kilts--a medley of sounds and of visions! + +We see the attack on Hougoumont--the appearance of Bülow on the heights +of Saint Lambert--the charge of the Inniskillings and the Scots +Greys--the death of valiant Ponsonby. We see Marshal Ney Prince of +Moskowa--the bravest soldier in France--we see him everywhere where the +mêlée is thickest, everywhere where danger is most nigh. His magnificent +uniform torn to shreds, his gold lace tarnished, his hair and whiskers +singed, his face blackened by powder, indomitable, unconquered, superb, +we hear him cry: "Where are those British bullets? Is there not one left +for me?" + +He knows--none better!--that the plains of Mont Saint Jean are the great +gambling tables on which the supreme gambler--Napoleon, once Emperor of +the French and master of half the world--had staked his all. "If we come +out of this alive and conquered," he cries to Heymès, his aide-de-camp, +"there will only be the hangman's rope left for us all." + +And we see the gambler himself--Napoleon, Emperor still and still +certain of victory--on horseback all day, riding from end to end of his +lines; he is gayer than he has ever been before. At Marengo he was +despondent, at Austerlitz he was troubled: but at Waterloo he has no +doubts. The star of his destiny has risen more brilliant than ever +before. + +"The day of France's glory has only just dawned," he calls, and his mind +is full of projects--the triumphant march back into Paris--the Germans +driven back to the Rhine--the English to the sea. + +His only anxiety--and it is a slight one still--is that Grouchy with his +fresh troops is so late in arriving. + +Still, the Prussians are late too, and the British cannot hold the place +for ever. + + +II + +At three o'clock the fog lifts--the veil that has wrapped so many +sounds, such awful and wonderful visions, in a kind of mystery, is +lifted now, and it reveals . . . what? Hougoumont invested--Brave Baring +there with a handful of men--English, German, Brunswickians--making a +last stand with ten rounds of ammunition left to them per man, and the +French engineers already battering in the gates of the enclosing wall +that surrounds the château and chapel of Goumont: the farm of La Haye +Sainte taken--Ney there with his regiment of cuirassiers and five +battalions of the Old Guard: and the English lines on the heights of +Mont Saint Jean apparently giving way. + +We see too a vast hecatomb: glory and might must claim their many +thousand victims: the dead and dying lie scattered like pawns upon an +abandoned chessboard, the humble pawns in this huge and final gamble for +supremacy and power, for national existence and for liberty. Hougoumont, +La Haye Sainte, Papelotte are sown with illustrious dead--but on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the British still hold their ground. + +Wellington is still there on the heights, with the majestic trees of +Soigne behind him, the stately canopy of the elm above his head--more +frigid than before, more heroic, but also more desperately anxious. + +"Blücher or nightfall," he sighs as a fresh cavalry charge is hurled +against those indomitable British squares. The thirteenth assault, and +still they stand or kneel on one knee, those gallant British boys; +bayonet in hand or carbine, they fire, fall out and re-form again: +shaken, hustled, encroached on they may be, but still they stand and +fire with coolness and precision . . . the ranks are not broken yet. + +Officers ride up to the field-marshal to tell him that the situation has +become desperate, their regiments decimated, their men exhausted. They +ask for fresh orders: but he has only one answer for them: + +"There are no fresh orders, save to hold out to the last man." + +And down in the valley at La Belle Alliance is the great gambler--the +man who to-day will either be Emperor again--a greater, mightier monarch +than even he has ever been--or who will sink to a status which perhaps +the meanest of his erstwhile subjects would never envy. + +But just now--at four o'clock--when the fog has lifted--he is flushed +with excitement, exultant in the belief in victory. + +The English centre on Mont Saint Jean is giving way at last, he is told. + +"The beginning of retreat!" he cries. + +And he, who had been anxious at Austerlitz, despondent at Marengo, is +gay and happy and brimming full of hope. + +"De Marmont," he calls to his faithful friend, "De Marmont, go ride to +Paris now; tell them that victory is ours! No, no," he adds excitedly, +"don't go all the way--ride to Genappe and send a messenger to Paris +from there--then come back to be with us in the hour of victory." + +And Victor de Marmont rides off in order to proclaim to the world at +large the great victory which the Emperor has won this day over all the +armies of Europe banded and coalesced against him. + + +From far away on the road of Ohain has come the first rumour that +Blücher and his body of Prussians are nigh--still several hours' march +from Waterloo but advancing--advancing. For hours Wellington has been +watching for them, until wearily he has sighed: "Blücher or nightfall +alone can save us from annihilation now." + +The rumour--oh! it was merely the whispering of the wind, but still a +rumour nevertheless--means fresh courage to tired, half-spent troops. +Even deeds of unparalleled heroism need the stimulus of renewed hope +sometimes. + +The rumour has also come to the ears of the Emperor, of Ney and of all +the officers of the staff. They all know that those magnificent British +troops whom they have fought all day must be nigh to their final +desperate effort at last--with naught left to them but their stubborn +courage and that tenacity which has been ever since the wonder of the +world. + +They know, these brave soldiers of Napoleon--who have fought and admired +the brave foe--that the 1st and 2nd Life Guards are decimated by now; +that entire British and German regiments are cut up; that Picton is +dead, the Scots Greys almost annihilated. They know what havoc their +huge cavalry charges have made in the magnificent squares of British +infantry; they know that heroism and tenacity and determination must +give way at last before superior numbers, before fresh troops, before +persistent, ever-renewed attacks. + +Only a few fresh troops and Ney declares that he can conquer the final +dogged endurance of the British troops, before they in their turn +receive the support of Blücher and his Prussians, or before nightfall +gives them a chance of rest. + +So he sends Colonel Heymès to his Emperor with the urgent message: "More +troops, I entreat, more troops and I can break the English centre before +the Prussians come!" + +None knew better than he that this was the great hazard on which the +life and honour of his Emperor had been staked, that Imperial France was +fighting hand to hand with Great Britain, each for her national +existence, each for supremacy and might and the honour of her flag. + +Imperial France--bold, daring, impetuous! + +Great Britain--tenacious, firm and impassive! + +Wellington under the elm-tree, calmly scanning the horizon while bullets +whiz past around his head, and ordering his troops to hold on to the +last man! + +The Emperor on horseback under a hailstorm of shot and shell and bullets +riding from end to end of his lines! + +Ney and his division of cuirassiers and grenadiers of the Old Guard had +just obeyed the Emperor's last orders which had been to take La Haye +Sainte at all costs: and the intrepid Maréchal now, flushed with +victory, had sent his urgent message to Napoleon: + +"More troops! and I can yet break through the English centre before the +arrival of the Prussians." + +"More troops?" cried the Emperor in despair, "where am I to get them +from? Am I a creator of men?" + +And from far away the rumour: "Blücher and the Prussians are nigh!" + +"Stop that rumour from spreading to the ears of our men! In God's name +don't let them know it," adjures Napoleon in a message to Ney. + +And he himself sends his own staff officers to every point of the field +of battle to shout and proclaim the news that it is Grouchy who is +nigh, Grouchy with reinforcements, Grouchy with the victorious troops +from Ligny, fresh from conquered laurels! + +And the news gives fresh heart to the Imperial troops: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" they shout, more certain than ever of victory. + + +III + +The grey day has yielded at last to the kiss of the sun. Far away at +Braine l'Alleud a vivid streak of gold has rent the bank of heavy +clouds. It is now close on seven o'clock--there are two more hours to +nightfall and Blücher is not yet here. + +Some of the Prussians have certainly debouched on Plancenoit, but +Napoleon's Old Guard have turned them out again, and from Limale now +comes the sound of heavy cannonade as if Grouchy had come upon Blücher +after all and all hopes of reinforcements for the British troops were +finally at an end. + +Napoleon--Emperor still and still flushed with victory--looks through +his glasses on the British lines: to him it seems that these are shaken, +that Wellington is fighting with the last of his men. This is the hour +then when victory waits--attentive, ready to bestow her crown on him who +can hold out and fight the longest--on him who at the last can deliver +the irresistible attack. + +And Napoleon gives the order for the final attack, which must be more +formidable, more overpowering than any that have gone before. The +plateau of Mont Saint Jean, he commands, must be carried at all costs! + +Cuirassiers, lancers and grenadiers, then, once more to the charge! +strew once more the plains of Waterloo with your dying and your dead! +Up, Milhaud, with your guards! Poret with your grenadiers! Michel with +your chasseurs! Up, ye heroes of a dozen campaigns, of a hundred +victories! Up, ye old growlers with the fur bonnets--Napoleon's +invincible Old Guard! With Ney himself to lead you! a hero among heroes! +the bravest where all are brave! + +Have you ever seen a tidal wave of steel rising and surging under the +lash of the gale? So they come now, those cuirassiers and lancers and +chasseurs, their helmets, their swords, their lances gleaming in the +golden light of the sinking sun; in closed ranks, stirrup to stirrup +they swoop down into the valley, and rise again scaling the muddy +heights. Superb as on parade, with their finest generals at their head: +Milhaud, Hanrion, Michel, Mallet! and Ney between them all. + +Splendid they are and certain of victory: they gallop past as if at a +revue on the Place du Carrousel opposite the windows of the Tuileries; +all to the repeated cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And as they gallop past the wounded and the dying lift themselves up +from the blood-stained earth, and raise their feeble voices to join in +that triumphant call: "Vive l'Empereur!" There's an old veteran there, +who fought at Austerlitz and at Jena; he has three stripes upon his +sleeve, but both his legs are shattered and he lies on the roadside +propped up against a hedge, and as the superb cavalry ride proudly by he +shouts lustily: "Forward, comrades! a last victorious charge! Long live +the Emperor!" + + +After that who was to blame? Was human agency to blame? Did Ney--the +finest cavalry leader in Napoleon's magnificent army, the veteran of an +hundred glorious victories--did he make the one blunder of his military +career by dividing his troops into too many separate columns rather than +concentrating them for the one all-powerful attack upon the British +centres? Did he indeed mistake the way and lead his splendid cavalry by +round-about crossways to the plateau instead of by the straight Brussels +road? + +Or did the obscure traitor--over whom history has thrown a veil of +mystery--betray this fresh advance against the British centre to +Wellington? + +Was any man to blame? Was it not rather the hand of God that had already +fallen with almighty and divine weight upon the ambitious and reckless +adventurer?--was it not the voice of God that spoke to him through the +cannon's roar of Waterloo: "So far but no farther shalt thou go! Enough +of thy will and thy power and thy ambition!--Enough of this scourge of +bloodshed and of misery which I have allowed thee to wield for so +long!--Enough of devastated homes, of starvation and of poverty! enough +of the fatherless and of the widow!" + +And up above on the plateau the British troops hear the thunder of +thousands of horses' hoofs, galloping--galloping to this last charge +which must be irresistible. And sturdy, wearied hands, black with powder +and stained with blood, grasp more firmly still the bayonet, the rifle +or the carbine, and they wait--those exhausted, intrepid, valiant men! +they wait for that thundering charge, with wide-open eyes fixed upon the +crest of the hill--they wait for the charge--they are ready for +death--but they are not prepared to yield. + +Along the edge of the plateau in a huge semicircle that extends from +Hougoumont to the Brussels road the British gunners wait for the order +to fire. + +Behind them Wellington--eagle-eyed and calm, warned by God--or by a +traitor but still by God--of the coming assault on his positions--scours +the British lines from end to end: valiant Maitland is there with his +brigade of guards, and Adam with his artillery: there are Vandeleur's +and Vivian's cavalry and Colin Halkett's guards! heroes all! ready to +die and hearing the approach of Death in that distant roar of +thunder--the onrush of Napoleon's invincible cavalry. + +Here, too, further out toward the east and the west, extending the +British lines as far as Nivelles on one side and Brussels on the other, +are William Halkett's Hanoverians, Duplat's German brigade, the Dutch +and the Belgians, the Brunswickers, and Ompteda's decimated corps. The +French royalists are here too, scattered among the foreign +troops--brother prepared to fight brother to the death! St. Genis is +among the Brunswickers. But Bobby Clyffurde is with Maitland's guards. + +And now the wave of steel is surging up the incline: the gleam of +shining metal pierces the distant haze, casques and lances glitter in +the slowly sinking sun, whilst from billow to billow the echo brings to +straining ears the triumphant cry "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Five minutes later the British artillery ranged along the crest has made +a huge breach in that solid, moving mass of horses and of steel. Quickly +the breach is repaired: the ranks close up again! This is a parade! a +review! The eyes of France are upon her sons! and "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Still they come! + +Volley after volley from the British guns makes deadly havoc among those +glistering ranks! + +But nevertheless they come! + +No halt save for the quick closing up into serried, orderly columns. And +then on with the advance!--like the surging up of a tidal wave against +the cliffs--on with the advance! up the slopes toward the crest where +those who are in the front ranks are mowed down by the British +guns--their places taken by others from the rear--those others mowed +down again, and again replaced--falling in their hundreds as they reach +the crest, like the surf that shivers and dies as it strikes against the +cliffs. + +Ney's horse is killed under him--the fifth to-day--but he quickly +extricates himself from saddle and stirrups and continues on his way--on +foot, sword in hand--the sword that conquered at Austerlitz, at Eylau +and at Moskowa. Round him the grenadiers of the Old Guard--they with +the fur bonnets and the grizzled moustaches--tighten up their ranks. + +They advance behind the cavalry! and after every volley from the British +guns they shout loudly: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And anon the tidal wave--despite the ebb, despite the constant breaking +of its surf--has by sheer force of weight hurled itself upon the crest +of the plateau. + +The Brunswickers on the left are scattered. Cleeves and Lloyd have been +forced to abandon their guns: the British artillery is silenced and the +chasseurs of Michel hold the extreme edge of the upland, and turn a +deadly fusillade upon Colin Halkett's brigade already attacked by +Milhaud and his guards and now severely shaken. + +"See the English General!" cries Duchaud to his cuirassiers, "he is +between two fires. He cannot escape." + +No! he cannot but he seizes the colours of the 33rd whose young +lieutenant has just fallen, and who threaten to yield under the +devastating cross-fire: he brandishes the tattered colours, high up +above his head--as high as he can hold them--he calls to his men to +rally, and then falls grievously wounded. + +But his guards have rallied. They stand firm now, and Duchaud, chewing +his grey moustache, murmurs his appreciation of so gallant a foe. + +"That side will win," he mutters, "who can best keep on killing." + + +IV + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +Maitland's brigade of guards had been crouching in the +corn--crouching--waiting for the order to charge--red-coated lions in +the ripening corn--ready to spring at the word. + +And Death the harvester in chief stands by with his scythe ready for the +mowing. + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +It is Maitland and his gallant brigade of guards--out of the corn they +rise and front the three battalions of Michel's chasseurs who were the +first to reach the highest point of the hill. They fire and Death with +his scythe has laid three hundred low. The tricolour flag is riddled +with grapeshot and Général Michel has fallen. + +Then indeed the mighty wave of steel can advance no longer: for it is +confronted with an impenetrable wall--a wall of living, palpitating, +heroic men--men who for hours have stood their ground and fought for the +honour of Britain and of her flag--men who with set teeth and grim +determination were ready to sell their lives dearly if lives were to be +sold--men in fact who have had their orders to hold out to the last man +and who are going to obey those orders now. + +"Up, guards, and at them," and surprised, bewildered, staggered, the +chasseurs pause: three hundred of their comrades lie dead or dying on +the ground. They pause: their ranks are broken: with his last dying sigh +brave Général Michel tries to rally them. But he breathes his last ere +he succeeds: his second in command loses his head. He should have +ordered a bayonet charge--sudden, swift and sure--against that red wall +that rushes at them with such staggering power: but he too tries to +rally his men, to reform their ranks--how can they re-form as for parade +under the deadly fire of the British guards? + +Confusion begins its deathly sway: the chasseurs--under conflicting +orders--stand for full ten minutes almost motionless under that +devastating fire. + +And far away on the heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian +bayonets are seen silhouetted against the sunset sky. + +Wellington has seen it. Blücher has come at last! One final effort, one +more mighty gigantic, superhuman struggle and the glorious end would be +in sight. He gives the order for a general charge. + +"Forward, boys," cries Colonel Saltoun to his brigade. "Now is the +time!" + +Heads down the British charge. The chasseurs are already scattered, but +behind the chasseurs, fronting Maitland's brigade, fronting Adam and his +artillery, fronting Saltoun and Colborne the Fire-Eater, the Old Guard +is seen to advance, the Old Guard who through twelve campaigns and an +hundred victories have shown the world how to conquer and how to die. + +When Michel's chasseurs were scattered, when their General fell; when +the English lines, exhausted and shaken for a moment, rallied at +Wellington's call: "Up, guards, and at them!" when from far away on the +heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian bayonets were +silhouetted against the sunset sky, then did Napoleon's old growlers +with their fur bonnets and their grizzled moustaches enter the line of +action to face the English guards. They were facing Death and knew it +but still they cried: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Heads down the British charge, whilst from Ohain comes the roar of +Blücher's guns, and up from the east, Zieten with the Prussians rushes +up to join in the assault. + +Then the carnage begins: for the Old Guard is still advancing--in solid +squares--solemn, unmoved, magnificent: the bronze eagles on their +bonnets catch the golden rays of the setting sun. Thus they advance in +face of deadly fire: they fall like corn before the scythe. A sublime +suicide to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and not one of the brigade is +missing except those who are dead. + +They know--none better--that this is the beginning of the end. Perhaps +they do not care to live if their Emperor is to be Emperor no longer, +if he is to be sent back to exile--to the prison of Elba or worse: and +so they advance in serried squares, while Maitland's artillery has +attacked them in the rear. Great gaps are made in those ranks, but they +are quickly filled up again: the squares become less solid, smaller, but +they remain compact. Still they advance. + +But now close behind them Blücher's guns begin to thunder and Zieten's +columns are rapidly gaining ground: all round their fur bonnets a +hailstorm of grape-shot is raging whilst Adam's artillery is in action +within fifty paces at their flank. But the old growlers who had suffered +death with silent fortitude in the snows of Russia, who had been as +grand in their defeat at Moscow and at Leipzic as they had been in the +triumphs of Auerstadt or of Friedland--they neither staggered nor paused +in their advance. On they went--carrying their muskets on their +shoulders--a cloud of tirailleurs in front of them, right into the +cross-fire of the British guns: their loud cry of "Vive l'Empereur" +drowning that other awesome, terrible cry which someone had raised a +while ago and which now went from mouth to mouth: "We are betrayed! +_Sauve qui peut!_" + +The Prussians were in their rear; the British were charging their front, +and panic had seized the most brilliant cavalry the world had ever seen. + +"Sauve qui peut" is echoed now and re-echoed all along the crest of the +plateau. And the echo rolls down the slope into the valley where +Reille's infantry and a regiment of cuirassiers, and three more +battalions of chasseurs, are making ready to second the assault on Mont +Saint Jean. Reille and his infantry pause and listen: the cuirassiers +halt in their upward movement, whilst up on the ridge of the plateau +where Donzelot's grenadiers have attacked the brigade of Kempt and +Lambert and Pack, the whisper goes from mouth to mouth: + +"We are betrayed! _Sauve qui peut!_" + +Panic seizes the younger men: they turn their horses' heads back toward +the slopes. The stampede has commenced: very soon it grows. The British +in front, the Prussians in the rear: "Sauve qui peut!" + +Ney amongst them is almost unrecognisable. His face is coal-black with +powder: he has no hat, no epaulettes and only half a sword: rage, +anguish, bitterness are in his husky voice as he adjures, entreats, +calls to the demoralised army--and insults it, execrates it in turn. But +nothing but Death will stop that army now in its headlong flight. + +"At least stop and see how a Marshal of France dies on the field of +honour," he calls. + +But the voice which led these same men to victory at Moskowa has lost +its potency and its magic. The men cry "Vive Ney!" but they do not +stand. The stampede has become general. In the valley below the infantry +has started to run up the slope of La Belle Alliance: after it the +cavalry with reins hanging loose, stirrups lost, casques, sabretaches, +muskets--anything that impedes--thrown into the fields to right and +left. La Haye Sainte is evacuated, Hougoumont is abandoned; Papelotte, +Plancenoit, the woods, the plains are only filled with running men and +the thunder of galloping chargers. + + +Alone the Old Guard has remained unshaken. Whilst all around them what +was once the Grand Army is shattered, destroyed, melted like ice before +a devastating fire, they have continued to advance, sublime in their +fortitude, in their endurance, their contempt for death. One by one +their columns are shattered and there are none now to replace those that +fall. And as the gloom of night settles on this vast hecatomb on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the conquerors of Jena and Austerlitz and +Friedland make their last stand round the bronze eagle--all that is left +to them of the glories of the past. + +And when from far away the cry of "Sauve qui peut" has become only an +echo, and the bronze eagle shattered by a bullet lies prone upon the +ground shielded against capture in its fall by a circling mountain of +dead, when finally Night wraps all the heroism, the glory, the sorrow +and the horrors of this awful day in the sable folds of her +all-embracing mantle, Napoleon's Old Guard has ceased to be. + + +And out in the western sky a streak of vivid crimson like human blood +has broken the bosom of the clouds: the glow of the sinking sun rests on +this huge dissolution of what was once so glorious and unconquered and +great. Then it is that Wellington rides to the very edge of the plateau +and fronts the gallant British troops at this supreme hour of oncoming +victory, and lifting his hat high above his head he waves it three times +in the air. + +And from right and left they come, British, Hanoverians, Belgians and +Brunswickers to deliver the final blow to this retreating army, wounded +already unto death. + +They charge now: they charge all of them, cavalry, infantry, gunners, +forty thousand men who have forgotten exhaustion, forgotten what they +have suffered, forgotten what they had endured. On they come with a rush +like a torrent let loose; the confusion of sounds and sights becomes a +pandemonium of hideousness, bugles and drums and trumpets and bagpipes +all mingle, merge and die away in the fast gathering twilight. + +And the tidal wave of steel recedes down the slopes of Mont Saint Jean, +into the valley and thence up again on Belle Alliance, with a mêlée of +sounds like the breaking of a gigantic line of surf against the +irresistible cliffs, or the last drawn-out sigh of agony of dying giants +in primeval times. + + +V + +On the road to Genappe in the mystery of the moonlit night a solitary +rider turned into a field and dismounted. + +Carried along for a time by the stream of the panic, he found himself +for a moment comparatively alone--left as it were high and dry by the +same stream which here had divided and flowed on to right and left of +him. He wore a grey redingote and a shabby bicorne hat. + +Having dismounted he slipped the bridle over his arm and started to walk +beside his horse back toward Waterloo. + +A sleep-walker in pursuit of his dream! + +Heavy banks of grey clouds chased one another with mad fury across the +midsummer sky, now obscuring the cold face of the moon, now allowing her +pale, silvery rays to light up this gigantic panorama of desolation and +terror and misery. To right and left along the roads and lanes, across +grassland and cornfields, canals, ditches and fences the last of the +Grand Army was flying headlong, closely pursued by the Prussians. And at +the farm of La Belle Alliance Wellington and Blücher had met and shaken +hands, and had thanked God for the great and glorious victory. + +But the sleep-walker went on in pursuit of his dream--he walked with +measured steps beside his weary horse, his eyes fixed on the horizon far +away, where the dull crimson glow of smouldering fires threw its last +weird light upon this vast abode of the dead and the dying. He walked +on--slowly and mechanically back to the scene of the overwhelming +cataclysm where all his hopes lay irretrievably buried. He walked +on--majestic as he had never been before, in the brilliant throne-room +of the Tuileries or the mystic vastness of Notre Dame when the Imperial +crown sat so ill upon his plebeian head. . . . He walked on--silent, +exalted and great--great through the magnitude of his downfall. + +And to right and left of him, like the surf that recedes on a pebbly +beach, the last of his once invincible army was flying back to +France--back in the wake of those who had been lucky enough to fly +before--bodies of men who had been the last to realise that an heroic +stand round a fallen eagle could no longer win back that which was lost, +and that if life be precious it could only be had in flight--bits of +human wreckage too, forgotten by the tide--they all rolled and rushed +and swept past the silent wayfarer . . . quite close at times: so close +that every man could see him quite distinctly, could easily distinguish +by the light of the moon the grey redingote and the battered hat which +they all knew so well--which they had been wont to see in the forefront +of an hundred victorious charges. + +Now half-blinded by despair and by panic they gazed with uncomprehending +eyes on the man and on the horse and merely shouted to him as they +rushed galloping or running by, "The Prussians are on us! _Sauve qui +peut!_" + +And the dreamer still looked on that distant crimson glow and in the +bosom of those wind-swept clouds he saw the pictures of Austerlitz and +Jena and Wagram, pictures of glory and might and victory, and the shouts +which he heard were the ringing cheers round the bivouac fires of long +ago. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LAST THROW + + +I + +It was close on half-past nine and the moon full up on the stormy sky +when a couple of riders detached themselves out of the surging mass of +horses and men that were flying pell-mell towards Genappe, and slightly +checking their horses, put them to a slower gallop and finally to a +trot. + +On their right a small cottage gleamed snow-white in the cold, searching +light of the moon. A low wall ran to right and left of it and enclosed a +small yard at the back of the cottage; the wall had a gate in it which +gave on the fields beyond. At the moment that the two riders trotting +slowly down the road reached the first angle of the wall, the gate was +open and a man leading a white horse and wearing a grey redingote turned +into the yard. + +"My God! the Emperor!" exclaimed one of the riders as he drew rein. + +They both turned their horses into the field, skirting the low, +enclosing wall until they reached the gate. The white horse was now +tethered to a post and the man in the grey redingote was standing in the +doorway at the rear of the cottage. The two men dismounted and in their +turn led their horses into the yard: at sight of them the man in the +grey redingote seemed to wake from his sleep. + +"Berthier," he said slowly, "is that you?" + +"Yes, Sire,--and Colonel Bertrand is here too." + +"What do you want?" + +"We earnestly beg you, Sire, to come with us to Genappe. There is not +the slightest hope of rallying any portion of your army now. The +Prussians are on us. You might fall into their hands." + +Berthier--conqueror and Prince of Wagram--spoke very earnestly and with +head uncovered, but more abruptly and harshly than he had been wont to +do of yore in the salons of the Tuileries or on the glory-crowned +battlefields at the close of a victorious day. + +"I am coming! I am coming!" said the Emperor with a quick sigh of +impatience. "I only wanted to be alone a moment--to think things out--to +. . ." + +"There is nothing quite so urgent, Sire, as your safety," retorted the +Prince of Wagram drily. + +The Emperor did not--or did not choose to--heed his great Marshal's +marked want of deference. Perhaps he was accustomed to the moods of +these men whom his bounty had fed and loaded with wealth and dignities +and titles in the days of his glory, and who had proved only too ready, +alas!--even last year, even now--to desert him when disaster was in +sight. + +Without another word he turned on his heel and pushing open the cottage +door he disappeared into the darkness of the tiny room beyond. With an +impatient shrug of the shoulders Berthier prepared to follow him. +Colonel Bertrand busied himself with tethering the horses, then he too +followed Berthier into the building. + +It was deserted, of course, as all isolated cottages and houses had been +in the vicinity of Quatre Bras or Mont Saint Jean. Bertrand struck a +tinder and lighted a tallow candle that stood forlorn on a deal table in +the centre of the room. The flickering light revealed a tiny cottage +kitchen--hastily abandoned but scrupulously clean--white-washed walls, a +red-tiled floor, the iron hearth, the painted dresser decorated with +white crockery, shiny tin pans hung in rows against the walls and two +or three rush chairs. Napoleon sat down. + +"I again entreat you, Sire--" began Berthier more earnestly than before. + +But the Emperor was staring straight out before him, with eyes that +apparently saw something beyond that rough white wall opposite, on which +the flickering candle-light threw such weird gargantuan shadows. The +precious minutes sped on: minutes wherein death or capture strode with +giant steps across the fields of Flanders to this lonely cottage where +the once mightiest ruler in Europe sat dreaming of what might have been. +The silence of the night was broken by the thunder of flying horses' +hoofs, by the cries of "Sauve qui peut!" and distant volleys of +artillery proclaiming from far away that Death had not finished all his +work yet. + +Bertrand and Berthier stood by, with heads uncovered: silent, moody and +anxious. + +Suddenly the dreamer roused himself for a moment and spoke abruptly and +with his usual peremptory impatience: "De Marmont," he said. "Has either +of you seen him?" + +"Not lately, Sire," replied Colonel Bertrand, "not since five o'clock at +any rate." + +"What was he doing then?" + +"He was riding furiously in the direction of Nivelles. I shouted to him. +He told me that he was making for Brussels by a circuitous way." + +"Ah! that is right! Well done, my brave de Marmont! Braver than your +treacherous kinsman ever was! So you saw him, did you, Bertrand? Did he +tell you that he had just come from Genappe?" + +"Yes, Sire, he did," replied Bertrand moodily. "He told me that by your +orders he had sent a messenger from there to Paris with news of your +victory: and that by to-morrow morning the capital would be ringing +with enthusiasm and with cheers." + +"And by the time de Marmont came back from Genappe," interposed the +Prince of Wagram with a sneer, "the plains of Waterloo were ringing with +the Grand Army's '_Sauve qui peut!_'" + +"An episode, Prince, only an episode!" said Napoleon with an angry frown +of impatience. "To hear you now one would imagine that Essling had never +been. We have been beaten back, of course, but for the moment the world +does not know that. Paris to-morrow will be be-flagged and the bells of +Notre Dame will send forth their joyous peals to cheer the hearts of my +people. And in Brussels this afternoon thousands of our +enemies--Belgians, Dutch, Hanoverians, Brunswickers--were rushing +helter-skelter into the town--demoralised and disorganised after that +brilliant charge of our cuirassiers against the Allied left." + +"Would to God the British had been among them too," murmured old Colonel +Bertrand. "But for their stand . . ." + +"And a splendid stand it was. Ah! but for that. . . . To think that if +Grouchy had kept the Prussians away, in only another hour we . . ." + +The dreamer paused in his dream of the might have been: then he +continued more calmly: + +"But I was not thinking of that just now. I was thinking of those who +fled to Brussels this afternoon with the news of our victory and of +Wellington's defeat." + +"Even then the truth is known in Brussels by now," protested Berthier. + +"Yes! but not before de Marmont has had the time and the pluck to save +us and our Empire! . . . Berthier," he continued more vehemently, "don't +stand there so gloomy, man . . . and you, too, my old Bertrand. . . . +Surely, surely you have realised that at this terrible juncture we must +utilise every circumstance which is in our favour. . . . That early +news of our victory . . . we can make use of that. . . . A big throw in +this mighty game, but we can do it . . . Berthier, do you see how we can +do it . . . ?" + +"No, Sire, I confess that I do not," replied the Marshal gloomily. + +"You do not see?" retorted the Emperor with a frown of angry impatience. +"De Marmont did--at once--but he is young--and enthusiastic, whereas +you. . . . But don't you see that the news of Wellington's defeat must +have enormous consequences on the money markets of the world--if only +for a few hours? . . . It must send the prices on the foreign Bourses +tumbling about people's ears and create an absolute panic on the London +Stock Exchange. Only for a few hours of course . . . but do you not see +that if any man is wise enough to buy stock in London during that panic +he can make a fortune by re-selling the moment the truth is known?" + +"Even then, Sire," stammered Berthier, a little confused by this +avalanche of seemingly irrelevant facts hurled at him at a moment when +the whole map of Europe was being changed by destiny and her future +trembled in the hands of God. + +"Ah, de Marmont saw it all . . . at once . . ." continued the Emperor +earnestly, "he saw eye to eye with me. He knows that money--a great deal +of money--is just what I want now . . . money to reorganise my army, to +re-equip and reform it. The Chamber and my Ministers will never give me +what I want. . . . My God! they are such cowards! and some of them would +rather see the foreign troops again in Paris than Napoleon Emperor at +the Tuileries. You should know that, Maréchal, and you, too, my good +Bertrand. De Marmont knows it . . . that is why he rode to Brussels at +the hour when I alone knew that all was lost at Waterloo, but when half +Europe still thought that the Corsican ogre had conquered again. . . . +De Marmont is in Brussels now . . . to-night he crosses over to +England--to-morrow morning he and his broker will be in the Stock +Exchange in London--calm, silent, watchful. An operation on the Bourse, +what? like hundreds that have been done before . . . but in this case +the object will be to turn one million into fifty so that with it I +might rebuild my Empire again." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, and with indomitable fervour, sitting +here quietly, he--the architect of the mightiest empire of modern +days--just as he used to do in the camps at Austerlitz and Jena and +Wagram and Friedland--with one clenched hand resting upon the rough deal +table, the flickering light of the tallow candle illuminating the wide +brow, the heavy jaw, those piercing eyes that still gazed--in this hour +of supreme catastrophe--into a glorious future destined never to +be--scheming, planning, scheming still, even while his Grand Army was +melting into nothingness all around him, and distant volleys of musketry +were busy consummating the final annihilation of the Empire which he had +created and still hoped to rebuild. + +Berthier gave a quick sign of impatience. + +Rebuild an Empire, ye gods!--an Empire!--when the flower of its manhood +lies pale and stark like the windrows of corn after the harvester has +done his work. Thoughts of a dreamer! Schemes of a visionary! How will +the quaking lips which throughout the length and breadth of this vast +hecatomb now cry, "Sauve qui peut!" how will they ever intone again the +old "Vive l'Empereur!" + +The conqueror of Wagram gave a bitter sigh and faithful Bertrand hung +his head gloomily; but de Marmont had neither sighed nor doubted: but +then de Marmont was young--he too was a dreamer, and an enthusiast and a +visionary. His idol in his eyes had never had feet of clay. For him the +stricken man was his Emperor still--the architect, the creator, the +invincible conqueror--checked for a moment in his glorious work, but +able at his will to rebuild the Empire of France again on the very ruins +that smouldered now on the fields of Waterloo. + +"I can do it, Sire," he had cried exultantly, when his Emperor first +expounded his great, new scheme to him. "I can be in Brussels in an +hour, and catch the midnight packet for England at Ostend. At dawn I +shall be in London, and by ten o'clock at my post. I know a financier--a +Jew, and a mightily clever one--he will operate for me. I have a million +or two francs invested in England, we'll use these for our operations! +Money, Sire! You shall have millions! Our differences on the Stock +Exchange will equip the finest army that even you have ever had! Fifty +millions? I'll bring you a hundred! God has not yet decreed the downfall +of the Empire of France!" + +So de Marmont had spoken this afternoon in the enthusiasm of his youth +and of his hero-worship: and since then the great dreamer had continued +to weave his dreams! Nothing was lost, nothing could be lost whilst +enthusiasm such as that survived in the hearts of the young. + +And still wrapped in his dream he sat on, while danger and death and +disgrace threatened him on every side. Berthier and Bertrand entreated +in vain, in vain tried to drag him away from this solitary place, where +any moment a party of Prussians might find and capture him. + +Unceremoniously the Prince of Wagram had blown out the flickering light +that might have attracted the attention of the pursuers. It was a very +elementary precaution, the only one he or Bertrand was able to take. The +horses were out in the yard for anyone to see, and the greatest spoil of +victory might at any moment fall into the hands of the meanest Prussian +soldier out for loot. + +But the dreamer still sat on in the gloom, with the pale light of the +moon streaming in through the narrow casement window and illumining that +marble-like face, rigid and set, that seemed only to live by the +glowing eyes--the eyes that looked into the future and the past and +heeded not the awful present. + +Close on a quarter of an hour went by until at last he jumped to his +feet, with the sudden cry of "To Genappe!" + +Berthier heaved a sigh of relief and Bertrand hurried out to unfasten +the horses. + +"You are impatient, Prince," said the Emperor almost gaily, as he strode +with a firm step to the door. "You are afraid those cursed Prussians +will put the Corsican ogre into a cage and send him at once to His +Victorious Bourbon Majesty King Louis XVIII. Not so, my good Berthier, +not so. The Star of my Destiny has not yet declined. I've done all the +thinking I wanted to do. Now we'll to Genappe, where we'll rally the +remnants of our army and then quietly await de Marmont's return with the +millions which we want. After that we'll boldly on to Paris and defy my +enemies there . . . En avant, Maréchal! the Corsican ogre is not in the +iron cage yet!" + +Outside Bertrand was holding his stirrup for him. He swung himself +lightly in the saddle and turned out of the farmyard gate into the open, +throwing back his head and sniffing the storm-laden air as if he was +about to lead his army to one of his victorious charges. Not waiting to +see how close the other two men followed him, he put his horse at once +at a gallop. + +He rode on--never pausing--never looking round even on that gigantic +desolation which the cold light of the moon weirdly and fitfully +revealed--his mind was fixed upon a fresh throw on the gaming table of +the world. + +Overhead the storm-driven clouds chased one another with unflagging fury +across the moonlit sky, now obscuring, now revealing that gigantic +dissolution of the Grand Army, so like the melting of ice and frost +under the fierce kiss of the sun. + +More than men in an attack, less than women in a retreat, the finest +cavalry Europe had ever seen was flying like sand before the wind: but +the somnambulist rode on in his sleep, forgetting that on these vast and +billowing fields twenty-six thousand gallant French heroes had died for +the sake of his dreams. + +Bertrand and the Prince of Wagram followed--gloomy and silent--they knew +that all suggestions would be useless, all saner advice remain unheeded. +Besides, de Marmont had gone, and after all, what did it all matter? +What did anything matter, now that Empire, glory, hope, everything were +irretrievably lost? + +And in faithful Bertrand's deep-set eyes there came a strange, far-off +look, almost of premonition, as if in his mind he could already see that +lonely island rock in the Atlantic, and the great gambler there, eating +out his heart with vain and bitter regrets. + + +II + +But de Marmont had never had any doubts, never any forebodings: he only +had boundless faith in his hero and boundless enthusiasm for his cause. +Accustomed to handle money since early manhood, owner of a vast fortune +which he had administered himself with no mean skill, he had no doubt +that the Emperor's scheme for manufacturing a few millions in a wild +gamble on the Stock Exchange was not only feasible but certain of +success. + +Undoubtedly the false news of Wellington's defeat would reach London +to-morrow, as it had already reached Paris and Brussels. The panic in +the money market was a foregone conclusion: the quick rise in prices +when the truth became known was equally certain. It only meant +forestalling the arrival of Wellington's despatches in London by four +and twenty hours, and one million would make fifty during that time. + +As de Marmont had told his Emperor, he had several hundred thousand +pounds invested in England, on which he could lay his hands: operations +on the Bourse were nothing new to him: and already while he was still +listening with respect and enthusiasm to his Emperor's instructions, he +was longing to get away. He knew the country well between here and +Brussels, and he was wildly longing to be at work, to be flying across +the low-lying land, on to Brussels and then across to England in the +wake of the awful news of complete disaster. + +He would steal the uniform of some poor dead wretch--a Belgium or a +Hanoverian or a black Brunswicker, he didn't care which--it wouldn't +take long to strip the dead, and the greatness of the work at stake +would justify the sacrilege. In the uniform of one of the Allied army he +could safely continue his journey to Brussels, and with luck could reach +the city long before sunset. + +In Brussels he would at once obtain civilian clothes and then catch the +evening packet for England at Ostend. Oh, no! it was not likely that +Wellington could send a messenger over to London quite so soon! + +At this hour--it was just past five--he was still on Mont Saint Jean +making another desperate stand against the Imperial cavalry with troops +half worn out with discouragement and whose endurance must even now be +giving way. + +At this hour the Prussians had appeared at Braine L'Alleud, they had +engaged Reille at Plancenoit, but Wellington and the British had still +to hold their ground or the news which de Marmont intended to accompany +to London might prove true after all. + +Ye gods, if only that were possible! How gladly would Victor then have +lost the hundred thousands which he meant to risk to-morrow! Wellington +really vanquished before Blücher could come to his rescue! Napoleon +once more victorious, as he had always been, and a mightier monarch +than before! Then he, Victor de Marmont, the faithful young enthusiast +who had never ceased to believe when others wavered, who at this last +hour--when the whole world seemed to crumble away from under the feet of +the man who had once been its master--was still ready to serve his +Emperor, never doubting, always hoping, he would reap such a reward as +must at last dazzle the one woman who could make that reward for him +doubly precious. + +Victor de Marmont had effected the gruesome exchange. He was now dressed +in the black uniform of a Brunswick regiment wherein so many French +royalists were serving. By a wide détour he had reached the approach to +Brussels. Indeed it seemed as if the news which he had sent flying to +Paris was true after all. Behind the forest of Soigne where he now was, +the fields and roads were full of running men and galloping horses. The +dull green of Belgian uniforms, the yellow facings of the Dutch, the +black of Brunswickers, all mingled together in a moving kaleidoscopic +mass of colour: men were flying unpursued yet panic-stricken towards +Brussels, carrying tidings of an awful disaster to the allied armies in +their haggard faces, their quivering lips, their blood-stained tunics. + +De Marmont joined in with them: though his heart was full of hope, he +too contrived to look pale and spent and panic-stricken at will--he +heard the shouts of terror, the hastily murmured "All is lost! even the +British can no longer stand!" as horses maddened with fright bore their +half-senseless riders by. He set his teeth and rode on. His dark eyes +glowed with satisfaction; there was no fear that the great gambler would +stake his last in vain: the news would travel quick enough--as news of +disaster always will. Brussels even now must be full of weeping women +and children, as it soon would be of terror-driven men, of wounded and +of maimed crawling into the shelter of the town to die in peace. + +And as he rode, de Marmont thought more and more of Crystal. The last +three months had only enhanced his passionate love for her and his +maddening desire to win her yet at all costs. St. Genis would of course +be fighting to-day. Perchance a convenient shot would put him +effectively out of the way. De Marmont had vainly tried in this wild +gallopade to distinguish his rival's face among this mass of foreigners. + +As for the Englishman! Well! no doubt he had disappeared long ago out of +Crystal de Cambray's life. De Marmont had never feared him greatly. That +one look of understanding between Crystal and Clyffurde, and the +latter's strange conduct about the money at the inn, were alone +responsible for the few twinges of jealousy which de Marmont had +experienced in that quarter. + +Indeed, the Englishman was a negligible quantity. De Marmont did not +fear him. There was only St. Genis, and with the royalist cause rendered +absolutely hopeless--as it would be, as it _must_ be--St. Genis and the +Comte de Cambray and all those stiff-necked aristocrats of the old +regime who had thought fit to turn their proud backs on him at Brestalou +three months ago, would be irretrievably ruined and discredited and +would have to fly the country once more . . . and Crystal, faced with +the alternative of penury in England or a brilliant existence at the +Tuileries as the wife of the Emperor's most faithful friend, would make +her choice as he--de Marmont--never doubted that any woman would. + +Hope for him had already become reality. Brussels was the half-way halt +to the uttermost heights of his ambition. Fortune, the Emperor's +gratitude, the woman he loved, all waited for him there. He reached the +city just as that distant horizon in the west was lit up by a streak of +brilliant crimson from the fast sinking sun: just when--had he but +known it!--on the crest of Mont Saint Jean, Wellington had waved his hat +over his head and given the heroic British army--exhausted, but +undaunted--the order for a general charge; just when the Grand Army, +finally checked in its advance, had first set up the ominous call that +was like the passing-bell of its dying glory: "Sauve qui peut!" + + +III + +"Sauve qui peut!" + +Bobby Clyffurde heard the cry too through the fast gathering shadows of +unconsciousness that closed in round his wearied senses, and, as a film +that was so like the kindly veil of approaching Death spread over his +eyes, he raised them up just once to that vivid crimson glow far out in +the west, and on the winged chariot of the setting sun he sent up his +last sigh of gratitude to God. All day he had called for Death--all day +he had wooed her there where bullets and grape-shot were thickest--where +her huge scythe had been most busily at work. + +Sons of fond mothers, husbands, sweethearts that were dearly loved, +brothers that would be endlessly mourned, lives that were more precious +than any earthly treasures--the ghostly harvester claimed them all with +impartial cruelty. And he--desolate and lonely--with no one greatly to +care if he came back or no--with not a single golden thread of hope to +which he might cling, without a dream to brighten the coming days of +dreariness--with a life in the future that could hold nothing but vain +regrets, Bobby had sought Death twenty times to-day and Death had +resolutely passed him by. + +But now he was grateful for that: he was thankful that he had lived just +long enough to see the sunset, just long enough to take part in that +last glorious charge in obedience to Wellington's inspiring command: +"Up, guards, and at them!" he was glad to have lived just long enough +to hear the "Sauve qui peut!" to know that the Grand Army was in full +retreat, that Blücher had come up in time, that British pluck and +British endurance had won the greatest victory of all times for +Britain's flag and her national existence. + +Now with a rough bandage hastily tied round his head where grape-shot +had lacerated cheek and ear, with a bayonet thrust in the thigh and +another in the arm, Bobby had remained lying there with many thousands +round him as silent, as uncomplaining, as he--in the down-trodden +corn--and with the tramp of thousands of galloping, fleeing horses, the +clash of steel and fusillade of tirailleurs and artillery reaching his +dimmed senses like a distant echo from the land of ghosts. And before +his eyes--half veiled in unconsciousness, there flitted the tender, +delicate vision of Crystal de Cambray: of her blue eyes and soft fair +hair, done up in a quaint mass of tiny curls; of the scarf of filmy lace +which she always liked to wrap round her shoulders, and through the lace +the pearly sheen of her skin, of her arms, and of her throat. The air +around him had become pure and rarified: that horrible stench of powder +and smoke and blood no longer struck his nostrils--it was roses, roses +all around him--crimson roses--sweet and caressing and fragrant--with +soft, velvety petals that brushed against his cheek--and from somewhere +close by came a dreamy melody, the half-sad, half-gay lilt of an +intoxicating dance. + +It was delicious! and Bobby, wearied, sore and aching in body, felt his +soul lifted to some exquisite heights which were not yet heaven, of +course, but which must of a truth form the very threshold of Paradise. + +He saw Crystal more and more clearly every moment: now he was looking +straight into her blue eyes, and her little hand, cool and white as +snow, rested upon his burning forehead. She smiled on him--as on a +friend--there was no contempt, no harshness in her look--only a great, +consoling pity and something that seemed like an appeal! + +Yes! the longer he himself looked into those blue eyes of hers, the more +sure he was that there was an appeal in them. It almost seemed as if she +needed him, in a way that she had never needed him before. Apparently +she could not speak: she could not tell him what it was she wanted: but +her little hands seemed to draw him up, out of the trodden, trampled +corn, and having soothed his aches and pains they seemed to impel him to +do something--that was important . . . and imperative . . . something +that she wanted done. + +He begged her to let him lie here in peace, for he was now comforted and +happy. He was quite sure now that he was dead, that her sweet face had +been the last tangible vision which he had seen on earth, ere he closed +his eyes in the last long sleep. + + +He had seen her and she had gone. All of a sudden she had vanished, and +darkness was closing in around him: the scent of roses faded into the +air, which was now filled again with horrid sounds--the deafening roar +of cannon, the sharp and incessant retort of rifle-fire, the awesome +mêlée of cries and groans and bugle-calls and sighs of agony, and one +deafening cry--so like the last wail of departing souls--which came from +somewhere--not very far away: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Bobby raised himself to a sitting posture. His head ached terribly--he +was stiff in every limb: a burning, almost intolerable pain gnawed at +his thigh and at his left arm. But consciousness had returned and with +it all the knowledge of what this day had meant: all round him there was +the broken corn, stained with blood and mud, all round him lay the dead +and the dying in their thousands. Far away in the west a crimson glow +like fire lit up this vast hecatomb of brave lives sacrificed, this +final agony of the vast Empire, the might and grandeur of one man laid +low this day by the mightier hand of God. + +It lit up with the weird light of the dying day the pallid, clean-shaven +faces of gallant British boys, the rugged faces of the Scot, the olive +skin of the child of Provence, the bronzed cheeks of old veterans: it +threw its lurid glow on red coats and black coats, white facings and +gilt epaulettes; it drew sparks as of still-living fire from +breastplates and broken swords, discarded casques and bayonets, +sabretaches and kilts and bugles and drums, and dead horses and arms and +accoutrements and dead and dying men, all lying pell-mell in a huge +litter with the glow of midsummer sunset upon them--poor little +chessmen--pawns and knights--castles of strength and kings of some +lonely mourning hearts--all swept together by the Almighty hand of the +Great Master of this terrestrial game. + +But with returning consciousness Bobby's gaze took in a wider range of +vision. He visualised exactly where he was--on the south slope of Mont +Saint Jean with La Haye Sainte on ahead a little to his left, and the +whitewashed walls of La Belle Alliance still further away gleaming +golden in the light of the setting sun. + +He saw that on the wide road which leads to Genappe and Charleroi the +once invincible cavalry of the mighty Emperor was fleeing helter-skelter +from the scene of its disaster: he saw that the British--what was left +of them--were in hot pursuit! He saw from far Plancenoit the +scintillating casques of Blücher's Prussians. + +And on the left a detachment of allied troops--Dutch, Belgian, +Brunswickers--had just started down the slope of the plateau to join in +this death-dealing pell-mell, where amongst the litter of dead and +dying, in the confusion of pursuer and pursued, comrade fought at times +against comrade, brother fired on brother--Prussian against British. + +Down below behind the farm buildings of La Haye Sainte two battalions of +chasseurs of the Old Guard had made a stand around a tattered bit of +tricolour and the bronze eagle--symbol of so much decadent grandeur and +of such undying glory. "A moi chasseurs," brave Général Pelet had cried. +"Let us save the eagle or die beneath its wing." + +And those who heard this last call of despair stopped in their headlong +flight; they forged a way for themselves through the mass of running +horses and men, they rallied to their flag, and with their +tirailleurs--kneeling on one knee--ranged in a circle round them, they +now formed a living bulwark for their eagle, of dauntless breasts and +bristling bayonets. + +And upon this mass of desperate men, the small body of raw Dutch and +Belgian and German troops now hurled themselves with wild huzzas and +blind impetuousness. Against this mass of heroes and of conquerors in a +dozen victorious campaigns--men who had no longer anything to lose but +life, and to whom life meant less than nothing now--against them a +handful of half-trained recruits, drunk with the cry of "Victory" which +drowned the roar of the cannon and the clash of sabres, drunk with the +vision of glory which awaited them if that defiant eagle were brought to +earth by them! + +And as Bobby staggered to his feet he already saw the impending +catastrophe--one of the many on this day of cumulative disasters. He saw +the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers rush wildly to the +charge--young men--enthusiasts--brave--but men whose ranks had twice +been broken to-day--who twice had rallied to their colours and then had +broken again--men who were exhausted--men who were none too ably +led--men in fact--and there were many French royalists among their +officers--who had not the physical power of endurance which had enabled +the British to astonish the world to-day. + +Bobby could see amongst them the Brunswickers and their black coats--he +would have known them amongst millions of men. The full brilliance of +the evening glow was upon them--on their black coats and the silver +galoons and tassels; two of their officers had made a brave show in +Brussels three days--or was it a hundred years?--ago at the Duchess of +Richmond's ball. Bobby remembered them so well, for one of these two +officers was Maurice de St. Genis. + +Oh! how Crystal would love to see him now--even though her dear heart +would be torn with anxiety for him--for he was fighting bravely, bravely +and desperately as every one had fought to-day, as these chasseurs of +the Old Guard--just the few of them that remained--were fighting still +even at this hour round that tattered flag and that bronze eagle, and +with the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" dying upon their lips. + +Despair indeed on both sides--even at this hour when the merest incident +might yet turn the issue of this world-conflict one way or the other. +Bobby, as he steadied himself on his feet, had seen that the attack was +already turning into a rout. Not only had Pelet's chasseurs held the +Dutch and Brunswickers at bay, not only had their tirailleurs made +deadly havoc among their assailants, but the latter now were threatened +with absolute annihilation even whilst all around them their +allies--British and Prussian--were crying "Victory!" + +Bobby could see them quite clearly--for he saw with that subtle and +delicate sense which only a great and pure passion can give!--he saw the +danger at the very moment when it was born--at the precise instant when +it threatened that handful of black-coated men, one of whose officers +was named St. Genis. He saw the first sign of wavering, of stupefaction, +that followed the impetuous charge: he saw the gaps in the ranks after +that initial deadly volley from the tirailleurs. It almost seemed as if +he could hear those shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the rallying cry of +commanding officers--it was all so near--not more than three hundred +yards away, and the clear, stormy atmosphere carried sights and sounds +upon its wing. + +Another volley from the tirailleurs and the Dutch and Brunswickers +turned to fly: in vain did their officers call, they wanted to get away! +They tried to fly--to run, for now the chasseurs were at them with +bayonets--they tried to run, but the ground was littered with their own +wounded and dead--with the wounded and the dead of a long day of +carnage: they stumbled at every step--fell over the dying and the +wounded--over dead and wounded horses--over piles of guns and swords and +bayonets, and sabretaches, over forsaken guns and broken carriages, +litter that impeded them in front even as they were driven with the +bayonet from the rear. + +Bobby saw it all, for they were coming now--pursued and pursuers--as +fast as ever they could; they were coming, these flying, black-coated +men, casting away their gay trappings as well as their arms, trying to +run--to get away--but stumbling, falling all the time--picking +themselves up, falling and running again. + +And in that one short moment while the whole brief tragedy was enacted +before his eyes, Bobby also saw, in a vision that was equally swift and +fleeting, the blue eyes of Crystal drowned in tears. He saw her with +fair head drooping like a lily, he saw the quiver of her lips, heard the +moan of pain that would come to her lips when the man she loved was +brought home to her--dead. And in that same second--so full of +portent--Bobby understood why it was that her sweet image had called to +him for help just now. Again she called, again she beckoned--her blue +eyes looked on him with an appeal that was all-compelling: her two dear +hands were clasped and she begged of him that he should be her friend. + +Such visions come from God! no man sees them save he whose soul is great +and whose heart is pure. Poor Bobby Clyffurde--lonely, heart-broken, +desolate--saw the exquisite face that he would have loved to kiss--he +saw it with the golden glow of evening upon the delicate cheeks, and +with the lurid light of fire and battle upon the soft, fair hair. + +And the greatness of his love helped him to understand what life still +held for him--the happiness of supreme sacrifice. + +All around him was death, but there was some life too: one or two poor, +abandoned riderless horses were quietly picking bits of corn from +between the piles of dead and dying men, or were standing, sniffing the +air with dilated nostrils, and snorting with terror at the deafening +noise. Bobby had steadied himself, neither his head nor his limbs were +aching now--at any rate he had forgotten them--all that he remembered +was what he saw, those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly and +could not and who were being slaughtered like insects even as they +stumbled and fled. + +And Bobby caught the bridle of one of these poor, terror-stricken beasts +that stood snorting and sniffing not far away: he crawled up into the +saddle, for his thigh was numb and one of his arms helpless. But once on +horseback he could get along--over trampled corn and over the dead--on +toward that hideous corner behind the farm of La Haye Sainte where +desperate men were butchering others that were more desperate than +they--in among that seething crowd of black coats and fur bonnets, of +silver tassels and of brass eagles, into a whirlpool of swords and +bayonets and gun-fire from the tirailleurs--for there he had seen the +man whom Crystal loved--for whose sake she would eat out her heart with +mourning and regret. + +In the deafening noise of shrieking and sighs and whizzing bullets and +cries of agony he heard Crystal's voice telling him what to do. Already +he had seen St. Genis struggling on his knees not fifty mètres away from +the first line of tirailleurs, not a hundred from the advancing steel +wall of fixed bayonets. Maurice had thrown back his head, in the +hopelessness of his despair; the evening sun fell full upon his haggard, +blood-stained face, upon his wide-open eyes filled with the terror of +death. The next moment Bobby Clyffurde was by his side; all around him +bullets were whizzing--all around him men sighed their last sigh of +agony. He stooped over his saddle: "Can you pull yourself up?" he +called. And with his one sound arm he caught Maurice by the elbow and +helped him to struggle to his feet. The horse, dazed with terror, +snorted at the smell of blood, but he did not move. Maurice, equally +dazed, scrambled into the saddle--almost inert--a dead weight--a thing +that impeded progress and movement; but the thing that Crystal loved +above all things on earth and which Bobby knew he must wrest out of +these devouring jaws of Death and lay--safe and sound--within the +shelter of her arms. + + +IV + +After that it meant a struggle--not for his own life, for indeed he +cared little enough for that--but for the sake of the burden which he +was carrying--a burden of infinite preciousness since Crystal's heart +and happiness were bound up with it. + +Maurice de St. Genis clung half inert to him with one hand gripping the +saddle-bow, the other clutching Bobby's belt with convulsive tenacity. +Bobby himself was only half conscious, dazed with the pain of wounds, +the exertion of hoisting that dead weight across his saddle, the +deafening noise of whizzing bullets round him, the boring of the +frightened horse against its bridle, as it tried to pick its way through +the tangled heaps upon the ground. + +But every moment lessened the danger from stray bullets, and the chance +of the bayonet charge from behind. The cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" round +that still standing eagle were drowned in the medley and confusion of +hundreds of other sounds. Bobby was just able to guide his horse away +from the spots where the fighting was most hot and fierce, where +Vivian's hussars attacked those two battalions of cuirassiers, where +Adam's brigade of artillery turned the flank of the chasseurs and laid +the proud bronze eagle low, where Ney and the Old Guard were showing to +the rest of the Grand Army how grizzled veterans fought and died. + +He rode straight up the plateau, however, but well to the right now, +picking his way carefully with that blind instinct which the tracked +beast possesses and which the hunted man sometimes receives from God. + +The dead and the dying were less thick here upon the ground. It was here +that earlier in the day the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers +had supported the British left, during those terrific cavalry charges +which British endurance and tenacity had alone been able to withstand. +It was here that Hacke's Cumberland Hussars had broken their ranks and +fled, taking to Brussels and thence to Ghent the news of terrific +disaster. Bobby's lips were tight set and he snorted like a war-horse +when he thought of that--when he thought of the misery and sorrow that +must be reigning in Brussels now--and of the consternation at Ghent +where the poor old Bourbon King was probably mourning his dead hopes and +his vanished throne. + +In Brussels women would be weeping; and Crystal--forlorn and +desolate--would perhaps be sitting at her window watching the stream of +fugitives that came in--wounded and exhausted--from the field of battle, +recounting tales of a catastrophe which had no parallel in modern times: +and Crystal, seeing and hearing this, would think of the man she loved, +and believing him to be dead would break her heart with sorrow. + +And when Bobby thought of that he was spurred to fresh effort, and he +pulled himself together with a desperate tension of every nerve and +sinew, fighting exhaustion, ignoring pain, conjuring up the vision of +Crystal's blue eyes and her pleading look as she begged him to save her +from lifelong sorrow and the anguish of future loneliness. Then he no +longer heard the weird and incessant cannonade, he no longer saw the +desolation of this utter confusion around him, he no longer felt +exhausted, or the weight of that lifeless, impeding burden upon his +saddle-bow. + +Stray bands of fugitives with pursuers hot on their heels passed him by, +stray bullets flew to right and left of him, whizzing by with their +eerie, whistling sound; he was now on the outskirts of the great +pursuit--anon he reached the crest of Mont Saint Jean at last, and +almost blindly struck back eastward in the direction of the forest of +Soigne. + +It was blind instinct--and nothing more--that kept him on his horse: he +clung to his saddle with half-paralysed knees, just as a drowning man +will clutch a floating bit of wreckage that helps him to keep his head +above the water. The stately trees of Soigne were not far ahead now: +through the forest any track that bore to the left would strike the +Brussels road; only a little more strength--another effort or two--the +cool solitude of the wood would ease the weight of the burden and the +throbbing of nerves and brain. The setting sun shone full upon the leafy +edge of the wood; hazelnut and beech and oak and clumps of briar rose +quivered under the rough kiss of the wind that blew straight across the +lowland from the southwest, bringing with it still the confusion of +sounds--the weird cannonades and dismal bugle-calls--in such strange +contrast to the rustle of the leaves and the crackling of tiny twigs in +the tangled coppice. + +How cool and delicious it must be under those trees--and there was a +narrow track which must lead straight to the Brussels road--the ground +looked soft and mossy and damp after the rain--oh! for the strength to +reach those leafy shadows, to plunge under that thicket and brush with +burning forehead against those soft green leaves heavy with moisture! +Oh! for the power to annihilate this distance of a few hundred yards +that lie between this immense graveyard open to wind and scorching sun, +and the green, cool moss and carpet of twigs and leaves and soft, +sweet-smelling earth, on which a weary body and desolate soul might find +eternal rest! . . . + + +V + +On! on! through the forest of Soigne! There was no question as yet of +rest. + +Maurice had not yet wakened from his trance. Bobby vaguely wondered if +he were not already dead. There was no stain of blood upon his fine +uniform, but it was just possible that in stumbling, running and falling +he had hit his head or received a blow which had deprived him of +consciousness directly after he had scrambled into the saddle. + +Bobby remembered how pale and haggard he had looked and how his hand had +by the merest instinct clutched at the saddle-bow, and then had dropped +away from it--helpless and inert. Now he lay quite still with his head +resting against Bobby's shoulder. + +Under the trees it was cool and the air was sweet and soothing: Bobby +with his left hand contrived to tear a handful of leaves from the +coppice as he passed: they were full of moisture and he pressed them +against Maurice's lips and against his own. + +The forest was full of sounds: of running men and horses, the rattle of +wheels, and the calls of terror and of pain, with still and always that +awesome background of persistent cannonade. But Bobby heard nothing, saw +nothing save the narrow track in front of him, along which the horse now +ambled leisurely, and from time to time--when he looked down--the pale, +haggard face of the man whom Crystal loved. + +At one moment Maurice opened his eyes and murmured feebly: "Where am I?" + +"On the way to Brussels," Bobby contrived to reply. + +A little later on horse and rider emerged out of the wood and the +Brussels road stretched out its long straight ribbon before Bobby +Clyffurde's dull, uncomprehending gaze. + +Close by at his feet the milestone marked the last six kilomètres to +Brussels. Only another half-dozen kilomètres--only another hour's ride +at most! . . . Only!!! . . . when even now he felt that the next few +minutes must see him tumbling head-foremost from the saddle. + +Far away beyond the milestone on his right--in a meadow, the boundary of +which touched the edge of the wood--women were busy tossing hay after +the rain, all unconscious of the simple little tragedy that was being +enacted so close to them: their cotton dresses and the kerchiefs round +their heads stood out as trenchant, vivid notes of colour against the +dull grey landscape beyond. A couple of haycarts were standing by: +beside them two men were lighting their pipes. The wind was playing with +the hay as the women tossed it, and their shrill laughter came echoing +across the meadow. + +And even now the ground was shaken with the repercussion of distant +volleys of artillery, and along the road a stream of men were running +toward Brussels, horses galloped by frightened and riderless, or +dragging broken gun-carriages behind them in the mud. The whole of that +stream was carrying the news of Wellington's disaster to Brussels and to +Ghent: not knowing that behind them had already sounded the passing bell +for the Empire of France. + +Bobby had drawn rein on the edge of the wood to give his horse a rest, +and for a while he watched that running stream, longing to shout to them +to turn back--there was no occasion to run--to see what had been done, +to take a share in that glorious, final charge for victory. But his +throat was too parched for a shout, and as he watched, he saw in among a +knot of mounted men--fugitives like the others, pale of face, anxious of +mien and with that intent look which men have when life is precious and +has got to be saved--he saw a man in the same uniform that St. Genis +wore--a Brunswicker in black coat and silver galoons--who stared at him, +persistently and strangely, as he rode by. + +The face though much altered by three days' growth of beard, and by the +set of the shako worn right down to the brows, was nevertheless a +familiar one. Bobby--stupefied, deprived for the moment of thinking +powers, through sheer exhaustion and burning pain--taxed his weary brain +in vain to understand the look of recognition which the man in the black +uniform cast upon him as he passed. + +Until a lightly spoken: "Hullo, my dear Clyffurde!" uttered gaily as the +rider drew near to the edge of the road, brought the name of "Victor de +Marmont!" to Bobby's quivering lips. + +And just for the space of sixty seconds Fate rubbed her gaunt hands +complacently together, seeing that she had brought these three men +together--here on this spot--three men who loved the same woman, each +with the utmost ardour and passion at his command--each even at this +very moment striving to win her and to work for her happiness. + +Behind them in the plains of Waterloo the cannon still was roaring: de +Marmont was on his way to redeem the fallen fortunes of the hero whom he +worshipped and to win imperial regard, imperial favours, fortune and +glory wherewith to conquer a girl's obstinacy. St. Genis--pale and +unconscious--seemed even in his unconsciousness to defy the power of any +rival by the might of early love, of old associations, of similarity of +caste and of political ideals. He had fought for the cause which she and +he had both equally at heart and by his very helplessness now he seemed +to prove that he could do no more than he had done and that he had the +right to claim the solace and comfort which her girlish lips and her +girlish love had promised him long ago. + +Whilst Bobby had nothing to promise and nothing to give save +devotion--his hope, his desire and his love were bounded by her +happiness. And since her happiness lay in the life of the man whom he +had dragged out of the jaws of Death, what greater proof could he give +of his love than to lay down his life for him and for her? + +De Marmont's keen eyes took in the situation at a glance: he threw a +quick look of savage hatred on St. Genis and cast one of contemptuous +pity on Clyffurde. Then with a shrug of the shoulders and a light, +triumphant laugh, he set spurs to his horse and rode swiftly away. + +Bobby's lack-lustre eyes followed horse and rider down the road till +they grew smaller and smaller still and finally disappeared in the +distance. For a moment he felt puzzled. What was de Marmont doing in +this stream of senseless, panic-stricken men? What was he doing in the +uniform of one of the Allied nations? Why had he laughed so gaily and +appeared so triumphant in his mien? + +Did he not know then that his hero had fallen along with his mighty +eagle? that the brief adventure begun in the gulf of Jouan had ended in +a hopeless tragedy on the field of Waterloo? But why that uniform? Poor +Bobby's head ached too much to allow him to think, and time was getting +on. + +The road now was deserted. The last of the fugitives formed but a cloud +of black specks on the line of the horizon far off toward Brussels. From +the hayfield there came the merry sound of women's laughter, while far +away cannon and musketry still roared. And over the long, straight +road--bordered with straight poplar trees--the setting sun threw +ever-lengthening shadows. + +Maurice opened his eyes. + +"Where am I?" he asked again. + +"Close to Brussels now," replied Bobby. + +"To Brussels?" murmured St. Genis feebly. "Crystal!" + +"Yes," assented Bobby. "Crystal! God bless her!" Then as St. Genis was +trying to move, he added: "Can you shift a little?" + +"I think so," replied the other. + +"If you could ease the pressure on my leg . . . steady, now! steady! +. . . Can you sit up in the saddle? . . . Are you hurt? . . ." + +"Not much. My head aches terribly. I must have hit it against something. +But that is all. I am only dizzy and sick." + +"Could you ride on to Brussels alone, think you?" + +"Perhaps." + +"It is not far. The horse is very quiet. He will amble along if you give +him his head." + +"But you?" + +"I'd like to rest. I'll find shelter in a cottage perhaps . . . or in +the wood." + +St. Genis said nothing more for the moment. He was intent on sliding +down from the saddle without too much assistance from Bobby. When he had +reached the ground, it took him a little while to collect himself, for +his head was swimming: he closed his eyes and put out a hand to steady +himself against a tree. + +When Maurice opened his eyes again, Bobby was sitting on the ground by +the roadside: the horse was nibbling a clump of fresh, green grass. + +For the first time since that awful moment when stumbling and falling +against a pile of dead, with Death behind and all around him, he had +heard the welcome call: "Can you pull yourself up?" and felt the +steadying grip upon his elbow--Maurice de St. Genis looked upon the man +to whom he owed his life. + +With that stained bandage round his head, dulled and bloodshot eyes, +face blackened with powder and smoke and features drawn and haggard, +Bobby Clyffurde was indeed almost unrecognisable. But Maurice knew him +on the instant. Hitherto, he had not thought of how he had come out of +that terrible hell-fire behind La Haye Sainte--indeed, he had quickly +lost consciousness and never regained it till now: and now he knew that +the same man who in the narrow hotel room near Lyons had ungrudgingly +rendered him a signal service--had risked his life to-day for +his--Maurice's sake. + +No one could have entered that awful mêlée and faced the bayonet charge +of Pelet's cuirassiers and the hail of bullets from their tirailleurs +without taking imminent risk of death. Yet Clyffurde had done it. Why? +Maurice--wide-eyed and sullen--could only find one answer to that +insistent question. + +That same deadly pang of jealousy which had assailed his heart after the +midnight interview at the inn now held him in its cruel grip again. He +felt that he hated the man to whom he owed his life, and that he hated +himself for this mean and base ingratitude. He would not trust himself +to speak or to look on Bobby at all, lest the ugly thoughts which were +floating through his mind set their stamp upon his face. + +"Will you ride on to Brussels?" he said at last. "I can wait here . . . +and perhaps you could send a conveyance for me later on. M. le Comte de +Cambray would . . ." + +"M. le Comte de Cambray and Mademoiselle Crystal are even now devoured +with anxiety about you," broke in Clyffurde as firmly as he could. "And +I could not ride to Brussels--even though some one were waiting for me +there--I really am not able to ride further. I would prefer to sit here +and rest." + +"I don't like to leave you . . . after . . . after what you have done +for me . . . I would like to . . ." + +"I would like you to scramble into that saddle and go," retorted Bobby +with a momentary return to his usual good-natured irony, "and to leave +me in peace." + +"I'll send out a conveyance for you," rejoined St. Genis. "I know M. le +Comte de Cambray would wish . . ." + +"Mention my name to M. le Comte at your peril . . ." began Clyffurde. + +"But . . ." + +"By the Lord, man," now exclaimed Bobby with a sudden burst of energy, +"if you do not go, I vow that sick as I am, and sick though you may be, +I'll yet manage to punch your aching head." + +Then as the other--still reluctantly--turned to take hold of the horse's +bridle, he added more gently: "Can you mount?" + +"Oh, yes! I am better now." + +"You won't turn giddy, and fall off your horse?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Talk about the halt leading the blind!" murmured Clyffurde as he +stretched himself out once more upon the soft ground, whilst Maurice +contrived to hoist himself up into the saddle. "Are you safe now?" he +added as the young man collected the reins in his hand, and planted his +feet firmly into the stirrups. + +"Yes! I am safe enough," replied St. Genis. "It is only my head that +aches: and Brussels is not far." + +Then he paused a moment ere he started to go--with lips set tight and +looking down on Bobby, whose pale face had taken on an ashen hue: + +"How you must despise me," he said bitterly. + +But Bobby made no reply: he was just longing to be left alone, whilst +the other still seemed inclined to linger. + +"Would to God," Maurice said with a sigh, "that M. le Comte heard the +evil news from other lips than mine." + +"Evil news?" And Bobby, whom semi-consciousness was already taking off +once more to the land of visions and of dreams--was brought back to +reality--as if with a sudden jerk--with those two preposterous little +words. + +"What evil news?" he asked. + +"The allied armies have retreated all along the line . . . the Corsican +adventurer is victorious . . . our poor King . . ." + +"Hold your tongue, you young fool," cried Bobby hoarsely. "The Lord help +you but I do believe you are about to blaspheme . . ." + +"But . . ." + +"The Allied Armies--the British Army, God bless it!--have covered +themselves with glory--Napoleon and his Empire have ceased to be. The +Grand Army is in full retreat . . . the Prussians are in pursuit. . . . +The British have won the day by their pluck and their endurance. . . . +Thank God I lived just long enough to see it all, ere I fell . . ." + +"But when we charged the cuirassiers . . ." began St. Genis, not knowing +really if Bobby was raving in delirium, or speaking of what he knew. He +wanted to ask further questions, to hear something more before he +started for Brussels . . . the only thing which he remembered with +absolute certainty was that awful charge of his regiment against the +cuirassiers, then the panic and the rout: and he judged the whole issue +of the battle by what had happened to a detachment of Brunswickers. + +And yet, of course--before the charge--he had seen and known all that +Bobby told him now. That rush of the Brunswickers and the Dutch down the +hillside was only a part of the huge and glorious charge of the whole of +the Allied troops against the routed Grand Army of Napoleon. He had +neither the physical strength nor the desire to think out all that it +would mean to him personally if what Bobby now told him was indeed +absolutely true. + +He was longing to make the wounded man rouse himself just once more and +reiterate the glad news which meant so much to him--Maurice--and to +Crystal. But it was useless to think of that now. Bobby was either +unconscious or asleep. For a moment a twinge of real pity made St. +Genis' heart ache for the man who seemed to be left so lonely and so +desolate: jealousy itself gave way before that more gentle feeling. +After all, Crystal could only be true to the love of her childhood; her +heart belonged to the companion, the lover, the ideal of her girlish +dreams. This stranger here loved her--that was obvious--but Crystal had +never looked on him with anything but indifference. Even that dance last +night . . . but of this Maurice would not think lest pity die out of his +heart again . . . and jealousy and hate walk hand in hand with base +ingratitude. + +He turned his horse's head round to the road, pressed his knees into its +sides, and then as the poor, weary beast started to amble leisurely down +the road, Maurice looked back for the last time on the prostrate, +pathetic figure of the lonely man who had given his all for him: he +looked at every landmark which would enable him to find that man +again--the angle of the forest where it touched the meadow,--the +milestone, the trees by the roadside--oh! he meant to do his duty, to do +it well and quickly, to send the conveyance, to neglect nothing; then, +with a sigh--half of bitterness, yet full of satisfaction--he finally +turned away and looked straight out before him into the distance where +Brussels lay, and where the happiness of Crystal's love called to him, +and he would find rest and peace in the warm affection of her faithful +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LOSING HANDS + + +I + +An hour later Maurice de St. Genis was in Brussels. Though his head +still ached his mind was clear, and thoughts of Crystal--of happiness +with her now at last within sight--had chased every other thought away. + +His home had been with the de Cambrays ever since those old, sad days in +England; he had a home to go to now:--a home where the kindly friendship +of the Comte as well as the love of Crystal was ready to welcome him. +The warmth of anticipated happiness and well-being warmed his heart and +gave strength to his body. The horrors of the past few hours seemed all +to have melted away behind him on the Brussels road as did the +remembrance of a man--wounded himself and spent--risking his life for +the sake of a friend. Not that St. Genis meant to be ungrateful--nor did +he forget that wounded man--lying alone and sick on the fringe of the +wood by the roadside. + +As soon as he had taken his horse round to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, and before even he had a wash or had his uniform cleaned of +stains and mud, he rushed to the headquarters of the Army Service to see +how soon a conveyance could be sent out to his friend--and when he was +unable to obtain what he wanted there, he rushed from hospital to +hospital, thence to two or three doctors whom he knew of to see what +could be done. But the hospitals were already over-full and over-busy: +their ambulances were all already on the way: as for the doctors, they +were all from home--all at work where their skill was most needed--an +army of doctors, of ambulances and drivers would not suffice at this +hour to bring all the wounded in from the spot where that awful battle +was raging. + +And Maurice saw time slipping by: he had already spent an hour in a +fruitless quest. He longed to see Crystal and waxed impatient at the +delay. Anon at the English hospital a kindly person--who listened +sympathetically to his tale--promised him that the ambulance which was +just setting out in the direction of Mont Saint Jean would be on the +look-out for his wounded friend by the roadside; and Maurice with a sigh +of relief felt that he had indeed done his duty and done his best. + +At the English hospital Clyffurde would be splendidly looked +after--nowhere else could he find such sympathetic treatment! And +Maurice with a light heart went back to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, where he had a wash and had his uniform cleaned. Somewhat +refreshed, though still very tired, he hurried round to the rue du +Marais, where the Comte de Cambray had his lodgings. The first sight of +Brussels had already told him the whole pitiable tale of panic and of +desolation which had filled the city in the wake of the fugitive troops. +The streets were encumbered with vehicles of every kind--carts, +barouches, barrows--with horses loosely tethered, with the wounded who +lay about on litters of straw along the edges of the pavement, in +doorways, under archways in the centre of open places, with crowds of +weeping women and crying children wandering aimlessly from place to +place trying to find the loved one who might be lying here, hurt or +mayhap dying. + +And everywhere men in tattered uniforms, with grimy hands and faces, and +boots knee-deep in stains of mud, stood about or sat in the empty +carts, talking, gesticulating, giving sundry, confused and contradictory +accounts of the great battle--describing Napoleon's decisive +victory--Wellington's rout--the prolonged absence of Blücher and the +Prussians, cause of the terrible disaster. + +M. le Comte d'Artois had rushed precipitately from Brussels up to Ghent +to warn His Majesty the King of France that all hope of saving his +throne was now at an end, and that the wisest course to pursue was to +return to England and resign himself once more to obscurity and exile. + +M. le Prince de Condé too had gone off to Antwerp in a huge barouche, +having under his care the treasure and jewels of the crown hastily +collected three months ago at the Tuileries. + +In every open space a number of prisoners were being guarded by mixed +patrols of Dutch, Belgian or German soldiers, and their cry of "Vive +l'Empereur!" which they reiterated with unshakable obstinacy roused the +ire of their captors, and provoked many a savage blow, and many a broken +head. + +But St. Genis did not pause to look on these sights: he had not the +strength to stand up in the midst of these confused masses of +terror-driven men and women, and to shout to them that they were +fools--that all their panic must be turned to joy, their lamentations to +shouts of jubilation. News of victory was bound to spread through the +city within the next hour, and he himself longed only to see Crystal, to +reassure her as to his own safety, to see the light of happiness kindled +in her eyes by the news which he brought. He had not the strength for +more. + +It was old Jeanne who opened the door at the lodgings in the rue du +Marais when Maurice finally rang the bell there. + +"M. le Marquis!" she exclaimed. "Oh! but you are ill." + +"Only very tired and weak, Jeanne," he said. "It has been an awful day." + +"Ah! but M. le Comte will be pleased!" + +"And Mademoiselle Crystal?" asked Maurice with a smile which had in it +all the self-confidence of the accepted lover. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal will be happy too," said Jeanne. "She has been so +unhappy, so desperately anxious all day." + +"Can I see her?" + +"Mademoiselle is out for the moment, M. le Marquis. And M. le Comte has +gone to the Cercle des Légitimistes in the rue des Cendres--perhaps M. +le Marquis knows--it is not far." + +"I would like to see Mademoiselle Crystal first. You understand, don't +you, Jeanne?" + +"Yes, I do, M. le Marquis," sighed faithful Jeanne, who was always +inclined to be sentimental. + +"How long will she be, do you think?" + +"Oh! another half hour. Perhaps more. Mademoiselle has gone to the +cathedral. If M. le Marquis will give himself the trouble to walk so +far, he cannot fail to see Mademoiselle when she comes out of church." + +But already--before Jeanne had finished speaking--Maurice had turned on +his heel and was speeding back down the narrow street. Tired and weak as +he was, his one idea was to see Crystal, to hear her voice, to see the +love-light in her eyes. He felt that at sight of her all fatigue would +be gone, all recollections of the horrors of this day wiped out with the +first look of joy and relief with which she would greet him. + + +II + +The service was over, and the congregation had filed out of the +cathedral. Crystal was one of the last to go. She stood for a long while +in the porch looking down with unseeing eyes on the bustle and +excitement which went on in the Place down below. Her mind was not +here. It was far indeed from the crowd of terror-stricken or gossiping +men and women, of wounded soldiers, terrified peasantry and anxious +townsfolk that encumbered the precincts of the stately edifice. + +From the remote distance--out toward the south--came the boom and roar +of cannon and musket fire--almost incessant still. There was her heart! +there her thoughts! with the brave men who were fighting for their +national existence--with the British troops and with their +sufferings--and she stood here, staring straight out before +her--dry-eyed and pale and small white hands clasped tightly together. + +The greater part of to-day she had sat by the open window in the shabby +drawing-room in the rue du Marais, listening to that awful fusillade, +wondering with mind well-nigh bursting with horror and with misery which +of those cruel shots which she heard in the dim distance would still for +ever the brave and loyal heart that had made so many silent sacrifices +for her. + +And her father, vaguely thinking that she was anxious about +Maurice--vaguely wondering that she cared so much--had done his best to +try and comfort her: "She need not fear much for Maurice," he had told +her as reassuringly as he could--"the Brunswickers were not likely to +suffer much. The brunt of the conflict would fall upon the British. Ah! +but they would lose very heavily. Wellington had not more than seventy +thousand men to put up against the Corsican's troops; and only a hundred +and fifty cannon against two hundred and eighty. Yes, the British would +probably be annihilated by superior forces: but no doubt the other +allies--and the Brunswickers--would come off a great deal better." + +But Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen offered no such consolation. She +contented herself with saying that she was sure in her mind that +Maurice would come through quite safely, and that she prayed to God with +all her heart and soul that the gallant British troops would not suffer +too heavily. Then with her fine, gentle hand she patted Crystal's fair +curls which were clinging matted and damp against the young girl's +burning forehead. And she stooped and kissed those aching dry blue eyes +and whispered quite under her breath so that Crystal could not be sure +if she heard correctly: "May God protect him too! He is a brave and a +good man!" + +And then Crystal had gone out to seek peace and rest in beautiful old +Ste. Gudule, so full of memories of other conflicts, other prayers, +other deeds of heroism of long ago. Here in the dim light and the +silence and the peace, her quivering nerves had become somewhat stilled: +and when she came out she was able just for the moment neither to see or +hear the terror-mongers down below and only to think of the heroes out +there on the field of battle for whom she had just prayed with such +passionate earnestness. + +Suddenly in the crowd she recognised Maurice. He was coming up the +cathedral steps, looking for her, no doubt--Jeanne must have directed +him. When he drew near to her, he saw that a look of happy surprise and +of true joy lit up the delicate pathos of her face. He ran quickly to +her now. He would have taken her in his arms--here in face of the +crowd--but there was something in her manner which instinctively sobered +him and he had to be content with the little cold hands which she held +out to him and with imprinting a kiss upon her finger tips. + +Already in his eyes she had read that the news which he brought was not +so bad as rumour had foretold. + +"Maurice," she cried excitedly, with a little catch in her throat, "you +are well and safe, thank God! And what news? . . ." + +"The news is good," Maurice replied. "Victory is assured by now. It has +been a hard day, but we have won." + +She said nothing for a moment. But the tears gathered in her eyes, her +lips quivered and Maurice knew that she was thanking God. Then she +turned back to him and he could see her face glowing with excitement. + +"And our allies," she asked, and now that little catch in her throat was +more marked, "the British troops? . . . We heard that they behaved like +heroes, and bore the brunt of this awful battle." + +"I don't know much about the British troops, my sweet," he replied +lightly, "but what news I have I will have to impart to your father as +well as to you. So it will have to keep until I see him . . . but just +now, Crystal, while we are alone . . . I have other things to say to +you." + +But it is doubtful if Crystal heard more than just the first words which +he had spoken, for she broke in quite irrelevantly: + +"You don't know about the British troops, Maurice? Oh! but you must +know! . . . Don't you know what British regiments were engaged? . . ." + +"I know that none of our own people were in British regiments, Crystal," +he retorted somewhat drily, "whereas the Brunswickers and Nassauers were +as much French as German . . . they fought gallantly all day . . . you +do not ask so much about them." + +"But . . ." she stammered while a hot flush spread over her cheeks, "I +thought . . . you said . . ." + +"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender +reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and +that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo? +Are you not glad that I am here?" + +He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm +attitude which had begun to chill him. Had he not been in deadly danger +all the day? Had she not heard that distant cannon's roar which had +threatened his life throughout all these hours? Had he not come back out +of the very jaws of Death? + +And yet here she stood white as a lily and as unruffled; except for that +one first exclamation of joy not a single cry from the heart had forced +itself through her pale, slightly trembling lips: yet she was sweet and +girlish and tender as of old and even now at the implied reproach her +eyes had quickly filled with tears. + +"How can you ask, Maurice?" she protested gently. "I have thought of you +and prayed for you all day." + +It was her quiet serenity that disconcerted him--the kindly tone of her +voice--her calm, unembarrassed manner checked his passionate impulse and +caused him to bite his underlip with vexation until it bled. + +The shadows of evening were closing in around them: from the windows of +the houses close by dim, yellow lights began to blink like eyes. +Overhead, the exquisite towers of Ste. Gudule stood out against the +stormy sky like perfect, delicate lace-work turned to stone, whilst the +glass of the west window glittered like a sheet of sapphires and +emeralds and rubies, as it caught the last rays of the sinking sun. +Crystal's graceful figure stood out in its white, summer draperies, +clear and crystalline as herself against the sombre background of the +cathedral porch. + +And Maurice watched her through the dim shadows of gathering twilight: +he watched her as a fowler watches the bird which he has captured and +never wholly tamed. Somehow he felt that her love for him was not quite +what it had been until now: that she was no longer the same girlish, +submissive creature on whose soft cheeks a word or look from him had the +power to raise a flush of joy. + +She was different now--in a curious, intangible way which he could not +define. + +And jealousy reared up its threatening head more insistently:--bitter +jealousy which embraced de Marmont, Clyffurde, Fate and +Circumstance--but Clyffurde above all--the stranger hitherto deemed of +no account, but who now--wounded, abandoned, dying, perhaps--seemed a +more formidable rival than Maurice awhile ago had deemed possible. + +He cursed himself for that touch of sentiment--he called it +cowardice--which the other night, after the ball, had prompted him to +write to Crystal. But for that voluntary confession--he thought--she +could never have despised him. And following up the train of his own +thoughts, and realising that these had not been spoken aloud, he +suddenly called out abruptly: + +"Is it because of my letter, Crystal?" + +She gave a start, and turned even paler than she had been before. +Obviously she had been brought roughly back from the land of dreams. + +"Your letter, Maurice?" she asked vaguely, "what do you mean?" + +"I wrote you a letter the other night," he continued, speaking quickly +and harshly, "after the ball. Did you receive it?" + +"Yes." + +"And read it?" + +"Of course." + +"And is it because of it that your love for me has gone?" + +He had not meant to put his horrible suspicions into words. The very +fact--now that he had spoken--appeared more tangible, even irremediable. +She did not reply to his taunt, and he came a little closer to her and +took her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it from his grasp he held +it tightly and bent down his head so that in the gathering gloom he +could read every line of her face. + +"Because of what I told you in my letter you despised me, did you not?" +he asked. + +Again she made no reply. What could she say that would not hurt him far +more than did her silence? The next moment he had drawn her back right +into the shadow of the cathedral walls, into a dark angle, where no one +could see either her or him. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and +compelled her to look him straight in the face. + +"Listen, Crystal," he said slowly and with desperate earnestness. "Once, +long ago, I gave you up to de Marmont, to affluence and to +considerations of your name and of our caste. It all but broke my heart, +but I did it because your father demanded that sacrifice from you and +from me. I was ready then to stand aside and to give up all the dreams +of my youth. . . . But now everything is different. For one thing, the +events of the past hundred days have made every man many years older: +the hell I went through to-day has helped to make a more sober, more +determined man of me. Now I will not give you up. I will not. My way is +clear: I can win you with your father's consent and give him and you all +that de Marmont had promised. The King trusts me and will give me what I +ask. I am no longer a wastrel, no longer poor and obscure. And I will +not give you up--I swear it by all that I have gone through to-day. I +will not! if I have to kill with my own hand every one who stands in my +way." + +And Crystal, smiling, quite kindly and a little abstractedly at his +impulsive earnestness, gently removed his hands from her shoulders and +said calmly: + +"You are tired, Maurice, and overwrought. Shall we go in and wait for +father? He will be getting anxious about me." And without waiting to see +if he followed her, she turned to walk toward the steps. + +St. Genis smothered a violent oath, but he said nothing more. He was +satisfied with what he had done. He knew that women liked a masterful +man and he meant every word which he said. He would not give her up +. . . not now . . . and not to . . . Ye gods! he would not think of +that;--he would not think of the lonely roadside nor of the wounded man +who had robbed him of Crystal's love. He had done his duty by +Clyffurde--what more could he have done at this hour?--and he meant to +do far more than that--he meant to go back to the English hospital as +soon as possible, to see that Clyffurde had every attention, every care, +every comfort that human sympathy can bestow. What more could he do? He +would have done no good by going out with the ambulance himself--surely +not--he would have missed seeing Crystal--and she would have fretted and +been still more anxious . . . his first duty was to Crystal . . . and +. . . and . . . St. Genis only thought of Crystal and of himself and the +voice of Conscience was compulsorily stilled. + + +III + +Having lulled his conscience to sleep and satisfied his self-love by a +passionate tirade, Maurice followed Crystal down the steps at the west +front of Ste. Gudule. + +Immediately opposite them at the corner of the narrow rue de Ligne was +the old Auberge des Trois Rois, from whence the diligence started twice +a day in time to catch the tide and the English packet at Ostend. +Maurice and Crystal stood for a moment together on the steps watching +the bustle and excitement, the comings and goings of the crowd, which +always attend such departures. All day there had been a steady stream of +fugitives out of the town, taking their belongings with them: the +diligence was for the well-to-do and the indifferent who hurried away to +England to await the advent of more settled times. + +Victor de Marmont had secured his place inside the coach. He had +exchanged his borrowed uniform for civilian clothes, he had bestowed his +belongings in the vehicle and he was standing about desultorily waiting +for the hour of departure. The diligence would not arrive at Ostend till +five o'clock in the morning: then with the tide the packet would go out, +getting into London well after midday. Chance, as represented by the +tide, had seriously handicapped de Marmont's plans. But enthusiasm and +doggedness of purpose whispered to him that he still held the winning +card. The English packet was timed to arrive in London by two o'clock in +the afternoon, he would still have two hours to his credit before +closing time on 'Change and another hour in the street. Time to find his +broker and half an hour to spare: that would still leave him an hour +wherein to make a fortune for his Emperor. + +At one time he was afraid that he would not be able to secure a seat in +the diligence, so numerous were the travellers who wished to leave +Brussels behind them. But in this, Chance and the length of his purse +favoured him: he bought his seat for an exorbitant price, but he bought +it; and at nine o'clock the diligence was timed to start. + +It was now half-past eight. And just then de Marmont caught sight of +Crystal and St. Genis coming down the cathedral steps. + +He had half an hour to spare and he followed them. He wanted to speak to +Crystal--he had wanted it all day--but the difficulty of getting what +clothes he required and the trouble and time spent in bargaining for a +seat in the diligence had stood in his way. M. le Comte de Cambray would +never, of course, admit him inside his doors, and it would have meant +hanging about in the rue du Marais and trusting to a chance meeting with +Crystal when she went out, and for this he had not the time. + +And the chance meeting had come about in spite of all adverse +circumstances: and de Marmont followed Crystal through the crowded +streets, hoping that St. Genis would take leave of her before she went +indoors. But even if he did not, de Marmont meant to have a few words +with Crystal. He was going to win a gigantic fortune for the +Emperor--one wherewith that greatest of all adventurers could once again +recreate the Empire of France: he himself--rich already--would become +richer still and also--if his coup succeeded--one of the most trusted, +most influential men in the recreated Empire. He felt that with the +offer of his name he could pour out a veritable cornucopia of abundant +glory, honours, wealth at a woman's feet. And his ambition had always +been bound up in a great measure with Crystal de Cambray. He certainly +loved her in his way, for her beauty and her charm; but, above all, he +looked on her as the very personification of the old and proud regime +which had thought fit to scorn the parvenu noblesse of the Empire, and +for a powerful adherent of Napoleon to be possessed of a wife out of +that exclusive milieu was like a fresh and glorious trophy of war on a +conqueror's chariot-wheel. + +De Marmont had the supreme faith of an ambitious man in the power of +wealth and of court favour. He knew that Napoleon was not a man who ever +forgot a service efficiently rendered, and would repay this +one--rendered at the supreme hour of disaster--with a surfeit of +gratitude and of gifts which must perforce dazzle any woman's eyes and +conquer her imagination. + +Besides his schemes, his ambitions, the future which awaited him, what +had an impecunious wastrel like St. Genis to offer to a woman like +Crystal de Cambray? + + +Outside the house in the rue du Marais where the Comte de Cambray +lodged, St. Genis and Crystal paused, and de Marmont, who still kept +within the shadows, waited for a favourable opportunity to make his +presence known. + +"I'll find M. le Comte and bring him back with me," he heard St. Genis +saying. "You are sure I shall find him at the Légitimiste?" + +"Quite sure," Crystal replied. "He did not mean to leave the Cercle till +about nine. He is sure to wait for every bit of news that comes in." + +"It will be a great moment for me, if I am the first to bring in +authentic good news." + +"You will be quite the first, I should say," she assented, "but don't +let father stay too long talking. Bring him back quickly. Remember I +haven't heard all the news yet myself." + +St. Genis went up to the front door and rang the bell, then he took +leave of Crystal. De Marmont waited his opportunity. Anon, Jeanne opened +the door, and St. Genis walked quickly back down the street. + +Crystal paused a moment by the open door in order to talk to Jeanne, and +while she did so de Marmont slipped quickly past her into the house and +was some way down the corridor before the two women had recovered from +their surprise. Jeanne, as was her wont, was ready to scream, but +despite the fast gathering gloom Crystal had at once recognised de +Marmont. She turned a cold look upon him. + +"An intrusion, Monsieur?" she asked quietly. + +"We'll call it that, Mademoiselle, an you will," he replied +imperturbably, "and if you will kindly order your servant to go, it +shall be a very brief one." + +"My father is from home," she said. + +De Marmont smiled and shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know that," he said, "or I would not be here." + +"Then your intrusion is that of a coward, if you knew that I was +unprotected." + +"Are you afraid of me, Crystal?" he asked with a sneer. + +"I am afraid of no one," she replied. "But since you and I have nothing +to say to one another, I beg that you will no longer force your company +upon me." + +"Your pardon, but there is something very important which I must say to +you. I have news of to-day's doings out there at Waterloo, which bear +upon the whole of your future and upon your happiness. I myself leave +for England in less than half an hour. I was taking my place in the +diligence outside the Trois Rois when I saw you coming down the +cathedral steps. Fate has given me an opportunity for which I sought +vainly all day. You will never regret it, Crystal, if you listen to me +now." + +"I listen," she broke in coolly. "I pray you be as brief as you can." + +"Will you order the servant to go?" + +For a moment longer she hesitated. Commonsense told her that it was +neither prudent nor expedient to hold converse with this man, who was an +avowed and bitter enemy of her cause. But he had spoken of the doings at +Waterloo and spoken of them in connection with her own future and her +happiness, and--prudent or not--she wanted to hear what he had to say, +in the vague hope that from a chance word carelessly dropped by Victor +de Marmont she would glean, if only a scrap, some news of that on which +St. Genis would not dwell but on which hung her heart and her very +life--the fate of the British troops. + +After all he might know something, he might say something which would +help her to bear this intolerable misery of uncertainty: and on the +merest chance of that she threw prudence to the winds. + +"You may go, Jeanne," she said. "But remain within call. Leave the front +door open," she added. "M. le Comte and M. le Marquis will be here +directly." + +"Oh! you are well protected," said Victor de Marmont with a careless +shrug of the shoulders, as Jeanne's heavy, shuffling footsteps died away +down the corridor. + +"Now, M. de Marmont," said Crystal coolly. "I listen." + +She was leaning back against the wall--her hands behind her, her pale +face and large blue eyes with their black dilated pupils turned +questioningly upon him. The walls of the corridor were painted white, +after the manner of Flemish houses, the tiled floor was white too, and +Crystal herself was dressed all in white, so that the whole scene made +up of pale, soft tints looked weird and ghostly in the twilight and +Crystal like an ethereal creature come down from the land of nymphs and +of elves. + +And de Marmont, too--like St. Genis a while ago--felt that never had +this beautiful woman--she was no longer a girl now--looked more +exquisite and more desirable, and he--conscious of the power which +fortune and success can give, thought that he could woo and win her once +again in spite of caste-prejudice and of political hatred. St. Genis had +felt his position unassailable by virtue of old associations, common +sympathies and youthful vows: de Marmont relied on feminine ambition, +love of power, of wealth and of station, and at this moment in Crystal's +shining eyes he only read excitement and the unspoken desire for all +that he was prepared to offer. + +"I have only a few moments to spare, Crystal," he said slowly, and with +earnest emphasis, "so I will be very brief. For the moment the Emperor +has suffered a defeat--as he did at Eylau or at Leipzic--his defeats are +always momentary, his victories alone are decisive and abiding. The +whole world knows that. It needs no proclaiming from me. But in order to +retrieve that momentary defeat of to-day he has deigned to ask my help. +The gods are good to me! they have put it within my power to help my +Emperor in his need. I am going to England to-night in order to carry +out his instructions. By to-morrow afternoon I shall have finished my +work. The Empire of France will once more rise triumphant and glorious +out of the ashes of a brief defeat; the Emperor once more, Phoebus-like, +will drive the chariot of the Sun, Lord and Master of Europe, greater +since his downfall, more powerful, more majestic than ever before. And +I, who will have been the humble instrument of his reconquered glory, +will deserve to the full his bounty and his gratitude." + +He paused for lack of breath, for indeed he had talked fast and volubly: +Crystal's voice, cold and measured, broke in on the silence that ensued. + +"And in what way does all this concern me, M. de Marmont?" she asked. + +"It concerns your whole future, Crystal," he replied with ever-growing +solemnity and conviction. "You must have known all along that I have +never ceased to love you: you have always been the only possible woman +for me--my ideal, in fact. Your father's injustice I am willing to +forget. Your troth was plighted to me and I have done nothing to deserve +all the insults which he thought fit to heap upon me. I wanted you to +know, Crystal, that my love is still yours, and that the fortune and +glory which I now go forth to win I will place with inexpressible joy at +your feet." + +She shrugged her shoulders and an air of supreme indifference spread +over her face. "Is that all?" she asked coldly. + +"All? What do you mean? I don't understand." + +"I mean that you persuaded me to listen to you on the pretence that you +had news to tell me of the doings at Waterloo--news on which my +happiness depended. You have not told me a single fact that concerns me +in the least." + +"It concerns you as it concerns me, Crystal. Your happiness is bound up +with mine. You are still my promised wife. I go to win glory for my name +which will soon be yours. You and I, Crystal, hand in hand! think of +it! our love has survived the political turmoils--united in love, +united in glory, you and I will be the most brilliant stars that will +shine at the Imperial Court of France." + +She did not try to interrupt his tirade, but looked on him with cool +wonderment, as one gazes on some curious animal that is raving and +raging behind iron bars. When he had finished she said quietly: + +"You are mad, I think, M. de Marmont. At any rate, you had better go +now: time is getting on, and you will lose your place in the diligence." + +He was less to her than the dust under her feet, and his protestations +had not even the power to rouse her wrath. Indeed, all that worried her +at this moment was vexation with herself for having troubled to listen +to him at all: it had been worse than foolish to suppose that he had any +news to impart which did not directly concern himself. So now, while he, +utterly taken aback, was staring at her open-mouthed and bewildered, she +turned away, cold and full of disdain, gathering her draperies round +her, and started to walk slowly toward the stairs. Her clinging white +skirt made a soft, swishing sound as it brushed the tiled floor, and she +herself--with her slender figure, graceful neck and crown of golden +curls, looked, as the gloom of evening wrapped her in, more like an +intangible elf--an apparition--gliding through space, than just a +scornful woman who had thought fit to reject the importunate addresses +of an unwelcome suitor. + +She left de Marmont standing there in the corridor--like some +presumptuous beggar--burning with rage and humiliation, too +insignificant even to be feared. But he was not the man to accept such a +situation calmly: his love for Crystal had never been anything but a +selfish one--born of the desire to possess a high-born, elegant wife, +taken out of the very caste which had scorned him and his kind: her +acquiescence he had always taken for granted: her love he meant to win +after his wooing of her hand had been successful--until then he could +wait. So certain too was he of his own power to win her, in virtue of +all that he had to offer, that he would not take her scorn for real or +her refusal to listen to him as final. + + +IV + +Before she had reached the foot of the stairs, he was already by her +side, and with a masterful hand upon her arm had compelled her, by +physical strength, to turn and to face him once more. + +"Crystal," he said, forcing himself to speak quietly, even though his +voice quivered with excitement and passionate wrath, "as you say, I have +only a few moments to spare, but they are just long enough for me to +tell you that it is you who are mad. I daresay that it is difficult to +believe in the immensity of a disaster. M. de St. Genis no doubt has +been filling your ears with tales of the allied armies' victories. But +look at me, Crystal--look at me and tell me if you have ever seen a man +more in deadly earnest. I tell you that I am on my way to aid the +Emperor in reforming his Empire on a more solid basis than it has ever +stood before. Have you ever known Napoleon to fail in what he set +himself to do? I tell you that he is not crushed--that he is not even +defeated. Within a month the allies will be on their knees begging for +peace. The era of your Bourbon kings is more absolutely dead to-day than +it has ever been. And after to-day there will be nothing for a royalist +like your father or like Maurice de St. Genis but exile and humiliation +more dire than before. Your father's fate rests entirely in your hands. +I can direct his destiny, his life or his death, just as I please. When +you are my wife, I will forgive him the insults which he heaped on me at +Brestalou . . . but not before. . . . As for Maurice de St. Genis +. . ." + +"And what of him, you abominable cur?" + +The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's +lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands +gripping him by the throat. The attack was so swift and so unexpected +that he was entirely off his guard: he lost his footing upon the +slippery floor, and before he could recover himself he was being forced +back and back until his spine was bent nearly double and his head +pressed down backward almost to the level of his knees. + +"Let him go, Maurice! you might kill him. Throw him out of the door." + +It was M. le Comte de Cambray who spoke. He and St. Genis had arrived +just in time to save Crystal from a further unpleasant scene. She, +however, had not lost her presence of mind. She had certainly listened +to de Marmont's final tirade, because she knew that she was helpless in +his hands, but she had never been frightened for a moment. Jeanne was +within call, and she herself had never been timorous: at the same time +she was thankful enough that her father and St. Genis were here. + +Maurice was almost blind with rage: he would have killed de Marmont but +for the Comte's timely words, which luckily had the effect of sobering +him at this critical moment. He relaxed his convulsive grip on de +Marmont's throat, but the latter had already lost his balance; he fell +heavily, his body sliding along the slippery floor, while his head +struck against the projecting woodwork of the door. + +He uttered a loud cry of pain as he fell, then remained lying inert on +the ground, and in the dim light his face took on an ashen hue. + +In an instant Crystal was by his side. + +"You have killed him, Maurice," she cried, as woman-like--tender and +full of compassion now--she ran to the stricken man. + +"I hope I have," said St. Genis sullenly. "He deserved the death of a +cur." + +"Father, dear," said Crystal authoritatively, "will you call to Jeanne +to bring water, a sponge, towels--quickly: also some brandy." + +She paid no heed to St. Genis: and she had already forgotten de +Marmont's dastardly attitude toward herself. She only saw that he was +helpless and in pain: she knelt by his side, pillowed his head on her +lap, and with soothing, gentle fingers felt his shoulders, his arms, to +see where he was hurt. He opened his eyes very soon and encountered +those tender blue eyes so full of sweet pity now: "It is only my head, I +think," he said. + +Then he tried to move, but fell back again with a groan of pain: "My leg +is broken, I am afraid," he murmured feebly. + +"I had best fetch a doctor," rejoined M. le Comte. + +"If you can find one, father, dear," said Crystal. "M. de Marmont ought +to be moved at once to his home." + +"No! no!" protested Victor feebly, "not home! to the Trois Rois . . . +the diligence. . . . I must go to England to-night . . . the Emperor's +orders." + +"The doctor will decide," said Crystal gently. "Father, dear, will you +go?" + +Jeanne came with water and brandy. De Marmont drank eagerly of the one, +and then sipped the other. + +"I must go," he said more firmly, "the diligence starts at nine +o'clock." + +Again he tried to move, and a great cry of agony rose to his throat--not +of physical pain, though that was great too, but the wild, agonising +shriek of mental torment, of disappointment and wrath and misery, +greater than human heart could bear. + +"The Emperor's orders!" he cried. "I must go!" + +Crystal was silent. There was something great and majestic, something +that compelled admiration and respect in this tragic impotence, this +failure brought about by uncontrolled passion at the very hour when +success--perhaps--might yet have changed the whole destinies of the +world. De Marmont lying here, helpless to aid his Emperor--through the +furious and jealous attack of a rival--was at this moment more worthy of +a good woman's regard than he had been in the flush of his success and +of his arrogance, for his one thought was of the Emperor and what he +could no longer do for him. He tried to move and could not: "The +Emperor's orders!" came at times with pathetic persistence from his +lips, and Crystal--woman-like--tried to soothe and comfort him in his +failure, even though his triumph would only have aroused her scorn. + +And time sped on. From the towers of the cathedral came booming the hour +of nine. The shadows in the narrow street were long and dark, only a +pale thin reflex of the cold light of the moon struck into the open +doorway and the white corridor, and detached de Marmont's pale face from +the surrounding gloom. + +The Emperor's orders and because of a woman these could now no longer be +obeyed. If de Marmont had not seen Crystal on the cathedral steps, if he +had not followed her--if he had not allowed his passion and arrogant +self-will to blind him to time and to surroundings--who knows? but the +whole map of Europe might yet have been changed. + +A fortune in London was awaiting a gambler who chose to stake everything +on a last throw--a fortune wherewith the greatest adventurer the world +has ever known might yet have reconstituted an army and reconquered an +Empire--and he who might have won that fortune was lying in the narrow +corridor of an humble lodging house--with a broken leg--helpless and +eating out his heart now with vain regret. Why? Because of a girl with +fair curls and blue eyes--just a woman--young and desirable--another +tiny pawn in the hands of the Great Master of this world's game. + +The rain in the morning at Waterloo--Blücher's arrival or Grouchy's--a +man's selfish passion for a woman who cared nothing for him--who shall +dare to say that these tiny, trivial incidents changed the destinies of +the world? + +Think on it, O ye materialists! ye worshippers of Chance! Is it indeed +the infinitesimal doings of pigmies that bring about the great upheavals +of the earth? Do ye not rather see God's will in that fall of rain? +God's breath in those dying heroes who fell on Mont Saint Jean? do ye +not recognise that it was God's finger that pointed the way to Blücher +and stretched de Marmont down helpless on the ground? + + +V + +The arrival of M. le Comte de Cambray, accompanied by a doctor and two +men carrying an improvised stretcher, broke the spell of silence that +had fallen on this strange scene of pathetic failure which seemed but an +humble counterpart of that great and irretrievable one which was being +enacted at this same hour far away on the road to Genappe. + +After the booming of the cathedral clock, de Marmont had ceased to +struggle: he accepted defeat probably because he, too--in spite of +himself--saw that the day of his idol's destiny was over, and that the +brilliant Star which had glittered on the firmament of Europe for a +quarter of a century had by the will of God now irretrievably declined. +He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of +gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly +placid and quiescent. + +Even, perhaps--for such is human nature and such the heart of youth--as +he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with so much pity toward him a sense +of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts +away. Crystal was kind--he argued to himself--she has already +forgiven--women are so ready to forgive faults and errors that spring +from an intensity of love. + +He sought her hand and she gave it--just as a sweet Sister of Mercy and +Gentleness would do, for whom the individual man--even the enemy--does +not exist--only the suffering human creature whom her touch can soothe. +He persuaded himself easily enough that when he pressed her hand she +returned the pressure, and renewed hope went forth once more soaring +upon the wings of fancy. + +Then the doctor came. M. le Comte had been fortunate in securing +him--had with impulsive generosity promised him ample payment--and then +brought him along without delay. He praised Mlle. de Cambray for her +kindness to the patient, asked a few questions as to how the accident +had occurred, and was satisfied that M. de Marmont had slipped on the +tiled floor and then struck his head against the door. He was not likely +to examine the purple bruises on the patient's throat: his business +began and ended with a broken leg to mend. As M. le Comte de Cambray +assured him that M. de Marmont was very wealthy, the worthy doctor most +readily offered his patient the hospitality of his own house until +complete recovery. + +He then superintended the lifting of the sick man on to the stretcher, +and having taken final leave of M. le Comte, Mademoiselle and all those +concerned and given his instructions to the bearers, he was the first to +leave the house. + +M. le Comte, pleasantly conscious of Christian duty toward an enemy +nobly fulfilled, nodded curtly to de Marmont, whom he hated with all his +heart, and then turned his back on an exceedingly unpleasant scene, +fervently wishing that it had never occurred in his house, and equally +fervently thankful that the accident had not more fateful consequences. +He retired to his smoking-room, calling to St. Genis and to Crystal to +follow him. + +But Crystal did not go at once. She stood in the dark corridor--quite +still--watching the stretcher bearers in their careful, silent work, +little guessing on what a filmy thread her whole destiny was hanging at +this moment. The Fates were spinning, spinning, spinning and she did not +know it. Had the solemn silence which hung so ominously in the twilight +not been broken till after the sick man had been borne away, the whole +of Crystal's future would have been shaped differently. + +But as with the rain at Waterloo, God had need of a tool for the +furtherance of His will and it was Maurice de St. Genis whom He +chose--Maurice who with his own words set the final seal to his destiny. + +De Marmont's eyes as he was being carried over the threshold dwelt upon +the graceful form of Crystal--clad all in white--all womanliness and +gentleness now--her sweet face only faintly distinguishable in the +gloom. St. Genis, whose nerves were still jarred with all that he had +gone through to-day and irritated by Crystal's assiduity beside the sick +man, resented that last look of farewell which de Marmont dared to throw +upon the woman whom he loved. An ungenerous impulse caused him to try +and aim a last moral blow at his enemy: + +"Come, Crystal," he said coldly, "the man has been better looked after +than he deserves. But for your father's interference I should have wrung +his neck like the cowardly brute that he was." + +And with the masterful air of a man who has both right and privilege on +his side, he put his arm round Crystal's waist and tried to draw her +away, and as he did so he whispered a tender: "Come, Crystal!" in her +ear. + +De Marmont--who at this moment was taking a last fond look at the girl +he loved, and was busy the while making plans for a happy future +wherein Crystal would play the chief rôle and would console him for all +disappointments by the magnitude of her love--de Marmont was brought +back from the land of dreams by the tender whisperings of his rival. His +own helplessness sent a flood of jealous wrath surging up to his brain. +The wild hatred which he had always felt for St. Genis ever since that +awful humiliation which he had suffered at Brestalou, now blinded him to +everything save to the fact that here was a rival who was gloating over +his helplessness--a man who twice already had humiliated him before +Crystal de Cambray--a man who had every advantage of caste and of +community of sympathy! a man therefore who must be in his turn +irretrievably crushed in the sight of the woman whom he still hoped to +win! + +De Marmont had no definite idea as to what he meant to do. Perhaps, just +at this moment, the pale, intangible shadow of Reason had lifted up one +corner of the veil that hid the truth from before his eyes--the absolute +and naked fact that Crystal de Cambray was not destined for him. She +would never marry him--never. The Empire of France was no more--the +Emperor was a fugitive. To St. Genis and his caste belonged the +future--and the turn had come for the adherents of the fallen Emperor to +sink into obscurity or to go into exile. + +Be that as it may, it is certain that in this fateful moment de Marmont +was only conscious of an all-powerful overwhelming feeling of hatred and +the determination that whatever happened to himself he must and would +prevent St. Genis from ever approaching Crystal de Cambray with words of +love again. That he had the power to do this he was fully conscious. + +"Crystal!" he called, and at the same time ordered the bearers to halt +on the doorstep for a moment. "Crystal, will you give me your hand in +farewell?" + +The young girl would probably have complied with his wish, but St. Genis +interposed. + +"Crystal," he said authoritatively, "your father has already called you. +You have done everything that Christian charity demands. . . ." And once +more he tried to draw the young girl away. + +"Do not touch her, man," called de Marmont in a loud voice, "a coward +like you has no right to touch the hand of a good woman." + +"M. de Marmont," broke in Crystal hotly, "you presume on your +helplessness. . . ." + +"Pay no heed to the ravings of a maniac, Crystal," interposed St. Genis +calmly, "he has fallen so low now, that contemptuous pity is all that he +deserves." + +"And contempt without pity is all that you deserve, M. le Marquis de St. +Genis," cried de Marmont excitedly. "Ask him, Mademoiselle Crystal, ask +him where is the man who to-day saved his life? whom I myself saw to-day +on the roadside, wounded and half dead with fatigue, on horseback, with +the inert body of M. de St. Genis lying across his saddle-bow. Ask him +how he came to lie across that saddle-bow? and whether his English +friend and mine, Bobby Clyffurde, did not--as any who passed by could +guess--drag him out of that hell at Waterloo and bring him into safety, +whilst risking his own life. Ask him," he continued, working himself up +into a veritable fever of vengeful hatred, as he saw that St. +Genis--sullen and glowering--was doing his best to drag Crystal away, to +prevent her from listening further to this awful indictment, these +ravings of a lunatic half-distraught with hate. "Ask him where is +Clyffurde now? to what lonely spot he has crawled in order to die while +M. le Marquis de St. Genis came back in gay apparel to court Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray? Ah! M. de St. Genis, you tried to heap opprobrium +upon me--you talked glibly of contempt and of pity. Of a truth 'tis I +do pity you now, for Mademoiselle Crystal will surely ask you all those +questions, and by the Lord I marvel how you will answer them." + +He fell back exhausted, in a dead faint no doubt, and St. Genis with a +wild cry like that of a beast in fury seized the nearest weapon that +came to his hand--a heavy oak chair which stood against the wall in the +corridor--and brandished it over his head. He would--had not Crystal at +once interposed--have killed de Marmont with one blow: even so he tried +to avoid Crystal in order to forge for himself a clear passage, to free +himself from all trammels so that he might indulge his lust to kill. + +"Take the sick man away! quickly!" cried Crystal to the stretcher +bearers. And they--realising the danger--the awfulness of the tragedy +which, with that clumsy weapon wielded by a man who was maddened with +rage, was hovering in the air, hurried over the threshold with their +burden as fast as they could: then out into the street: and Crystal +seizing hold of the front door shut it to with a loud bang after them. + + +VI + +Then with a cry that was just primitive in its passion--savage almost +like that of a lioness in the desert who has been robbed of her +young--she turned upon St. Genis: + +"Where is he now?" she called, and her voice was quite unrecognisable, +harsh and hoarse and peremptory. + +"Crystal, let me assure you," protested Maurice, "that I have already +done all that lay in my power. . . ." + +"Where is he now?" she broke in with the same fierce intensity. + +She stood there before him--wild, haggard, palpitating--a passionate +creature passionately demanding to know where the loved one was. It +seemed as if she would have torn the words out of St. Genis' throat, so +bitter and intense was the look of contempt and of hatred wherewith she +looked on him. + +M. le Comte--very much upset and ruffled by all that he had heard--came +out of his room just in time to see the stretcher-bearers disappearing +with their burden through the front door, and the door itself closed to +with a bang by Crystal. Truly his sense of decorum and of the fitness of +things had received a severe shock and now he had the additional +mortification of seeing his beautiful daughter--his dainty and +aristocratic Crystal--in a state bordering on frenzy. + +"My darling Crystal," he exclaimed, as he made his way quickly to her +side and put a restraining hand upon her arm. + +But Crystal now was far beyond his control: she shook off his hand--she +paid no heed to him, she went closer up to St. Genis and once more +repeated her ardent, passionate query: + +"Where is he now?" + +"At the English hospital, I hope," said St. Genis with as much cool +dignity as he could command. "Have I not assured you, Crystal, that I've +done all I could? . . ." + +"At the English hospital? . . . you hope? . . ." she retorted in a voice +that sounded trenchant and shrill through the overwhelming passion which +shook and choked it in her throat. "But the roadside--where you left him +. . . to die in a ditch perhaps . . . like a dog that has no home? . . . +where was that?" + +"I gave full directions at the English hospital," he replied. "I +arranged for an ambulance to go and find him . . . for a bed for him +. . . I. . . ." + +"Give me those directions," she commanded. + +"On the way to Waterloo . . . on the left side of the road . . . close +by the six kilomètre milestone . . . the angle of the forest of Soigne +is just there . . . and there is a meadow which joins the edge of the +wood where they were making hay to-day. . . . No driver can fail to find +the place, Crystal . . . the ambulance. . . ." + +But now she was no longer listening to him. She had abruptly turned her +back on him and made for the door. Her father interposed. + +"What do you want to do, Crystal?" he said peremptorily. + +"Go to him, of course," she said quietly--for she was quite calm now--at +any rate outwardly--strong and of set purpose. + +"But you do not know where he is." + +"I'll go to the English hospital first . . . father, dear, will you let +me pass?" + +"Crystal," said M. le Comte firmly, as he stood his ground between his +daughter and the door, "you cannot go rushing through the streets of +Brussels alone--at this hour of the night--through all the soldiery and +all the drunken rabble." + +"He is dying," she retorted, "and I am going to find him. . . ." + +"You have taken leave of your senses, Crystal," said the Comte sternly. +"You seem to have forgotten your own personal dignity. . . ." + +"Father! let me go!" she demanded--for she had tried to measure her +physical strength against his, and he was holding her wrists now whilst +a look of great anger was on his face. + +"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that +lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added +harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to +second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at +this hour of the night." + +"But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke +in a tart voice from the back of the corridor. "Crystal, child! try and +bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to +the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good +enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me." + +And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and +practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful +Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief--almost of happiness--Crystal at +last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the +old woman: "_Ma tante_," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . +if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break." + +M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an +argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a +look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to +interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as +she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her--with or +without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but +one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by +making the best of this situation--of which he still highly disapproved. + +"Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your +way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to +nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist +that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career +about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench." + +"Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as +your father wishes--it will save a lot of argument and save time as +well." + +But even before the words were out of Madame's mouth, Crystal was +running along the corridor--ready to obey. At the foot of the stairs St. +Genis intercepted her. + +"Let me pass!" she cried wildly. + +"Not before you have said that you have forgiven me!" he entreated as he +clung to her white draperies with a passionate gesture of appeal. + +An exclamation which was almost one of loathing escaped her lips and +with a jerk she freed her skirt from his clutch. Then she ran quickly up +the stairs. Outside the door of her own room on the first landing she +paused for one minute, and from out of the gloom her voice came to him +like the knell of passing hope. + +"If he comes back alive out of the hell to which you condemned him," she +said, "I may in the future endure the sight of you again. . . . If he +dies . . . may God forgive you!" + +The opening and shutting of a door told him that she was gone, and he +was left in company with his shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WINNING HAND + + +Until far into the night the air reverberated with incessant +cannonade--from the direction of Genappe and from that of Wavre--but +just before dawn all was still. The stream of convoys which bore the +wounded along the road to Brussels from Mont Saint Jean and Hougoumont +and La Haye Sainte had momentarily ceased its endless course. The sky +had that perfect serenity of a midsummer's night, starlit and azure with +the honey-coloured moon sinking slowly down towards the west. Here at +the edge of the wood the air had a sweet smell of wet earth and damp +moss and freshly cut hay: it had all the delicious softness of a loved +one's embrace. + +Through the roar of distant cannonade, Bobby had slept. For a time after +St. Genis left him he had watched the long straight road with dull, +unseeing eyes--he had seen the first convoy, overfilled with wounded men +lying huddled on heaped-up straw, and had thanked God that he was lying +on this exquisitely soft carpet made of thousands of tiny green +plants--moss, grass, weeds, young tendrils and growing buds and opening +leaves that were delicious to the touch. He had quite forgotten that he +was wounded--neither his head nor his leg nor his arm seemed to hurt him +now: and he was able to think in peace of Crystal and of her happiness. + +St. Genis would have come to her by then: she would be happy to see him +safe and well, and perhaps--in the midst of her joy--she would think of +the friend who so gladly offered up his life for her. + +When the air around was no longer shaken by constant repercussion, Bobby +fell asleep. It was not yet dawn, even though far away in the east there +was a luminous veil that made the sky look like living silver. Behind +him among the trees there was a moving and a fluttering--the birds were +no longer asleep--they had not begun to sing but they were shaking out +their feathers and opening tiny, round eyes in farewell to departing +night. + +That gentle fluttering was a sweet lullaby, and Bobby slept and +dreamed--he dreamed that the fluttering became louder and louder, and +that, instead of birds, it was a group of angels that shook their wings +and stood around him as he slept. + +One of the angels came nearer and laid a hand upon his head--and Bobby +dreamed that the angel spoke and the words that it said filled Bobby's +heart with unearthly happiness. + +"My love! my love!" the angel said, "will you try and live for my sake?" + +And Bobby would not open his eyes, for fear the angel should go away. +And though he knew exactly where he was, and could feel the soft carpet +of leaves, and smell the sweet moisture in the air, he knew that he must +still be dreaming, for angels are not of this earth. + +Then a strong kind hand touched his wrist, and felt the beating of his +heart, and a rough, pleasant voice said in English: "He is exhausted and +very weak, but the fever is not high: he will soon be all right." And to +add to the wonderful strangeness of his dream, the angel's voice near +him murmured: "Thank God! thank God!" + +Why should an angel thank God that he--Bobby Clyffurde--was not likely +to die? + +He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw--bending over +him--a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever +seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled +like rose-leaves in the breeze. He was still dreaming and there was a +haze between him and that perfect vision of loveliness. And the kind, +rough voice somewhere close by said: "Have you got that stretcher +ready?" and two other voices replied, "Yes, Sir." + +But the lips close above him said nothing, and it was Bobby now who +murmured: "My love, is it you?" + +"Your love for always," the dear lips replied, "nothing shall part us +now. Yours for always to bring you back to life. Yours when you will +claim me--yours for life." + +They lifted him onto a stretcher, and then into a carriage and a very +kind face which he quickly enough recognised as Mme. la Duchesse +d'Agen's smiled very encouragingly upon him, whereupon he could not help +but ask a very pertinent question: + +"Mme. la Duchesse, is all this really happening?" + +"Why, yes, my good man," Madame replied; and indeed there was nothing +dreamlike in her tart, dry voice: "Crystal and I really have dragged Dr. +Scott away from the bedside of innumerable other sick and wounded men, +and also from any hope of well-earned rest to-night: we have also really +brought him to a spot very accurately described by our worthy friend, +St. Genis, but where, unfortunately, you had not chosen to remain, else +we had found you an hour sooner. Is there anything else you want to +know?" + +"Oh, yes! Madame la Duchesse, many things," murmured Bobby. "Please go +on telling me." + +Madame laughed: "Well!" she said, "perhaps you would like to know that +some kind of instinct, or perhaps the hand of God guided one of our +party to the place where you had gone to sleep. You may also wish to +know, that though you seem in a bad way for the present, you are going +to be nursed back to life under Dr. Scott's own most hospitable roof: +but since Crystal has undertaken to do the nursing, I imagine that my +time for the next six weeks will be taken up in arguing with my dear and +pompous brother that he will now have to give his consent to his +daughter becoming the wife of a vendor of gloves." + +Bobby contrived to smile: "Do you think that if I promised never to buy +or sell gloves again, but in future to try and live like a gentleman--do +you think then that he will consent?" + +"I think, my dear boy," said Madame, subduing her harsh voice to tones +of gentleness, "that after my brother knows all that I know and all that +his daughter desires, he will be proud to welcome you as his son." + +The doctor's wide barouche lumbered slowly along the wide, straight +road. In the east the luminous veil that still hid the rising sun had +taken on a hue of rosy gold: the birds, now fully awake, sang their +morning hymn. From the direction of Wavre came once more the cannon's +roar. + +Inside the carriage Dr. Scott, sitting at the feet of his patient, gave +a peremptory order for silence. But Bobby--immeasurably happy and +contented--looked up and saw Crystal de Cambray--no longer a girl now, +but a fair and beautiful woman who had learned to the last letter the +fulsome lesson of Love. She sat close beside him, and her arm was round +his reclining head, and, looking at her, he saw the lovelight in her +dear eyes whenever she turned them on him. And anon, when Mme. la +Duchesse engaged Dr. Scott in a close and heated argument, Bobby felt +sweet-scented lips pressed against his own. + + +THE END + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The original text is inconsistent regarding the spelling and +hyphenation of some words. Except when noted in the corrections +below, the spelling of individual words has been left as it was +in the original edition, even when the same word is spelled +differently elsewhere in the text. + +In Chapter I, a quotation mark has been added after "for a rainy day."; +and a period has been added after "'To Grenoble?' exclaimed de Marmont". + +In Chapter II, "experiences which I gleamed in exile" has been changed +to "experiences which I gleaned in exile"; and "a sterotyped smile" has +been changed to "a stereotyped smile". + +In Chapter IV, "The dim has become deafening" has been changed to "The +din has become deafening"; and "brief comamnds to his sergeant" has been +changed to "brief commands to his sergeant". + +In Chapter VII, "the conquerer of Austerlitz" has been changed to "the +conqueror of Austerlitz"; and "the fugutive royalists rallied" has been +changed to "the fugitive royalists rallied". + +In Chapter VIII, "from the Gulf of Juan to the gates of the Tuileries" +has been changed to "from the Gulf of Jouan to the gates of the +Tuileries"; "from the gulf of Juan in the wake of his eagle" has been +changed to "from the gulf of Jouan in the wake of his eagle"; "neither +sleep not yet wakefulness" has been changed to "neither sleep nor yet +wakefulness"; and "that she had not desponded more warmly to his kiss" +has been changed to "that she had not responded more warmly to his +kiss". + +In Chapter X, "those black-coated Brunswickers who longer to fly" has +been changed to "those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly". + +No other corrections have been made to the original text. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +******* This file should be named 25955-8.txt or 25955-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/5/25955 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Bronze Eagle</p> +<p> A Story of the Hundred Days</p> +<p>Author: Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy</p> +<p>Release Date: July 2, 2008 [eBook #25955]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Steven desJardins<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE BRONZE EAGLE</h1> + +<h2>BARONESS ORCZY</h2> + +<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Other Works"> +<tr> +<td style="text-align: center; border: solid black 2px; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; padding-top: 0.25em; padding-bottom: 0.25em; font-size: 120%;">By BARONESS ORCZY</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align: center; border-left: solid black 2px; border-right: solid black 2px; padding-top: 1.25em; padding-bottom: 1.25em; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; font-variant: small-caps;"> +The Bronze Eagle<br /> +A Bride of the Plains<br /> +The Laughing Cavalier<br /> +"Unto Caesar"<br /> +El Dorado<br /> +Meadowsweet<br /> +The Noble Rogue<br /> +The Heart of a Woman<br /> +Petticoat Rule</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td style="text-align: center; border: solid black 2px; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0.5em; padding-top: 0.25em; padding-bottom: 0.25em; font-size: 120%;">GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br /> +NEW YORK</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h1><a name="THE_BRONZE_EAGLE" id="THE_BRONZE_EAGLE"></a>THE BRONZE EAGLE</h1> + +<h2>A STORY OF THE HUNDRED DAYS</h2> + +<h2>BY BARONESS ORCZY</h2> + +<p class="center">Author of "The Laughing Cavalier," "The Scarlet Pimpernel," Etc., Etc.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="200" height="192" alt="logo" title="GHD" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1915,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By Baroness Orczy</span></p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1915,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By George H. Doran Company</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>This novel was published serially, under the title of "Waterloo"</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td style="text-align: right; font-size: 90%;">CHAPTER</td> +<td> </td> +<td style="text-align: right; font-size: 90%;">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum"> </td> +<td class="chapname">The Landing at Jouan</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#THE_LANDING_AT_JOUAN">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">I.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Glorious News</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">II.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Old Régime</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">III.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Return of the Emperor</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IV.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Empress' Millions</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">V.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Rivals</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Crime</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Ascent of the Capitol</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Sound of Revelry by Night</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IX.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Tarpeian Rock</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">285</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">X.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Last Throw</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XI.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Losing Hands</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">338</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XII.</td> +<td class="chapname">The Winning Hand</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">370</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<h1><a name="THE_LANDING_AT_JOUAN" id="THE_LANDING_AT_JOUAN"></a>THE BRONZE EAGLE</h1> + + +<h2>THE LANDING AT JOUAN</h2> + + +<p>The perfect calm of an early spring dawn lies over headland and +sea—hardly a ripple stirs the blue cheek of the bay. The softness of +departing night lies upon the bosom of the Mediterranean like the dew +upon the heart of a flower.</p> + +<p>A silent dawn.</p> + +<p>Veils of transparent greys and purples and mauves still conceal the +distant horizon. Breathless calm rests upon the water and that awed hush +which at times descends upon Nature herself when the finger of Destiny +marks an eventful hour.</p> + +<p>But now the grey and the purple veils beyond the headland are lifted one +by one; the midst of dawn rises upwards like the smoke of incense from +some giant censers swung by unseen, mighty hands.</p> + +<p>The sky above is of a translucent green, studded with stars that blink +and now are slowly extinguished one by one: the green has turned to +silver, and the silver to lemon-gold: the veils beyond the upland are +flying in the wake of departing Night.</p> + +<p>The lemon-gold turns to glowing amber, anon to orange and crimson, and +far inland the mountain peaks, peeping shyly through the mist, blush a +vivid rose to find themselves so fair.</p> + +<p>And to the south, there where fiery sea blends and merges with fiery +sky, a tiny black speck has just come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> into view. Larger and larger it +grows as it draws nearer to the land, now it seems like a bird with +wings outspread—an eagle flying swiftly to the shores of France.</p> + +<p>In the bay the fisher folk, who are making ready for their day's work, +pause a moment as they haul up their nets: with rough brown hands held +above their eyes they look out upon that black speck—curious, +interested, for the ship is not one they have seen in these waters +before.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the Emperor come back from Elba!" says someone.</p> + +<p>The men laugh and shrug their shoulders: that tale has been told so +often in these parts during the past year: the good folk have ceased to +believe in it. It has almost become a legend now, that story that the +Emperor was coming back—their Emperor—the man with the battered hat +and the grey redingote: the people's Emperor, he who led them from +victory to victory, whose eagles soared above every capital and every +tower in Europe, he who made France glorious and respected: her +citizens, men, her soldiers, heroes.</p> + +<p>And with stately majesty the dawn yields to day, the last tones of +orange have faded from the sky: it is once more of a translucent green +merging into sapphire overhead. And the great orb in the east rises from +out the trammels of the mist, and from awakening Earth and Sea comes the +great love-call, the triumphant call of Day. And far away upon the +horizon to the south, the black speck becomes more distinct and more +clear; it takes shape, substance, life.</p> + +<p>It divides and multiplies, for now there are three or four specks +silhouetted against the sky—not three or four, but five—no! six—no! +seven! Seven black specks which detach themselves one by one, one from +another and from the vagueness beyond—experienced eyes scan the horizon +with enthusiasm and excitement which threaten to blur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> the clearness of +their vision. Anyone with an eye for sea-going craft can distinguish +that topsail-schooner there, well ahead of the rest of the tiny fleet, +skimming the water with swift grace, and immediately behind her the +three-masted polacca—hm! have we not seen her in these waters +before?—and the two graceful feluccas whose lateen sails look so like +the outspread wings of a bird!</p> + +<p>But it is on the schooner that all eyes are riveted now: she skips along +so fast that within an hour her pennant is easily distinguishable—red +and white! the flag of Elba, of that diminutive toy-kingdom which for +the past twelve months has been ruled over by the mightiest conqueror +this modern world has ever known.</p> + +<p>The flag of Elba! then it is the Emperor coming back!</p> + +<p>A crowd had gathered on the headland now—a crowd made up of bare-footed +fisher-folk, men, women, children, and of the labourers from the +neighbouring fields and vineyards: they have all come to greet the +Emperor—the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote, the +curious, flashing eyes and mouth that always spoke genial words to the +people of France!</p> + +<p>Traitors turned against him—Ney! de Marmont! Bernadotte! those on whom +he had showered the full measure of his friendship, whom he had loaded +with honours, with glory and with wealth. Foreign armies joined in +coalition against France and forced the people's Emperor to leave his +country which he loved so well, had sent him to humiliation and to +exile. But he had come back, as all his people had always said that he +would! He had come back, there was the topsail-schooner that was +bringing him home so swiftly now.</p> + +<p>Another hour and the schooner's name can be deciphered quite +easily—<i>L'Inconstant</i>, and that of the polacca <i>Le Saint-Esprit</i> . . . +and beyond these <i>L'Etoile</i> and <i>Saint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> Joseph</i>, <i>Caroline</i>. And the +entire little fleet flies the flag of Elba.</p> + +<p>The Emperor has come back! Bare-footed fisherfolk whisper it among +themselves, the labourers in the valley call the news to those upon the +hills.</p> + +<p>Why! after another hour or so, there are those among the small knot who +stand congregated on the highest point of the headland, who swear that +they can see the Emperor—standing on the deck of the <i>L'Inconstant</i>.</p> + +<p>He wears a black bicorne hat, and his grey redingote: he is pacing up +and down the deck of the schooner, his hands held behind his back in the +manner so familiar to the people of France. And on his hat is pinned the +tricolour of France. Everyone on shore who is on the look-out for the +schooner now can see the tricolour quite plainly. A mighty shout escapes +the lusty throats of the men on the beach, the women are on the verge of +tears from sheer excitement, and that shout is repeated again and again +and sends its ringing echo from cliff to cliff, and from fort to fort as +the red and white pennant of the kingdom of Elba is hauled down from the +ship's stern and the tricolour flag—the flag of Liberty and of +regenerate France—is hoisted in its stead.</p> + +<p>The soft breeze from the south unfurls its folds and these respond to +his caress. The red, white and blue make a trenchant note of colour now +against the tender hues of the sea: flaunting its triumphant message in +the face of awakening nature.</p> + +<p>The eagle has left the bounds of its narrow cage of Elba: it has taken +wing over the blue Mediterranean! within an hour, perhaps, or two, it +will rest on the square church tower of Antibes—but not for long. Soon +it will take to its adventurous flight again, and soar over valley and +mountain peak, from church belfry to church belfry until it finds its +resting-place upon the towers of Notre Dame.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>One hour after noon the curtain has risen upon the first act of the most +adventurous tragedy the world has ever known.</p> + +<p>Napoleon Bonaparte has landed in the bay of Jouan with eleven hundred +men and four guns to reconquer France and the sovereignty of the world. +Six hundred of his old guard, six score of his Polish light cavalry, +three or four hundred Corsican chasseurs: thus did that sublime +adventurer embark upon an expedition the most mad, the most daring, the +most heroic, the most egotistical, the most tragic and the most glorious +which recording Destiny has ever written in the book of this world.</p> + +<p>The boats were lowered at one hour after noon, and the landing was +slowly and methodically begun: too slowly for the patience of the old +guard—the old "growlers" with grizzled moustache and furrowed cheeks, +down which tears of joy and enthusiasm were trickling at sight of the +shores of France. They were not going to wait for the return of those +boats which had conveyed the Polish troopers on shore: they took to the +water and waded across the bay, tossing the salt spray all around them +as they trod the shingle, like so many shaggy dogs enjoying a bath; and +when six hundred fur bonnets darkened the sands of the bay at the foot +of the Tower of la Gabelle, such a shout of "Vive l'Empereur" went forth +from six hundred lusty throats that the midday spring air vibrated with +kindred enthusiasm for miles and miles around.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE GLORIOUS NEWS</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Where the broad highway between Grenoble and Gap parts company from the +turbulent Drac, and after crossing the ravine of Vaulx skirts the +plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and +mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle on the +left and in wayward curves continues its length through the woods +upwards to the hamlet of Vaulx and the shrine of Notre Dame.</p> + +<p>Far away to the west the valley of the Drac lies encircled by the +pine-covered slopes of the Lans range, whilst towering some seven +thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Moucherolle +glistens like a sea of myriads of rose-coloured diamonds under the kiss +of the morning sun.</p> + +<p>There was more than a hint of snow in the sharp, stinging air this +afternoon, even down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the +northeast whipped up the faces of the two riders as they turned their +horses at a sharp trot up the bridle path.</p> + +<p>Though it was not long since the sun had first peeped out above the +forests of Pelvoux, the riders looked as if they had already a long +journey to their credit; their horses were covered with sweat and +sprinkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered +with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and +unconscious grace which marks the man accustomed to hard and constant +riding, though—to the experienced eye—there would appear a vast +difference in the style and manner in which each horseman handled his +mount.</p> + +<p>One of them had the rigid precision of bearing which denotes military +training: he was young and slight of build, with unruly dark hair +fluttering round the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and +escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of +the neck; he held himself very erect and rode his horse on the curb, the +reins gathered tightly in one gloved hand, and that hand held closely +and almost immovably against his chest.</p> + +<p>The other sat more carelessly—though in no way more loosely—in his +saddle: he gave his horse more freedom, with a chain-snaffle and reins +hanging lightly between his fingers. He was obviously taller and +probably older than his companion, broader of shoulder and fairer of +skin; you might imagine him riding this same powerful mount across a +sweep of open country, but his friend you would naturally picture to +yourself in uniform on the parade ground.</p> + +<p>The riders soon left the valley of the Drac behind them; on ahead the +path became very rocky, winding its way beside a riotous little mountain +stream, whilst higher up still, peeping through the intervening trees, +the white-washed cottages of the tiny hamlet glimmered with dazzling +clearness in the frosty atmosphere. At a sharp bend of the road, which +effectually revealed the foremost of these cottages, distant less than +two kilometres now, the younger of the two men drew rein suddenly, and +lifting his hat with outstretched arm high above his head, he gave a +long sigh which ended in a kind of exultant call of joy.</p> + +<p>"There is Notre Dame de Vaulx," he cried at the top<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> of his voice, and +hat still in hand he pointed to the distant hamlet. "There's the spot +where—before the sun darts its midday rays upon us—I shall hear great +and glorious and authentic news of <i>him</i> from a man who has seen him as +lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the +sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope in his eyes. +Oh!" he went on speaking with extraordinary volubility, "it is all too +good to be true! Since yesterday I have felt like a man in a dream!—I +haven't lived, I have scarcely breathed, I . . ."</p> + +<p>The other man broke in upon his ravings with a good-humoured growl.</p> + +<p>"You have certainly behaved like an escaped lunatic since early this +morning, my good de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that—as +we shall have to mix again with our fellow-men presently—you might try +to behave with some semblance of reasonableness."</p> + +<p>But de Marmont only laughed. He was so excited that his lips trembled +all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed just as if some inward +fire was burning deep down in his soul.</p> + +<p>"No! I can't," he retorted. "I want to shout and to sing and to cry +'Vive l'Empereur' till those frowning mountains over there echo with my +shouts—and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and +curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will—an escaped +lunatic—if to be mad with joy be a proof of insanity. Clyffurde, my +dear friend," he added more soberly, "I am honestly sorry for you +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," commented his companion drily. "May I ask how I have +deserved this genuine sympathy?"</p> + +<p>"Well! because you are an Englishman, and not a Frenchman," said the +younger man earnestly; "because you—as an Englishman—must desire +Napoleon's downfall, his humiliation, perhaps his death, instead of +exult<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>ing in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him, +following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my +nationality or my patriotism demanded that I should fight against +Napoleon, that I should hate him, or vilify him, I firmly believe that I +would turn my sword against myself, so shamed should I feel in my own +eyes."</p> + +<p>It was the Englishman's turn to laugh, and he did it very heartily. His +laugh was quite different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it, +more good temper, more appreciation of everything that tends to gaiety +in life and more direct defiance of what is gloomy.</p> + +<p>He too had reined in his horse, presumably in order to listen to his +friend's enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his +merry, pleasant eyes a quaint look of half contemptuous tolerance +tempered by kindly humour.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, my good de Marmont," he said, still laughing, "you +happen to be a Frenchman, a visionary and weaver of dreams. Believe me," +he added more seriously, "if you had the misfortune to be a prosy, +shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just +because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would +realise soberly and calmly that while Napoleon Bonaparte is allowed to +rule over France—or over any country for the matter of that—there will +never be peace in the world or prosperity in any land."</p> + +<p>The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his +face—a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait +for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a +warning finger.</p> + +<p>Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more:</p> + +<p>"Shall we," he said, "go slowly on now as far as the village? It is not +yet ten o'clock. Emery cannot possibly be here before noon."</p> + +<p>He put his horse to a walk, de Marmont keeping close<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> behind him, and in +silence the two men rode up the incline toward Notre Dame de Vaulx. On +ahead the pines and beech and birch became more sparse, disclosing the +great patches of moss-covered rock upon the slopes of Pelvoux. On +Taillefer the eternal snows appeared wonderfully near in the brilliance +of this early spring atmosphere, and here and there on the roadside +bunches of wild crocus and of snowdrops were already visible rearing +their delicate corollas up against a background of moss.</p> + +<p>The tiny village still far away lay in the peaceful hush of a Sunday +morning, only from the little chapel which holds the shrine of Notre +Dame came the sweet, insistent sound of the bell calling the dwellers of +these mountain fastnesses to prayer.</p> + +<p>The northeasterly wind was still keen, but the sun was gaining power as +it rose well above Pelvoux, and the sky over the dark forests and +snow-crowned heights was of a glorious and vivid blue.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>The words "Auberge du Grand Dauphin" looked remarkably inviting, written +in bold, shiny black characters on the white-washed wall of one of the +foremost houses in the village. The riders drew rein once more, this +time in front of the little inn, and as a young ostler in blue blouse +and sabots came hurriedly and officiously forward whilst mine host in +the same attire appeared in the doorway, the two men dismounted, +unstrapped their mantles from their saddle-bows and loudly called for +mulled wine.</p> + +<p>Mine host, typical of his calling and of his race, rubicund of cheek, +portly of figure and genial in manner, was over-anxious to please his +guests. It was not often that gentlemen of such distinguished appearance +called at the "Auberge du Grand Dauphin," seeing that Notre Dame de +Vaulx lies perdu on the outskirts of the forests of Pelvoux,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> that the +bridle path having reached the village leads nowhere save into the +mountains and that La Motte is close by with its medicinal springs and +its fine hostels.</p> + +<p>But these two highly-distinguished gentlemen evidently meant to make a +stay of it. They even spoke of a friend who would come and join them +later, when they would expect a substantial <i>déjeuner</i> to be served with +the best wine mine host could put before them. Annette—mine host's +dark-eyed daughter—was all a-flutter at sight of these gallant +strangers, one of them with such fiery eyes and vivacious ways, and the +other so tall and so dignified, with fair skin well-bronzed by the sun +and large firm mouth that had such a pleasant smile on it; her eyes +sparkled at sight of them both and her glib tongue rattled away at truly +astonishing speed.</p> + +<p>Would a well-baked omelette and a bit of fricandeau suit the +gentlemen?—Admirably? Ah, well then, that could easily be done!—and +now? in the meanwhile?—Only good mulled wine? That would present no +difficulty either. Five minutes for it to get really hot, as Annette had +made some the previous day for her father who had been on a tiring +errand up to La Mure and had come home cold and starved—and it was +specially good—all the better for having been hotted up once or twice +and the cloves and nutmeg having soaked in for nearly four and twenty +hours.</p> + +<p>Where would the gentlemen have it—Outside in the sunshine? . . . Well! +it was very cold, and the wind biting . . . but the gentlemen had +mantles, and she, Annette, would see that the wine was piping hot. . . . +Five minutes and everything would be ready. . . .</p> + +<p>What? . . . the tall, fair-skinned gentleman wanted to wash? . . . what +a funny idea! . . . hadn't he washed this morning when he got up? . . . +He had? Well, then, why should he want to wash again? . . . She, +Annette, managed to keep herself quite clean all day, and didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> need +to wash more than once a day. . . . But there! strangers had funny ways +with them . . . she had guessed at once that Monsieur was a stranger, he +had such a fair skin and light brown hair. Well! so long as Monsieur +wasn't English—for the English, she detested!</p> + +<p>Why did she detest the English? . . . Because they made war against +France. Well! against the Emperor anyhow, and she, Annette, firmly +believed that if the English could get hold of the Emperor they would +kill him—oh, yes! they would put him on an island peopled by cannibals +and let him be eaten, bones, marrow and all.</p> + +<p>And Annette's dark eyes grew very round and very big as she gave forth +her opinion upon the barbarous hatred of the English for "l'Empereur!" +She prattled on very gaily and very volubly, while she dragged a couple +of chairs out into the open, and placed them well in the lee of the wind +and brought a couple of pewter mugs which she set on the table.</p> + +<p>She was very much interested in the tall gentleman who had availed +himself of her suggestion to use the pump at the back of the house, +since he was so bent on washing himself; and she asked many questions +about him from his friend.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the steaming wine was on the table in a huge china +bowl and the Englishman was ladling it out with a long-handled spoon and +filling the two mugs with the deliciously scented cordial. Annette had +disappeared into the house in response to a peremptory call from her +father. The chapel bell had ceased to ring long ago, and she would miss +hearing Mass altogether to-day; and M. le curé, who came on alternate +Sundays all the way from La Motte to celebrate divine service, would be +very angry indeed with her.</p> + +<p>Well! that couldn't be helped! Annette would have loved to go to Mass, +but the two distinguished gentlemen ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>pected their friend to arrive at +noon, and the <i>déjeuner</i> to be ready quite by then; so she comforted her +conscience with a few prayers said on her knees before the picture of +the Holy Virgin which hung above her bed, after which she went back to +her housewifely duty with a light heart; but not before she had decided +an important point in her mind—namely, which of those two handsome +gentlemen she liked the best: the dark one with the fiery eyes that +expressed such bold admiration of her young charms, or the tall one with +the earnest grey eyes who looked as if he could pick her up like a +feather and carry her running all the way to the summit of Taillefer.</p> + +<p>Annette had indeed made up her mind that the giant with the soft brown +hair and winning smile was, on the whole, the more attractive of the +two.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>The two friends, with mantles wrapped closely round them, sat outside +the "Grand Dauphin" all unconscious of the problem which had been +disturbing Annette's busy little brain.</p> + +<p>The steaming wine had put plenty of warmth into their bones, and though +both had been silent while they sipped their first mug-full, it was +obvious that each was busy with his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the young Frenchman put his mug down and leaned with both +elbows upon the rough deal table, because he wanted to talk +confidentially with his friend, and there was never any knowing what +prying ears might be about.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, even as a deep frown told of puzzling thoughts +within the mind, "I suppose that when England hears the news, she will +up and at him again, attacking him, snarling at him even before he has +had time to settle down upon his reconquered throne."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>"That throne is not reconquered yet, my friend," retorted the Englishman +drily, "nor has the news of this mad adventure reached England so far, +but . . ."</p> + +<p>"But when it does," broke in de Marmont sombrely, "your Castlereagh will +rave and your Wellington will gather up his armies to try and crush the +hero whom France loves and acclaims."</p> + +<p>"Will France acclaim the hero, there's the question?"</p> + +<p>"The army will—the people will——"</p> + +<p>Clyffurde shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The army, yes," he said slowly, "but the people . . . what people?—the +peasantry of Provence and the Dauphiné, perhaps—what about the town +folk?—your mayors and <i>préfets</i>?—your tradespeople? your shopkeepers +who have been ruined by the wars which your hero has made to further his +own ambition. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Clyffurde," once more broke in de Marmont, and this +time more vehemently than before. "When you speak like that I could +almost forget our friendship."</p> + +<p>"Whether I say it or not, my good de Marmont," rejoined Clyffurde with +his good-humoured smile, "you will anyhow—within the next few +months—days, perhaps—bury our friendship beneath the ashes of your +patriotism. No one, believe me," he added more earnestly, "has a greater +admiration for the genius of Napoleon than I have; his love of France is +sublime, his desire for her glory superb. But underlying his love of +country, there is the love of self, the mad desire to rule, to conquer, +to humiliate. It led him to Moscow and thence to Elba, it has brought +him back to France. It will lead him once again to the Capitol, no +doubt, but as surely too it will lead him on to the Tarpeian Rock whence +he will be hurled down this time, not only bruised, but shattered, a +fallen hero—and you will—a broken idol, for posterity to deal with in +after time as it lists."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>"And England would like to be the one to give the hero the final push," +said de Marmont, not without a sneer.</p> + +<p>"The people of England, my friend, hate and fear Bonaparte as they have +never hated and feared any one before in the whole course of their +history—and tell me, have we not cause enough to hate him? For fifteen +years has he not tried to ruin us, to bring us to our knees? tried to +throttle our commerce? break our might upon the sea? He wanted to make a +slave of Britain, and Britain proved unconquerable. Believe me, we hate +your hero less than he hates us."</p> + +<p>He had spoken with a good deal of earnestness, but now he added more +lightly, as if in answer to de Marmont's glowering look:</p> + +<p>"At the same time," he said, "I doubt if there is a single English +gentleman living at the present moment—let alone the army—who would +refuse ungrudging admiration to Napoleon himself and to his genius. But +as a nation England has her interests to safeguard. She has suffered +enough—and through him—in her commerce and her prosperity in the past +twenty years—she must have peace now at any cost."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I know," sighed the other, "a nation of shopkeepers. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes. We are that, I suppose. We are shopkeepers . . . most of us. +. . ."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to use the word in any derogatory sense," protested +Victor de Marmont with the ready politeness peculiar to his race. "Why, +even you . . ."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should say 'even you,'" broke in Clyffurde quietly. +"I am a shopkeeper—nothing more. . . . I buy goods and sell them again. +. . . I buy the gloves which our friend M. Dumoulin manufactures at +Grenoble and sell them to any London draper who chooses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> to buy them +. . . a very mean and ungentlemanly occupation, is it not?"</p> + +<p>He spoke French with perfect fluency, and only with the merest suspicion +of a drawl in the intonation of the vowels, which suggested rather than +proclaimed his nationality; and just now there was not the slightest +tone of bitterness apparent in his deep-toned and mellow voice. Once +more his friend would have protested, but he put up a restraining hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said with a smile, "I don't imagine for a moment that you have +the same prejudices as our mutual friend M. le Comte de Cambray, who +must have made a very violent sacrifice to his feelings when he admitted +me as a guest to his own table. I am sure he must often think that the +servants' hall is the proper place for me."</p> + +<p>"The Comte de Cambray," retorted de Marmont with a sneer, "is full up to +his eyes with the prejudices and arrogance of his caste. It is men of +his type—and not Marat or Robespierre—who made the revolution, who +goaded the people of France into becoming something worse than +man-devouring beasts. And, mind you, twenty years of exile did not sober +them, nor did contact with democratic thought in England and America +teach them the most elementary lessons of commonsense. If the Emperor +had not come back to-day, we should be once more working up for +revolution—more terrible this time, more bloody and vengeful, if +possible, than the last."</p> + +<p>Then as Clyffurde made no comment on this peroration, the younger man +resumed more lightly:</p> + +<p>"And—knowing the Comte de Cambray's prejudices as I do, imagine my +surprise—after I had met you in his house as an honoured guest and on +what appeared to be intimate terms of friendship—to learn that you +. . . in fact . . ."</p> + +<p>"That I was nothing more than a shopkeeper," broke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> in Clyffurde with a +short laugh, "nothing better than our mutual friend M. Dumoulin, +glovemaker, of Grenoble—a highly worthy man whom M. le Comte de Cambray +esteems somewhat lower than his butler. It certainly must have surprised +you very much."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, old de Cambray has a horror of anything that pertains +to trade, and an avowed contempt for everything that he calls +'bourgeois.'"</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt about that," assented Clyffurde fervently.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he does not know of your connection with . . ."</p> + +<p>"Gloves?"</p> + +<p>"With business people in Grenoble generally."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he does!" replied the Englishman quietly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then?" queried de Marmont.</p> + +<p>Then as his friend sat there silent with that quiet, good-humoured smile +lingering round his lips, he added apologetically:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am indiscreet . . . but I never could understand it . . . and +you English are so reserved . . ."</p> + +<p>"That I never told you how M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Order du Lys, Hereditary +Grand Chamberlain of France, etc., etc., came to sit at the same table +as a vendor and buyer of gloves," said Clyffurde gaily. "There's no +secret about it. I owe the Comte's exalted condescension to certain +letters of recommendation which he could not very well disregard."</p> + +<p>"Oh! as to that . . ." quoth de Marmont with a shrug of the shoulders, +"people like the de Cambrays have their own codes of courtesy and of +friendship."</p> + +<p>"In this case, my good de Marmont, it was the code of ordinary gratitude +that imposed its dictum even upon the autocratic and aristocratic Comte +de Cambray."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"Gratitude?" sneered de Marmont, "in a de Cambray?"</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte de Cambray," said Clyffurde with slow emphasis, "his +mother, his sister, his brother-in-law and two of their faithful +servants, were rescued from the very foot of the guillotine by a band of +heroes—known in those days as the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>"I knew that!" said de Marmont quietly.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you also knew that their leader was Sir Percy Blakeney—a +prince among gallant English gentlemen and my dead father's friend. When +my business affairs sent me to Grenoble, Sir Percy warmly recommended me +to the man whose life he had saved. What could M. le Comte de Cambray do +but receive me as a friend? You see, my credentials were exceptional and +unimpeachable."</p> + +<p>"Of course," assented de Marmont, "now I understand. But you will admit +that I have had grounds for surprise. You—who were the friend of +Dumoulin, a tradesman, and avowed Bonapartist—two unpardonable crimes +in the eyes of M. le Comte de Cambray," he added with a return to his +former bitterness, "you to be seated at his table and to shake him by +the hand. Why, man! if he knew that I have remained faithful to the +Emperor . . ."</p> + +<p>He paused abruptly, and his somewhat full, sensitive lips were pressed +tightly together as if to suppress an insistent outburst of passion.</p> + +<p>But Clyffurde frowned, and when he turned away from de Marmont it was in +order to hide a harsh look of contempt.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he said, "you have never led the Comte to suppose that you are +a royalist!"</p> + +<p>"I have never led him to suppose anything. But he has taken my political +convictions for granted," rejoined de Marmont.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a look of bitter resentment darkened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> his face, making it +appear hard and lined and considerably older.</p> + +<p>"My uncle, Marshal de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, was an abominable +traitor," he went on with ill-repressed vehemence. "He betrayed his +Emperor, his benefactor and his friend. It was the vilest treachery that +has ever disgraced an honourable name. Paris could have held out easily +for another four and twenty hours, and by that time the Emperor would +have been back. But de Marmont gave her over wilfully, scurvily to the +allies. But for his abominable act of cowardice the Emperor never would +have had to endure the shame of his temporary exile at Elba, and Louis +de Bourbon would never have had the chance of wallowing for twelve +months upon the throne of France. But that which is a source of +irreparable shame to me is a virtue in the eyes of all these royalists. +De Marmont's treachery against the Emperor has placed all his kindred in +the forefront of those who now lick the boots of that infamous Bourbon +dynasty, and it did not suit the plans of the Bonapartist party that +we—in the provinces—should proclaim our faith too openly until such +time as the Emperor returned."</p> + +<p>"And if the Comte de Cambray had known that you are just an ardent +Bonapartist? . . ." suggested Clyffurde calmly.</p> + +<p>"He would long before now have had me kicked out by his lacqueys," broke +in de Marmont with ever-increasing bitterness as he brought his clenched +fist crashing down upon the table, while his dark eyes glowed with a +fierce and passionate resentment. "For men like de Cambray there is only +one caste—the <i>noblesse</i>, one religion—the Catholic, one +creed—adherence to the Bourbons. All else is scum, trash, beneath +contempt, hardly human! Oh! if you knew how I loathe these people!" he +continued, speaking volubly and in a voice shaking with suppressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +excitement. "They have learnt nothing, these aristocrats, nothing, I +tell you! the terrible reprisals of the revolution which culminated in +that appalling Reign of Terror have taught them absolutely nothing! They +have not learnt the great lesson of the revolution, that the people will +no longer endure their arrogance and their pretensions, that the old +regime is dead—dead! the regime of oppression and pride and +intolerance! They have learnt nothing!" he reiterated with ever-growing +excitement, "nothing! 'humanity begins with the <i>noblesse</i>' is still +their watchword to-day as it was before the irate people sent hundreds +of them to perish miserably on the guillotine—the rest of mankind, to +them, is only cattle made to toil for the well-being of their class. Oh! +I loathe them, I tell you! I loathe them from the bottom of my soul!"</p> + +<p>"And yet you and your kind are rapidly becoming at one with them," said +Clyffurde, his quiet voice in strange contrast to the other man's +violent agitation.</p> + +<p>"No, we are not," protested de Marmont emphatically. "The men whom +Napoleon created marshals and peers of France have been openly snubbed +at the Court of Louis XVIII. Ney, who is prince of Moskowa and next to +Napoleon himself the greatest soldier of France, has seen his wife +treated little better than a chambermaid by the Duchesse d'Angoulême and +the ladies of the old <i>noblesse</i>. My uncle is marshal of France, and Duc +de Raguse and I am the heir to his millions, but the Comte de Cambray +will always consider it a mesalliance for his daughter to marry me."</p> + +<p>The note of bitter resentment, of wounded pride and smouldering hatred +became more and more marked while he spoke: his voice now sounded hoarse +and his throat seemed dry. Presently he raised his mug to his lips and +drank eagerly, but his hand was shaking visibly as he did this, and some +of the wine was spilled on the table.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>There was silence for a while outside the little inn, silence which +seemed full of portent, for through the pure mountain air there was +wafted the hot breath of men's passions—fierce, dominating, +challenging. Love, hatred, prejudices and contempt—all were portrayed +on de Marmont's mobile face: they glowed in his dark eyes and breathed +through his quivering nostrils. Now he rested his elbow on the table and +his chin in his hand, his nervy fingers played a tattoo against his +teeth, clenched together like those of some young feline creature which +sees its prey coming along and is snarling at the sight.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde, with those deep-set, earnest grey eyes of his, was silently +watching his friend. His hand did not shake, nor did the breath come any +quicker from his broad chest. Yet deep down behind the wide brow, behind +those same overshadowed eyes, a keen observer would of a surety have +detected the signs of a latent volcano of passions, all the more strong +and virile as they were kept in perfect control. It was he who presently +broke the silence, and his voice was quite steady when he spoke, though +perhaps a trifle more toneless, more dead, than usual.</p> + +<p>"And," he said, "what of Mlle. Crystal in all this?"</p> + +<p>"Crystal?" queried the other curtly, "what about her?"</p> + +<p>"She is an ardent royalist, more strong in her convictions and her +enthusiasms than women usually are."</p> + +<p>"And what of that?" rejoined de Marmont fiercely. "I love Crystal."</p> + +<p>"But when she learns that you . . ."</p> + +<p>"She shall not learn it," rejoined the other cynically. "We sign our +marriage contract to-night: the wedding is fixed for Tuesday. Until then +I can hold my peace."</p> + +<p>An exclamation of hot protest almost escaped the Englishman's lips: his +hand which rested on the table became so tightly clenched that the hard +knuckles looked as if they would burst through their fetters of sinew +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> skin, and he made no pretence at concealing the look of burning +indignation which flashed from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"But man!" he exclaimed, "a deception such as you propose is cruel and +monstrous. . . . In view, too, of what has occurred in the past few days +. . . in view of what may happen if the news which we have heard is true +. . ."</p> + +<p>"In view of all that, my friend," retorted de Marmont firmly, "the old +regime has had its nine days of wonder and of splendour. The Emperor has +come back! we, who believe in him, who have remained true to him in his +humiliation and in his misfortunes may once more raise our heads and +loudly proclaim our loyalty. The return of the Emperor will once more +put his dukes and his marshals in their rightful place on a level with +the highest nobility of France. The Comte de Cambray will realise that +all his hopes of regaining his fortune through the favours of the +Bourbons have by force of circumstances come to naught. Like most of the +old <i>noblesse</i> who emigrated he is without a sou. He may choose to look +on me with contempt, but he will no longer desire to kick me out of his +house, for he will be glad enough to see the Cambray 'scutcheon regilt +with de Marmont gold."</p> + +<p>"But Mademoiselle Crystal?" insisted Clyffurde, almost appealingly, for +his whole soul had revolted at the cynicism of the other man.</p> + +<p>"Crystal has listened to that ape, St. Genis," replied de Marmont drily, +"one of her own caste . . . a marquis with sixteen quarterings to his +family escutcheon and not a sou in his pockets. She is very young, and +very inexperienced. She has seen nothing of the world as yet—nothing. +She was born and brought up in exile—in England, in the midst of that +narrow society formed by impecunious <i>émigrés</i>. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And shopkeeping Englishmen," murmured Clyffurde, under his breath.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>"She could never have married St. Genis," reiterated Victor de Marmont +with deliberate emphasis. "The man hasn't a sou. Even Crystal realised +from the first that nothing ever could have come of that boy and girl +dallying. The Comte never would have consented. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But she—Mademoiselle Crystal—would she ever have +consented to marry you, if she had known what your convictions are?"</p> + +<p>"Crystal is only a child," said de Marmont with a light shrug of the +shoulders. "She will learn to love me presently when St. Genis has +disappeared out of her little world, and she will accept my convictions +as she has accepted me, submissive to my will as she was to that of her +father."</p> + +<p>Once more a hot protest of indignation rose to Clyffurde's lips, but +this too he smothered resolutely. What was the use of protesting? Could +he hope to change with a few arguments the whole cynical nature of a +man? And what right had he even to interfere? The Comte de Cambray and +Mademoiselle Crystal were nothing to him: in their minds they would +never look upon him even as an equal—let alone as a friend. So the +bitter words died upon his lips.</p> + +<p>"And you have been content to win a wife on such terms!" was all that he +said.</p> + +<p>"I have had to be content," was de Marmont's retort. "Crystal is the +only woman I have ever cared for. She will love me in time, I doubt not, +and her sense of duty will make her forget St. Genis quickly enough."</p> + +<p>Then as Clyffurde made no further comment silence fell once more between +the two men. Perhaps even de Marmont felt that somehow, during the past +few moments, the slender bond of friendship which similarity of tastes +and a certain similarity of political ideals had forged between him and +the stranger had been strained to snap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>ping point, and this for a reason +which he could not very well understand. He drank another draught of +wine and gave a quick sigh of satisfaction with the world in general, +and also with himself, for he did not feel that he had done or said +anything which could offend the keenest susceptibilities of his friend.</p> + +<p>He looked with a sudden sense of astonishment at Clyffurde, as if he +were only seeing him now for the first time. His keen dark eyes took in +with a rapid glance the Englishman's powerful personality, the square +shoulders, the head well erect, the strong Anglo-Saxon chin firmly set, +the slender hands always in repose. In the whole attitude of the man +there was an air of will-power which had never struck de Marmont quite +so forcibly as it did now, and a virility which looked as ready to +challenge Fate as it was able to conquer her if she proved adverse.</p> + +<p>And just now there was a curious look in those deep-set eyes—a look of +contempt or of pity—de Marmont was not sure which, but somehow the look +worried him and he would have given much to read the thoughts which were +hidden behind the high, square brow.</p> + +<p>However, he asked no questions, and thus the silence remained unbroken +for some time save for the soughing of the northeast wind as it whistled +through the pines, whilst from the tiny chapel which held the shrine of +Notre Dame de Vaulx came the sound of a soft-toned bell, ringing the +midday Angelus.</p> + +<p>Just then round that same curve in the road, where the two riders had +paused an hour ago in sight of the little hamlet, a man on horseback +appeared, riding at a brisk trot up the rugged, stony path.</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont woke from his rêverie:</p> + +<p>"There's Emery," he cried.</p> + +<p>He jumped to his feet, then he picked up his hat from the table where he +had laid it down, tossed it up into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> air as high as it would go, and +shouted with all his might:</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The man who now drew rein with abrupt clumsiness in front of the auberge +looked hot, tired and travel-stained. His face was covered with sweat +and his horse with lather, the lapel of his coat was torn, his breeches +and boots were covered with half-frozen mud.</p> + +<p>But having brought his horse to a halt, he swung himself out of the +saddle with the brisk air of a boy who has enjoyed his first ride across +country. Surgeon-Captain Emery was a man well over forty, but to-day his +eyes glowed with that concentrated fire which burns in the heart at +twenty, and he shook de Marmont by the hand with a vigour which made the +younger man wince with the pain of that iron grip.</p> + +<p>"My friend, Mr. Clyffurde, an English gentleman," said Victor de Marmont +hastily in response to a quick look of suspicious enquiry which flashed +out from under Emery's bushy eyebrows. "You can talk quite freely, +Emery; and for God's sake tell us your news!"</p> + +<p>But Emery could hardly speak. He had been riding hard for the past three +hours, his throat was parched, and through it his voice came up hoarse +and raucous: nevertheless he at once began talking in short, jerky +sentences.</p> + +<p>"He landed on Wednesday," he said. "I parted from him on Friday . . . at +Castellane . . . you had my message?"</p> + +<p>"This morning early—we came at once."</p> + +<p>"I thought we could talk better here—first—but I was spent last +night—I had to sleep at Corps . . . so I sent to you. . . . But now, in +Heaven's name, give me something to drink. . . ."</p> + +<p>While he drank eagerly and greedily of the cold spiced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> wine which +Clyffurde had served out to him, he still scrutinised the Englishman +closely from under his frowning and bushy eyebrows.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde's winning glance, however, seemed to have conquered his +mistrust, for presently, after he had put his mug down again, he +stretched out a cordial hand to him.</p> + +<p>"Now that our Emperor is back with us," he said as if in apology for his +former suspicions, "we, his friends, are bound to look askance at every +Englishman we meet."</p> + +<p>"Of course you are," said Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured +smile as he grasped Surgeon-Captain Emery's extended hand.</p> + +<p>"It is the hand of a friend I am grasping?" insisted Emery.</p> + +<p>"Of a personal friend, if you will call him so," replied Clyffurde. +"Politically, I hardly count, you see. I am just a looker-on at the +game."</p> + +<p>The surgeon-captain's keen eyes under their bushy brows shot a rapid +glance at the tall, well-knit figure of the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"You are not a fighting man?" he queried, much amazed.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Clyffurde drily. "I am only a tradesman."</p> + +<p>"Your news, Emery, your news!" here broke in Victor de Marmont, who +during the brief colloquy between his two friends had been hardly able +to keep his excitement in check.</p> + +<p>Emery turned away from the other man in silence. Clearly there was +something about that fine, noble-looking fellow—who proclaimed himself +a tradesman while that splendid physique of his should be at his +country's service—which still puzzled the worthy army surgeon.</p> + +<p>But he was primarily very thirsty and secondly as eager to impart his +news as de Marmont was to hear it, so now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> without wasting any further +words on less important matter he sat down close to the table and +stretched his short, thick legs out before him.</p> + +<p>"My news is of the best," he said with lusty fervour. "We left Porto +Ferrajo on Sunday last but only landed on Wednesday, as I told you, for +we were severely becalmed in the Mediterranean. We came on shore at +Antibes at midday of March 1st and bivouacked in an olive grove on the +way to Cannes. That was a sight good for sore eyes, my friends, to see +him sitting there by the camp fire, his feet firmly planted upon the +soil of France. What a man, Sir, what a man!" he continued, turning +directly to Clyffurde, "on board the <i>Inconstant</i> he had composed and +dictated his proclamation to the army, to the soldiers of France! the +finest piece of prose, Sir, I have ever read in all my life. But you +shall judge of it, Sir, you shall judge. . . ."</p> + +<p>And with hands shaking with excitement he fumbled in the bulging pocket +of his coat and extracted therefrom a roll of loose papers roughly tied +together with a piece of tape.</p> + +<p>"You shall read it, Sir," he went on mumbling, while his trembling +fingers vainly tried to undo the knot in the tape, "you shall read it. +And then mayhap you'll tell me if your Pitt was ever half so eloquent. +Curse these knots!" he exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me, Sir?" said Clyffurde quietly, and with steady hand +and firm fingers he undid the refractory knots and spread the papers out +upon the table.</p> + +<p>Already de Marmont had given a cry of loyalty and of triumph.</p> + +<p>"His proclamation!" he exclaimed, and a sigh of infinite satisfaction +born of enthusiasm and of hero-worship escaped his quivering lips.</p> + +<p>The papers bore the signature of that name which had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> once been +all-powerful in its magical charm, at sound of which Europe had trembled +and crowns had felt insecure, the name which men had breathed—nay! +still breathed—either with passionate loyalty or with bitter +hatred:—"Napoleon."</p> + +<p>They were copies of the proclamation wherewith the heroic +adventurer—confident in the power of his diction—meant to reconquer +the hearts of that army whom he had once led to such glorious victories.</p> + +<p>De Marmont read the long document through from end to end in a +half-audible voice. Now and again he gave a little cry—a cry of loyalty +at mention of those victories of Austerlitz and Jena, of Wagram and of +Eckmühl, at mention of those imperial eagles which had led the armies of +France conquering and glorious throughout the length and breadth of +Europe—or a cry of shame and horror at mention of the traitor whose +name he bore and who had delivered France into the hands of strangers +and his Emperor into those of his enemies.</p> + +<p>And when the young enthusiast had read the proclamation through to the +end he raised the paper to his lips and fervently kissed the imprint of +the revered name: "Napoleon."</p> + +<p>"Now tell me more about him," he said finally, as he leaned both elbows +on the table and fastened his glowing eyes upon the equally heated face +of Surgeon-Captain Emery.</p> + +<p>"Well!" resumed the latter, "as I told you we bivouacked among the olive +trees on the way to Cannes. The Emperor had already sent Cambronne on +ahead with forty of his grenadiers to commandeer what horses and mules +he could, as we were not able to bring many across from Porto Ferrajo. +'Cambronne,' he said, 'you shall be in command of the vanguard in this +the finest campaign which I have ever undertaken. My orders are to you, +that you do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> fire a single unnecessary shot. Remember that I mean to +reconquer my imperial crown without shedding one drop of French blood.' +Oh! he is in excellent health and in excellent spirits! Such a man! such +fire in his eyes! such determination in his actions! Younger, bolder +than ever! I tell you, friends," continued the worthy surgeon-captain as +he brought the palm of his hand flat down upon the table with an +emphatic bang, "that it is going to be a triumphal march from end to end +of France. The people are mad about him. At Roccavignon, just outside +Cannes, where we bivouacked on Thursday, men, women and children were +flocking round to see him, pressing close to his knees, bringing him +wine and flowers; and the people were crying 'Vive l'Empereur!' even in +the streets of Grasse."</p> + +<p>"But the army, man? the army?" cried de Marmont, "the garrisons of +Antibes and Cannes and Grasse? did the men go over to him at once?—and +the officers?"</p> + +<p>"We hadn't encountered the army yet when I parted from him on Friday," +retorted Emery with equal impatience, "we didn't go into Antibes and we +avoided Cannes. You must give him time. The people in the towns wouldn't +at first believe that he had come back. General Masséna, who is in +command at Marseilles, thought fit to spread the news that a band of +Corsican pirates had landed on the littoral and were marching +inland—devastating villages as they marched. The peasants from the +mountains were the first to believe that the Emperor had really come, +and they wandered down in their hundreds to see him first and to spread +the news of his arrival ahead of him. By the time we reached Castellane +the mayor was not only ready to receive him but also to furnish him with +5,000 rations of meat and bread, with horses and with mules. Since then +he has been at Digue and at Sisteron. Be sure that the garrisons of +those cities have rallied round his eagles by now."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>Then whilst Emery paused for breath de Marmont queried eagerly:</p> + +<p>"And so . . . there has been no contretemps?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing serious so far," replied the other. "We had to abandon our guns +at Grasse, the Emperor felt that they would impede the rapidity of his +progress; and our second day's march was rather trying, the mountain +passes were covered in snow, the lancers had to lead their horses +sometimes along the edge of sheer precipices, they were hampered too by +their accoutrements, their long swords and their lances; others—who had +no mounts—had to carry their heavy saddles and bridles on those +slippery paths. But <i>he</i> was walking too, stick in hand, losing his +footing now and then, just as they did, and once he nearly rolled down +one of those cursed precipices: but always smiling, always cheerful, +always full of hope. At Antibes young Casabianca got himself arrested +with twenty grenadiers—they had gone into the town to requisition a few +provisions. When the news reached us some of the younger men tried to +persuade the Emperor to march on the city and carry the place by force +of arms before Casabianca's misfortune got bruited abroad: 'No!' he +said, 'every minute is precious. All we can do is to get along faster +than the evil news can travel. If half my small army were captive at +Antibes, I would still move on. If every man were a prisoner in the +citadel, I would march on alone.' That's the man, my friends," cried +Emery with ever-growing enthusiasm, "that's our Emperor!"</p> + +<p>And he cast a defiant look on Clyffurde, as much as to say: "Bring on +your Wellington and your armies now! the Emperor has come back! the +whole of France will know how to guard him!" Then he turned to de +Marmont.</p> + +<p>"And now tell me about Grenoble," he said.</p> + +<p>"Grenoble had an inkling of the news already last night," said de +Marmont, whose enthusiasm was no whit cooler<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> than that of Emery. +"Marchand has been secretly assembling his troops, he has sent to +Chambéry for the 7th and 11th regiment of the line and to Vienne for the +4th Hussars. Inside Grenoble he has the 5th infantry regiment, the 4th +of artillery and 3rd of engineers, with a train squadron. This morning +he is holding a council of war, and I know that he has been in constant +communication with Masséna. The news is gradually filtering through into +the town: people stand at the street corners and whisper among +themselves; the word 'l'Empereur' seemed wafted upon this morning's +breeze. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And by to-night we'll have the Emperor's proclamation to his people +pinned up on the walls of the Hôtel de Ville!" exclaimed Emery, and with +hands still trembling with excitement he gathered the precious papers +once more together and slipped them back into his coat pocket. Then he +made a visible effort to speak more quietly: "And now," he said, "for +one very important matter which, by the way, was the chief reason for my +asking you, my good de Marmont, to meet me here before my getting to +Grenoble."</p> + +<p>"Yes? What is it?" queried de Marmont eagerly.</p> + +<p>Surgeon-Captain Emery leaned across the table; instinctively he dropped +his voice, and though his excitement had not abated one jot, though his +eyes still glowed and his hands still fidgeted nervously, he had forced +himself at last to a semblance of calm.</p> + +<p>"The matter is one of money," he said slowly. "The Emperor has some +funds at his disposal, but as you know, that scurvy government of the +Restoration never handed him over one single sou of the yearly revenue +which it had solemnly agreed and sworn to pay to him with regularity. +Now, of course," he continued still more emphatically, "we who believe +in our Emperor as we believe in God, we are absolutely convinced that +the army will rally round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> him to a man. The army loves him and has +never ceased to love him, the army will follow him to victory and to +death. But the most loyal army in the world cannot subsist without +money, and the Emperor has little or none. The news of his triumphant +march across France will reach Paris long before he does, it will enable +His Most Excellent and Most Corpulent Majesty King Louis to skip over to +England or to Ghent with everything in the treasury on which he can lay +his august hands. Now, de Marmont, do you perceive what the serious +matter is which caused me to meet you here—twenty-five kilomètres from +Grenoble, where I ought to be at the present moment."</p> + +<p>"Yes! I do perceive very grave trouble there," said de Marmont with +characteristic insouciance, "but one which need not greatly worry the +Emperor. I am rich, thank God! and . . ."</p> + +<p>"And may God bless you, my dear de Marmont, for the thought," broke in +Emery earnestly, "but what may be called a large private fortune is as +nothing before the needs of an army. Soon, of course, the Emperor will +be in peaceful possession of his throne and will have all the resources +of France at his command, but before that happy time arrives there will +be much fighting, and many days—weeks perhaps—of anxiety to go +through. During those weeks the army must be paid and fed; and your +private fortune, my dear de Marmont, would—even if the Emperor were to +accept your sacrifice, which is not likely—be but as a drop in the +mighty ocean of the cost of a campaign. What are two or even three +millions, my poor, dear friend? It is forty, fifty millions that the +Emperor wants."</p> + +<p>De Marmont this time had nothing to say. He was staring moodily and +silently before him.</p> + +<p>"Now, that is what I have come to talk to you about," continued Emery +after a few seconds' pause, during which he had once more thrown a +quick, half-suspicious glance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> on the impassive, though obviously +interested face of the Englishman, "always supposing that Monsieur here +is on our side."</p> + +<p>"Neither on your side nor on the other, Captain," said Bobby Clyffurde +with a slight tone of impatience. "I am a mere tradesman, as I have had +the honour to tell you: a spectator at this game of political conflicts. +M. de Marmont knows this well, else he had not asked me to accompany him +to-day nor offered me a mount to enable me to do so. But if you prefer +it," he added lightly, "I can go for a stroll while you discuss these +graver matters."</p> + +<p>He would have risen from the table only that Emery immediately detained +him.</p> + +<p>"No offence, Sir," said the surgeon-captain bluntly.</p> + +<p>"None, I give you my word," assented the Englishman. "It is only natural +that you should wish to discuss such grave matters in private. Let me go +and see to our <i>déjeuner</i> in the meanwhile. I feel sure that the +fricandeau is done to a turn by now. I'll have it dished up in ten +minutes. I pray you take no heed of me," he added in response to +murmured protestations from both de Marmont and Emery. "I would much +prefer to know nothing of these grave matters which you are about to +discuss."</p> + +<p>This time Emery did not detain him as he rose and turned to go within in +order to find mine host or Annette. The two Frenchmen took no further +heed of him: wrapped up in the all engrossing subject-matter they +remained seated at the table, leaning across it, their faces close to +one another, their eyes dancing with excitement, questions and +answers—as soon as the stranger's back was turned—already tumbling out +in confusion from their lips.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde turned to have a last look at them before he went into the +house, and while he did so his habitual, pleasant, gently-ironical smile +still hovered round his lips. But anon a quickly-suppressed sigh chased +the smile away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> and over his face there crept a strange shadow—a look +of longing and of bitter regret.</p> + +<p>It was only for a moment, however, the next he had passed his hand +slowly across his forehead, as if to wipe away that shadow and smooth +out those lines of unspoken pain.</p> + +<p>Soon his cheerful voice was heard, echoing along the low rafters of the +little inn, loudly calling for Annette and for news of the baked +omelette and the fricandeau.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>"You really could have talked quite freely before Mr. Clyffurde, my good +Emery," said de Marmont as soon as Bobby had disappeared inside the inn. +"He really takes no part in politics. He is a friend alike of the Comte +de Cambray and of glovemaker Dumoulin. He has visited our Bonapartist +Club. Dumoulin has vouched for him. You see, he is not a fighting man."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that you are equally sure that he is not an English spy," +remarked Emery drily.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am sure," asserted de Marmont emphatically. "Dumoulin has +known him for years in business, though this is the first time that +Clyffurde has visited Grenoble. He is in the glove trade in England: his +interests are purely commercial. He came here with introductions to the +Comte de Cambray from a mutual friend in England who seems to be a +personage of vast importance in his own country and greatly esteemed by +the Comte—else you may be sure that that stiff-necked aristocrat would +never have received a tradesman as a guest in his house. But it was in +Dumoulin's house that I first met Bobby Clyffurde. We took a liking to +one another, and since then have ridden a great deal together. He is a +splendid horseman, and I was very glad to be able to offer him a mount +at different times. But our political conversations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> have never been +very heated or very serious. Clyffurde maintains a detached impersonal +attitude both to the Bonapartist and the royalist cause. I asked him to +accompany me this morning and he gladly consented, for he dearly loves a +horse. I assure you, you might have said anything before him."</p> + +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> I'm sorry if I've been obstinate and ungracious," said the +surgeon-captain, but in a tone that obviously belied his words, "though, +frankly, I am very glad that we are alone for the moment."</p> + +<p>He paused, and with a wave of his thick, short-fingered hand he +dismissed this less important subject-matter and once more spoke with +his wonted eagerness on that which lay nearest his heart.</p> + +<p>"Now listen, my good de Marmont," he said, "do you recollect last April +when the Empress—poor wretched, misguided woman—fled so precipitately +from Paris, abandoning the capital, France and her crown at one and the +same time, and taking away with her all the Crown diamonds and money and +treasure belonging to the Emperor? She was terribly ill-advised, of +course, but . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember all that perfectly well," broke in de Marmont +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you know that that abominable Talleyrand sent one of his +emissaries after the Empress and her suite . . . that this +emissary—Dudon was his name—reached Orleans just before Marie Louise +herself got there. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And that he ordered, in Talleyrand's name, the seizure of the Empress' +convoy as soon as it arrived in the city," broke in de Marmont again. +"Yes. I recollect that abominable outrage perfectly. Dudon, backed by +the officers of the gendarmerie, managed to rob the Empress of +everything she had, even to the last knife and fork, even to the last +pocket handkerchief belonging to the Emperor and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> marked with his +initials. Oh! it was monstrous! hellish! devilish! It makes my blood +boil whenever I think of it . . . whenever I think of those fatuous, +treacherous Bourbons gloating over those treasures at the Tuileries, +while our Empress went her way as effectually despoiled as if she had +been waylaid by so many brigands on a public highway."</p> + +<p>"Just so," resumed Emery quietly after de Marmont's violent storm of +wrath had subsided. "But I don't know if you also recollect that when +the various cases containing the Emperor's belongings were opened at the +Tuileries, there was just as much disappointment as gloating. Some of +those fatuous Bourbons—as you so rightly call them—expected to find +some forty or fifty millions of the Emperor's personal savings +there—bank-notes and drafts on the banks of France, of England and of +Amsterdam, which they were looking forward to distributing among +themselves and their friends. Your friend the Comte de Cambray would no +doubt have come in too for his share in this distribution. But M. de +Talleyrand is a very wise man! always far-seeing, he knows the +improvidence, the prodigality, the ostentation of these new masters whom +he is so ready to serve. Ere Dudon reached Paris with his booty, M. de +Talleyrand had very carefully eliminated therefrom some five and twenty +million francs in bank-notes and bankers' drafts, which he felt would +come in very usefully once for a rainy day."</p> + +<p>"But M. de Talleyrand is immensely rich himself," protested de Marmont.</p> + +<p>"Ah! he did not eliminate those five and twenty millions for his own +benefit," said Emery. "I would not so boldly accuse him of theft. The +money has been carefully put away by M. de Talleyrand for the use of His +Corpulent Majesty Louis de Bourbon, XVIIIth of that name."</p> + +<p>Then as Emery here made a dramatic pause and looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> triumphantly across +at his companion, de Marmont rejoined somewhat bewildered:</p> + +<p>"But . . . I don't understand . . ."</p> + +<p>"Why I am telling you this?" retorted Emery, still with that triumphant +air. "You shall understand in a moment, my friend, when I tell you that +those five and twenty millions were never taken north to Paris, they +were conveyed in strict secrecy south to Grenoble!"</p> + +<p>"To Grenoble?" exclaimed de Marmont.</p> + +<p>"To Grenoble," reasserted Emery.</p> + +<p>"But why? . . . why such a long way?—why Grenoble?" queried the young +man in obvious puzzlement.</p> + +<p>"For several reasons," replied Emery. "Firstly both the préfet of the +department and the military commandant are hot royalists, whilst the +province of Dauphiné is not. In case of any army corps being sent down +there to quell possible and probable revolt, the money would have been +there to hand: also, if you remember, there was talk at the time of the +King of Naples proving troublesome. There, too, in case of a campaign on +the frontier, the money lying ready to hand at Grenoble could prove very +useful. But of course I cannot possibly pretend to give you all the +reasons which actuated M. de Talleyrand when he caused five and twenty +millions of stolen money to be conveyed secretly to Grenoble rather than +to Paris. His ways are more tortuous than any mere army-surgeon can +possibly hope to gauge. Enough that he did it and that at this very +moment there are five and twenty millions which are the rightful +property of the Emperor locked up in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +at Grenoble."</p> + +<p>"But . . ." murmured de Marmont, who still seemed very bewildered at all +that he had heard, "are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," affirmed Emery emphatically. "Dumoulin brought news of it +to the Emperor at Elba several months ago, and you know that he and his +Bonapartist Club always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> have plenty of spies in and around the +préfecture. The money is there," he reiterated with still greater +emphasis, "now the question is how are we going to get hold of it."</p> + +<p>"Easily," rejoined de Marmont with his habitual enthusiasm, "when the +Emperor marches into Grenoble and the whole of the garrison rallies +around him, he can go straight to the Hôtel de Ville and take everything +that he wants."</p> + +<p>"Always supposing that M. le préfet does not anticipate the Emperor's +coming by conveying the money to Paris or elsewhere before we can get +hold of it," quoth Emery drily.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Fourier is not sufficiently astute for that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But we must not neglect possibilities. That money would be +a perfect godsend to the Emperor. It was originally his too, <i>par Dieu!</i> +Anyhow, my good de Marmont, that is what I wanted to talk over quietly +with you before I get into Grenoble. Can you think of any means of +getting hold of that money in case Fourier has the notion of conveying +it to some other place of safety?"</p> + +<p>"I would like to think that over, Emery," said de Marmont thoughtfully. +"As you say, we of the Bonapartist Club at Grenoble have spies inside +the Hôtel de Ville. We must try and find out what Fourier means to do as +soon as he realises that the Emperor is marching on Grenoble: and then +we must act accordingly and trust to luck and good fortune."</p> + +<p>"And to the Emperor's star," rejoined Emery earnestly; "it is once more +in the ascendant. But the matter of the money is a serious one, de +Marmont. You will deal with it seriously?"</p> + +<p>"Seriously!" ejaculated de Marmont.</p> + +<p>Once more the unquenchable fire of undying devotion to his hero glowed +in the young man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Everything pertaining to the Emperor," he said fervently, "is serious +to me. For a whim of his I would lay down my life. I will think of all +you have told me, Emery,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> and here, beneath the blue dome of God's sky, +I swear that I will get the Emperor the money that he wants or lose mine +honour and my life in the attempt.</p> + +<p>"Amen to that," rejoined Emery with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You +are a brave man, de Marmont, would to heaven every Frenchman was like +you. And now," he added with sudden transition to a lighter mood, "let +Annette dish up the fricandeau. Here's our friend the tradesman, who was +born to be a soldier. M. Clyffurde," he added loudly, calling to the +Englishman who had just appeared in the doorway of the inn, "my grateful +thanks to you—not only for your courtesy, but for expediting that +delicious <i>déjeuner</i> which tickles my appetite so pleasantly. I pray you +sit down without delay. I shall have to make an early start after the +meal, as I must be inside Grenoble before dark."</p> + +<p>Clyffurde, good-humoured, genial, quiet as usual, quickly responded to +the surgeon-captain's desire. He took his seat once more at the table +and spoke of the weather and the sunshine, the Alps and the snows the +while Annette spread a cloth and laid plates and knives and forks before +the distinguished gentlemen.</p> + +<p>"We all want to make an early start, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" ejaculated +de Marmont gaily. "We have serious business to transact this night with +M. le Comte de Cambray, and partake too of his gracious hospitality, +what?"</p> + +<p>Emery laughed.</p> + +<p>"Not I forsooth," he said. "M. le Comte would as soon have Satan or +Beelzebub inside his doors. And I marvel, my good de Marmont, that you +have succeeded in keeping on such friendly terms with that royalist +ogre."</p> + +<p>"I?" said de Marmont, whose inward exultation radiated from his entire +personality, "I, my dear Emery? Did you not know that I am that royalist +ogre's future son-in-law? <i>Par Dieu!</i> but this is a glorious day for me +as well as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> glorious day for France! Emery, dear friend, wish me joy +and happiness. On Tuesday I wed Mademoiselle Crystal de +Cambray—to-night we sign our marriage contract! Wish me joy, I say! +she's a bride well worth the winning! Napoleon sets forth to conquer a +throne—I to conquer love. And you, old sober-face, do not look so +glum!" he added, turning to Clyffurde.</p> + +<p>And his ringing laugh seemed to echo from end to end of the narrow +valley.</p> + +<p>After which a lighter atmosphere hung around the table outside the +"Auberge du Grand Dauphin." There was but little talk of the political +situation, still less of party hatred and caste prejudices. The hero's +name was still on the lips of the two men who worshipped him, and +Clyffurde, faithful to his attitude of detachment from political +conflicts, listened quite unmoved to the impassioned dithyrambs of his +friends.</p> + +<p>But so absorbed were these two in their conversation and their joy that +they failed to notice that Clyffurde hardly touched the excellent +<i>déjeuner</i> set before him and left mine host's fine Burgundy almost +untasted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD REGIME</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>On that same day and at about the same time when Victor de Marmont and +his English friend first turned their horses up the bridle path and +sighted Notre Dame de Vaulx (when, if you remember, the young Frenchman +drew rein and fell to apostrophising the hamlet, the day, the hour and +the glorious news which he was expecting to hear) at about that +self-same hour, I say, in the Château de Brestalou, situate on the right +bank of the Isère at a couple of kilomètres from Grenoble, the big +folding doors of solid mahogany which lead from the suite of vast +reception rooms to the small boudoir beyond were thrown open and Hector +appeared to announce that M. le Comte de Cambray would be ready to +receive Mme. la Duchesse in the library in a quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen thereupon closed the gilt-edged, +much-bethumbed Missal which she was reading—since this was Sunday and +she had been unable to attend Mass owing to that severe twinge of +rheumatism in her right knee—and placed it upon the table close to her +elbow; then with delicate, bemittened hand she smoothed out one unruly +crease in her puce silk gown and finally looked up through her round, +bone-rimmed spectacles at the sober-visaged, majestic personage who +stood at attention in the doorway.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>"Tell M. le Comte, my good Hector," she said with slow deliberation, +"that I will be with him at the time which he has so graciously +appointed."</p> + +<p>Hector bowed himself out of the room with that perfect decorum which +proclaims the well-trained domestic of an aristocratic house. As soon as +the tall mahogany doors were closed behind him, Mme. la Duchesse took +her spectacles off from her high-bred nose and gave a little sniff, +which caused Mademoiselle Crystal to look up from her book and mutely to +question Madame with those wonderful blue eyes of hers.</p> + +<p>"Ah ça, my little Crystal," was Madame's tart response to that eloquent +enquiry, "does Monsieur my brother imagine himself to be a second +Bourbon king, throning it in the Tuileries and granting audiences to the +ladies of his court? or is it only for my edification that he plays this +magnificent game of etiquette and ceremonial and other stupid +paraphernalia which have set me wondering since last night? M. le Comte +will receive Mme. la Duchesse in a quarter of an hour forsooth," she +added, mimicking Hector's pompous manner; "<i>par Dieu!</i> I should think +indeed that he would receive his own sister when and where it suited her +convenience—not his."</p> + +<p>Crystal was silent for a moment or two: and in those same expressive +eyes which she kept fixed on Madame's face, the look of mute enquiry had +become more insistent. It almost seemed as if she were trying to +penetrate the underlying thoughts of the older woman, as if she tried to +read all that there was in that kindly glance of hidden sarcasm, of +humour or tolerance, or of gentle contempt. Evidently what she read in +the wrinkled face and the twinkling eyes pleased and reassured her, for +now the suspicion of a smile found its way round the corners of her +sensitive mouth.</p> + +<p>There are some very old people living in Grenoble at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> the present day +whose mothers or fathers have told them that they remembered +Mademoiselle Crystal de Cambray quite well in the year that M. le Comte +returned from England and once more took possession of his ancestral +home on the bank of the Isère, which those awful Terrorists of '92 had +taken away from him. Louis XVIII., the Benevolent king, had promptly +restored the old château to its rightful owner, when he himself, after +years of exile, mounted the throne of his fathers, and the usurper +Bonaparte was driven out of France by the armies of Europe allied +against him, and sent to cool his ambitions in the island fastnesses of +Elba.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle de Cambray was just nineteen in that year 1814 which was so +full of grace for the Bourbon dynasty and all its faithful adherents, +and in February of the following year she attained her twentieth +birthday. Of course you know that she was born in England, and that her +mother was English, for had not M. le Comte been obliged to fly before +the fury of the Terrorists, whose dreaded Committee of Public Safety had +already arrested him as a "suspect" and condemned him to the guillotine. +He had contrived to escape death by what was nothing short of a miracle, +and he had lived for twenty years in England, and there had married a +beautiful English girl from whom Mademoiselle Crystal had inherited the +deep blue eyes and brilliant skin which were the greatest charm of her +effulgent beauty.</p> + +<p>I like to think of her just as she was on that memorable day early in +March of the year 1815—just as she sat that morning on a low stool +close to Mme. la Duchesse's high-backed chair, and with her eyes fixed +so enquiringly upon Madame's kind old face. Her fair hair was done up in +the quaint loops and curls which characterised the mode of the moment: +she had on a white dress cut low at the neck and had wrapped a soft +cashmere shawl round her shoul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>ders, for the weather was cold and there +was no fire in the stately open hearth.</p> + +<p>Having presumably arrived at the happy conclusion that Madame's wrath +was only on the surface, Crystal now said gently:</p> + +<p>"Father loves all this etiquette, <i>ma tante</i>; it brings back memories of +a very happy past. It is the only thing he has left now," she added with +a little sigh, "the only bit out of the past which that awful revolution +could not take away from him. You will try to be indulgent to him, aunt +darling, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indulgent?" retorted the old lady with a shrug of her shoulders, "of +course I'll be indulgent. It's no affair of mine and he does as he +pleases. But I should have thought that twenty years spent in England +would have taught him commonsense, and twenty years' experience in +earning a precarious livelihood as a teacher of languages in . . ."</p> + +<p>"Hush, aunt, for pity's sake," broke in Crystal hurriedly, and she put +up her hands almost as if she wished to stop the words in the old lady's +mouth.</p> + +<p>"All right! all right! I won't mention it again," said Mme. la Duchesse +good-humouredly. "I have only been in this house four and twenty hours, +my dear child, but I have already learned my lesson. I know that the +memory of the past twenty years must be blotted right out of our +minds—out of the minds of every one of us. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Not of mine, aunt, altogether," murmured Crystal softly.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear—not altogether," rejoined Mme. la Duchesse as she placed +one of her fine white hands on the fair head of her niece; "your +beautiful mother belongs to the unforgettable memories, of those twenty +years. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And not only my beautiful mother, aunt dear. There are men living in +England to-day whose names must remain for ever engraved upon my +father's heart, as well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> on mine—if we should ever forget those +names and neglect for one single day our prayers of gratitude for their +welfare and their reward, we should be the meanest and blackest of +ingrates."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Madame, "I am glad that Monsieur my brother remembers all +that in the midst of his restored grandeur."</p> + +<p>"Have you been wronging him in your heart all this while, <i>ma tante</i>?" +asked Crystal, and there was a slight tone of reproach in her voices +"you used not to be so cynical once upon a time."</p> + +<p>"Cynical!" exclaimed the Duchesse, "bless the child's heart! Of course I +am cynical—at my age what can you expect?—and what can I expect? But +there, don't distress yourself, I am not wronging your father—far from +it—only this grandeur—the state dinner last night—his gracious +manner—all that upset me. I am not used to it, my dear, you see. Twenty +years in that diminutive house in Worcester have altered my tastes, I +see, more than they did your father's . . . and these last ten months +which he seems to have spent in reviving the old grandeur of his +ancestral home, I spent, remember, with the dear little Sisters of Mercy +at Boulogne, praying amidst very humble surroundings that the future may +not become more unendurable than the past."</p> + +<p>"But you are glad to be back at Brestalou again? and you <i>will</i> remain +here with us—always?" queried Crystal, and with tender eagerness she +clasped the older woman's hands closely in her own.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," replied Madame gently. "I am glad to be back in the old +château—my dear old home—where I was very happy and very young +once—oh, so very long ago! And I will remain with your father and look +after him all the time that his young bird is absent from the nest."</p> + +<p>Again she stroked her niece's soft, wavy hair with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> gesture which +apparently was habitual with her, and it seemed as if a note of sadness +had crept into her brisk, sharp voice. Over Crystal's cheeks a wave of +crimson had quickly swept at her aunt's last words: and the eyes which +she now raised to Madame's kindly face were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"It seems so terribly soon now, <i>ma tante</i>," she said wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Hm, yes!" quoth Mme. la Duchesse drily, "time has a knack now and then +of flying faster than we wish. Well, my dear, so long as this day brings +you happiness, the old folk who stay at home have no right to grumble."</p> + +<p>Then as Crystal made no reply and held her little head resolutely away, +Madame said more insistently:</p> + +<p>"You are happy, Crystal, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am happy, <i>ma tante</i>," replied Crystal quickly, "why should +you ask?"</p> + +<p>But still she would not look straight into Madame's eyes, and the tone +of Madame's voice sounded anything but satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Well!" she said, "I ask, I suppose, because I want an answer . . . a +satisfactory answer."</p> + +<p>"You have had it, <i>ma tante</i>, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear. If you are happy, I am satisfied. But last night it +seemed to me as if your ideas of your own happiness and those of your +father on the same subject were somewhat at variance, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, <i>ma tante</i>," rejoined Crystal quietly, "father and I are quite +of one mind on that subject."</p> + +<p>"But your heart is pulling a different way, is that it?"</p> + +<p>Then as Crystal once more relapsed into silence and two hot tears +dropped on the Duchesse's wrinkled hands, the old woman added softly:</p> + +<p>"St. Genis, who hasn't a sou, was out of the question, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Crystal shook her head in silence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>"And that young de Marmont is very rich?"</p> + +<p>"He is his uncle's heir," murmured Crystal.</p> + +<p>"And you, child, are marrying a kinsman of that abominable Duc de Raguse +in order to regild our family escutcheon."</p> + +<p>"My father wished it so very earnestly," rejoined Crystal, who was +bravely swallowing her tears, "and I could not bear to run counter to +his desire. The Duc de Raguse has promised father that when I am a de +Marmont he will buy back all the forfeited Cambray estates and restore +them to us: Victor will be allowed to take up the name of Cambray and +. . . and . . . Oh!" she exclaimed passionately, "father has had such a +hard life, so much sorrow, so many disappointments, and now this poverty +is so horribly grinding. . . . I couldn't have the heart to disappoint +him in this!"</p> + +<p>"You are a good child, Crystal," said Madame gently, "and no doubt +Victor de Marmont will prove a good husband to you. But I wish he wasn't +a Marmont, that's all."</p> + +<p>But this remark, delivered in the old lady's most uncompromising manner, +brought forth a hot protest from Crystal:</p> + +<p>"Why, aunt," she said, "the Duc de Raguse is the most faithful servant +the king could possibly wish to have. It was he and no one else who +delivered Paris to the allies and thus brought about the downfall of +Bonaparte, and the restoration of our dear King Louis to the throne of +France."</p> + +<p>"Tush, child, I know that," said Madame with her habitual tartness of +speech, "I know it just as well as history will know it presently, and +methinks that history will pass on the Duc de Raguse just about the same +judgment as I passed on him in my heart last year. God knows I hate that +Bonaparte as much as anyone, and our Bourbon kings are almost as much a +part of my religion as is the hierarchy of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> saints, but a traitor like +de Marmont I cannot stomach. What was he before Bonaparte made him a +marshal of France and created him Duc de Raguse?—An out-at-elbows +ragamuffin in the ranks of the republican army. To Bonaparte he owed +everything, title, money, consideration, even the military talents which +gave him the power to turn on the hand that had fed him. Delivered Paris +to the allies indeed!" continued the Duchesse with ever-increasing +indignation and volubility, "betrayed Bonaparte, then licked the boots +of the Czar of Russia, of the Emperor, of King Louis, of all the deadly +enemies of the man to whom he owed his very existence. Pouah! I hate +Bonaparte, but men like Ney and Berthier and de Marmont sicken me! Thank +God that even in his life-time, de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, has already +an inkling of what posterity will say of him. Has not the French +language been enriched since the capitulation of Paris with a new word +that henceforth and for all times will always spell disloyalty: and +to-day when we wish to describe a particularly loathsome type of +treachery, do we not already speak of a 'ragusade'?"</p> + +<p>Crystal had listened in silence to her aunt's impassioned tirade. Now +when Madame paused—presumably for want of breath—she said gently:</p> + +<p>"That is all quite true, <i>ma tante</i>, but I am afraid that father would +not altogether see eye to eye with you in this. After all," she added +naively, "a pagan may become converted to Christianity without being +called a traitor to his false gods, and the Duc de Raguse may have +learnt to hate the idol whom he once worshipped, and for this profession +of faith we should honour him, I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes," grunted Madame, unconvinced, "but we need not marry into his +family."</p> + +<p>"But in any case," retorted Crystal, "poor Victor cannot help what his +uncle did."</p> + +<p>"No, he cannot," assented the Duchesse decisively, "and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> he is very rich +and he loves you, and as your husband he will own all the old Cambray +estates which his uncle of ragusade fame will buy up for him, and +presently your son, my darling, will be Comte de Cambray, just as if +that awful revolution and all that robbing and spoliation had never +been. And of course everything will be for the best in the best possible +world, if only," concluded the old lady with a sigh, "if only I thought +that you would be happy."</p> + +<p>Crystal took care not to meet Madame's kindly glance just then, for of a +surety the tears would have rushed in a stream to her eyes. But she +would not give way to any access of self-pity: she had chosen her part +in life and this she meant to play loyally, without regret and without +murmur.</p> + +<p>"But of course, <i>ma tante</i>, I shall be happy," she said after a while; +"as you say, M. de Marmont is very kind and good and I know that father +will be happy when Brestalou and Cambray and all the old lands are once +more united in his name. Then he will be able to do something really +great and good for the King and for France . . . and I too, perhaps. +. . ."</p> + +<p>"You, my poor darling!" exclaimed Madame, "what can you do, I should +like to know."</p> + +<p>A curious, dreamy look came into the girl's eyes, just as if a +foreknowledge of the drama in which she was so soon destined to play the +chief <i>rôle</i> had suddenly appeared to her through the cloudy and distant +veils of futurity.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, <i>ma tante</i>," she said slowly, "but somehow I have always +felt that one day I might be called upon to do something for France. +There are times when that feeling becomes so strong that all thoughts of +myself and of my own happiness fade from my knowledge, and it seems as +if my duty to France and to the King were more insistent than my duty to +God."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>"Poor France!" sighed Madame.</p> + +<p>"Yes! that is just what I feel, <i>ma tante</i>. Poor France! She has +suffered so much more than we have, and she has regained so much less! +Enemies still lurk around her; the prowling wolf is still at her gate: +even the throne of her king is still insecure! Poor, poor France! our +country, <i>ma tante</i>! she should be our pride, our glory, and she is weak +and torn and beset by treachery! Oh, if only I could do something for +France and for the King I would count myself the happiest woman on God's +earth."</p> + +<p>Now she was a woman transformed. She seemed taller and stronger. Her +girlishness, too, had vanished. Her cheeks burned, her eyes glowed, her +breath came and went rapidly through her quivering nostrils. Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen looked down on her niece with naive admiration.</p> + +<p>"<i>Hé</i> my little Joan of Arc!" she said merrily, "<i>par Dieu</i>, your +eloquence, <i>ma mignonne</i>, has warmed up my old heart too. But, please +God, our dear old country will not have need of heroism again."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure of that, <i>ma tante</i>."</p> + +<p>"You are thinking of that ugly rumour which was current in Grenoble +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"If that Corsican brigand dares to set his foot again upon this land +. . ." began the old lady vehemently.</p> + +<p>"Let him come, <i>ma tante</i>," broke in Crystal exultantly, "we are ready +for him. Let him come, and this time when God has punished him again, it +won't be to Elba that he will be sent to expiate his villainies!"</p> + +<p>"Amen to that, my child," concluded Madame fervently. "And now, my dear, +don't let me forget the hour of my audience. Hector will be back in a +moment or two, and I must not lose any more time gossiping. But before I +go, little one, will you tell me one thing?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will, <i>ma tante</i>."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>"Quite frankly?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>"Well then, I want to know . . . about that English friend of yours. +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clyffurde, you mean?" asked Crystal. "What about him?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know, my dear, what I ought to make of this Mr. Clyffurde."</p> + +<p>Crystal laughed lightly, and looked up with astonished, inquiring, +wide-open eyes to her aunt.</p> + +<p>"What should you want to make of him, <i>ma tante</i>?" she asked, wholly +unperturbed under the scrutinising gaze of Madame.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the Duchesse abruptly. "I have had my answer, thank you, +dear."</p> + +<p>Evidently she had no intention of satisfying the girl's obvious +curiosity, for she suddenly rose from her chair, gathered her lace shawl +round her shoulders, and said with abrupt transition:</p> + +<p>"The hour for my audience is at hand. Not one minute must I keep my +august brother waiting. I can hear Hector's footsteps in the corridor, +and I will not have him see me in a fluster."</p> + +<p>Crystal looked as if she would have liked to question Madame a little +more closely about her former cryptic utterance, but there was something +in the sarcastic twinkle of those sharp eyes which caused the young girl +to refrain from too many questions, and—very wisely—she decided to +hold her peace.</p> + +<p>Madame la Duchesse threw a quick glance into the gilt-framed mirror +close by. She smoothed a stray wisp of hair which had escaped from under +her lace cap: she gave a tug to her fichu and a pat to her skirts. Then, +as the folding doors were once more thrown open, and Hector—stiff, +solemn and pompous—appeared under the lintel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> Madame threw back her +head in the grand manner pertaining to the old days at Versailles.</p> + +<p>"Precede me, Hector," she said with consummate dignity, "to M. le +Comte's audience chamber."</p> + +<p>And with hands folded before her, her aristocratic head very erect, her +mouth and eyes composed to reposeful majesty, she sailed out through the +mahogany doors in a style which no one who had never curtsied to the +Bien-aimé Monarque could possibly hope to imitate.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>For some little while after her aunt had sailed out of the room Crystal +remained where she was sitting on the low stool beside the high-backed +chair just vacated by the Duchess.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were still glowing with the enthusiasm which had excited the +admiration of the older woman a while ago, and the high colour in her +cheeks, the tremor of her nostrils showed that that same enthusiasm +still kept her nerves on the quiver and caused the young, hot blood to +course swiftly through her veins.</p> + +<p>But something of the lightness of her mood had vanished, something of +the exultant joy of the heroine had given place to the calmer +resignation of the potential martyr. Gradually the colour faded from her +cheeks, the light died slowly out of her eyes, and the young fair head +so lately tossed triumphantly in the ardour of patriotism sunk gradually +upon the still heaving breast.</p> + +<p>Crystal was alone, and she was not ashamed to let the tears well up to +her eyes. Despite her proud profession of faith the insistent longing +for happiness, which is the inalienable share of youth, knocked at the +portals of her heart.</p> + +<p>Not even to the devoted aunt who had brought her up, who had known her +every childish sorrow and gleaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> her every childish tear, not even to +her would she show what it cost her to sink her individuality, her +longings, her hopes of happiness into that overwhelming sense of duty to +her father's wishes and to the demands of her name, her country and her +caste.</p> + +<p>She had repeated it to herself often and often that her father had +suffered so much for the sake of his convictions, had endured poverty +and exile where opportunism would have dictated submission to the +usurper Bonaparte and the acceptance of riches and honours at his hands, +he had remained loyal in his beliefs, steadfast to his King through +twenty years of misery, akin to squalor, the remembrance of which would +for ever darken the rest of his life, but he had endured all that +without bitterness, scarcely without a murmur. And now that twenty years +of self-abnegation were at last finding their reward, now that the King +had come into his own, and the King's faithful friends were being +compensated in accordance with the length of the King's purse, would it +not be arrant cowardice and disloyalty for her—an only child—to oppose +her father's will in the ordering of her own future, to refuse the rich +marriage which would help to restore dignity and grandeur to the ancient +name and to the old home?</p> + +<p>Crystal de Cambray was born in England: she had lived the whole of her +life in a small provincial town in this country. But she had been +brought up by her aunt, the Duchesse douairière d'Agen, and through that +upbringing she had been made to imbibe from her earliest childhood all +the principles of the old regime. These principles consisted chiefly of +implicit obedience by the children to the parents' decrees anent +marriage, of blind worship of the dignity of station, and of duty to +name and caste, to king and country.</p> + +<p>The thought would never have entered Crystal's head that she could have +the right to order her own future, or to demand from life her own +special brand of happiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>Now her fate had been finally decided on by her father, and she was on +the point of taking—at his wish—the irrevocable step which would bind +her for ever to a man whom she could never love. But she did not think +of rebellion, she had no thought of grumbling at Fate or at her father: +Crystal de Cambray had English blood in her veins, the blood that makes +men and women accept the inevitable with set teeth and a determination +to do the right thing even if it hurts. Crystal, therefore, had no +thought of rebellion; she only felt an infinity of regret for something +sweet and intangible which she had hardly realised, hardly expected, +which had been too elusive to be called hope, too remote to be termed +happiness. She gave herself the luxury of this short outburst of +tears—since nobody was near and nobody could see: there was a fearful +pain in her heart while she rested her head against the cushion of the +stiff high-backed chair and cried till it seemed that she never could +cry again whatever sorrow life might still have in store for her.</p> + +<p>But when that outburst of grief had subsided she dried her eyes +resolutely, rose to her feet, arranged her hair in front of the mirror, +and feeling that her eyes were hot and her head heavy, she turned to the +tall French window, opened it and stepped out into the garden.</p> + +<p class="section_break">It had suffered from years of neglect, the shrubs grew rank and stalky, +the paths were covered with weeds, but there was a slight feeling of +spring in the air, the bare branches of the trees seemed swollen with +the rising sap, and upon the edge of the terrace balustrade a +red-breasted robin cocked its mischievous little eye upon her.</p> + +<p>At the bottom of the garden there was a fine row of ilex, with here and +there a stone seat, and in the centre an old stone fountain moss-covered +and overshadowed by the hanging boughs of the huge, melancholy trees. +Crystal was very fond of this avenue; she liked to sit and watch the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +play of sunshine upon the stone of the fountain: the melancholy quietude +of the place suited her present mood. It was so strange to look on these +big evergreen trees and on the havoc caused by weeds and weather on the +fine carving of the fountain, and to think of their going on here year +after year for the past twenty years, while that hideous revolution had +devastated the whole country, while men had murdered each other, +slaughtered women and children and committed every crime and every +infamy which lust of hate and revenge can engender in the hearts of men. +The old trees and the stone fountain had remained peaceful and still the +while, unscathed and undefiled, grand, dignified and majestic, while the +owner of the fine château of the gardens and the fountain and of half +the province around earned a precarious livelihood in a foreign land, +half-starved in wretchedness and exile.</p> + +<p>She, Crystal, had never seen them until some ten months ago, when her +father came back into his own, and leading his daughter by the hand, had +taken her on a tour of inspection to show her the magnificence of her +ancestral home. She had loved at once the fine old château with its +lichen-covered walls, its fine portcullis and crenelated towers, she had +wept over the torn tapestries, the broken furniture, the family +portraits which a rough and impious rabble had wilfully damaged, she had +loved the wide sweep of the terrace walls, the views over the Isère and +across the mountain range to the peaks of the Grande Chartreuse, but +above all she had loved this sombre row of ilex trees, the broken +fountain, the hush and peace which always lay over this secluded portion +of the neglected garden.</p> + +<p>The earth was moist and soft under her feet, the cheeky robin, curious +after the manner of his kind, had followed her and was flying from seat +to seat ahead of her watching her every movement.</p> + +<p>"Crystal!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>At first she thought that it was the wind sighing through the trees, so +softly had her name been spoken, so like a sigh did it seem as it +reached her ears.</p> + +<p>"Crystal!"</p> + +<p>This time she could not be mistaken, someone had called her name, +someone was walking up the avenue rapidly, behind her. She would not +turn round, for she knew who it was that had called and she would not +allow surprise to resuscitate the outward signs of regret. But she stood +quite still while those hasty footsteps drew nearer, and she made a +great and successful effort to keep back the tears which once more +threatened to fill her eyes.</p> + +<p>A minute later she felt herself gently drawn to the nearest stone seat, +and she sank down upon it, still trying very hard to remain calm and +above all not to cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! why, why did you come, Maurice?" she said at last, when she felt +that she could look with some semblance of composure on the +half-sitting, half-kneeling figure of the young man beside her. Despite +her obstinate resistance he had taken her hand in his and was covering +it with kisses.</p> + +<p>"Why did you come," she reiterated pleadingly, "you must know that it is +no use. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe it. I won't believe it," he protested passionately. +"Crystal, if you really cared you would not send me away from you."</p> + +<p>"If I really cared?" she said dully. "Maurice, sometimes I think that if +<i>you</i> really cared you would not make it so difficult for me. Can't you +see," she added more vehemently, "that every time you come you make me +more wretched, and my duty seem more hard? till sometimes I feel as if I +could not bear it any longer—as if in the struggle my poor heart would +suddenly break."</p> + +<p>"And because your father is so heartless . . ." he began vehemently.</p> + +<p>"My father is not heartless, Maurice," she broke in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> firmly, "but you +must try and see for yourself how impossible it was for him to give his +consent to our marriage even if he knew that my happiness was bounded by +your love. . . . Just think it over quietly—if you had a sister who was +all the world to you, would <i>you</i> consent to such a marriage? . . ."</p> + +<p>"With a penniless, out-at-elbows, good-for-nothing, you mean?" he said, +with a kind of resentful bitterness. "No! I dare say I should not. +Money!" he cried impetuously as he jumped to his feet, and burying his +hands in the pockets of his breeches he began pacing the path up and +down in front of her. "Money! always money! Always talk of duty and of +obedience . . . always your father and his sorrows and his desires . . . +do I count for nothing, then? Have I not suffered as he has suffered? +did I not live in exile as he did? Have I not made sacrifices for my +king and for my ideals? Why should I suffer in the future as well as in +the past? Why, because my king is powerless or supine in giving me back +what was filched from my father, should that be taken from me which +alone gives me incentive to live . . . you, Crystal," he added as once +again he knelt beside her. He encircled her shoulders with his arms, +then he seized her two hands and covered them with kisses. "You are all +that I want in this world. After all, we can live in poverty . . . we +have been brought up in poverty, you and I . . . and even then it is +only a question of a few years . . . months, perhaps . . . the King must +give us back what that abominable Revolution took from us—from us who +remained loyal to him and because we were loyal. My father owned rich +lands in Burgundy . . . the King must give those back to me . . . he +must . . . he shall . . . he will . . . if only you will be patient, +Crystal . . . if only you will wait. . . ."</p> + +<p>The fiery blood of his race had rushed into Maurice de St. Genis' head. +He was talking volubly and at random,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> but he believed for the moment +everything that he said. Tears of passion and of fervour came to his +eyes and he buried his head in the folds of Crystal's white gown and +heavy sobs shook his bent shoulders. She, moved by that motherly +tenderness which is seldom absent from a good woman's love, stroked with +soothing fingers the matted hair from his hot forehead. For a while she +remained silent while the paroxysm of his passionate revolt spent itself +in tears, then she said quite softly:</p> + +<p>"I think, Maurice, that in your heart you do us all an injustice—to me, +to father, to yourself, even to the King. The King cannot give you that +which is not his; your property—like ours—was confiscated by that +awful revolutionary government because your father and mine followed +their king into exile. The rich lands were sold for the benefit of the +nation: the nation presumably has spent the money, but the people who +bought the lands in good faith cannot be dispossessed by our King +without creating bitter ill-feeling against himself, as you well know, +and once more endangering his throne. Those are the facts, Maurice, +against which no hot-blooded argument, no passionate outbursts can +prevail. The King gave my father back this dear old castle, because it +happened to have proved unsaleable, and was still on the nation's hands. +Our rich lands—like yours—can never be restored to us: that hard fact +has been driven into poor father's head for the past ten months, and now +it has gone home at last. These grey walls, this neglected garden, a few +sticks of broken furniture, a handful of money from an over-generous +king's treasury is all that Fate has rescued for him from out the ashes +of the past. My father is every whit as penniless as you are yourself, +Maurice, as penniless as ever he was in England, when he gave French and +drawing lessons to a lot of young ragamuffins in a middle-class school. +But Victor de Marmont is rich, and his money—once I am his wife—will +pur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>chase back all the estates which have been in our family for +hundreds of years. For my father's sake, for the sake of the name which +I bear, I must give my hand to Victor de Marmont, and pray to God that +some semblance of peace, the sense of duty accomplished, will compensate +me for the happiness to which I shall bid good-bye to-day."</p> + +<p>"And you are willing to be sold to young de Marmont for the price of a +few acres of land!" retorted Maurice de St. Genis hotly. "Oh! it's +monstrous, Crystal, monstrous! All the more monstrous as you seem quite +unconscious of the iniquity of such a bargain."</p> + +<p>"Women of our caste, Maurice," she said in her turn with a touch of +bitterness, "have often before now been sacrificed for the honour of +their name. Men have been accustomed to look to them for help when their +own means of gilding their escutcheons have failed."</p> + +<p>"And you are willing, Crystal, to be sold like this?" he insisted.</p> + +<p>"My father wishes me to marry Victor de Marmont," she replied with calm +dignity, "and after all that he has suffered for the honour and dignity +of our name, I should deem myself craven and treacherous if I refused to +obey him in this."</p> + +<p>Maurice de St. Genis once more rose to his feet. All his vehemence, his +riotous outbreak of rebellion seemed to have been smothered beneath a +pall of dreary despair. His young, good-looking face appeared sombre and +sullen, his restless, dark eyes wandered obstinately from Crystal's fair +bent head to her stooping shoulders, to her hands, to her feet. It +seemed as if he was trying to engrave an image of her upon his turbulent +brain, or that he wished to force her to look on him again before she +spoke the last words of farewell.</p> + +<p>But she wouldn't look at him. She kept her head reso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>lutely averted, +looking far out over the undulating lands of Dauphiné and Savoie to +where in the far distant sky the stately Alps reared their snow-crowned +heads. At last, unable to bear her silence any longer, he said dully:</p> + +<p>"Then it is your last word, Crystal?"</p> + +<p>"You know that it must be, Maurice," she murmured in reply. "My marriage +contract will be signed to-night, and on Tuesday I go to the altar with +Victor de Marmont."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to tear your love for me out of your heart?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Were its roots a little deeper, a little stronger, you could not do it, +Crystal. But they are not so deep as those of your love for your +father."</p> + +<p>She made no reply . . . perhaps something in her heart told her that +after all he might be right, that, unbeknown to herself even, there were +tendrils of affection in her that bound her, ivylike, and so closely—to +her father that even her girlish love for Maurice de St. Genis—the +first hint of passion that had stirred the smooth depths of her young +heart—could not tear her from that bulwark to which she clung.</p> + +<p>"This is the last time that I shall see you, Crystal," said Maurice with +a sigh, seeing that obviously she meant to allow his taunt to pass +unchallenged.</p> + +<p>"You are going away?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"How can I stay—here, under this roof, where anon—in a few +hours—Victor de Marmont will have claims upon you which, if he +exercised them before me would make me wish to kill him or myself. I +shall leave to-morrow—early . . ." he added more quietly.</p> + +<p>"Where will you go?"</p> + +<p>"To Paris—or abroad—or the devil, I don't know which," he replied +moodily.</p> + +<p>"Father will be sorry if you go?" she murmured under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> her breath, for +once again the tears were very insistent, and she felt an awful pain in +her heart, because of the misery which she had to inflict upon him.</p> + +<p>"Your father has been passing kind to me. He gave me a home when I was +homeless, but it is not fitting that I should trespass any longer upon +his hospitality."</p> + +<p>"Have you made any plans?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. But the King will give me a commission. There will be some +fighting now . . . there was a rumour in Grenoble last night that +Bonaparte had landed at Antibes, and was marching on Paris."</p> + +<p>"A false rumour as usual, I suppose," she said indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he replied.</p> + +<p>There was silence between them for awhile after that, silence only +broken by the twitter of birds wakening to the call of spring. The word +"good-bye" remained unspoken: neither of them dared to say it lest it +broke the barrier of their resolve.</p> + +<p>"Will you not go now, Maurice?" said Crystal at last in pitiable +pleading, "we only make each other hopelessly wretched, by lingering +near one another after this."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go, Crystal," he replied, and this time he really forced +his voice to tones of gentleness, although his inward resentment still +bubbled out with every word he spoke, "I wish I could have left this +house altogether—now—at once—but your father would resent it—and he +has been so kind . . . I wish I could go to-day," he reiterated +obstinately, "I dread seeing Victor de Marmont in this house, where the +laws of chivalry forbid my striking him in the face."</p> + +<p>"Maurice!" she exclaimed reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Nay! I'll not say it again: I have sufficient reason left in me, I +think, to show these parvenus how we, of the old regime, bear every blow +which fate chooses to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> deal to us. They have taken everything from us, +these new men—our lives, our lands, our very means of subsistence—now +they have taken to filching our sweethearts—curse them! but at least +let us keep our dignity!"</p> + +<p>But again she was silent. What was there to say that had not been +said?—save that unspoken word "good-bye." And he asked very softly:</p> + +<p>"May I kiss you for the last time, Crystal?"</p> + +<p>"No, Maurice," she replied, "never again."</p> + +<p>"You are still free," he urged. "You are not plighted to de Marmont +yet."</p> + +<p>"No—not actually—not till to-night. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Then . . . mayn't I?"</p> + +<p>"No, Maurice," she said decisively.</p> + +<p>"Your hand then?"</p> + +<p>"If you like." He knelt down close to her; she yielded her hand to him +and he with his usual impulsiveness covered it with kisses into which he +tried to infuse the fervour of a last farewell.</p> + +<p>Then without another word he rose to his feet and walked away with a +long and firm stride down the avenue. Crystal watched his retreating +figure until the overhanging branches of the ilex hid him from her view.</p> + +<p>She made no attempt now to restrain her tears, they flowed +uninterruptedly down her cheeks and dropped hot and searing upon her +hands. With Maurice's figure disappearing down the dark avenue, with the +echo of his footsteps dying away in the distance, the last chapter of +her first book of romance seemed to be closing with relentless finality.</p> + +<p>The afternoon sun was hidden behind a bank of grey clouds, the northeast +wind came whistling insistently through the trees:—even that feeling of +spring in the air had vanished. It was just a bleak grey winter's day +now. Crystal felt herself shivering with cold. She drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> her shawl more +closely round her shoulders, then with eyes still wet with tears, but +small head held well erect, she rose to her feet and walked rapidly back +to the house.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Madame la Duchesse had in the meanwhile followed Hector along the +corridor and down the finely carved marble staircase. At a monumental +door on the ground floor the man paused, his hand upon the massive +ormolu handle, waiting for Madame la Duchesse to come up.</p> + +<p>He felt a little uncomfortable at her approach for here in the big +square hall the light was very clear, and he could see Madame's keen, +searching eyes looking him up and down and through and through. She even +put up her lorgnon and though she was not very tall, she contrived to +look Hector through them straight between the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is M. le Comte in there?" Madame la Duchesse deigned to ask as she +pointed with her lorgnon to the door.</p> + +<p>"In the small library beyond, Madame la Duchesse," replied Hector +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"And . . ." she queried with sharp sarcasm, "is the antechamber very +full of courtiers and ladies just now?"</p> + +<p>A quick, almost imperceptible blush spread over Hector's impassive +countenance, and as quickly vanished again.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," he said imperturbably, "is disengaged at the present +moment. He seldom receives visitors at this hour."</p> + +<p>On Madame's mobile lips the sarcastic curl became more marked. "And I +suppose, my good Hector," she said, "that since M. le Comte has only +granted an audience to his sister to-day, you thought it was a good +opportunity for putting yourself at your ease and wearing your patched +and mended clothes, eh?"</p> + +<p>Once more that sudden wave of colour swept over Hector's solemn old +face. He was evidently at a loss how to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> take Mme. la Duchesse's +remark—whether as a rebuke or merely as one of those mild jokes of +which every one knew that Madame was inordinately fond.</p> + +<p>Something of his dignity of attitude seemed to fall away from him as he +vainly tried to solve this portentous problem. His mouth felt dry and +his head hot, and he did not know on which foot he could stand with the +least possible discomfort, and how he could contrive to hide from Madame +la Duchesse's piercing eyes that very obvious patch in the right knee of +his breeches.</p> + +<p>"Madame la Duchesse will forgive me, I hope," he stammered painfully.</p> + +<p>But already Madame's kind old face had shed its mask of raillery.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Hector," she said gently, "you are a good fellow, and +there's no occasion to tell me lies about the rich liveries which are +put away somewhere, nor about the numerous retinue and countless number +of flunkeys, all of whom are having unaccountably long holidays just +now. It's no use trying to throw dust in my eyes, my poor friend, or put +on that pompous manner with me. I know that the carpets are not all +temporarily rolled up or the best of the furniture at a repairer's in +Grenoble—what's the use of pretending with me, old Hector? Those days +at Worcester are not so distant yet, are they? when all the family had +to make a meal off a pound of sausages, or your wife Jeanne, God bless +her! had to pawn her wedding-ring to buy M. le Comte de Cambray a +second-hand overcoat."</p> + +<p>"Madame la Duchesse, I humbly pray your Grace . . ." entreated Hector +whose wrinkled, parchment-like face had become the colour of a peony, +and who, torn between the respect which he had for the great lady and +his horror at what she said was ready to sink through the floor in his +confusion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>"Eh what, man?" retorted the Duchesse lightly, "there is no one but +these bare walls to hear me; and my words, you'll find, will clear the +atmosphere round you—it was very stifling, my good Hector, when I +arrived. There now!" she added, "announce me to M. le Comte and then go +down to Jeanne and tell her that I for one have no intention of +forgetting Worcester, or the pawned ring, or the sausages, and that the +array of Grenoble louts dressed up for the occasion in moth-eaten +liveries dragged up out of some old chests do not please me half as much +round a dinner table as did her dear old, streaming face when she used +to bring us the omelette straight out of the kitchen."</p> + +<p>She dropped her lorgnon, and folding her aristocratic hands upon her +bosom, she once more assumed the grand manner pertaining to Versailles, +and Hector having swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, threw +open the huge, folding doors and announced in a stentorian voice:</p> + +<p>"Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen!"</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>M. le Comte de Cambray was at this time close on sixty years of age, and +the hardships which he had endured for close upon a quarter of a century +had left their indelible impress upon his wrinkled, careworn face.</p> + +<p>But no one—least of all a younger man—could possibly rival him in +dignity of bearing and gracious condescension of manner. He wore his +clothes after the old-time fashion, and clung to the powdered peruque +which had been the mode at the Tuileries and Versailles before these +vulgar young republicans took to wearing their own hair in its natural +colour.</p> + +<p>Now as he advanced from the inner room to meet Mme. la Duchesse, he +seemed a perfect presentation or rather resuscitation of the courtly and +vanished epoch of the Roi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> Soleil. He held himself very erect and walked +with measured step, and a stereotyped smile upon his lips. He paused +just in front of Mme. la Duchesse, then stopped and lightly touched with +his lips the hand which she held out to him.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Monsieur my brother," said Madame in her loudly-pitched voice, +"do you expect me to make before you my best Versailles curtsey, +for—with my rheumatic knee—I warn you that once I get down, you might +find it very difficult to get me up on my feet again."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Sophie," admonished M. le Comte impatiently, "you must try and +subdue your voice a little, we are no longer in Worcester remember—"</p> + +<p>But Madame only shrugged her thin shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" she retorted, "there's only good old Hector on the other side of +the door, and you don't imagine you are really throwing dust in <i>his</i> +eyes do you? . . . good old Hector with his threadbare livery and his +ill-fed belly. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Sophie!" exclaimed M. le Comte who was really vexed this time, "I must +insist. . . ."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right my dear André. . . . I won't say anything more. +Take me to your audience chamber and I'll try to behave like a lady."</p> + +<p>A smile that was distinctly mischievous still hovered round Madame's +lips, but she forced her eyes to look grave: she held out the tips of +her fingers to her brother and allowed him to lead her in the correct +manner into the next room.</p> + +<p>Here M. le Comte invited her to sit in an upright chair which was placed +at a convenient angle close to his bureau while he himself sat upon a +stately throne-like armchair, one shapely knee bent, the other slightly +stretched forward, displaying the fine silk stocking and the set of his +well-cut, satin breeches. Mme. la Duchesse kept her hands folded in +front of her, and waited in silence for her brother to speak, but he +seemed at a loss how to begin, for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> piercing gaze was making him +feel very uncomfortable: he could not help but detect in it the twinkle +of good-humoured sarcasm.</p> + +<p>Madame of course would not help him out. She enjoyed his obvious +embarrassment, which took him down somewhat from that high altitude of +dignity wherein he delighted to soar.</p> + +<p>"My dear Sophie," he began at last, speaking very deliberately and +carefully choosing his words, "before the step which Crystal is about to +take to-day becomes absolutely irrevocable, I desired to talk the matter +over with you, since it concerns the happiness of my only child."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a little late, my good André," remarked Madame drily, "to talk +over a question which has been decided a month ago? The contract is to +be signed to-night. Our present conversation might have been held to +some purpose soon after the New Year. It is distinctly useless to-day."</p> + +<p>At Madame's sharp and uncompromising words a quick blush had spread over +the Comte's sunken cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I could not consult you before, Sophie," he said coldly, "you chose to +immure yourself in a convent, rather than come back straightaway to your +old home as we all did when our King was restored to his throne. The +post has been very disorganised and Boulogne is a far cry from +Brestalou, but I did write to you as soon as Victor de Marmont made his +formal request for Crystal's hand. To this letter I had no reply, and I +could not keep him waiting in indefinite uncertainty."</p> + +<p>"Your letter did not reach me until a month after it was written, as I +had the honour to tell you in my reply."</p> + +<p>"And that same reply only reached me a fortnight ago," retorted the +Comte, "when Crystal had been formally engaged to Victor de Marmont for +over a month and the date for the signature of the contract and the +wedding-day had both been fixed. I then sent a courier at great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> expense +and in great haste immediately to you," he added with a tone of +dignified reproach, "I could do no more."</p> + +<p>"Or less," she assented tartly. "And here I am, my dear brother, and I +am not blaming you for delays in the post. I merely remarked that it was +too late now to consult me upon a marriage which is to all intents and +purposes, an accomplished fact already."</p> + +<p>"That is so of course. But it would be a great personal satisfaction to +me, my good Sophie, to hear your views upon the matter. You have brought +Crystal up from babyhood: in a measure, you know her better than even +I—her father—do and therefore you are better able than I am to judge +whether Crystal's marriage with de Marmont will be conducive to her +permanent happiness."</p> + +<p>"As to that, my good André," quoth Madame, "you must remember that when +our father and mother decided that a marriage between me and M. le Duc +d'Agen was desirable, my personal feelings and character were never +consulted for a moment . . . and I suppose that—taking life as it is—I +was never particularly unhappy as his wife."</p> + +<p>"And what do you adduce from those reminiscences, my dear Sophie?" +queried the Comte de Cambray suavely.</p> + +<p>"That Victor de Marmont is not a bad fellow," replied Madame, "that he +is no worse than was M. le Duc d'Agen and that therefore there is no +reason to suppose that Crystal will be any more unhappy than I was in my +time."</p> + +<p>"But . . ."</p> + +<p>"There is no 'but' about it, my good André. Crystal is a sweet girl and +a devoted daughter. She will make the best, never you fear! of the +circumstances into which your blind worship of your own dignity and of +your rank have placed her."</p> + +<p>"My good Sophie," broke in the Count hotly, "you talk <i>par Dieu</i>, as if +I was forcing my only child into a distasteful marriage."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>"No, I do not talk as if you were forcing Crystal into a distasteful +marriage, but you know quite well that she only accepted Victor de +Marmont because it was your wish, and because his millions are going to +buy back the old Cambray estates, and she is so imbued with the sense of +her duty to you and to the family escutcheon, that she was willing to +sacrifice every personal feeling in the fulfilment of that duty."</p> + +<p>"By 'personal feeling' I suppose that you mean St. Genis."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes . . . I do," said Madame laconically.</p> + +<p>"Crystal was very much in love with him at one time."</p> + +<p>"She still is."</p> + +<p>"But even you, my dear sister, must admit that a marriage with St. Genis +was out of the question," retorted the Count in his turn with some +acerbity. "I am very fond of Maurice and his name is as old and great as +ours, but he hasn't a sou, and you know as well as I do by now that the +restoration of confiscated lands is out of the question . . . parliament +will never allow it and the King will never dare. . . ."</p> + +<p>"I know all that, my poor André," sighed Madame in a more conciliatory +spirit, "I know moreover that you yourself haven't a sou either, in +spite of your grandeur and your prejudices. . . . Money must be got +somehow, and our ancient family 'scutcheon must be regilt at any cost. I +know that we must keep up this state pertaining to the old regime, we +must have our lacqueys and our liveries, sycophants around us and gaping +yokels on our way when we sally out into the open. . . . We must blot +out from our lives those twenty years spent in a democratic and +enlightened country where no one is ashamed either of poverty or of +honest work—and above all things we must forget that there has ever +been a revolution which sent M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Ordre du Lys, Seigneur of +Montfleury and St. Eynard, hereditary Grand Chamberlain of France, to +teach French and drawing in an English Grammar School. . . ."</p> + +<p>"You wrong me there, Sophie, I wish to forget nothing of the past twenty +years."</p> + +<p>"I thought that you had given your memory a holiday."</p> + +<p>"I forget nothing," he reiterated with dignified emphasis, "neither the +squalid poverty which I endured, nor the bitter experiences which I +gleaned in exile."</p> + +<p>"Nor the devotion of those who saved your life."</p> + +<p>"And yours . . ." he interposed.</p> + +<p>"And mine, at risk of their own."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that not a day goes by but +Crystal and I speak of Sir Percy Blakeney, and of his gallant League of +the Scarlet Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>"Well! we owe our lives to them," said Madame with deep-drawn sigh. "I +wonder if we shall ever see any of those fine fellows again!"</p> + +<p>"God only knows," sighed M. le Comte in response. "But," he continued +more lightly, "as you know the League itself has ceased to be. We saw +very little of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney latterly for we were too poor +ever to travel up to London. Crystal and I saw them, before we left +England, and I then had the opportunity of thanking Sir Percy Blakeney +for the last time, for the many valuable French lives which his plucky +little League had saved."</p> + +<p>"He is indeed a gallant gentleman," said Mme. la Duchesse gently, even +whilst her bright, shrewd eyes gazed straight out before her as if on +the great bare walls of her own ancestral home, the ghostly hand of +memory had conjured up pictures of long ago:—her own, her husband's and +her brother's arrest here in this very room, the weeping servants, the +rough, half-naked soldiery—then the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> agony of a nine days' imprisonment +in a dark, dank prison-cell filled to overflowing with poor wretches in +the same pitiable plight as herself—the hasty trial, the insults, the +mockery:—her husband's death in prison and her own thoughts of +approaching death!</p> + +<p>Then the gallant deed!—after all these years she could still see +herself, her brother and Jeanne, her faithful maid, and poor devoted +Hector all huddled up in a rickety tumbril, being dragged through the +streets of Paris on the road to death. On ahead she had seen the weird +outline of the guillotine silhouetted against the evening sky, whilst +all around her a howling, jeering mob sang that awful refrain: "Cà ira! +Cà ira! les aristos à la lanterne!"</p> + +<p>Then it was that she had felt unseen hands snatching her out of the +tumbril, she had felt herself being dragged through that yelling crowd +to a place where there was silence and darkness and where she knew that +she was safe: thence she was conveyed—she hardly realised how—to +England, where she and her brother and Jeanne and Hector, their faithful +servants, had found refuge for over twenty years.</p> + +<p>"It was a gallant deed!" whispered Mme. la Duchesse once again, "and one +which will always make me love every Englishman I meet, for the sake of +one who was called The Scarlet Pimpernel."</p> + +<p>"Then why should you attribute vulgar ingratitude to me?" retorted the +Comte reproachfully. "My feelings I imagine are as sensitive as your +own. Am I not trying my best to be kind to that Mr. Clyffurde, who is an +honoured guest in my house—just because it was Sir Percy Blakeney who +recommended him to me?"</p> + +<p>"It can't be very difficult to be kind to such an attractive young man," +was Mme. la Duchesse's dry comment. "Recommendation or no recommendation +I liked your Mr. Clyffurde and if it were not so late in the day and +there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> was still time to give my opinion, I should suggest that Mr. +Clyffurde's money could quite well regild our family 'scutcheon. He is +very rich too, I understand."</p> + +<p>"My good Sophie!" exclaimed the Comte in horror, "what can you be +thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"Crystal principally," replied the Duchesse. "I thought Clyffurde a far +nicer fellow than de Marmont."</p> + +<p>"My dear sister," said the Comte stiffly, "I really must ask you to +think sometimes before you speak. Of a truth you make suggestions and +comments at times which literally stagger one."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything so very staggering in the idea of a penniless +aristocrat marrying a wealthy English gentleman. . . ."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman! my dear!" exclaimed the Comte.</p> + +<p>"Well! Mr. Clyffurde is a gentleman, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"His family is irreproachable, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Well then?"</p> + +<p>"But . . . Mr. Clyffurde . . . you know, my dear. . . ."</p> + +<p>"No! I don't know," said Madame decisively. "What is the matter with Mr. +Clyffurde?"</p> + +<p>"Well! I didn't like to tell you, Sophie, immediately on your arrival +yesterday," said the Comte, who was making visible efforts to mitigate +the horror of what he was about to say: "but . . . as a matter of fact +. . . this Mr. Clyffurde whom you met in my house last night . . . who +sat next to you at my table . . . with whom you had that long and +animated conversation afterwards . . . is nothing better than a +shopkeeper!"</p> + +<p>No doubt M. le Comte de Cambray expected that at this awful +announcement, Mme. la Duchesse's indignation and anger would know no +bounds. He was quite ready even now with a string of apologies which he +would formulate directly she allowed him to speak. He certainly felt +very guilty towards her for the undesirable acquaintance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> which she had +made in her brother's own house. Great was his surprise therefore when +Madame's wrinkled face wreathed itself into a huge smile, which +presently broadened into a merry laugh, as she threw back her head, and +said still laughing:</p> + +<p>"A shopkeeper, my dear Comte? A shopkeeper at your aristocratic table? +and your meal did not choke you? Why! God forgive you, but I do believe +you are actually becoming human."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have told you sooner, of course," began the Comte stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Why bless your heart, I knew it soon enough."</p> + +<p>"You knew it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I did. Mr. Clyffurde told me that interesting fact before he +had finished eating his soup."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you that . . . that he traded in . . . in gloves?"</p> + +<p>"Well! and why not gloves?" she retorted. "Gloves are very nice things +and better manufactured at Grenoble than anywhere else in the world. The +English coquettes are very wise in getting their gloves from Grenoble +through the good offices of Mr. Clyffurde."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Sophie . . . Mr. Clyffurde buys gloves here from Dumoulin +and sells them again to a shop in London . . . he buys and sells other +things too and he does it for profit. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Of course he does. . . . You don't suppose that any one would do that +sort of thing for pleasure, do you? Mr. Clyffurde," continued Madame +with sudden seriousness, "lost his father when he was six years old. His +mother and four sisters had next to nothing to live on after the bulk of +what they had went for the education of the boy. At eighteen he made up +his mind that he would provide his mother and sisters with all the +luxuries which they had lacked for so long and instead of going into the +army<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>—which had been the burning ambition of his boyhood—he went into +business . . . and in less than ten years has made a fortune."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have learnt a great deal of the man's family history in so +short a time."</p> + +<p>"I liked him: and I made him talk to me about himself. It was not easy, +for these English men are stupidly reticent, but I dragged his story out +of him bit by bit—or at least as much of it as I could—and I can tell +you, my good André, that never have I admired a man so much as I do this +Mr. Clyffurde . . . for never have I met so unselfish a one. I declare +that if I were only a few years younger," she continued whimsically, +"and even so . . . heigh! but I am not so old after all. . . ."</p> + +<p>"My dear Sophie!" ejaculated the Comte.</p> + +<p>"Eh, what?" she retorted tartly, "you would object to a tradesman as a +brother-in-law, would you? What about a de Marmont for a son? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Victor de Marmont is a soldier in the army of our legitimate King. His +uncle the Duc de Raguse. . . ."</p> + +<p>"That's just it," broke in Madame again, "I don't like de Marmont +because he is a de Marmont."</p> + +<p>"Is that the only reason for your not liking him?"</p> + +<p>"The only one," she replied. "But I must say that this Mr. Clyffurde +. . ."</p> + +<p>"You must not harp on that string, Sophie," said the Comte sternly. "It +is too ridiculous. To begin with Clyffurde never cared for Crystal, and, +secondly, Crystal was already engaged to de Marmont when Clyffurde +arrived here, and, thirdly, let me tell you that my daughter has far too +much pride in her ever to think of a shopkeeper in the light of a +husband even if he had ten times this Mr. Clyffurde's fortune."</p> + +<p>"Then everything is comfortably settled, André. And now that we have +returned to our sheep, and have both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> arrived at the conclusion that +nothing stands in the way of Crystal's marriage with Victor de Marmont, +I suppose that I may presume that my audience is at an end."</p> + +<p>"I only wished to hear your opinion, my good Sophie," rejoined M. le +Comte. And he rose stiffly from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well! and you have heard it, André," concluded Madame as she too rose +and gathered her lace shawl round her shoulders. "You may thank God, my +dear brother, that you have in Crystal such an unselfish and obedient +child, and in me such a submissive sister. Frankly—since you have +chosen to ask my opinion at this eleventh hour—I don't like this de +Marmont marriage, though I have admitted that I see nothing against the +young man himself. If Crystal is not unhappy with him, I shall be +content: if she is, I will make myself exceedingly disagreeable, both to +him and to you, and that being my last word, I have the honour to wish +you a polite 'good-day.'"</p> + +<p>She swept her brother an imperceptibly ironical curtsey, but he detained +her once again, as she turned to go.</p> + +<p>"One word more, Sophie," he said solemnly. "You will be amiable with +Victor de Marmont this evening?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will," she replied tartly. "Ah, ça, Monsieur my brother, do +you take me for a washerwoman?"</p> + +<p>"I am entertaining the préfet for the <i>souper du contrat</i>," continued +the Comte, quietly ignoring the old lady's irascibility of temper, "and +the general in command of the garrison. They are both converted +Bonapartists, remember."</p> + +<p>"Hm!" grunted Madame crossly, "whom else are you going to entertain?"</p> + +<p>"Mme. Fourier, the préfet's wife, and Mlle. Marchand, the general's +daughter, and of course the d'Embruns and the Genevois."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"Some half dozen or so notabilities of Grenoble. We shall sit down +twenty to supper, and afterwards I hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> a reception in honour of the +coming marriage of Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou with M. Victor de +Marmont. One must do one's duty. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And pander to one's love of playing at being a little king in a limited +way. . . . All right! I won't say anything more. I promise that I won't +disgrace you, and that I'll put on a grand manner that will fill those +worthy notabilities and their wives with awe and reverence. And now, I'd +best go," she added whimsically, "ere my good resolutions break down +before your pomposity . . . I suppose the louts from the village will be +again braced up in those moth-eaten liveries, and the bottles of thin +Médoc purchased surreptitiously at a local grocer's will be duly +smothered in the dust of ages. . . . All right! all right! I'm going. +For gracious' sake don't conduct me to the door, or I'll really disgrace +you under Hector's uplifted nose. . . . Oh! shades of cold beef and +treacle pies of Worcester . . . and washing-day . . . do you remember? +. . . all right! all right, Monsieur my brother, I am dumb as a carp at +last."</p> + +<p>And with a final outburst of sarcastic laughter, Madame finally sailed +across the room, while Monsieur fell back into his throne-like chair +with a deep sigh of relief.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>But even as Madame la Duchesse douairière d'Agen placed her aristocratic +hand upon the handle of the door, it was opened from without with what +might almost be called undue haste, and Hector appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Hector in truth! but not the sober-faced, pompous, dignified Hector of +the household of M. le Comte de Cambray, but a red-visaged, excited, +fussy Hector, who for the moment seemed to have forgotten where he was, +as well as the etiquette which surrounded the august personality of his +master. He certainly contrived to murmur a humble if somewhat hasty +apology, when he found himself confronted at the door by Mme. la +Duchesse herself, but he did not stand aside to let her pass.</p> + +<p>She had stepped back into the room at sight of him, for obviously +something very much amiss must have occurred thus to ruffle Hector's +ingrained dignity, and even M. le Comte was involuntarily dragged out of +his aristocratic aloofness and almost—though not quite—jumped up from +his chair.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Hector?" he exclaimed, peremptorily.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," gasped Hector, who seemed to be out of breath from sheer +excitement, "the Corsican . . . he has come back . . . he is marching on +Grenoble . . . M. le préfet is here! . . ."</p> + +<p>But already M. le Comte had—with a wave of the hand as it were—swept +the unwelcome news aside.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>"What rubbish is this?" he said wrathfully. "You have been dreaming in +broad daylight, Hector . . . and this excitement is most unseemly. Show +Mme. la Duchesse to her apartments," he added with a great show of calm.</p> + +<p>Hector—thus reproved, coloured a yet more violent crimson to the very +roots of his hair. He made a great effort to recover his pomposity and +actually took up the correct attitude which a well-trained servant +assumes when he shows a great lady out of a room. But even then—despite +the well-merited reproof—he took it upon himself to insist:</p> + +<p>"M. le préfet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received +at once."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired," +said the Comte with quiet dignity.</p> + +<p>"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait +and hear what M. le préfet has to say. The news—if news there be—is +too interesting to be kept waiting for me."</p> + +<p>And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la +Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the +chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur +of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for +orders.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should +leave the room before the préfet was shown in: he did not approve of +women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly +showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le préfet +alone. But he said nothing—probably because he knew that words would be +useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently +had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector:</p> + +<p>"Show M. le préfet in."</p> + +<p>He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> chair—one leg +bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf +and well-shod foot. M. le préfet Fourier, mathematician of great renown, +and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to +whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity.</p> + +<p>And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two +men—the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the +new—presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray +calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and +moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques +Fourier, man of science and préfet of the Isère department, short of +stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid!</p> + +<p>Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very +best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to +kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had +finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said +with kindly condescension:</p> + +<p>"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!"</p> + +<p>"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy préfet, still somewhat out of +breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ."</p> + +<p>"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was +meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject +matter.</p> + +<p>"What news?" exclaimed the préfet who, on the other hand, was unable to +contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't +you heard? . . ."</p> + +<p>"No," replied the Comte.</p> + +<p>And Madame also shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added +M. le Comte gravely.</p> + +<p>"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> be calling Heaven +to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . . +But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days +ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and +swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!"</p> + +<p>"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le préfet," rejoined the Comte drily. +"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this +half-year past."</p> + +<p>"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier, +who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had +succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The préfet of the Var +department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on +Thursday last to the préfet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier +straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in +command of the troops in that district, promptly evacuated Digue because +they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it +seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since +then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted +in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a +triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the +news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming +nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it +immediately."</p> + +<p>"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful +and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?"</p> + +<p>"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne +yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard +turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population +acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The préfet and the +general in command had intended to resist his entry into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> city, but +all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the +préfet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with +him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has +retreated on Sisteron."</p> + +<p>Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the préfet's narrative +with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some +of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed +cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which +toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted +steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes +were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin +lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what +he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak. +It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly:</p> + +<p>"And in your department, M. le préfet, in Grenoble itself, is the +garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?"</p> + +<p>M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure.</p> + +<p>"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would +not care to prophesy. Général Marchand does not intend to trust entirely +to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambéry for +reinforcements . . . but . . ."</p> + +<p>The préfet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in +the loyalty of those reinforcements either.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you +don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the +King?"</p> + +<p>But M. le préfet apparently had meant to suggest it.</p> + +<p>"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> in mind that the +whole of the Dauphiné has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism."</p> + +<p>"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte.</p> + +<p>"Général Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M. +le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never +been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack +there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be +fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere +sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le +Comte, and in the Dauphiné; alas! the army is only too ready to cry: +'Vive l'Empereur!'"</p> + +<p>There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the +tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still +nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his +overheated brow.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, André, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse +after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily.</p> + +<p>He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own +nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it +himself. His attitude was on the verge of incorrectness. Where was the +aristocratic sangfroid which should have made him proof even against so +much perturbing news? What had become of the lesson in decorum which +should have been taught to this vulgar little bureaucrat?</p> + +<p>M. le Comte pulled himself together with a jerk: he straightened out his +spare figure, put on that air of detachment which became him so well, +and finally turned once more to the préfet a perfectly calm and +unruffled countenance.</p> + +<p>Then he said with his accustomed urbanity:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>"And now, my good M. Fourier, since you have so admirably put the +situation before me, will you also tell me in what way I may be of +service to you in this—or to Général Marchand?"</p> + +<p>"I am coming to that, M. le Comte," replied the préfet. "It will explain +the reason of my disturbing you at this hour, when I was coming anyhow +to partake of your gracious hospitality later on. But I do want your +assistance, M. le Comte, as the matter of which I wish to speak with you +concerns the King himself."</p> + +<p>"Everything that you have told me hitherto, my good M. Fourier, concerns +His Majesty and the security of his throne. I cannot help wondering how +much of this news has reached him by now."</p> + +<p>"All of it at this hour, I should say. For already on Friday the Prince +d'Essling sent a despatch to His Majesty—by courier as far as Lyons and +thence by aërial telegraph to Paris. The King—may God preserve him!" +added the ex-Bonapartist fervently, "knows as much of the Corsican's +movements at the present moment as we do; and God alone knows what he +will decide to do."</p> + +<p>"Whatever happens," interjected the Comte de Cambray solemnly, "Louis de +Bourbon, XVIIIth of his name, by the Grace of God, will act like a king +and a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Amen to that," retorted the préfet. "And now let me come to my point, +M. le Comte, and the chief object of my visit to you."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, my dear M. Fourier."</p> + +<p>"You will remember, M. le Comte, that directly you were installed at +Brestalou and I was confirmed in my position as préfet of this +department, I thought it was my duty to tell you of the secret funds +which are kept in the cellars of our Hôtel de Ville by order of M. de +Talleyrand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course I remember that perfectly. French<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> money, which the +unfortunate wife of that brigand Bonaparte was taking out of the +country."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," assented Fourier. "The funds are in a convenient and +portable form, being chiefly notes and bankers' drafts to bearer, but +the amount is considerable, namely, twenty-five millions of francs."</p> + +<p>"A comfortable sum," interposed Mme. la Duchesse drily. "I did not know +that Grenoble sheltered so vast a treasure."</p> + +<p>"The money was seized," said the Comte, "from Marie Louise when she was +fleeing the country. Talleyrand did it all, and it was his idea to keep +the money in this part of the country against likely emergencies."</p> + +<p>"But the emergency has arisen," exclaimed M. Fourier excitedly, "and the +money at Grenoble is useless to His Majesty in Paris. Nay! it is worse +than useless, it is in danger of spoliation," he added with unconscious +<i>naiveté</i>. "If the Corsican marches into Grenoble, if the garrison and +the townspeople rally to him, he will of a truth occupy the Hôtel de +Ville and the brigand will seize the King's treasure which lies now in +one of its cellars."</p> + +<p>"True," mused the Comte, "I hadn't thought of that."</p> + +<p>"Well!" exclaimed Madame with light sarcasm, "seeing that the money was +originally taken from his wife, the brigand will not be committing an +altogether unlikely act, I imagine, by taking what was originally his."</p> + +<p>"His, my good Sophie?" exclaimed the Comte, highly shocked. "Money +robbed by that usurper from France—his?"</p> + +<p>"We won't argue, André," said Madame sharply, "let us hear what M. le +préfet proposes."</p> + +<p>"Propose, Mme. la Duchesse," ejaculated the unfortunate préfet, "I have +nothing to propose! I am at my wits' end what to do! I came to M. le +Comte for advice."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>"And you were quite right, my dear M. Fourier," said the Comte affably.</p> + +<p>He paused for a few seconds in order to collect his thoughts, then +continued: "Now let us consider this question from every side, and then +see to what conclusion we can arrive that will be for the best. Firstly, +of course, there is the possibility of your following the example of the +préfet of the Basses-Alpes and taking yourself and the money to a +convenient place outside Grenoble."</p> + +<p>But at this suggestion M. Fourier was ready to burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Impossible, M. le Comte," he cried pitiably, "I could not do it. . . . +Where could I go? . . . The existence of the money is known . . . known +to the Bonapartists, I am convinced. . . . There's Dumoulin, the +glovemaker, he knows everything that goes on in Grenoble . . . and his +friend Emery, who is an army surgeon in the pay of Bonaparte . . . both +these men have been to and from Elba incessantly these past few months +. . . then there's the Bonapartist club in Grenoble . . . with a +membership of over two thousand . . . the members have friends and spies +everywhere . . . even inside the Hôtel de Ville . . . why! the other day +I had to dismiss a servant who . . ."</p> + +<p>"Easy, easy, M. le préfet," broke in M. le Comte impatiently, "the long +and the short of it is that you would not feel safe with the money +anywhere outside Grenoble."</p> + +<p>"Or inside it, M. le Comte."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, the money must be deposited there, where it will be +safe. Now what do you think of Dupont's Bank?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, M. le Comte! an avowed Bonapartist! . . . M. de Talleyrand would +not trust him with the money last year."</p> + +<p>"That is so . . . but . . ."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," here interposed Mme. la Duchesse abruptly, "that by +far the best plan—since this district<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> seems to be a hot-bed of +disloyalty—would be to convey the money straightway to Paris, and then +the King or M. de Talleyrand can dispose of it as best they like."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mme. la Duchesse," sighed M. Fourier ecstatically as he clasped his +podgy little hands together and looked on Madame with eyes full of +admiration for her wisdom, "how cleverly that was spoken! If only I +could be relieved from that awful responsibility . . . five and twenty +millions under my charge and that Corsican ogre at our gates! . . ."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well!" quoth the Comte with marked impatience, "but +how is it going to be done? 'Convey the money to Paris' is easily said. +But who is going to do it? M. le préfet here says that the Bonapartists +have spies everywhere round Grenoble, and . . ."</p> + +<p>"Ah, M. le Comte!" exclaimed the préfet eagerly. "I have already thought +of such a beautiful plan! If only you would consent . . ."</p> + +<p>M. le Comte's thin lips curled in a sarcastic smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you have thought it all out already, M. le préfet?" he said. "Well! +let me hear your plan, but I warn you that I will not have the money +brought here. I don't half trust the peasantry of the neighbourhood, and +I won't have a fight or an outrage committed in my house!"</p> + +<p>M. le préfet was ready with a protest:</p> + +<p>"No, no, M. le Comte!" he said, "I wouldn't suggest such a thing for the +world. If the Corsican brigand is successful in capturing Grenoble, no +place would be sacred to him. No! My idea was if you, M. le Comte—who +have oft before journeyed to Paris and back—would do it now . . . +before Bonaparte gets any nearer to Grenoble . . . and take the money +with you . . ."</p> + +<p>"I?" exclaimed the Comte. "But, man, if—as you say—Grenoble is full of +Bonapartist spies, my movements are no doubt just as closely watched as +your own."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>"No, no, M. le Comte, not quite so closely, I am sure."</p> + +<p>The insinuating manner of the worthy man, however, was apparently +getting on M. le Comte's nerves.</p> + +<p>"Ah, ça, M. le préfet," he ejaculated abruptly, "but meseems that the +splendid plan you thought on merely consists in transferring +responsibility from your shoulders to mine own."</p> + +<p>And M. le Comte cast such a wrathful look on poor M. Fourier that the +unfortunate man was stricken dumb with confusion.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," concluded the Comte, "I don't know that you, M. le préfet, +have the right to dispose of this money which was entrusted to you by M. +de Talleyrand in the King's behalf without consulting His Majesty's +wishes in the matter."</p> + +<p>"Bah, André," broke in the Duchesse in her incisive way, "you are +talking nonsense, and you know it. There is no time for red-tapeism now +with that ogre at our gates. How are you going to consult His Majesty's +wishes—who is in Paris—between now and Tuesday, I would like to know?" +she added with a shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>Whereupon M. le Comte waxed politely sarcastic.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said, "you would prefer us to consult yours."</p> + +<p>"You might do worse," she retorted imperturbably. "The question is one +which is very easily solved. Ought His Majesty the King to have that +money, or should M. le préfet here take the risk of its falling in +Bonaparte's hands? Answer me that," she said decisively, "and then I +will tell you how best to succeed in carrying out your own wishes."</p> + +<p>"What a question, my good Sophie!" said the Comte stiffly. "Of course we +desire His Majesty to have what is rightfully his."</p> + +<p>"You mean he ought to have the twenty-five millions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> which the Prince de +Bénévant stole from Marie Louise. Very well then, obviously that money +ought to be taken to Paris before Bonaparte gets much nearer to +Grenoble—but it should not be taken by you, my good André, nor yet by +M. le préfet."</p> + +<p>"By whom then?" queried the Comte irritably.</p> + +<p>"By me," replied Mme. la Duchesse.</p> + +<p>"By you, Sophie! Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"And God alive, why impossible, I pray you?" she retorted. "The money, I +understand, is in a very portable form, notes and bankers' drafts, which +can be stowed away quite easily. Why shouldn't I be journeying back to +Paris after Crystal's wedding? Who would suspect me, I should like to +know, of carrying twenty-five millions under my petticoats? All I should +want would be a couple of sturdy fellows on the box to protect me +against footpads. Impossible?" she continued tartly. "Men are always so +ready with that word. Get a sensible woman, I say, and she will solve +your difficulties before you have finished exclaiming: 'Impossible!'"</p> + +<p>And she looked triumphantly from one man to the other. There was obvious +relief on the ruddy face of little M. Fourier, and even M. le Comte was +visibly taken with the idea.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he at last condescended to say, "it does sound feasible after +all."</p> + +<p>"Feasible? Of course it's feasible," said Madame with a shrug of +contempt. "Either the King is in want of the money, or he is not. Either +Bonaparte is likely to get it or he is not. If the King wants it, he +must have it at any cost and any risk. Twenty-five millions in +Bonaparte's hands at this juncture would help him to reconstitute his +army and make it very unpleasant for the King and for us all. M. le +préfet, who has been in charge of the money all along, and M. le Comte +de Cambray, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> is the only true royalist in the district, are both +marked down by spies: ergo Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen is the only possible +agent for the business, and an inoffensive old woman without any +political standing is the least likely to be molested in her task. If I +fail, I fail," concluded Madame decisively, "if I am stopped on the way +and the money taken from me, well! I am stopped, that's all! and M. le +préfet or M. le Comte de Cambray or any male agent they may have sent +would have been stopped likewise. But I maintain that a woman travelling +alone is far safer at this business and more likely to succeed than a +man. So now, for God's sake, don't let's argue any more about it. +Crystal is to be married on Tuesday and I could start that same +afternoon. Can you bring the money over with you to-night?"</p> + +<p>She put her query directly to the préfet, who was obviously overjoyed, +and intensely relieved at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte too seemed to be won over by his sister's persuasive +rhetoric: her strength of mind and firmness of purpose always imposed +themselves on those over whom she chose to exert her will: and men of +somewhat weak character like the Comte de Cambray came very easily under +the sway of her dominating personality.</p> + +<p>But he thought it incumbent upon his dignity to make one more protest +before he finally yielded to his sister's arguments.</p> + +<p>"I don't like," he said, "the idea of your travelling alone through the +country without sufficient escort. The roads are none too safe and +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" broke in Madame impatiently. "I pray you, Monsieur my brother, to +strengthen your arguments, if you are really determined to oppose this +sensible scheme of mine. Travelling alone, forsooth! Did I not arrive +only yesterday, having travelled all the way from Boulogne<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> and with no +escort save two louts on the box of a hired coach?"</p> + +<p>"You chose to travel alone, my dear sister, for reasons best known to +yourself," retorted the Comte, greatly angered that M. le préfet should +hear the fact that Mme. la Duchesse douairière had travelled at any time +without an escort.</p> + +<p>"And who shall say me nay, if I choose to travel back alone again, I +should like to know? So now if you have exhausted your string of +objections, my dear brother, perhaps you will allow M. le préfet to +answer my question."</p> + +<p>Whereupon M. le préfet promptly satisfied Mme. la Duchesse on the point: +he certainly could and would bring the money over with him this evening. +And M. le Comte had no further objections to offer.</p> + +<p>In the archives of the Ministry of War in Paris, any one who looks may +read that in the subsequent trial of Général Marchand for high +treason—after the Hundred Days and Napoleon's second abdication—préfet +Fourier during the course of his evidence gave a detailed account of +this same interview which he had with M. le Comte de Cambray and Mme. la +Duchesse douairière d'Agen on Sunday, March the 5th. In his deposition +he naturally laid great stress upon his own zeal in the matter, +declaring that he it was who finally overcame by his eloquence M. le +Comte's objections to the scheme and decided him to give his +acquiescence thereto.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Déposition de Fourier. (Dossier de Marchant Arch. Guerre.)</p></div> + +<p>Certain it is that there was but little argument after this between Mme. +la Duchesse and the two men, and that the details of the scheme were +presently discussed soberly and in all their bearings.</p> + +<p>"I shall have the honour presently," said Fourier, "of coming back here +to respond to M. le Comte's gracious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> invitation to dinner. Why +shouldn't I bring the money with me then?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed you must bring the money then," retorted the irascible old lady, +"and let there be no shirking or delay. Promptitude is our great chance +of success. I ought not to start later than Tuesday, and I could do so +soon after the wedding ceremony. I could arrange to sleep at Lyons that +night, at Dijon the next day, be in Paris by Thursday evening and in the +King's presence on Friday."</p> + +<p>"Provided you are not delayed," sighed the Comte.</p> + +<p>"If I am delayed, my good André, then anyhow the game is up. But we are +not going to anticipate misfortune and we are going to believe in our +lucky star."</p> + +<p>"Would to God I could bring myself to approve wholeheartedly of this +expedition! The whole thing seems to me chivalrous and romantic rather +than prudent, and Heaven knows how prudent we should be just now!"</p> + +<p>"You look back on history, my dear brother," remarked Madame drily, "and +you'll see that more great events have been brought about by chivalry +and romance than by prudence and circumspection. The romance of Joan of +Arc delivered France from foreign yoke, the chivalry of François I. +saved the honour of France after the disaster of Pavie, and it certainly +was not prudence which set Henry of Navarre upon the throne of France +and in the heart of his people. So for gracious' sake do not let us talk +of prudence any more. Rather let us allow M. le préfet to return quietly +to the Hôtel de Ville, so that he and Mme. Fourier may proceed to dress +for to-night's ceremony, just as if nothing untoward had happened. In +the meanwhile I will complete my preparations for Tuesday. There are one +or two little details in connection with my journey—hostelries, +servants, horses and so on—which you, my dear André, will kindly decide +for me. And now, gentlemen,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> she added, rising from her chair, "I have +the honour to wish you both a very good afternoon."</p> + +<p>She did not wait long enough to allow M. le Comte time to ring for +Hector, and she appeared so busy with her lace shawl that she was unable +to do more than acknowledge with a slight inclination of the head M. le +préfet's respectful salute. But then Mme. la Duchesse douairière +d'Agen—though a fervent royalist herself—had a wholesome contempt for +these opportunists. Fourier, celebrated mathematician, loaded with gifts +and honours by Napoleon, who had made him a member of the Institute of +Science and given him the prefecture of the Isère, had turned his coat +very readily at the Restoration, and the oaths of loyalty which he had +tendered to the Emperor seemed not to weigh overheavily upon his +conscience when he reiterated them to the King.</p> + +<p>Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen, therefore, did not willingly place her +aristocratic fingers in the hand of a renegade, who she felt might turn +renegade again if his personal interest so dictated it. Perhaps +something of what lay behind Madame's curt nod to him, struck the +préfet's sensibilities, for the high colour suddenly fled from his round +face, and he did not attempt to approach her for the ceremonial +hand-kissing. But he ran across the room as fast as his short legs would +carry him, and he opened the door for her and bowed to her as she sailed +past him with all the deference which in the olden days of the Empire he +had accorded to the Empress Marie Louise.</p> + +<p>"It is a mad scheme, my good M. Fourier," sighed the Comte when he found +himself once more alone with the préfet, "but such as it is I can think +of nothing better."</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," exclaimed the préfet with delight, "no one could think of +anything better. Ah, the women of France!" he added ecstatically, "the +women! how often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> have they saved France in moments of crises? France +owes her grandeur to her women, M. le Comte!"</p> + +<p>"And also her reverses, my dear M. Fourier," remarked the Comte drily.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>When Bobby Clyffurde came back to Brestalou, after his long day's ride, +he found the stately rooms of the old castle already prepared for the +arrival of M. le Comte's guests. The large reception hall had been +thrown open, as—after supper—M. le Comte would be receiving some of +the notabilities of Grenoble in honour of a great occasion: the +signature of the <i>contrat de mariage</i> between Mlle. Crystal de Cambray +de Brestalou and M. Victor de Marmont. There was an array of liveried +servants in the hall and along the corridor through which Bobby had to +pass on the way to his own room: their liveries of purple with canary +facings—the heraldic colours of the family of Cambray de +Brestalou—hardly showed, in the flickering light of wax candles, the +many ravages of moth and mildew which twenty years of neglect had +wrought upon the once fine and brilliant cloth.</p> + +<p>Downstairs the formal supper which was to precede the reception was laid +for twenty guests. The table was resplendent with the silver so kindly +lent by a benevolent and far-seeing king to those of his friends who had +not the means of replacing the ancient family treasures filched from +them by the revolutionary government.</p> + +<p>There were no flowers upon the table, and only very few wax candles +burned in the ormolu and crystal chandelier overhead. Flowers and wax +candles were luxuries which must be paid for with ready money—a +commodity which was exceedingly scarce in the grandiose Château de +Brestalou—but they also were a luxury which could easily be dispensed +with, for did not M. le Comte de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> Cambray set the fashions and give the +tone to the whole <i>département</i>? and if he chose to have no flowers upon +his supper table and but few candles in his silver sconces, why then +society must take it for granted that such now was <i>bon ton</i> and the +prevailing fashion at the Tuileries.</p> + +<p>Bobby, knowing his host's fastidious tastes in such matters, had made a +very careful toilet, all the while that his thoughts were busy with the +wonderful news which Emery had brought this day, and which was all over +Grenoble by now. He and his two companions had left Notre Dame de Vaulx +soon after their <i>déjeuner</i>, and together had entered the city at five +o'clock in the afternoon. On their way they had encountered the +travelling-coach of Général Mouton-Duveret, who, accompanied by his +aide-de-camp, was on his way to Gap, where he intended to organise +strong resistance against Bonaparte.</p> + +<p>He parleyed some time with Emery, whom he knew by sight and suspected of +being an emissary of the Corsican. Emery, with true southern verve, gave +the worthy general a highly-coloured account of the triumphal progress +through Provence and the Dauphiné of Napoleon, whom he boldly called +"the Emperor." Mouton—in no way belying his name—was very upset not +only by the news, but by his own helplessness with regard to Emery, who +he knew would presently be in Grenoble distributing the usurper's +proclamations all over the city, whilst he—Mouton—with his one +aide-de-camp and a couple of loutish servants on the box of his coach, +could do nothing to detain him.</p> + +<p>As soon as the three men had ridden away, however, he sent his +aide-de-camp back to Grenoble by a round-about way, ordering him to make +as great speed as possible, and to see Général Marchand as soon as may +be, so that immediate measures might be taken to prevent that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> emissary +if not from entering the city, at least from posting up proclamations on +public buildings.</p> + +<p>But Mouton's aide-de-camp was no match against the enthusiasm and +ingenuity of Emery and de Marmont, and when he—in his turn—entered +Grenoble soon after five o'clock, he was confronted by the printed +proclamations signed by the familiar and dreaded name "Napoleon" affixed +to the gates of the city, to the Hôtel de Ville, the mairie, the prison, +the barracks, and to every street corner in Grenoble.</p> + +<p>The three friends had parted at the porte de Bonne, Emery to go to his +friend Dumoulin, the glovemaker—de Marmont to his lodgings in the rue +Montorge, whilst Bobby Clyffurde rode straight back to Brestalou.</p> + +<p>A couple of hours later Victor de Marmont had also arrived at the +castle. He too had made an elaborate toilet, and then had driven over in +a hackney coach in advance of the other guests, seeing that he desired +to have a final interview with M. le Comte before he affixed his name to +his <i>contrat de mariage</i> with Mlle. de Cambray. An air of solemnity sat +well upon his good-looking face, but it was obvious that he was +trying—somewhat in vain—to keep an inward excitement in check.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte de Cambray, believing that this excitement was entirely due +to the solemnity of the occasion, had smiled indulgently—a trifle +contemptuously too—at young de Marmont's very apparent eagerness. A +vulgar display of feelings, an inability to control one's words and +movements when under the stress of emotion was characteristic of the +parvenus of to-day, and de Marmont's unfettered agitation when coming to +sign his own marriage contract was only on a par with préfet Fourier's +nervousness this afternoon.</p> + +<p>The Comte received his future son-in-law with a gracious smile. The +thought of an alliance between Mlle. de Cam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>bray de Brestalou and a de +Marmont of Nowhere had been a bitter pill to swallow, but M. le Comte +was too proud to show how distasteful it had been. Chatting pleasantly +the two men repaired together to the library.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Bobby Clyffurde—immaculately dressed in fine cloth coat and satin +breeches, with fine Mechlin lace at throat and wrist, and his light +brown hair tied at the nape of the neck with a big black bow—came down +presently to the reception room. He found the place silent and deserted.</p> + +<p>But the stately apartment looked more cosy and home-like than usual. A +cheerful fire was burning in the monumental hearth and the soft light of +the candles fixed in sconces round the walls tempered to a certain +degree that bare and severe look of past grandeur which usually hung +upon every corner of the old château.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde went up to the tall hearth. He rested his hand on the ledge of +the mantel and leaning his forehead against it he stared moodily into +the fire.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of all that he had learned in the past few hours, of the new +chapter in the book of the destinies of France, begun a few days ago in +the bay of Jouan, crowded in upon his mind. What difference would the +unfolding of that new chapter make to the destinies of the Comte de +Cambray and of Crystal? What had Fate in store for the bold adventurer +who was marching across France with a handful of men to reconquer a +throne and remake an empire? what had she in store for the stiff-necked +aristocrat of the old regime who still believed that God himself had +made special laws for the benefit of one class of humanity, and that He +had even created them differently to the rest of mankind?</p> + +<p>And what had Fate in store for the beautiful, delicate girl whose future +had been so arbitrarily settled by two men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>—father and lover—one the +buyer, the other the seller of her exquisite person, the shrine of her +pure and idealistic soul—and bargained for by father and lover as the +price of so many acres of land—a farm—a château—an ancestral estate?</p> + +<p>Father and lover were sitting together even now discussing values—the +purchase price—"You give me back my lands, I will give you my +daughter!" Blood money! soul money! Clyffurde called it as he ground his +teeth together in impotent rage.</p> + +<p>What folly it was to care! what folly to have allowed the tendrils of +his over-sensitive heart to twine themselves round this beautiful girl, +who was as far removed from his destiny as were the ambitions of his +boyhood, the hopes, the dreams which the hard circumstances of fate had +forced him to bury beneath the grave-mound of rigid and unswerving duty.</p> + +<p>But what a dream it had been, this love for Crystal de Cambray! It had +filled his entire soul from the moment when first he saw her—down in +the garden under an avenue of ilex trees which cast their mysterious +shadows over her; her father had called to her and she had come across +to where he—Clyffurde—stood silently watching this approaching vision +of loveliness which never would vanish from his mental gaze again.</p> + +<p>Even at that supreme moment, when her blue eyes, her sweet smile, the +exquisite grace of her took possession of his soul, even then he knew +already that his dream could have but one awakening. She was already +plighted to another, a happier man, but even if she were free, Crystal +would never have bestowed a thought upon the stranger—the commonplace +tradesman, whose only merit in her sight lay in his friendship with +another gallant English gentleman.</p> + +<p>And knowing this—when he saw her after that, day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> after day, hour after +hour—poor Bobby Clyffurde grew reconciled to the knowledge that the +gates of his Paradise would for ever be locked against him: he grew +contented just to peep through those gates; and the Angel who was on +guard there, holding the flaming sword of caste prejudice against him, +would relent at times and allow him to linger on the threshold and to +gaze into a semblance of happiness.</p> + +<p>Those thoughts, those dreams, those longings, he had been able to +endure; to-day reality had suddenly become more insistent and more +stern: the Angel's flaming sword would sear his soul after this, if he +lingered any longer by the enchanted gates: and thus had the semblance +of happiness yielded at last to dull regret.</p> + +<p>He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the soft frou-frou of a +woman's skirt roused him from his gloomy reverie, and caused him to jump +to his feet.</p> + +<p>Mlle. Crystal was coming across the long reception room, walking with a +slow and weary step toward the hearth. She was obviously not yet aware +of Clyffurde's presence, and he had full leisure to watch her as she +approached, to note the pallor of her cheeks and lips and that pathetic +look of childlike self-pity and almost of appeal which veiled the +brilliance of her deep blue eyes.</p> + +<p>A moment later she saw him and came more quickly across the room, with +hand extended, and an air of gracious condescension in her whole +attitude.</p> + +<p>"Ah! M. Clyffurde," she said in perfect English, "I did not know you +were here . . . and all alone. My father," she added, "is occupied with +serious matters downstairs, else he would have been here to receive +you."</p> + +<p>"I know, Mademoiselle," he said after he had kissed the tips of three +cold little fingers which had been held out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> to him. "My friend de +Marmont is with him just now: he desired to speak with M. le Comte in +private . . . on a matter which closely concerns his happiness."</p> + +<p>"Ah! then you knew?" she asked coldly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mademoiselle, I knew," he replied.</p> + +<p>She had settled herself down in a high-backed chair close to the hearth, +the ruddy light of the wood-fire played upon her white satin gown, upon +her bare arms, and the ends of her lace scarf, upon her satin shoes and +the bunch of snowdrops at her breast, but her face was in shadow and she +did not look up at Clyffurde, whilst he—poor fool!—stood before her, +absorbed in the contemplation of this dainty picture which mayhap after +to-night would never gladden his eyes again.</p> + +<p>"You are a great friend of M. de Marmont?" she asked after a while.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mademoiselle—a friend?" he replied with a self-deprecatory shrug +of the shoulders, "friendship is too great a name to give to our chance +acquaintanceship. I met Victor de Marmont less than a fortnight ago, in +Grenoble. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Ah yes! I had forgotten—he told me that he had first met you at the +house of a M. Dumoulin . . ."</p> + +<p>"In the shop of M. Dumoulin, Mademoiselle," broke in Clyffurde with his +good-humoured smile. "M. Dumoulin, the glovemaker, with whom I was +transacting business at the moment when M. de Marmont walked in, in +order to buy himself a pair of gloves."</p> + +<p>"Of course," she added coldly, "I had forgotten. . . ."</p> + +<p>"You were not likely to remember such a trivial circumstance, +Mademoiselle. M. de Marmont saw me after that here as guest in your +father's house. He was greatly surprised at finding me—a mere +tradesman—in such an honoured position. Surprise laid the foundation of +pleasing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> intercourse between us, but you see, Mademoiselle, that M. de +Marmont has no cause to boast of his friendship with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh! M. de Marmont is not so prejudiced. . . ."</p> + +<p>"As you are, Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly, for she had paused and he +saw that she bit her lips with her tiny white teeth as if she meant to +check the words that would come tumbling out.</p> + +<p>Thus directly questioned she gave a little shrug of disdain.</p> + +<p>"My opinions in the matter are not in question, Sir," she said coldly.</p> + +<p>She smothered a little yawn which may have been due to ennui, but also +to the tingling of her nerves. Clyffurde saw that her hands were never +still for a moment; she was either fingering the snowdrops in her belt +or smoothing out the creases in her lace scarf; from time to time she +raised her head and a tense expression came into her face, as if she +were trying to listen to what was going on elsewhere in the +house—downstairs perhaps—in the library where she was being finally +bargained for and sold.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde felt an intense—an unreasoning pity for her, and because of +that pity—the gentle kinsman of fierce love—he found it in his heart +to forgive her all her prejudices, that almost arrogant pride of caste +which was in her blood, for which she was no more responsible than she +was for the colour of her hair or the vivid blue of her eyes; she seemed +so forlorn—such a child, in the midst of all this decadent grandeur. +She was being so ruthlessly sacrificed for ideals that were no longer +tenable, that had ceased to be tenable five and twenty years ago when +this château and these lands were overrun by a savage and vengeful mob, +who were loudly demanding the right to live in happiness, in comfort, +and in freedom. That right had been denied to them through the past +centuries by those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> who were of her own kith and kin, and it was +snatched with brutal force, with lust of hate and thirst for reprisals, +by the revolutionary crowd when it came into its own at last.</p> + +<p>Something of the pity which he felt for this beautiful and innocent +victim of rancour, oppression and prejudice, must have been manifest in +Clyffurde's earnest eyes, for when Crystal looked up to him and met his +glance she drew herself up with an air of haughty detachment. And with +that, she wished to convey still more tangibly to him the idea of that +barrier of caste which must for ever divide her from him.</p> + +<p>Obviously his look of pity had angered her, for now she said abruptly +and with marked coldness:</p> + +<p>"My father tells me, Sir, that you are thinking of leaving France +shortly."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Mademoiselle," he replied, "I have trespassed too long as it is +on M. le Comte's gracious hospitality. My visit originally was only for +a fortnight. I thought of leaving for England to-morrow."</p> + +<p>A little lift of the eyebrows, an unnecessary smoothing of an invisible +crease in her gown and Crystal asked lightly:</p> + +<p>"Before the . . . my wedding, Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Before your wedding, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>She frowned—vaguely stirred to irritation by his ill-concealed +indifference. "I trust," she rejoined pointedly, "that you are satisfied +with your trade in Grenoble."</p> + +<p>The little shaft was meant to sting, but if Bobby felt any pain he +certainly appeared to bear it with perfect good-humour.</p> + +<p>"I am quite satisfied," he said. "I thank you, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"It must be very pleasing to conclude such affairs satisfactorily," she +continued.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>"Very pleasing, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Of course—given the right temperament for such a career—it must be so +much more comfortable to spend one's life in making money—buying and +selling things and so on—rather than to risk it every day for the +barren honour of serving one's king and country."</p> + +<p>"As you say, Mademoiselle," he said quite imperturbably, "given the +right temperament, it certainly is much more comfortable."</p> + +<p>"And you, Sir, I take it, are the happy possessor of such a +temperament."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"You are content to buy and to sell and to make money? to rest at ease +and let the men who love their country and their king fight for you and +for their ideals?"</p> + +<p>Her voice had suddenly become trenchant and hard, her manner +contemptuous—at strange variance with the indifferent kindliness +wherewith she had hitherto seemed to regard her father's English guest. +Certainly her nerves—he thought—were very much on edge, and no doubt +his own always unruffled calm—the combined product of temperament, +nationality and education—had an irritating effect upon her. Had he not +been so intensely sorry for her, he would have resented this final taunt +of hers—an arrow shot this time with intent to wound.</p> + +<p>But as it was he merely said with a smile:</p> + +<p>"Surely, Mademoiselle, my contentment with my own lot, and any other +feelings of which I may be possessed, are of such very little +consequence—seeing that they are only the feelings of a very +commonplace tradesman—that they are not worthy of being discussed."</p> + +<p>Then as quickly her manner changed: the contemptuous look vanished from +her eyes, the sarcastic curl from her lips, and with one of those quick +transitions of mood which were perhaps the principal charm of Crystal de +Cambray's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> personality, she looked up at Bobby with a winning smile and +an appeal for forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, Sir," she said softly. "I was shrewish and ill-tempered, +and deserve a severe lesson in courtesy. I did not mean to be +disagreeable," she added with a little sigh, "but my nerves are all +a-quiver to-day and this awful news has weighed upon my spirit. . . ."</p> + +<p>"What awful news, Mademoiselle?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Surely you have heard?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the news about Napoleon . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the awful certainty," she retorted with a sudden outburst of +vehemence, "that that brigand, that usurper, that scourge of mankind has +escaped from an all too lenient prison where he should never have been +confined, seeing how easy was escape from it. I mean that all the +horrors of the past twenty years will begin again now, misery, +starvation, exile probably. Oh, surely," she added with ever-increasing +passion, "surely God will not permit such an awful thing to happen; +surely he will strike the ogre dead, ere he devastates France once +again!"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that you must not reckon quite so much on divine +interference, Mademoiselle. A nation—like every single individual—must +shape its own destiny, and must not look to God to help it in its +political aims."</p> + +<p>"And France must look once more to England, I suppose. It is humiliating +to be always in need of help," she said with an impatient little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Each nation in its turn has it in its power to help a sister. Sometimes +help may come from the weaker vessel. Do you remember the philosopher's +fable of the lion and the mouse? France may be the mouse just now—some +day it may be in her power to requite the lion."</p> + +<p>She shook her head reprovingly. "I don't know," she said, "that I +approve of your calling France—the mouse."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>"I only did so in order to drive my parable still further home."</p> + +<p>Then as she looked a little puzzled, he continued—speaking very slowly +this time and with an intensity of feeling which was quite different to +his usual pleasant, good-tempered, oft-times flippant manner: +"Mademoiselle Crystal—if you will allow me to speak of such an +insignificant person as I am—I am at present in the position of the +mouse with regard to your father and yourself—the lions of my parable. +You might so easily have devoured me, you see," he added with a quaint +touch of humour. "Well! the time may come when you may have need of a +friend, just as I had need of one when I came here—a stranger in a +strange land. Events will move with great rapidity in the next few days, +Mademoiselle Crystal, and the mouse might at any time be in a position +to render a service to the lion. Will you remember that?"</p> + +<p>"I will try, Monsieur," she replied.</p> + +<p>But already her pride was once more up in arms. She did not like his +tone, that air of protection which his attitude suggested. And indeed +she could not think of any eventuality which would place the Comte de +Cambray de Brestalou in serious need of a tradesman for his friend.</p> + +<p>Then as quickly again her mood softened and as she raised her eyes to +his he saw that they were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! indeed!" she said gently, "I do deserve your contempt, Sir, for +my shrewishness and vixenish ways. How can I—how can any of us—afford +to turn our backs upon a loyal friend? To-day too, of all days, when +that awful enemy is once more at our gates! Oh!" she added, clasping her +hands together with a sudden gesture of passionate entreaty, "you are +English, Sir—a friend of all those gallant gentlemen who saved my dear +father and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> family from those awful revolutionaries—you will be +loyal to us, will you not? The English hate Bonaparte as much as we do! +you hate him too, do you not? you will do all you can to help my poor +father through this awful crisis? You will, won't you?" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Have I not already offered you my humble services, Mademoiselle?" he +rejoined earnestly.</p> + +<p>Indeed this was a very serious ordeal for quiet, self-contained Bobby +Clyffurde—an Englishman, remember—with all an Englishman's shyness of +emotion, all an Englishman's contempt of any display of sentiment. Here +was this beautiful girl—whom he loved with all the passionate ardour of +his virile, manly temperament—sitting almost at his feet, he looking +down upon her fair head, with its wealth of golden curls, and into her +blue eyes which were full of tears.</p> + +<p>Who shall blame him if just then a desperate longing seized him to throw +all prudence, all dignity and honour to the winds and to clasp this +exquisite woman for one brief and happy moment in his arms—to forget +the world, her position and his—to risk disgrace and betray +hospitality, for the sake of one kiss upon her lips? The temptation was +so fierce—indeed for one short second it was all but irresistible—that +something of the battle which was raging within his soul became +outwardly visible, and in the girl's tear-dimmed eyes there crept a +quick look of alarm—so strange, so ununderstandable was his glance, the +rigidity of his attitude—as if every muscle had become taut and every +nerve strained to snapping point, while his face looked hard and lined, +almost as if he were fighting physical pain.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Thus a few seconds went by in absolute silence—while the great gilt +clock upon its carved bracket ticked on with stolid relentlessness, +marking another minute—and yet an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>other—of this hour which was so full +of portent for the destinies of France. Clyffurde would gladly have +bartered the future years of his life for the power to stay the hand of +Time just now—for the power to remain just like this, standing before +this beautiful woman whom he loved, feeling that at any moment he could +take her in his arms and kiss her eyes and her lips, even if she were +unwilling, even if she hated him for ever afterwards.</p> + +<p>The sense of power to do that which he might regret to the end of his +days was infinitely sweet, the power to fight against that +all-compelling passion was perhaps sweeter still. Then came the pride of +victory. The habits of a lifetime had come to his aid: self-respect and +self-control, hard and wilful taskmasters, fought against passion, until +it yielded inch by inch.</p> + +<p>The battle was fought and won in those few moments of silence: the +strain of the man's attitude relaxed, the set lines on his face +vanished, leaving it serene and quietly humorous, calm and +self-deprecatory. Only his voice was not quite so steady as usual, as he +said softly:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Crystal, is there anything that I can do for you?—now at +once, I mean? If there is, I do entreat you most earnestly to let me +serve you."</p> + +<p>Had the pure soul of the woman been touched by the fringe of that +magnetic wave of passion even as it rose to its utmost height, nearly +sweeping the man off his feet, and in its final retreat leaving him with +quivering nerves and senses bruised and numb? Did something of the man's +suffering, of his love and of his despair appear—despite his +efforts—upon his face and in the depth of his glance?—and thus made +visible did they—even through their compelling intensity—cause that +invisible barrier of social prejudices to totter and to break? It were +difficult to say. Certain it is that Crystal's whole heart warmed to the +stranger as it had never warmed before. She felt that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> here was a <i>man</i> +standing before her now, whose promises would never be mere idle words, +whose deeds would speak more loudly than his tongue. She felt that in +the midst of all the enmity which encompassed her and her father in +their newly regained home and land, here at any rate was a friend on +whom they could count to help, to counsel and to accomplish. And deep +down in the very bottom of her soul there was a curious unexplainable +longing that circumstances should compel her to ask one day for his +help, and a sweet knowledge that that help would be ably rendered and +pleasing to receive.</p> + +<p>But for the moment, of course, there was nothing that she could ask: she +would be married in a couple of days—alas! so soon!—and after that it +would be to her husband that she must look for devotion, for guidance +and for sympathy.</p> + +<p>A little sigh of regret escaped her lips, and she said gently:</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Sir, from the bottom of my heart, for the words of +friendship which you have spoken. I shall never forget them, never! and +if at any time in my life I am in trouble . . ."</p> + +<p>"Which God forbid!" he broke in fervently.</p> + +<p>"If any time I have need of a friend," she resumed, "I feel that I +should find one in you. Oh! if only I could think that you would extend +your devotion to my poor country, and to our King . . ." she exclaimed +with passionate earnestness.</p> + +<p>"You love your country very dearly, Mademoiselle," he rejoined.</p> + +<p>"I think that I love France more than anything else in the world," she +replied, "and I feel that there is no sacrifice which I would deem too +great to offer up for her."</p> + +<p>"And by France you mean the Bourbon dynasty," he said almost +involuntarily, and with an impatient little sigh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>"I mean the King, by the grace of God!" she retorted proudly.</p> + +<p>She had thrown back her head with an air of challenge as she said this, +meeting his glance eye to eye: she looked strong and wilful all of a +sudden, no longer girlish and submissive. And to the man who loved her, +this trait of power and latent heroism added yet another to the many +charms which he saw in her. Loyal to her country and to her king she +would be loyal in all things—to husband, kindred and to friends.</p> + +<p>But he realised at the same time how impossible it would be for any man +to win her love if he were an enemy to her cause. St. Genis—royalist, +émigré, retrograde like herself—had obviously won his way to her heart +chiefly by the sympathy of his own convictions. But what of de Marmont, +to whom she was on the eve of plighting her troth? de Marmont the +hot-headed Bonapartist who owned but one god—Napoleon—and yet had +deliberately, and with cynical opportunism hidden his fanatical aims and +beliefs from the woman whom he had wooed and won?</p> + +<p>The thought of that deception—and of the awakening which would await +the girl-wife on the very morrow of her wedding-day mayhap, was terribly +repellent to Clyffurde's straightforward, loyal nature, and bitter was +the contention within his soul as he found himself at the cross-roads of +a divided duty. Every instinct of chivalry towards the woman loudly +demanded that he should warn her—now—at once—before it was too +late—before she had actually pledged her life and future to a man whom +her very soul—if she knew the truth—would proclaim a renegade and a +traitor; and every instinct of loyalty to the man—that male solidarity +of sex which will never permit one man—if he be a gentleman—to betray +another—prompted him to hold his peace.</p> + +<p>Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> ear. Vaguely only +did he hear what she said. She was still speaking of France, of all that +the country had suffered and all that was due to her from her sons and +daughters: she spoke of the King, God's own anointed as she called him, +endowed with rights divine, and all the while his thoughts were far +away, flying on the wings of memory to the little hamlet among the +mountains where two enthusiasts had exhausted every panegyric in praise +of their own hero, whom this girl called a usurper and a brigand. He +remembered every trait in de Marmont's face, every inflexion of his +voice as he said with almost cruel cynicism: "She will learn to love me +in time."</p> + +<p>That, Clyffurde knew now, Crystal de Cambray would never do. Indifferent +to de Marmont to-day, she would hate and loathe him the day that she +discovered how infamously he had deceived her: and to Clyffurde's +passionate temperament the thought of Crystal's future unhappiness was +absolutely intolerable.</p> + +<p>Here indeed was a battle far more strenuous and difficult of issue than +that of a man's will against his passions: here was a problem far more +difficult to solve than any that had assailed Bobby Clyffurde throughout +his life.</p> + +<p>His heart cried out "She must know the truth: she must. To-day! this +minute, while there was yet time! Anon she will be pledged irrevocably +to a man who has lied to her, whom she will curse as a renegade, a +traitor, false to his country, false to his king!"</p> + +<p>And the words hovered on his lips: "Mademoiselle Crystal! do not plight +your troth to de Marmont! he is no friend of yours, his people are not +your people! his God is not your God! and there is neither blessing nor +holiness in an union 'twixt you and him!"</p> + +<p>But the words remained unspoken, because the unwritten code—the bond +'twixt man and man—tried to still this natural cry of his heart and +reason argued that he must hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> his peace. His heart rebelled, +contending that to remain silent was cowardly—that his first duty was +to the woman whom he loved better than his soul, whilst ingrained +principles, born and bred in the bone of him, threw themselves into the +conflict, warning him that if he spoke he would be no better than an +informer, meriting the contempt alike of those whom he wished to help +and of the man whom he would betray.</p> + +<p>It was one sound coming from below which settled the dispute 'twixt +heart and reason—the sound of de Marmont's voice which though he was +apparently speaking of indifferent matters had that same triumphant ring +in it which Clyffurde had heard at Notre Dame de Vaulx this morning.</p> + +<p>The sound had caused Crystal to give a quick gasp and to clasp her hands +against her breast, as she said with a nervous little laugh:</p> + +<p>"Imagine how happy we are to have M. de Marmont's support in this +terrible crisis! His influence in Grenoble and in the whole province is +very great: his word in the town itself may incline the whole balance of +public feeling on the side of the King, and who knows, it may even help +to strengthen the loyalty of the troops. Oh! that Corsican brigand +little guesses what kind of welcome we in the Dauphiné are preparing for +him!"</p> + +<p>Her enthusiasm, her trust, her loyalty ended the conflict in Clyffurde's +mind far more effectually than any sober reasoning could have done. He +realised in a moment that neither abstract principles, nor his own +feelings in the matter, were of the slightest account at such a +juncture.</p> + +<p>What was obvious, certain, and not to be shirked, was duty to a woman +who was on the point of being shamefully deceived, also duty to the man +whose hospitality he had enjoyed. To remain silent would be cowardly—of +that he became absolutely certain, and once Bobby had made up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> his mind +what duty was no power on earth could make him swerve from its +fulfilment.</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Crystal," he began slowly and deliberately, "just now, when I was +bold enough to offer you my friendship, you deigned to accept it, did +you not?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did, Sir," she replied, a little astonished. "Why should you +ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because the time has come sooner than I expected for me to prove the +truth of that offer to you. There is something which I must say to you +which no one but a friend ought to do. May I?"</p> + +<p>But before she could frame the little "Yes!" which already trembled on +her lips, her father's voice and de Marmont's rang out from the further +end of the room itself.</p> + +<p>The folding doors had been thrown open: M. le Comte and his son-in-law +elect were on the point of entering and had paused for a moment just +under the lintel. De Marmont was talking in a loud voice and apparently +in response to something which M. le Comte had just told him.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "Mme. la Duchesse will be leaving Brestalou? I am sorry +to hear that. Why should she go so soon?"</p> + +<p>"An affair of business, my dear de Marmont," replied the Comte. "I will +tell you about it at an early opportunity."</p> + +<p>After which there was a hubbub of talk in the corridors outside, the +sound of greetings, the pleasing confusion of questions and answers +which marks the simultaneous arrival of several guests.</p> + +<p>Crystal rose and turned to Bobby with a smile.</p> + +<p>"You will have to tell me some other time," she said lightly. "Don't +forget!"</p> + +<p>The psychological moment had gone by and Clyffurde cursed himself for +having fought too long against the promptings of his heart and lost the +precious moments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> which might have changed the whole of Crystal's +future. He cursed himself for not having spoken sooner, now that he saw +de Marmont with glowing eyes and ill-concealed triumph approach his +beautiful fiancée and with the air of a conqueror raise her hand to his +lips.</p> + +<p>She looked very pale, and to the man who loved her so ardently and so +hopelessly it seemed as if she gave a curious little shiver and that for +one brief second her blue eyes flashed a pathetic look of appeal up to +his.</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>M. le Comte's guests followed closely on the triumphant bridegroom's +heels: M. le préfet, fussy and nervous, secretly delighted at the idea +of affixing his official signature to such an aristocratic <i>contrat de +mariage</i> as was this between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and M. Victor +de Marmont, own nephew to Marshal the duc de Raguse; Madame la préfète, +resplendent in the latest fashion from Paris, the Duc and Duchesse +d'Embrun, cousins of the bride, the Vicomte de Génevois and his mother, +who was Abbess of Pont Haut and godmother by proxy to Crystal de +Cambray; whilst Général Marchand, in command of the troops of the +district, fresh from the Council of War which he had hastily convened, +was trying to hide behind a <i>débonnaire</i> manner all the anxiety which +"the brigand's" march on Grenoble was causing him.</p> + +<p>The chief notabilities of the province had assembled to do honour to the +occasion, later on others would come, lesser lights by birth and +position than this select crowd who would partake of the <i>souper des +fiançailles</i> before the <i>contrat</i> was signed in their presence as +witnesses to the transaction.</p> + +<p>Everyone was talking volubly: the ogre's progress through France—no +longer to be denied—was the chief subject of conversation. Some spoke +of it with contempt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> others with terror. The ex-Bonapartists Fourier +and Marchand were loudest in their curses against "the usurper."</p> + +<p>Clyffurde, silent and keeping somewhat aloof from the brilliant throng, +saw that de Marmont did not enter into any of these conversations. He +kept resolutely close to Crystal, and spoke to her from time to time in +a whisper, and always with that assured air of the conqueror, which +grated so unpleasantly on Clyffurde's irritable nerves.</p> + +<p>The Comte, affable and gracious, spoke a few words to each of his guests +in turn, whilst Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen was talking openly of +her forthcoming return journey to the North.</p> + +<p>"I came in great haste," she said loudly to the circle of ladies +gathered around her, "for my little Crystal's wedding. But I was in the +middle of a Lenten retreat at the Sacred Heart, and I only received +permission from my confessor to spend three days in all this gaiety."</p> + +<p>"When do you leave us again, Mme. la Duchesse?" queried Mlle. Marchand, +the General's daughter, in a honeyed voice.</p> + +<p>"On Tuesday, directly after the religious ceremony, Mademoiselle," +replied Madame, whilst M. le préfet tried to look unconcerned. He had +brought the money over as Mme. la Duchesse had directed. Twenty-five +millions of francs in notes and drafts had been transferred from the +cellar of the Hôtel de Ville to his own pockets first and then into the +keeping of Madame. He had driven over from the Hôtel de Ville in his +private coach, he himself in an agony of fear every time the road looked +lonely, or he heard the sound of horse's hoofs upon the road behind +him—for there might be mounted highwaymen about. Now he felt infinitely +relieved; he had shifted all responsibility of that vast sum of money on +to more exalted shoulders than his own, and inwardly he was marvelling +how coolly Mme.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> la Duchesse seemed to be taking such an awful +responsibility.</p> + +<p>Now Hector threw open the great doors and announced that M. le Comte was +served. Through the vast corridor beyond appeared a vista of liveried +servants in purple and canary, wearing powdered perruque, silk stockings +and buckled shoes.</p> + +<p>There was a general hubbub in the room, the men moved towards the ladies +who had been assigned to them for partners. M. le Comte in his grandest +manner approached Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun in order to conduct her down +to supper. An air of majestic grandeur, of solemnity and splendid +decorum pervaded the fine apartment; it sought out every corner of the +vast reception room, flickered round every wax candle; it spread itself +over the monumental hearth, the stiff brocade-covered chairs, the gilt +consoles and tall mirrors. It emanated alike from the graciousness of M. +le Comte de Cambray and the pompousness of his majordomo. Hector in fact +appeared at this moment as the high priest in a temple of good manners +and bon ton: the muscles of his face were rigid, his mouth was set as if +ready to pronounce sacrificial words; in his right hand he carried a +gold-headed wand, emblem of his high office.</p> + +<p>But suddenly there was a disturbance—an unseemly noise came from the +further end of the corridor, where rose the magnificent staircase. +Hector's face became a study in rapidly changing expressions: from +pompousness, to astonishment, then horror, and finally wrath when he +realised that an intruder in stained cloth clothes and booted and +spurred was actually making his way through the ranks of liveried and +gaping servants and loudly demanding to speak with M. le Comte.</p> + +<p>Such an unseemly disturbance had not occurred at the Château de +Brestalou since Hector had been installed there as majordomo nearly +twelve months ago, and he was on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> the point of literally throwing +himself upon the impious malapert who thus dared to thrust his ill-clad +person upon the brilliant company, when he paused—more aghast than +before. In this same impious malapert he had recognised M. le Marquis de +St. Genis!</p> + +<p>The young man looked to be labouring under terrible excitement: his face +was flushed and he was panting as if he had been running hard:</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte!" he cried breathlessly as soon as he caught sight of +Hector, "tell M. le Comte that I must speak with him at once."</p> + +<p>"But M. le Marquis . . . M. le Marquis . . ."</p> + +<p>This was all that poor, bewildered Hector could stammer: his +slowly-moving brain was torn between the duties of his position and his +respect for M. le Marquis, and in the struggle the worthy man was +enduring throes of anxiety.</p> + +<p>Fortunately M. le Comte himself put an end to Hector's dilemma. He had +recognised St. Genis' voice. Unlike his majordomo, he knew at once that +something terribly grave must have happened, else the young man would +never have committed such a serious breach of good manners. And M. le +Comte himself was never at a loss how to turn any situation to a +dignified and proper issue: he murmured a quick and courteous apology to +Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun and a comprehensive one to all his guests, +then he hastened to meet St. Genis at the door.</p> + +<p>Already St. Genis had entered. His rough clothes and muddy boots looked +strangely in contrast to the immaculate get-up of the Comte's guests, +but of this he hardly seemed to be aware. His face was flushed; with his +right hand he clutched a small riding cane, and his glowering dark eyes +swept a rapid glance over every one in the room.</p> + +<p>And to the Comte he said hoarsely: "I must offer you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> my humblest +apologies, my dear Comte, for obtruding my very untidy person upon you +at this hour. I have walked all the way from Grenoble, as I could not +get a hackney-coach, else I had been here earlier and spared you this +unpleasantness."</p> + +<p>"You are always welcome in this house, my good Maurice," said the Comte +in his loftiest manner, "and at any hour of the day."</p> + +<p>And he added with a certain tone of dignified reproach: "I did ask you +to be my guest to-night, if you remember."</p> + +<p>"And I," said St. Genis, "was churlish enough to refuse. I would not +have come now only that I felt I might be in time to avert the most +awful catastrophe that has yet fallen upon your house."</p> + +<p>Again his restless, dark eyes—sullen and wrathful and charged with a +look of rage and of hate—wandered over the assembled company. The look +frightened the ladies. They took to clinging to one another, standing in +compact little groups together, like frightened birds, watchful and +wide-eyed. They feared that the young man was mad. But the men exchanged +significant glances and significant smiles. They merely thought that St. +Genis had been drinking, or that jealousy had half-turned his brain.</p> + +<p>Only Clyffurde, who stood somewhat apart from the others, knew—by some +unexplainable intuition—what it was that had brought Maurice de St. +Genis to this house in this excited state and at this hour. He felt +excited too, and mightily thankful that the catastrophe would be brought +about by others—not by himself.</p> + +<p>But all his thoughts were for Crystal, and an instinctive desire to +stand by her and to shield her if necessary from some unknown or +unguessed evil, made him draw nearer to her. She stood on the fringe of +the little crowd—as isolated as Bobby was himself.</p> + +<p>De Marmont—whose face had become the colour of dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> ashes—had left +her side: one step at a time and very slowly he was getting nearer and +nearer to St. Genis, as if the latter's wrath-filled eyes were drawing +him against his will.</p> + +<p>At the young man's ominous words, M. le Comte's sunken cheeks grew a +shade more pale.</p> + +<p>"What catastrophe, <i>mon Dieu!</i>" he exclaimed, "could fall on my house +that would be worse than twenty years of exile?"</p> + +<p>"An alliance with a traitor, M. le Comte," said St. Genis firmly.</p> + +<p>A gasp went round the room, a sigh, a cry. The women looked in mute +horror from one man to the other, the men already had their right hand +on their swords. But Clyffurde's eyes were fixed upon Crystal, who pale, +silent, rigid as a marble statue, with lips parted and nostrils +quivering, stood not five paces away from him, her dilated eyes +wandering ceaselessly from the face of St. Genis to that of de Marmont +and thence to that of her father. But beyond that look of tense +excitement she revealed nothing of what she thought and felt.</p> + +<p>Already de Marmont—his hand upon his sword—had advanced menacingly +towards St. Genis.</p> + +<p>"M. le Marquis," he said between set teeth, "you will, by God! eat those +words, or——"</p> + +<p>"Eat my words, man?" retorted St. Genis with a harsh laugh. "By Heaven! +have I not come here on purpose to throw my words into your lying face?"</p> + +<p>There was a brief but violent skirmish, for de Marmont had made a +movement as if he meant to spring at his rival's throat, and Général +Marchand and the Vicomte de Génevois, who happened to be near, had much +ado to seize and hold him: even so they could not stop the hoarse cries +which he uttered:</p> + +<p>"Liar! Liar! Liar! Let me go! Let me get to him! I must kill him! I must +kill him!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>The Comte interposed his dignified person between the two men.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," he said, in tones of calm and dispassionate reproof, "your +conduct is absolutely unjustifiable. You seem to forget that you are in +the presence of ladies and of my guests. If you had a quarrel with M. de +Marmont. . . ."</p> + +<p>"A quarrel, my dear Comte?" exclaimed St. Genis, "nay, 'tis no quarrel I +have with him: and my conduct would have been a thousand times more vile +if I had not come to-night and stopped his hand from touching that of +Mlle. Crystal de Cambray—his hand which was engaged less than two hours +ago in affixing to the public buildings of Grenoble the infamous message +of the Corsican brigand to the army and the people of France."</p> + +<p>A hoarse murmur—a sure sign that men or women are afraid—came from +every corner of the room.</p> + +<p>"The message?—What message?"</p> + +<p>Some people turned instinctively to M. le préfet, others to Général +Marchand. Every one knew that Bonaparte had landed on the Littoral, +every one had heard the rumour that he was marching in triumph through +Provence and the Dauphiné—but no one had altogether believed this—as +for a message—a proclamation—a call to the army—and this in Grenoble +itself. No one had heard of that—every one had been at home, getting +dressed for this festive function, thinking of good suppers and of +wedding bells. It was as if after a clap of thunder and a flash of +lightning the house was found to be in flames. M. le préfet in answer to +these mute queries had shrugged his shoulders, and Général Marchand +looked grim and silent.</p> + +<p>But St. Genis with arm uplifted and shaking hand pointed a finger at de +Marmont.</p> + +<p>"Ask him," he cried. "Ask him, my dear Comte, ask the miserable traitor +who with lies and damnable treachery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> has stolen his way into your +house, has stolen your regard, your hospitality, and was on the point of +stealing your most precious treasure—your daughter! Ask him! He knows +every word of that infamous message by heart! I doubt not but a copy of +it is inside his coat now. Ask him! Général Mouton-Duveret met him +outside Grenoble in company with that cur Emery and I saw him with mine +own eyes distributing these hellish papers among our townspeople and +pinning them up at the street-corners of our city."</p> + +<p>While St. Genis was speaking—or rather screaming—for his voice, +pitched high, seemed to fill the entire room—every glance was fixed +upon de Marmont. Every one of course expected a contradiction as hot and +intemperate as was the accusation. It was unthinkable, impossible that +what St. Genis said could be true. They all knew de Marmont well. Nephew +of the Duc de Raguse who had borne the lion's share in surrendering +Paris to the allies and bringing about the downfall of the Corsican +usurper, he was one of the most trusted members of the royalist set in +Dauphiné. They had talked quite freely before him, consulted with him +when local Bonapartism appeared uncomfortably rampant. De Marmont was +one of themselves.</p> + +<p>And yet he said nothing even now when St. Genis accused him and hurled +insult upon insult at him:—he said nothing to refute the awful +impeachment, to justify his conduct, to explain his companionship with +Emery. His face was still livid, but it was with rage—not indignation. +Marchand and Génevois still held him by the arms, else he and St. Genis +would have been at one another's throat before now. But his gestures as +he struggled to free himself, the imprecations which he uttered were +those of a man who was baffled and found out—not of one who is +innocent.</p> + +<p>But as St. Genis continued to speak and worked himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> up every moment +into a still greater state of excitement, de Marmont gradually seemed to +calm down. He ceased to curse: he ceased to struggle, and on his +face—which still was livid—there gradually crept a look of +determination and of defiance. He dug his teeth into his under lip until +tiny drops of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and trickled +slowly down his chin.</p> + +<p>Marchand and Génevois relaxed the grip upon his arms, since he no longer +fought, and thus released he contrived to pull himself together. He +tossed back his head and looked his infuriated accuser boldly in the +face.</p> + +<p>By the time St. Genis paused in his impassioned denunciation, he had +himself completely under control: only his eyes appeared to glow with an +unnatural fire, and little beads of moisture appeared upon his brow and +matted the dark hair against his forehead. The Comte de Cambray at this +juncture would certainly have interposed with one of those temperate +speeches, full of dignity and brimming over with lofty sentiments, which +he knew so well how to deliver, but de Marmont gave him no time to +begin. When St. Genis paused for breath, he suddenly freed himself +completely with a quick movement, from Marchand's and Génevois' hold; +and then he turned to the Comte and to the rest of the company:</p> + +<p>"And what if I did pin the Emperor's proclamation on the walls of +Grenoble," he said proudly and with a tremor of enthusiasm in his voice, +"the Emperor, whom treachery more vile than any since the days of the +Iscariot sent into humiliation and exile! The Emperor has come back!" +cried the young devotee with that extraordinary fervour which Napoleon +alone—of all men that have ever walked upon this earth—was able to +suscitate: "his Imperial eagles once more soar over France carrying on +their wings her honour and glory to the outermost corners of Europe. His +proclamation is to his people who have always loved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> him, to his +soldiers who in their hearts have always been true to him. His +proclamation?" he added as with a kind of exultant war-cry he drew a +roll of paper from his pocket and held it out at arm's length above his +head, "his proclamation? Here it is! Vive l'Empereur! by the grace of +God!"</p> + +<p>Who shall attempt to describe the feelings of all those who were +assembled round this young enthusiast as he hurled his challenge right +in the face of those who called him a liar and a traitor? Surely it were +a hard task for the chronicler to search into the minds and hearts of +this score of men and women—who worshipped one God and reverenced one +King—at the moment when they saw that King threatened upon his throne, +their faith mocked and their God blasphemed: that the young man spoke +words of truth no one thought of denying. Napoleon's name had the power +to strike terror in the heart of every citizen who desired peace above +all things and of every royalist who wished to see King Louis in +possession of the throne of his fathers. But the army which had fought +under him, the army which he had led in triumph and to victory from one +end of the Continent of Europe to the other, that army still loved him +and had never been rightly loyal to King Louis. The horrors of war which +had lain so heavily over France and over Europe for the past twenty +years were painfully vivid still in everybody's mind, and all these +horrors were intimately associated with the name which stood out now in +bold characters on the paper which de Marmont was triumphantly waving.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte had become a shade or two paler than he had been before: he +looked very old, very careworn, all of a sudden, and his pale eyes had +that look in them which comes into the eyes of the old after years of +sorrow and of regret.</p> + +<p>But never for a moment did he depart from his attitude<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> of dignity. When +de Marmont's exultant cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" had ceased to echo round +the majestic walls of this stately château, he straightened out his +spare figure and with one fine gesture begged for silence from his +guests.</p> + +<p>Then he said very quietly: "M. Marmont, this is neither the place nor +the opportunity which I should have chosen for confronting you with all +the lies which you have told in the past ten months ever since you +entered my house as an honoured guest. But M. de St. Genis has left me +no option. Burning with indignation at your treachery he came hot-foot +to unmask you, before my daughter's fair hand had affixed her own +honourable name beneath that of a cheat and a traitor. . . . Yes! M. de +Marmont," he reiterated with virile force, breaking in on the hot +protests which had risen to the young man's lips, "no one but a cheat +and a traitor could thus have wormed himself into the confidence of an +old man and of a young girl! No one but a villainous blackguard could +have contemplated the abominable deceptions which you have planned +against me and against my daughter."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two after the old man had finished speaking Victor de +Marmont remained silent. There were murmurs of indignation among the +guests, also of approval of the Comte's energetic words. De Marmont was +in the midst of a hostile crowd and he knew it. Here was no drawing-room +quarrel which could be settled at the point of a sword. Though—as Fate +and man so oft ordain it—a woman was the primary reason for the +quarrel, she was not its cause; and the hostility expressed against him +by every glance which de Marmont encountered was so general and so +great, that it overawed him even in the midst of his enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," he said at last, and he made a great effort to appear +indifferent and unconcerned, "I wish for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> your daughter's sake that M. +de St. Genis had chosen some other time to make this fracas. We who have +learned chivalry at the Emperor's school would have hit our enemy when +he was in a position to defend himself. This, obviously, I cannot do at +this moment without trespassing still further upon your hospitality, and +causing Mlle. Crystal still more pain. I might even make a direct appeal +to her, since the decision in this matter rests, I imagine, primarily +with her, but with the Emperor at our gates, with the influence of his +power and of his pride dominating my every thought, I will with your +gracious permission relieve you of my unwelcome presence without taking +another leaf out of M. de St. Genis' book."</p> + +<p>"As you will, Monsieur," said the Comte stiffly.</p> + +<p>De Marmont bowed quite ceremoniously to him, and the Comte—courtly and +correct to the last—returned his salute with equal ceremony. Then the +young man turned to Crystal.</p> + +<p>For the first time, perhaps, since the terrible fracas had begun, he +realised what it all must mean to her. She did not try to evade his +look, or to turn away from him. On the contrary she looked him straight +in the face, and watched him while he approached her, without retreating +one single step. But she watched him just as one would watch an abject +and revolting cur, that was too vile and too mean even to merit a kick.</p> + +<p>Crystal's blue eyes were always expressive, but they had never been so +expressive as they were just then. De Marmont met her glance squarely, +and he read in it everything that she meant to convey—her contempt, her +loathing, her hatred—but above all her contempt. So overwhelming, so +complete was this contempt that it made him wince, as if he had been +struck in the face with a whip.</p> + +<p>He stood still, for he knew that she would never allow him to kiss her +hand in farewell, and he had had enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> of insults—he knew that he +could not bear that final one.</p> + +<p>A red mist suddenly gathered before his eyes, a mad desire to strike, to +wound or to kill, and with it a wave of passion—he called it Love—for +this woman, such as he had never felt for her before. He gave her back +with a glance, hatred for hatred, but whereas her hatred for him was +smothered in contempt, his for her was leavened with a fierce and +dominant passion.</p> + +<p>All this had taken but a few seconds in accomplishment. M. le Comte had +not done more than give a sign to Hector to see M. de Marmont safely out +of the castle, and Maurice de St. Genis had only had time to think of +interposing, if de Marmont tried to take Crystal's hand.</p> + +<p>Only a few seconds, but a lifetime of emotion was crammed into them. +Then de Marmont, with Crystal's look of loathing still eating into his +soul, caught sight of Clyffurde who stood close by—Clyffurde whose one +thought throughout all this unhappy scene had been of Crystal, who +through it all had eyes and ears only for her.</p> + +<p>Some kind of instinct made the young girl look up to him just then: +probably only in response to a wave of memory which brought back to her +at that very moment, the words of devotion and offer of service which he +had spoken awhile ago; or it may have been that same sense which had +told her at the time that here was a man whom she could always trust, +that he would always prove a friend, as he had promised, and the look +which she gave him was one of simple confidence.</p> + +<p>But de Marmont just happened to intercept that look. He had never been +jealous of Clyffurde of course. Clyffurde—the foreigner, the bourgeois +tradesman—never could under any circumstances be a rival to reckon +with. At any other time he would have laughed at the idea of Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray bestowing the slightest favour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> upon the Englishman. +But within the last few seconds everything had become different. Victor +de Marmont, the triumphant and wealthy suitor of Mlle. de Cambray, had +become a pariah among all these ladies and gentlemen, and he had become +a man scorned by the woman whom he had wooed and thought to win so +easily.</p> + +<p>The fierce love engendered for Crystal in his turbulent heart by all the +hatred and all the scorn which she lavished upon him, brought an +unreasoning jealousy into being. He felt suddenly that he detested +Clyffurde. He remembered Clyffurde's nationality and its avowed hatred +of the hero whom he—de Marmont—worshipped. And he realised also that +that same hatred must of necessity be a bond between the Englishman and +Crystal de Cambray.</p> + +<p>Therefore—though this new untamed jealousy seized hold of him with +extraordinary power, though it brought that ominous red film before his +eyes, which makes a man strike out blindly and stupidly against his +rival, it also suggested to de Marmont a far simpler and far more +efficacious way of ridding himself once for all of any fear of rivalry +from Clyffurde.</p> + +<p>When he had bowed quite formally to Crystal he looked up at Bobby and +gave him a pleasant and friendly nod.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will be coming with me, my good Clyffurde," he said +lightly, "we are rowing in the same boat, you and I. We were a very +happy party, were we not? you and Emery and I when Général Mouton met us +outside Grenoble: for we had just heard the glorious news that the +Emperor is marching triumphantly through France."</p> + +<p>Then he turned once more to St. Genis: "Did not," he said, "the +General's aide-de-camp tell you that, M. de St. Genis?"</p> + +<p>St. Genis had—during these few seconds while de Marmont held the centre +of the stage—succeeded in controlling his excitement, at any rate +outwardly. He was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> absolutely master of the situation and had put his +successful rival so completely to rout, that the sense of satisfaction +helped to soothe his nerves: and when de Marmont spoke directly to him, +he was able to reply with comparative calm.</p> + +<p>"Had you," he said to de Marmont, "attempted to deny the accusation +which I have brought against you, I was ready to confront you with the +report which Général Mouton's aide-de-camp brought into the town."</p> + +<p>"I had no intention of denying my loyalty to the Emperor," rejoined de +Marmont, "but I would like to know what report Général Mouton's +aide-de-camp brought into Grenoble. The worthy General did not belie his +name, I assure you, he looked mightily scared when he recognised Emery."</p> + +<p>"He was alone with his aide-de-camp and in his coach," retorted St. +Genis, "whilst that traitor Emery, you and your friend Mr. Clyffurde +were on horseback—you gave him the slip easily enough."</p> + +<p>"That's true, of course," said de Marmont simply. "Well, shall we go, my +dear Clyffurde?"</p> + +<p>He had accomplished the purpose of his jealousy even more effectually +than he could have wished. He looked round and saw that everyone had +thrown a casual glance of contempt upon Clyffurde and then turned away +to murmur with scornful indifference: "I always mistrusted that man." +Or: "The Comte ought never to have had the fellow in the house," while +the words: "English spy!" and "Informer" were on every lip.</p> + +<p>But Clyffurde had made no movement during this brief colloquy. He +saw—just as de Marmont did—that everyone was listening more with +indifference than with horror. He—the stranger—was of so little +consequence after all!—a tradesman and an Englishman—what mattered +what his political convictions were? De Marmont was an ob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>ject of +hatred, but he—Clyffurde—was only one of contempt.</p> + +<p>He heard the muttered words: "English spy!" "Informer!" and others of +still more overwhelming disdain. But he cared little what these people +said. He knew that they would never trouble to hear any justification +from himself—they would not worry their heads about him a moment longer +once he had left the house in company with de Marmont.</p> + +<p>He was not quite sure either whether de Marmont's spite had been +directed against himself, personally, or that it was merely the outcome +of his present humiliating position.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte had not bestowed more than a glance upon him and that from +under haughtily raised brows and across half the width of the room: but +Crystal had looked up to him, and was still looking, and it was that +look which had driven all the blood from Clyffurde's face and caused his +lips to set closely as if with a sense of physical pain.</p> + +<p>The insults which her father's guests were overtly murmuring, she had in +her mind and her eyes were conveying them to him far more plainly than +her lips could have done:</p> + +<p>"English spy—traitor to friendship and to trust—liar, deceiver, +hypocrite." That and more did her scornful glance imply. But she said +nothing. He tried to plead with eyes as expressive as were her own, and +she merely turned away from him, just as if he no longer existed. She +drew her skirt closer round her and somehow with that gesture she seemed +to sweep him entirely out of her existence.</p> + +<p>Even Mme. la Duchesse had not one glance for him. To these passionate, +hot-headed, impulsive royalists, an adherent of the Corsican ogre was +lower than the scum of the earth. They loathed de Marmont because he had +been one of themselves: he was a traitor, and not one man there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> but +would have liked to see him put up against a wall and summarily shot. +But the stranger they wiped out of their lives.</p> + +<p>Was there any chance for Clyffurde, if he tried to defend himself? None +of a certainty. He could not call the accusation a lie, since he had +been in the company of Emery and of de Marmont most of the day, and mere +explanations would have fallen on deaf and unwilling ears.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde knew this, nor did he attempt any explanation. There is a +certain pride in the heart of every English gentleman which in moments +of acute crisis rises to its full power and height. That pride would not +allow Clyffurde to utter a single word in his own defence. The futility +of attempting it also influenced his decision. He scorned the idea of +speaking on his own behalf, words which were doomed to be disbelieved.</p> + +<p>In a moment he had found himself absolutely isolated in the centre of +the room, not far from the hearth where he had stood a little while ago +talking to Crystal, and close to the chair where she had sat with the +light of the fire playing upon her satin gown. The cushions still bore +the impress of her young figure as she had leaned up against them: the +sight of it was an additional pain which almost made Clyffurde wince.</p> + +<p>He bowed silently and very low to Crystal and to Mme. la Duchesse, and +then to all the ladies and gentlemen who cold-shouldered him with such +contemptuous ostentation. De Marmont with head erect and an air of +swagger was already waiting for him at the door. Clyffurde in taking +leave of M. le Comte made a violent effort to say at any rate the one +word which weighed upon his heart.</p> + +<p>"Will you at least permit me, M. le Comte," he said, "to thank you for +. . ."</p> + +<p>But already the Comte had interrupted him, even before the words were +clearly out of his mouth.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>"I will not permit you, Sir," he broke in firmly, "to speak a single +word other than a plain denial of M. de St. Genis' accusations against +you."</p> + +<p>Then as Clyffurde relapsed into silence, M. le Comte continued with +haughty peremptoriness:</p> + +<p>"A plain 'yes' or 'no' will suffice, Sir. Were you or were you not in +the company of those traitors Emery and de Marmont when Général +Mouton-Duvernet came upon them outside Grenoble?"</p> + +<p>"I was," replied Clyffurde simply.</p> + +<p>With a stiff nod of the head the Comte turned his back abruptly upon +him; no one took any further notice of the "English spy." The accused +had been condemned without enquiry and without trial. In times like +these all one's friends must be above suspicion. Clyffurde knew that +there was nothing to be said. With a quickly suppressed sigh, he too +turned away and in his habitual, English, dogged way he resolutely set +his teeth, and with a firm soldierly step walked quietly out of the +room.</p> + +<p>"Hector, see that M. de Marmont's coach is ready for him," said M. le +Comte with well assumed indifference; "and that supper is no longer +delayed."</p> + +<p>He then once more offered his arm to Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun. "Mme. la +Duchesse," he said in his most courtly manner, "I beg that you will +accept my apologies for this unforeseen interruption. May I have the +honour of conducting you to supper?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>De Marmont, having successfully shot his poisoned arrow and brought down +his enemy, had no longer any ill-feeling against Clyffurde. His jealousy +had been short-lived; it was set at rest by the brief episode which had +culminated in the Englishman's final exit from the Castle of Brestalou.</p> + +<p>Not a single detail of that moving little episode had escaped de +Marmont's keen eyes: he had seen Crystal's look of positive abhorrence +wherewith she had regarded Clyffurde, he had seen the gathering up of +her skirts away—as it were—from the contaminating propinquity of the +"English spy."</p> + +<p>And de Marmont was satisfied.</p> + +<p>He was perfectly ready to pick up the strained strands of friendship +with the Englishman and affected not to notice the latter's absorption +and moodiness.</p> + +<p>"Can I drive you into Grenoble, my good Clyffurde?" he asked airily as +he paused on the top of the perron steps, waiting for the hackney coach.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," replied Clyffurde; "I prefer to walk."</p> + +<p>"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night."</p> + +<p>"I know my way, I thank you."</p> + +<p>"Just as you like."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde +started walking down the monumental steps.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>"Well, I'll say 'good-night,' de Marmont," he said coldly. "And +'good-bye,' too."</p> + +<p>"You are not going away?" queried the other.</p> + +<p>"As soon as I can get the means of going."</p> + +<p>"Troops will be on the move all over the country soon. Foreigners will +be interned. You will have some difficulty in getting away."</p> + +<p>"I know that. That's why I want to make arrangements as early as +possible."</p> + +<p>"Where will you stay in the meanwhile?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly at the 'Trois-Dauphins' if I can get a room."</p> + +<p>"I shall see you again then. The Emperor will stay there while he is in +Grenoble. Well, good-night, my dear friend," said de Marmont, as he +extended a cordial hand to Clyffurde, who, in the dark, evidently failed +to see it. "And don't take the insults of all these fools too much to +heart." And he gave an expressive nod in the direction of the stately +castle behind him.</p> + +<p>"They are dolts," he continued airily; "if they possessed a grain of +sense they would have kept on friendly terms with me. As that old fool's +son-in-law I could have saved him from all the reprisals which will +inevitably fall on all these royalist traitors, now that the Emperor has +come into his own again."</p> + +<p>Clyffurde was half-way down the stone steps when these words of de +Marmont struck upon his ear. Instinctively he retraced his steps. There +was a suggestion of impending danger to Crystal in what the young man +had said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by talking about reprisals?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! . . . only the inevitable," replied de Marmont. "The people of the +Dauphiné never cared for these royalists, you know . . . and didn't +learn to like them any better in these past eleven months since the +Restoration. M. le Comte de Cambray has been very high and mighty since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +his return from exile. He may yet come to wish that he had never quitted +the comfortable little provincial town in England where he gave drawing +lessons and French lessons to some very bourgeois boys. . . . But here's +that coach at last!" he continued with that jaunty air which he had +assumed since turning his back upon the reception halls of Brestalou. +"Are you sure that you would rather walk than drive with me?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Clyffurde abruptly, "I am not sure. Thank you very much. I +think that if you don't object to my somewhat morose company I would +like a lift as far as Grenoble."</p> + +<p>He wanted to make de Marmont talk, to hear what the young man had to +say. From it he thought that he could learn more accurately what danger +would threaten Brestalou in the event of Napoleon's successful march to +Paris.</p> + +<p>That the great adventurer's triumph would be short-lived Clyffurde was +perfectly sure. He knew the temper of England and believed in the +military genius of Wellington. England would never tolerate for a moment +longer than she could help that the firebrand of Europe should once more +sit upon the throne of France, and unless the allies had greatly altered +their policy in the past ten months and refused England the necessary +support, Wellington would be more than a match for the decimated army of +Bonaparte.</p> + +<p>But a few weeks—months, perhaps, might elapse before Napoleon was once +again put entirely out of action—and this time more completely and more +effectually than with a small kingdom wherein to dream again of European +conquests; during those weeks and months Brestalou and its inhabitants +would be at the mercy of the man from Corsica—the island of unrest and +of never sleeping vendetta.</p> + +<p>De Marmont was ready enough to talk. He knew noth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>ing, of course, of +Napoleon's plans and ideas save what Emery had told him. But what he +lacked in knowledge he more than made up in imagination. Excitement too +had made him voluble. He talked freely and incessantly: "The Emperor +would do this. . . . The Emperor will never tolerate that . . ." was all +the time on his lips.</p> + +<p>He bragged and he swaggered, launched into passionate eulogies of the +Emperor, and fiery denunciations of his enemies. Berthier, Clark, +Foucher, de Marmont, they all deserved death. Ney alone was to be +pardoned, for Ney was a fine soldier—always supposing that Ney would +repent. But men like the Comte de Cambray were a pest in any +country—mischief-making and intriguing. Bah! the Emperor will never +tolerate them.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Clyffurde—who had become half-drowsy, lulled to somnolence by +de Marmont's incessant chatter and the monotonous jog-trot of the +horses—woke to complete consciousness. He pricked his ears and in a +moment was all attention.</p> + +<p>"They think that they can deceive me," de Marmont was saying airily. +"They think that I am as great a fool as they are, with their talk of +Mme. la Duchesse's journey north, directly after the wedding! Bah! any +dolt can put two and two together: the Comte tells me in one breath that +he had a visit from Fourier in the afternoon, and that the Duchesse—who +only arrived in Brestalou yesterday—would leave again for Paris on the +day after to-morrow, and he tells it me with a mysterious air, and adds +a knowing wink, and a promise that he would explain himself more fully +later on. I could have laughed—if it were not all so miserably stupid."</p> + +<p>He paused for want of breath and tried to peer through the window of the +coach.</p> + +<p>"It is pitch-dark," he said, "but we can't be very far from the city +now."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>"I don't see," rejoined Clyffurde, ostentatiously smothering a yawn, +"what M. le préfet's visit to Brestalou had to do with the Duchesse's +journey to the north. You have got intrigues on the brain, my good de +Marmont."</p> + +<p>And with well-feigned indifference, he settled himself more cosily into +the dark corner of the carriage.</p> + +<p>De Marmont laughed. "What Fourier's afternoon visit has to do with Mme. +d'Agen's journey?" he retorted, "I'll tell you, my good Clyffurde. +Fourier went to see M. le Comte de Cambray this afternoon because he is +a poltroon. He is terrified at the thought that the unfortunate Empress' +money and treasure are still lying in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville +and he went out to Brestalou in order to consult with the Comte what had +best be done with the money."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know the ex-Empress' money was lying in the cellar of the +Hôtel de Ville," remarked Clyffurde with well-assumed indifference.</p> + +<p>"Nor did I until Emery told me," rejoined de Marmont. "The money is +there though: stolen from the Empress Marie Louise by that +arch-intriguer Talleyrand. Twenty-five millions in notes and drafts! the +Emperor reckons on it for current expenses until he has reached Paris +and taken over the Treasury."</p> + +<p>"Even then I don't see what Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen has to do with it."</p> + +<p>"You don't," said de Marmont drily: "but I did in a moment. Fourier +wouldn't keep the money at the Hôtel de Ville: the Comte de Cambray +would not allow it to be deposited in his house. They both want the +Bourbon to have it. So—in order to lull suspicion—they have decided +that Madame la Duchesse shall take the money to Paris."</p> + +<p>"Well!—perhaps!—" said Clyffurde with a yawn. "But are we not in +Grenoble yet?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>Once more he lapsed into silence, closed his eyes and to all intents and +purposes fell asleep, for never another word did de Marmont get out of +him, until Grenoble was reached and the rue Montorge.</p> + +<p>Here de Marmont had his lodgings, three doors from the "Hôtel des +Trois-Dauphins," where fortunately Clyffurde managed to secure a +comfortable room for himself.</p> + +<p>He parted quite amicably from de Marmont, promising to call in upon him +in the morning. It would be foolish to quarrel with that young wind-bag +now. He knew some things, and talked of a great many more.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Preparations against the arrival of the Corsican ogre were proceeding +apace. Général Marchand had been overconfident throughout the day—which +was the 5th of March: "The troops," he said, "were loyal to a man. They +were coming in fast from Chambéry and Vienne; the garrison would and +could repulse that band of pirates, and take upon itself to fulfil the +promise which Ney had made to the King—namely to bring the ogre to His +Majesty bound and gagged in an iron cage."</p> + +<p>But the following day, which was the 6th, many things occurred to shake +the Commandant's confidence: Napoleon's proclamation was not only posted +up all over the town, but the citizens were distributing the printed +leaflets among themselves: one of the officers on the staff pointed out +to Général Marchand that the 4th regiment of artillery quartered in +Grenoble was the one in which Bonaparte had served as a lieutenant +during the Revolution—the men, it was argued, would never turn their +arms against one whom they had never ceased to idolize: it would not be +safe to march out into the open with men whose loyalty was so very +doubtful.</p> + +<p>There was a rumour current in the town that when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> the men of the 5th +regiment of engineers and the 4th of artillery were told that Napoleon +had only eleven hundred men with him, they all murmured with one accord: +"And what about us?"</p> + +<p>Therefore Général Marchand, taking all these facts into consideration, +made up his mind to await the ogre inside the walls of Grenoble. Here at +any rate defections and desertions would be less likely to occur than in +the field. He set to work to organise the city into a state of defence; +forty-seven guns were put in position upon the ramparts which dominate +the road to the south, and he sent a company of engineers and a +battalion of infantry to blow up the bridge of Ponthaut at La Mure.</p> + +<p>The royalists in the city, who were beginning to feel very anxious, had +assembled in force to cheer these troops as they marched out of the +city. But the attitude of the sapeurs created a very unpleasant +impression: they marched out in disorder, some of them tore the white +cockade from their shakos, and one or two cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" +were distinctly heard in their ranks.</p> + +<p>At La Mure, M. le Maire argued very strongly against the destruction of +the bridge of Ponthaut: "It would be absurd," he said, "to blow up a +valuable bridge, since not one kilometre away there was an excellent +ford across which Napoleon could march his troops with perfect ease." +The sapeurs murmured an assent, and their officer, Colonel Delessart, +feeling the temper of his men, did not dare insist.</p> + +<p>He quartered them at La Mure to await the arrival of the infantry, and +further orders from Général Marchand. When the 5th regiment of infantry +was reported to have reached Laffray, Delessart had the sapeurs out and +marched out to meet them, although it was then close upon midnight.</p> + +<p>While Delessart and his troops encamped at Laffray,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> Cambronne—who was +in command of Napoleon's vanguard—himself occupied La Mure. This was on +the 7th. The Mayor—who had so strongly protested against the +destruction of the bridge of Ponthaut—gathered the population around +him, and in a body men, women and children marched out of the borough +along the Corps-Sisteron road in order to give "the Emperor" a rousing +welcome.</p> + +<p>It was still early morning. Napoleon at the head of his Old Guard +entered La Mure; a veritable ovation greeted him, everyone pressed round +him to see him or touch his horse, his coat, his stirrups; he spoke to +the people and held the Mayor and municipal officials in long +conversation.</p> + +<p>Just as practically everywhere else on his route, he had won over every +heart; but his small column which had been eleven hundred strong when he +landed at Jouan, was still only eleven hundred strong: he had only +rallied four recruits to his standard. True, he had met with no +opposition, true that the peasantry of the Dauphiné had loudly acclaimed +him, had listened to his harangues and presented him with flowers, but +he had not had a single encounter with any garrison on his way, nor +could he boast of any defections in his favour; now he was nearing +Grenoble—Grenoble, which was strongly fortified and well +garrisoned—and Grenoble would be the winning or losing cast of this +great gamble for the sovereignty of France.</p> + +<p>It was close on eleven when the great adventurer set out upon this +momentous stage of his journey: the Polish Lancers leading, then the +chasseurs of his Old Guard with their time-worn grey coats and heavy +bear-skins; some of them were on foot, others packed closely together in +wagons and carts which the enthusiastic agriculturists of La Mure had +placed at the disposal of "the Emperor."</p> + +<p>Napoleon himself followed in his coach, his horse being led along. +Amidst thundering cries of "God speed" the small column started on its +way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history; every phase of it has +been put on record:—Delessart—worried in his mind that he had not been +able to obey Général Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of +Ponthaut—his desire to communicate once more with the General; his +decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the +narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to +oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side.</p> + +<p>On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons +wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself, +the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open +windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the +chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond +the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead +Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still +hidden—the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the +ignominy of irretrievable failure.</p> + +<p>History has made a record of it all, and it is not the purpose of this +true chronicle to do more than recall with utmost brevity the chief +incident of that memorable encounter, the Polish Lancers galloping back +with the report that the narrow pass was held against them in strong +force: the Old Guard climbing helter-skelter out of carts and wagons, +examining their arms, making ready: Napoleon stepping quickly out of his +coach and mounting his charger.</p> + +<p>On the other side Delessart holding hurried consultation with the +Vicomte de St. Genis whom Général Marchand has despatched to him with +orders to shoot the brigand and his horde as he would a pack of wolves.</p> + +<p>Napoleon is easily recognisable in the distance, with his grey overcoat, +his white horse and his bicorne hat; presently he dismounts and walks up +and down across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> narrow road, evidently in a state of great mental +agitation.</p> + +<p>Delessart's men are sullen and silent; a crowd of men and women from +Grenoble have followed them up thus far; they work their way in and out +among the infantrymen: they have printed leaflets in their hands which +they cram one by one into the hands or pockets of the soldiers—copies +of Napoleon's proclamation.</p> + +<p>Now an officer of the Old Guard is seen to ride up the pass. Delessart +recognises him. They were brothers in arms two years ago and served +together under the greatest military genius the world has ever known. +Napoleon has sent the man on as an emissary, but Delessart will not +allow him to speak.</p> + +<p>"I mean to do my duty," he declares.</p> + +<p>But in his voice too there has already crept that note of sullenness +which characterised the sapeurs from the first.</p> + +<p>Then Captain Raoul, own aide-de-camp to Napoleon, comes up at full +gallop: nor does he draw rein till he is up with the entire front of +Delessart's battalion.</p> + +<p>"Your Emperor is coming," he shouts to the soldiers, "if you fire, the +first shot will reach him: and France will make you answerable for this +outrage!"</p> + +<p>While he shouts and harangues the men are still sullen and silent. And +in the distance the lances of the Polish cavalry gleam in the sun, and +the shaggy bear-skins of the Old Guard are seen to move forward up the +pass. Delessart casts a rapid piercing glance over his men. Sullenness +had given place to obvious terror.</p> + +<p>"Right about turn! . . . Quick! . . . March!" he commands.</p> + +<p>Resistance obviously would be useless with these men, who are on the +verge of laying down their arms. He forces on a quick march, but the +Polish Lancers are already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> gaining ground: the sound of their horses' +hoofs stamping the frozen ground, the snorting, the clanging of arms is +distinctly heard. Delessart now has no option. He must make his men turn +once more and face the ogre and his battalion before they are attacked +in the rear.</p> + +<p>As soon as the order is given and the two little armies stand face to +face the Polish Lancers halt and the Old Guard stand still.</p> + +<p>And it almost seems for the moment as if Nature herself stood still and +listened, and looked on. The genial midday sun is slowly melting the +snow on pine trees and rocks; one by one the glistening tiny crystals +blink and vanish under the warmth of the kiss; the hard, white road +darkens under the thaw and slowly a thin covering of water spreads over +the icy crust of the lakes.</p> + +<p>Napoleon tells Colonel Mallet to order the men to lower their arms. +Mallet protests, but Napoleon reiterates the command, more peremptorily +this time, and Mallet must obey. Then at the head of his old chasseurs, +thus practically disarmed, the Emperor—and he is every inch an Emperor +now—walks straight up to Delessart's opposing troops.</p> + +<p>Hot-headed St. Genis cries: "Here he is!—Fire, in Heaven's name!"</p> + +<p>But the sapeurs—the old regiment in which Napoleon had served as a +young lieutenant in those glorious olden days—are now as pale as death, +their knees shake under them, their arms tremble in their hands.</p> + +<p>At ten paces away from the foremost ranks Napoleon halts:</p> + +<p>"Soldiers," he cries loudly. "Here I am! your Emperor, do you know me?"</p> + +<p>Again he advances and with a calm gesture throws open his well-worn grey +redingote.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" cries St. Genis in mad exasperation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>"Fire!" commands Delessart in a voice rendered shaky with overmastering +emotion.</p> + +<p>Silence reigns supreme. Napoleon still advances, step by step, his +redingote thrown open, his broad chest challenging the first bullet +which would dare to end the bold, adventurous, daring life.</p> + +<p>"Is there one of you soldiers here who wants to shoot his Emperor? If +there is, here I am! Fire!"</p> + +<p>Which of these soldiers who have served under him at Jena and Austerlitz +could resist such a call. His voice has lost nothing yet of its charm, +his personality nothing of its magic. Ambitious, ruthless, selfish he +may be, but to the army, a friend, a comrade as well as a god.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the silence is broken. Shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" rend the +air, they echo down the narrow valley, re-echo from hill to hill and +reverberate upon the pine-clad heights of Taillefer. Broken are the +ranks, white cockades fly in every direction, tricolours appear in their +hundreds everywhere. Shakos are waved on the points of the bayonets, and +always, always that cry: "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Sapeurs and infantrymen crowd around the little man in the worn grey +redingote, and he with that rough familiarity which bound all soldiers' +hearts to him, seizes an old sergeant by the ends of his long moustache:</p> + +<p>"So, you old dog," he says, "you were going to shoot your Emperor, were +you?"</p> + +<p>"Not me," replies the man with a growl. "Look at our guns. Not one of +them was loaded."</p> + +<p>Delessart, in despair yet shaken to the heart, his eyes swimming in +tears, offers his sword to Napoleon, whereupon the Emperor grasps his +hand in friendship and comforts him with a few inspiring words.</p> + +<p>Only St. Genis has looked on all this scene with horror and contempt. +His royalist opinions are well known, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> urgent appeal to Delessart a +while ago to "shoot the brigand and his hordes" still rings in every +soldier's ear. He is half-crazy with rage and there is quite an element +of terror in the confused thoughts which crowd in upon his brain.</p> + +<p>Already the sapeurs and infantrymen have joined the ranks of the Old +Guard, and Napoleon, with that inimitable verve and inspiring eloquence +of which he was pastmaster, was haranguing his troops. Just then three +horsemen, dressed in the uniform of officers of the National Guard and +wearing enormous tricolour cockades as large as soup-plates on their +shakos, are seen to arrive at a break-neck gallop down the pass from +Grenoble.</p> + +<p>St. Genis recognised them at a glance: they were Victor de Marmont, +Surgeon-Captain Emery and their friend the glovemaker, Dumoulin. The +next moment these three men were at the feet of their beloved hero.</p> + +<p>"Sire," said Dumoulin the glovemaker, "in the name of the citizens of +Grenoble we hereby offer you our services and one hundred thousand +francs collected in the last twenty-four hours for your use."</p> + +<p>"I accept both," replied the Emperor, while he grasped vigorously the +hands of his three most devoted friends.</p> + +<p>St. Genis uttered a loud and comprehensive curse: then he pulled his +horse abruptly round and with such a jerk that it reared and plunged +madly forward ere it started galloping away with its frantic rider in +the direction of Grenoble.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>And Grenoble itself was in a turmoil.</p> + +<p>In the barracks the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" were incessant; Général +Marchand was indefatigable in his efforts to still that cry, to rouse in +the hearts of the soldiers a sense of loyalty to the King.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>"Your country and your King," he shouted from barrack-room to +barrack-room.</p> + +<p>"Our country and our Emperor!" responded the soldiers with ever-growing +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The spirit of the army and of the people were Bonapartist to the core. +They had never trusted either Marchand or préfet Fourier, who had turned +their coats so readily at the Restoration: they hated the émigrés—the +Comte de Cambray, the Vicomte de St. Genis, the Duc d'Embrun—with their +old-fashioned ideas of the semi-divine rights of the nobility second +only to the godlike ones of the King. They thought them arrogant and +untamed, over-ready to grab once more all the privileges which a bloody +Revolution had swept away.</p> + +<p>To them Napoleon, despite the brilliant days of the Empire, despite his +autocracy, his militarism and his arrogance, represented "the people," +the advanced spirit of the Revolution; his downfall had meant a return +to the old regime—the regime of feudal rights, of farmers general, of +heavy taxation and dear bread.</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!" was cried in the barracks and "Vive l'Empereur!" at +the street corners.</p> + +<p>A squadron of Hussars had marched into Grenoble from Vienne just before +noon: the same squadron which a few months ago at a revue by the Comte +d'Artois in the presence of the King had shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" What +faith could be put in their loyalty now?</p> + +<p>But two infantry regiments came in at the same time from Chambéry and on +these Général Marchand hoped to be able to reckon. The Comte Charles de +la Bédoyère was in command of the 7th regiment, and though he had served +in Prussia under Napoleon he had tendered his oath loyally to Louis +XVIII. at the Restoration. He was a tried and able soldier and Marchand +believed in him. The General himself reviewed both infantry regiments on +the Place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> d'Armes on their arrival, and then posted them upon the +ramparts of the city, facing direct to the southeast and dominating the +road to La Mure.</p> + +<p>De la Bédoyère remained in command of the 7th.</p> + +<p>For two hours he paced the ramparts in a state of the greatest possible +agitation. The nearness of Napoleon, of the man who had been his comrade +in arms first and his leader afterwards, had a terribly disturbing +effect upon his spirit. From below in the city the people's mutterings, +their grumbling, their sullen excitement seemed to rise upwards like an +intoxicating incense. The attitude of the troops, of the gunners, as +well as of the garrison and of his own regiment, worked more potently +still upon the Colonel's already shaken loyalty.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly his mind is made up. He draws his sword and shouts: "Vive +l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>"Soldiers!" he calls. "Follow me! I will show you the way to duty! +Follow me! Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferate the troops.</p> + +<p>"After me, my men! to the Bonne Gate! After me!" cries De la Bédoyère.</p> + +<p>And to the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" the 7th regiment of infantry +passes through the gate and marches along the streets of the suburb on +towards La Mure.</p> + +<p>Général Marchand, hastily apprised of the wholesale defection, sends +Colonel Villiers in hot haste in the wake of De la Bédoyère. Villiers +comes up with the latter two kilomètres outside Grenoble. He talks, he +persuades, he admonishes, he scolds, De la Bédoyère and his men are +firm.</p> + +<p>"Your country and your king!" shouts Villiers.</p> + +<p>"Our country and our Emperor!" respond the men. And they go to join the +Old Guard at Laffray while Villiers in despair rides back into Grenoble.</p> + +<p>In the town the desertion of the 7th has had a very serious effect. The +muttered cries of "Vive l'Empereur!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> are open shouts now. Général +Marchand is at his wits' ends. He has ordered the closing of every city +gate, and still the soldiers in batches of tens and twenties at a time +contrive to escape out of the town carrying their arms and in many cases +baggage with them. The royalist faction—the women as well as the +men—spend the whole day in and out of the barrack-rooms talking to the +men, trying to infuse into them loyalty to the King, and to cheer them +up by bringing them wine and provisions.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon the Vicomte de St. Genis, sick, exhausted, his horse +covered with lather, comes back with the story of the pass of Laffray, +and Napoleon's triumphant march toward Grenoble. Marchand seriously +contemplates evacuating the city in order to save the garrison and his +stores.</p> + +<p>Préfet Fourier congratulates himself on his foresight and on that he has +transferred the twenty-five million francs from the cellars of the Hôtel +de Ville into the safe keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray. He and Général +Marchand both hope and think that "the brigand and his horde" cannot +possibly be at the gates of Grenoble before the morrow, and that Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen would be well on her way to Paris with the money by that +time.</p> + +<p>Marchand in the meanwhile has made up his mind to retire from the city +with his troops. It is only a strategical measure, he argues, to save +bloodshed and to save his stores, pending the arrival of the Comte +d'Artois at Lyons, with the army corps. He gives the order for the +general retreat to commence at two o'clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>Satisfied that he has done the right thing, he finally goes back to his +quarters in the Hotel du Dauphiné close to the ramparts. The Comte de +Cambray is his guest at dinner, and toward seven o'clock the two men at +last sit down to a hurried meal, both their minds filled with +apprehension<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> and not a little fear as to what the next few days will +bring.</p> + +<p>"It is, of course, only a question of time," says the Comte de Cambray +airily. "Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois will be at Lyons directly with +forty thousand men, and he will easily crush that marauding band of +pirates. But this time the Corsican after his defeat must be put more +effectually out of harm's way. I, personally, was never much in favour +of Elba."</p> + +<p>"The English have some islands out in the Atlantic or the Pacific," +responds Général Marchand with firm decision. "It would be safest to +shoot the brigand, but failing that, let the English send him to one of +those islands, and undertake to guard him well."</p> + +<p>"Let us drink to that proposition, my dear Marchand," concludes M. le +Comte with a smile.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the two men concluded this toast, when a fearful din is +heard, "regular howls" proceeding from the suburb of Bonne. The windows +of the hotel give on the ramparts and the house itself dominates the +Bonne Gate and the military ground beyond it. Hastily Marchand jumps up +from the table and throws open the window. He and the Comte step out +upon the balcony.</p> + +<p>The din has become deafening: with a hand that slightly trembles now +Général Marchand points to the extensive grounds that lie beyond the +city gate, and M. le Comte quickly smothers an exclamation of terror.</p> + +<p>A huge crowd of peasants armed with scythes and carrying torches which +flicker in the frosty air have invaded the slopes and flats of the +military zone. They are yelling "Vive l'Empereur!" at the top of their +voices, and from walls and bastions reverberates the answering cry "Vive +l'Empereur!" vociferated by infantrymen and gunners and sapeurs, and +echoed and re-echoed with passionate enthusiasm by the people of +Grenoble assembled in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> thousands in the narrow streets which abut +upon the ramparts.</p> + +<p>And in the midst of the peasantry, surrounded by them as by a cordon, +Napoleon and his small army, just reinforced by the 7th regiment of +infantry, have halted—expectant.</p> + +<p>Napoleon's aide-de-camp, Capitaine Raoul, accompanied by half a dozen +lancers, comes up to the palisade which bars the immediate approach to +the city gates.</p> + +<p>"Open!" he cries loudly, so loudly that his young, firm voice rises +above the tumult around. "Open! in the name of the Emperor!"</p> + +<p>Marchand sees it all, he hears the commanding summons, hears the +thunderous and enthusiastic cheers which greet Captain Raoul's call to +surrender. He and the Comte de Cambray are still standing upon the +balcony of the hotel that faces the gate of Bonne and dominates from its +high ground the ramparts opposite. White-cheeked and silent the two men +have gazed before them and have understood. To attempt to stem this tide +of popular enthusiasm would inevitably be fatal. The troops inside +Grenoble were as ready to cross over to "the brigand's" standard as was +Colonel de la Bédoyère's regiment of infantry.</p> + +<p>The ramparts and the surrounding military zone were lit up by hundreds +of torches; by their flickering light the two men on the balcony could +see the faces of the people, and those of the soldiers who were even now +being ordered to fire upon Raoul and the Lancers.</p> + +<p>Colonel Roussille, who is in command of the troops at the gate, sends a +hasty messenger to Général Marchand: "The brigand demands that we open +the gate!" reports the messenger breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Tell the Colonel to give the order to fire," is Marchand's peremptory +response.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming with me, M. le Comte?" he asks hur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>riedly. But he does +not wait for a reply. Wrapping his cloak around him, he goes in the wake +of the messenger. M. le Comte de Cambray is close on his heels.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the General is up on the ramparts. He has thrown a +quick, piercing glance round him. There are two thousand men up here, +twenty guns, ammunition in plenty. Out there only peasants and a +heterogeneous band of some fifteen hundred men. One shot from a gun +perhaps would send all that crowd flying, the first fusillade might +scatter "the band of brigands," but Marchand cannot, dare not give the +positive order to fire; he knows that rank insubordination, positive +refusal to obey would follow.</p> + +<p>He talks to the men, he harangues, he begs them to defend their city +against this "horde of Corsican pirates."</p> + +<p>To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive +l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a +captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be +tried and loyal royalists.</p> + +<p>"If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the +officers at least fire the first shot?"</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was +filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners +have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to +pieces with their own batteries."</p> + +<p>The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in +from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the +town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more +insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades +which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the +gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly +resisting axe or pick.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>"Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!"</p> + +<p>They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What +price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners.</p> + +<p>"Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no +danger of the Emperor getting any."</p> + +<p>The women sing the old couplet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bon! Bon! Napoléon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Va rentrer dans sa maison!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nous allons voir le grand Napoléon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"What can we do, M. le Comte?" says Général Marchand at last. "We shall +have to give in."</p> + +<p>"I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame."</p> + +<p>Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of +an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the +tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de +Marmont and Colonel de la Bédoyère he advances as far as the gate which +still stands barred defiantly against him.</p> + +<p>"I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud.</p> + +<p>Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take +orders from the General himself."</p> + +<p>"He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon.</p> + +<p>"I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the +General."</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with +rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid +light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the +Emperor, who are being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous +officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!"</p> + +<p>His shrill and frantic cries seem to precipitate the inevitable climax. +The tumult has become absolutely delirious. The soldiers on the ramparts +tumble over one another in a mad rush for the gate, which they try to +break open with the butt-end of their rifles; but they dare not actually +attack their own officers, and in any case they know that the keys of +the city are still in the hands of Général Marchand, and Général +Marchand has suddenly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Feeling the hopelessness and futility of further resistance, he has gone +back to his hotel, and is even now giving orders and making preparations +for leaving Grenoble. Préfet Fourier, hastily summoned, is with him, and +the Comte de Cambray is preparing to return immediately to Brestalou.</p> + +<p>"We shall all leave for Paris to-morrow, as early as possible," he says, +as he finally takes leave of the General and the préfet, "and take the +money with us, of course. If the King—which God forbid!—is obliged to +leave Paris, it will be most acceptable to him, until the day when the +allies are once more in the field and ready to crush, irretrievably this +time, this Corsican scourge of Europe."</p> + +<p>One or two of the royalist officers have succeeded in massing together +some two or three hundred men out of several regiments who appear to be +determined to remain loyal.</p> + +<p>St. Genis is not among these: his men had been among the first to cry +"Vive l'Empereur!" when ordered to fire on the brigand and his hordes. +They had even gone so far as to threaten their officers' lives.</p> + +<p>Now, covered with shame, and boiling with wrath at the defection, St. +Genis asks leave of the General to escort M. le Comte de Cambray and his +party to Paris.</p> + +<p>"We shall be better off for extra protection," urges M. le Comte de +Cambray in support of St. Genis' plea for leave. "I shall only have the +coachman and two postillions with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> me. M. de St. Genis would be of +immense assistance in case of footpads."</p> + +<p>"The road to Paris is quite safe, I believe," says Général Marchand, +"and at Lyons you will meet the army of M. le Comte d'Artois. But +perhaps M. de St. Genis had better accompany you as far as there, at any +rate. He can then report himself at Lyons. Twenty-five millions is a +large sum, of course, but the purpose of your journey has remained a +secret, has it not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," says M. le Comte unhesitatingly, for he has completely +erased Victor de Marmont from his mind.</p> + +<p>"Well then, all you need fear is an attack from footpads—and even that +is unlikely," concludes Général Marchand, who by now is in a great hurry +to go. "But M. de St. Genis has my permission to escort you."</p> + +<p>The General entrusts the keys of the Bonne Gate to Colonel Roussille. He +has barely time to execute his hasty flight, having arranged to escape +out of Grenoble by the St. Laurent Gate on the north of the town. In the +meanwhile a carter from the suburb of St. Joseph outside the Bonne Gate +has harnessed a team of horses to one of his wagons and brought along a +huge joist: twenty pairs of willing and stout arms are already +manipulating this powerful engine for the breaking open of the resisting +gate. Already the doors are giving way, the hinges creak; and while +Général Marchand and préfet Fourier with their small body of faithful +soldiers rush precipitately across the deserted streets of the town, +Colonel Roussille makes ready to open the Gate of Bonne to the Emperor +and to his soldiers.</p> + +<p>"My regiment was prepared to turn against me," he says to his men, "but +I shall not turn against them."</p> + +<p>Then he formally throws open the gate.</p> + +<p>Ecstatic delight, joyful enthusiasm, succeeds the frantic cries of a +while ago. Napoleon entering the city of Grenoble was nearly crushed to +death by the frenzy of the crowd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> Cheered to the echoes, surrounded by +a delirious populace which hardly allowed him to move, it was hours +before he succeeded in reaching the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins, where he +was resolved to spend the night, since it was kept by an ex-soldier, one +of his own Old Guard of the Italian campaign.</p> + +<p>The enthusiasm was kept up all night. The town was illuminated. Until +dawn men and women paraded the streets singing the "Marseillaise" and +shouting "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>In a small room, simply furnished but cosy and comfortable, the great +adventurer, who had conquered half the world and lost it and had now set +out to conquer it again, sat with half a dozen of his most faithful +friends: Cambronne and Raoul, Victor de Marmont and Emery.</p> + +<p>On the table spread out before him was an ordnance map of the province; +his clenched hand rested upon it; his eyes, those eagle-like, piercing +eyes which had so often called his soldiers to victory, gazed out +straight before him, as if through the bare, white-washed walls of this +humble hotel room he saw the vision of the brilliant halls of the +Tuileries, the imperial throne, the Empress beside him, all her +faithlessness and pusillanimity forgiven, his son whom he worshipped, +his marshals grouped around him; and with a gesture of proud defiance he +threw back his head and said loudly:</p> + +<p>"Until to-day I was only an adventurer. To-night I am a prince once +more."</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>It was the next morning in that same sparsely-furnished and uncarpeted +room of the Hôtel des Trois-Dauphins that Napoleon spoke to Victor de +Marmont, to Emery and Dumoulin about the money which had been stolen +last year<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> from the Empress and which he understood had been deposited +in the cellars of the Hôtel de Ville.</p> + +<p>"I am not going," he said, "to levy a war tax on my good city of +Grenoble, but my good and faithful soldiers must be paid, and I must +provision my army in case I encounter stronger resistance at Lyons than +I can cope with, and am forced to make a détour. I want the money—the +Empress' money, which that infamous Talleyrand stole from her. So you, +de Marmont, had best go straight away to the Hôtel de Ville and in my +name summon the préfet to appear before me. You can tell him at once +that it is on account of the money."</p> + +<p>"I will go at once, Sire," replied de Marmont with a regretful sigh, +"but I fear me that it is too late."</p> + +<p>"Too late?" snapped out the Emperor with a frown, "what do you mean by +too late?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that Fourier has left Grenoble in the trail of Marchand, and +that two days ago—unless I'm very much mistaken—he disposed of the +money."</p> + +<p>"Disposed of the money? You are mad, de Marmont."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether, Sire. When I say that Fourier disposed of the Empress' +money I only mean that he deposited it in what he would deem a safe +place."</p> + +<p>"The cur!" exclaimed Napoleon with a yet tighter clenching of his hand +and mighty fist, "turning against the hand that fed him and made him +what he is. Well!" he added impatiently, "where is the money now?"</p> + +<p>"In the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray at Brestalou," replied de +Marmont without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the Emperor, "take a company of the 7th regiment with +you to Brestalou and requisition the money at once."</p> + +<p>"If—as I believe—the Comte no longer has the money by him?——"</p> + +<p>"Make him tell you where it is."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>"I mean, Sire, that it is my belief that M. le Comte's sister and +daughter will undertake to take the money to Paris, hoping by their sex +and general air of innocence to escape suspicion in connection with the +money."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry me with all these details, de Marmont," broke in Napoleon +with a frown of impatience. "I told you to take a company with you and +to get me the Empress' money. See to it that this is done and leave me +in peace."</p> + +<p>He hated arguing, hated opposition, the very suggestion of any +difficulty. His followers and intimates knew that; already de Marmont +had repented that he had allowed his tongue to ramble on quite so much. +Now he felt that silence must redeem his blunder—silence now and +success in his undertaking.</p> + +<p>He bent the knee, for this homage the great Corsican adventurer and +one-time dictator of civilised Europe loved to receive: he kissed the +hand which had once wielded the sceptre of a mighty Empire and was ready +now to grasp it again. Then he rose and gave the military salute.</p> + +<p>"It shall be done, Sire," was all that he said.</p> + +<p>His heart was full of enthusiasm, and the task allotted to him was a +congenial one: the baffling and discomfiture of those who had insulted +him. If—as he believed—Crystal would be accompanying her aunt on the +journey toward Paris, then indeed would his own longing for some sort of +revenge for the humiliation which he had endured on that memorable +Sunday evening be fully gratified.</p> + +<p>It was with a light and swinging step that he ran down the narrow stairs +of the hotel. In the little entrance hall below he met Clyffurde.</p> + +<p>In his usual impulsive way, without thought of what had gone before or +was likely to happen in the future, he went up to the Englishman with +outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"My dear Clyffurde," he said with unaffected cordiality,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> "I am glad to +see you! I have been wondering what had become of you since we parted on +Sunday last. My dear friend," he added ecstatically, "what glorious +events, eh?"</p> + +<p>He did not wait for Clyffurde's reply, nor did he appear to notice the +latter's obvious coldness of manner, but went prattling on with great +volubility.</p> + +<p>"What a man!" he exclaimed, nodding significantly in the direction +whence he had just come. "A six days' march—mostly on foot and along +steep mountain paths! and to-day as fresh and vigorous as if he had just +spent a month's holiday at some pleasant watering place! What luck to be +serving such a man! And what luck to be able to render him really useful +service! The tables will be turned, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" he added, +giving his taciturn friend a jovial dig in the ribs, "and what lovely +discomfiture for our proud aristocrats, eh? They will be sorry to have +made an enemy of Victor de Marmont, what?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Clyffurde made a violent effort to appear friendly and jovial +too.</p> + +<p>"Why," he said with a pleasant laugh, "what madcap ideas are floating +through your head now?"</p> + +<p>"Madcap schemes?" ejaculated de Marmont. "Nothing more or less, my dear +Clyffurde, than complete revenge for the humiliation those de Cambrays +put upon me last Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Revenge? That sounds exciting," said Clyffurde with a smile, even while +his palm itched to slap the young braggart's face.</p> + +<p>"Exciting, <i>par Dieu!</i> Of course it will be exciting. They have no idea +that I guessed their little machinations. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +travelling to Paris forsooth! Aye! but with five and twenty millions +sewn somewhere inside her petticoats. Well! the Emperor happens to want +his own five and twenty millions, if you please. So Mme. la Duchesse or +M. le Comte will have to disgorge. And I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> shall have the pleasing task +of <i>making</i> them disgorge. What say you to that, friend Clyffurde?"</p> + +<p>"That I am sorry for you," replied the other drily.</p> + +<p>"Sorry for me? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is never a pleasing task to bully a defenceless woman—and +an old one at that."</p> + +<p>De Marmont laughed aloud. "Bully Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen?" he exclaimed. +"<i>Sacré tonnerre!</i> what do you take me for. I shall not bully her. Fifty +soldiers don't bully a defenceless woman. We shall treat Mme. la +Duchesse with every consideration: we shall only remove five and twenty +millions of stolen money from her carriage, that is all."</p> + +<p>"You may be mistaken about the money, de Marmont. It may be anywhere +except in the keeping of Mme. la Duchesse."</p> + +<p>"It may be at the Château de Brestalou in the keeping of M. le Comte de +Cambray: and this I shall find out first of all. But I must not stand +gossiping any longer. I must see Colonel de la Bédoyère and get the men +I want. What are your plans, my dear Clyffurde?"</p> + +<p>"The same as before," replied Bobby quietly. "I shall leave Grenoble as +soon as I can."</p> + +<p>"Let the Emperor send you on a special mission to Lord Grenville, in +London, to urge England to remain neutral in the coming struggle."</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Clyffurde enigmatically.</p> + +<p>De Marmont did not wait to ask him to what this brief remark had +applied; he bade his friend a hasty farewell, then he turned on his +heel, and gaily whistling the refrain of the "Marseillaise," stalked out +of the hotel.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde remained standing in the narrow panelled hall, which just then +reeked strongly of stewed onions and of hot coffee; he never moved a +muscle, but remained absolutely quiet for the space of exactly two +minutes; then he con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>sulted his watch—it was then close on midday—and +finally went back to his room.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>An hour after dawn that self-same morning the travelling coach of M. le +Comte de Cambray was at the perron of the Château de Brestalou.</p> + +<p>At the last moment, when M. le Comte, hopelessly discouraged by the +surrender of Grenoble to the usurper, came home at a late hour of the +night, he decided that he too would journey to Paris with his sister and +daughter, taking the money with him to His Majesty, who indeed would +soon be in sore need of funds.</p> + +<p>At that same late hour of the night M. le Comte discovered that with the +exception of faithful Hector and one or two scullions in the kitchen his +male servants both indoor and out had wandered in a body out to Grenoble +to witness "the Emperor's" entry into the city. They had marched out of +the château to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and outside the gates had +joined a number of villagers of Brestalou who were bent on the same +errand.</p> + +<p>Fortunately one of the coachmen and two of the older grooms from the +stables returned in the early dawn after the street demonstrations +outside the Emperor's windows had somewhat calmed down, and with the +routine of many years of domestic service had promptly and without +murmurings set to to obey the orders given to them the day before: to +have the travelling berline ready with four horses by seven o'clock.</p> + +<p>It was very cold: the coachman and postillions shivered under their +threadbare liveries. The coachman had wrapped a woollen comforter round +his neck and pulled his white beaver broad-brimmed hat well over his +brows, as the northeast wind was keen and would blow into his face all +the way to Lyons, where the party would halt for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> night. He had +thick woollen gloves on and of his entire burly person only the tip of +his nose could be seen between his muffler and the brim of his hat. The +postillions, whip in hand, could not wrap themselves up quite so snugly: +they were trying to keep themselves warm by beating their arms against +their chest.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte, aided by Hector, was arranging for the disposal of leather +wallets underneath the cushions of the carriage. The wallets contained +the money—twenty-five millions in notes and drafts—a godsend to the +King if the usurper did succeed in driving him out of the Tuileries.</p> + +<p>Presently the ladies came down the perron steps with faithful Jeanne in +attendance, who carried small bags and dressing-cases. Both the ladies +were wrapped in long fur-lined cloaks and Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen had +drawn a hood closely round her face; but Crystal de Cambray stood +bareheaded in the cold frosty air, the hood of her cloak thrown back, +her own fair hair, dressed high, forming the only covering for her head.</p> + +<p>Her face looked grave and even anxious, but wonderfully serene. This +should have been her wedding morning, the bells of old Brestalou church +should even now have been ringing out their first joyous peal to +announce the great event. Often and often in the past few weeks, ever +since her father had formally betrothed her to Victor de Marmont, she +had thought of this coming morning, and steeled herself to be brave +against the fateful day. She had been resigned to the decree of the +father and to the necessities of family and name—resigned but terribly +heartsore. She was obeying of her own free will but not blindly. She +knew that her marriage to a man whom she did not love was a sacrifice on +her part of every hope of future happiness. Her girlish love for St. +Genis had opened her eyes to the possibilities of happiness; she knew +that Life could hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> out a veritable cornucopia of delight and joy in a +union which was hallowed by Love, and her ready sacrifice was therefore +all the greater, all the more sublime, because it was not offered up in +ignorance.</p> + +<p>But all that now was changed. She was once more free to indulge in those +dreams which had gladdened the days and nights of her lonely girlhood +out in far-off England: dreams which somehow had not even found their +culmination when St. Genis first told her of his love for her. They had +always been golden dreams which had haunted her in those distant days, +dreams of future happiness and of love which are seldom absent from a +young girl's mind, especially if she is a little lonely, has few +pleasures and is surrounded with an atmosphere of sadness.</p> + +<p>Crystal de Cambray, standing on the perron of her stately home, felt but +little sorrow at leaving it to-day: she had hardly had the time in one +brief year to get very much attached to it: the sense of unreality which +had been born in her when her father led her through its vast halls and +stately parks had never entirely left her. The little home in England, +the tiny sitting-room with its bow window, and small front garden edged +with dusty evergreens, was far more real to her even now. She felt as if +the last year with its pomp and gloomy magnificence was all a dream and +that she was once more on the threshold of reality now, on the point of +waking, when she would find herself once more in her narrow iron bed and +see the patched and darned muslin curtains gently waving in the draught.</p> + +<p>But for the moment she was glad enough to give herself to the delight of +this sudden consciousness of freedom. She sniffed the sharp, frosty air +with dilated nostrils like a young Arab filly that scents the +illimitable vastness of meadowland around her. The excitement of the +coming adventure thrilled her: she watched with glowing eyes the +preparations for the journey, the bestowal under the cushions of the +car<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>riage of the money which was to help King Louis to preserve his +throne.</p> + +<p>In a sense she was sorry that her father and her aunt were coming too. +She would have loved to fly across country as a trusted servant of her +King; but when the time came to make a start she took her place in the +big travelling coach with a light heart and a merry face. She was so +sure of the justice of the King's cause, so convinced of God's wrath +against the usurper, that she had no room in her thoughts for +apprehension or sadness.</p> + +<p>The Comte de Cambray on the other hand was grave and taciturn. He had +spent hours last evening on the ramparts of Grenoble. He had watched the +dissatisfaction of the troops grow into open rebellion and from that to +burning enthusiasm for the Corsican ogre. St. Genis had given him a +vivid account of the encounter at Laffray, and his ears were still +ringing with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which had filled the +streets and ramparts of Grenoble until he himself fled back to his own +château, sickened at all that he had seen and heard.</p> + +<p>He knew that the King's own brother, M. le Comte d'Artois, was at Lyons +even now with forty thousand men who were reputed to be loyal, but were +not the troops of Grenoble reputed to be loyal too? and was it likely +that the regiments at Lyons would behave so very differently to those at +Grenoble?</p> + +<p>Thus the wearisome journey northwards in the lumbering carriage +proceeded mostly in silence. None of the occupants seemed to have much +to say. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen and M. le Comte sat on the back seats +leaning against the cushions; Crystal de Cambray and ever-faithful +Jeanne sat in front, making themselves as comfortable as they could.</p> + +<p>There was a halt for <i>déjeuner</i> and change of horses at Rives, and here +Maurice de St. Genis overtook the party.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> He proposed to continue the +journey as far as Lyons on horseback, riding close by the off side of +the carriage. Here as well as at the next halt, at St. André-le-Gaz, +Maurice tried to get speech with Crystal, but she seemed cold in manner +and unresponsive to his whispered words. He tried to approach her, but +she pleaded fatigue and anxiety, and he was glad then that he had made +arrangements not to travel beside her in the lumbering coach. His +position on horseback beside the carriage would, he felt, be a more +romantic one, and he half-hoped that some enterprising footpad would +give him a chance of displaying his pluck and his devotion.</p> + +<p>A start was made from St. André-le-Gaz at six o'clock in the afternoon. +Crystal was getting very cramped and tired, even the fine views over the +range of the Grande Chartreuse and the long white plateau of the Dent de +Crolles, with the wintry sunset behind it, failed to enchain her +attention. Her father and her aunt slept most of the time each in a +corner of the carriage, and after the start from St. André-le-Gaz, +comforted with hot coffee and fresh bread and the prospect of Lyons now +only some sixty kilomètres away, Crystal settled herself against the +cushions and tried to get some sleep.</p> + +<p>The incessant shaking of the carriage, the rattle of harness and wheels, +the cracking of the postillions' whips, all contributed to making her +head ache, and to chase slumber away. But gradually her thoughts became +more confused, as the dim winter twilight gradually faded into night and +a veil of impenetrable blackness spread itself outside the windows of +the coach.</p> + +<p>The northeasterly wind had not abated: it whistled mournfully through +the cracks in the woodwork of the carriage and made the windows rattle +in their framework. On the box the coachman had much ado to see well +ahead of him, as the vapour which rose from the flanks and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> shoulders of +his steaming horses effectually blurred every outline on the road. The +carriage lanthorns threw a weird and feeble light upon the ever-growing +darkness. To right and left the bare and frozen common land stretched +its lonely vastness to some distant horizon unseen.</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>Suddenly the cumbrous vehicle gave a terrific lurch, which sent the +unsuspecting Jeanne flying into Mme. la Duchesse's lap and threw Crystal +with equal violence against her father's knees. There was much cracking +of whips, loud calls and louder oaths from coachman and postillions, +much creaking and groaning of wheels, another lurch—more feeble this +time—more groaning, more creaking, more oaths and finally the coach +with a final quivering as it were of all its parts settled down to an +ominous standstill.</p> + +<p>Whereafter the oaths sounded more muffled, while there was a scampering +down from the high altitude of the coachman's box and a confused murmur +of voices.</p> + +<p>It was then close on eight o'clock: Lyons was distant still some dozen +miles or so—and the night by now was darker than pitch.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte, roused from fitful slumbers and trying to gather his +wandering wits, put his head out of the window: "What is it, Pierre?" he +called out loudly. "What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"It's this confounded ditch, M. le Comte," came in a gruff voice from +out the darkness. "I didn't know the bridge had entirely broken down. +This sacré government will not look after the roads properly."</p> + +<p>"Are you there, Maurice?" called the Comte.</p> + +<p>But strangely enough there came no answer to his call. M. de St. Genis +must have fallen back some little distance in the rear, else he surely +would have heard something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> of the clatter, the shouts and the swearing +which were attending the present unfortunate contretemps.</p> + +<p>"Maurice! where are you?" called the Comte again. And still no answer.</p> + +<p>Pierre was continuing his audible mutterings. "Darkness as black +as——": then he shouted with a yet more forcible volley of oaths: +"Jean! you oaf! get hold of the off mare, can't you? And you, what's +your name, you fool? ease the near gelding. Heavens above, what dolts!"</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment," cried M. le Comte, "wait till the ladies can get out. +This pulling and lurching is unbearable."</p> + +<p>"Ease a moment," commanded Pierre stolidly. "Go to the near door, Jean, +and help the master out of the carriage."</p> + +<p>"Hark! what was that?" It was M. le Comte who spoke. There had been a +momentary lull in the creaking and groaning of the wheels, while the two +young postillions obeyed the coachman's orders to "ease a moment," and +one of them came round to help the ladies and his master out of the +lurching vehicle; only the horses' snorting, the champing of their bits +and pawing of the hard ground broke the silence of the night.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte had opened the near door and was half out of the carriage +when a sound caught his ear which was in no way connected with the +stranded vehicle and its team of snorting horses. Yet the sound came +from horses—horses which were on the move not very far away and which +even now seemed to be coming nearer.</p> + +<p>"Who goes there? Maurice, is that you?" called M. le Comte more loudly.</p> + +<p>"Stand and deliver!" came the peremptory response.</p> + +<p>"Stand yourself or I fire," retorted the Comte, who was already groping +for the pistol which he kept inside the carriage.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>"You murderous villain!" came with the inevitable string of oaths from +Pierre the coachman. "You . . ."</p> + +<p>The rest of this forceful expletive was broken and muffled. Evidently +Pierre had been summarily gagged. There was a short, sharp scuffle +somewhere on ahead; cries for help from the two postillions which were +equally sharply smothered. The horses began rearing and plunging.</p> + +<p>"One of you at the leaders' heads," came in a clear voice which in this +impenetrable darkness sounded weirdly familiar to the occupants of the +carriage, who awed, terrified by this unforeseen attack sat motionless, +clinging to one another inside the vehicle.</p> + +<p>Alone the Comte had not lost his presence of mind. Already he had jumped +out of the carriage, banging the door to behind him, despite feeble +protests from his sister; pistol in hand he tried with anxious eyes to +pierce the inky blackness around him.</p> + +<p>A muffled groan on his right caused him to turn in that direction.</p> + +<p>"Release my coachman," he called peremptorily, "or I fire."</p> + +<p>"Easy, M. le Comte," came as a sharp warning out of the night, in those +same weirdly familiar tones; "as like as not you would be shooting your +own men in this infernal darkness."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" whispered Crystal hoarsely. "I seem to know that voice."</p> + +<p>"God protect us," murmured Jeanne. "It's the devil's voice, +Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>Mme. la Duchesse said nothing. No doubt she was too frightened to speak. +Her thin, bony fingers were clasped tightly round her niece's hands.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was another scuffle by the door, the sharp report of a +pistol and then that strangely familiar voice called out again:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>"Merely as a matter of form, M. le Comte!"</p> + +<p>"You will hang for this, you rogue," came in response from the Comte.</p> + +<p>But already Crystal had torn her hands out of Mme. la Duchesse's grasp +and now was struggling to free herself from Jeanne's terrified and +clinging embrace.</p> + +<p>"Father!" she cried wildly. "Maurice! Maurice! Help! Let me go, Jeanne! +They are hurting him!"</p> + +<p>She had succeeded in pushing Jeanne roughly away and already had her +hand on the door, when it was opened from the outside, and the +flickering light of a carriage lanthorn fell full on the interior of the +vehicle. Neither Crystal nor Mme. la Duchesse could effectually suppress +a sudden gasp of terror, whilst Jeanne threw her shawl right over her +head, for of a truth she thought that here was the devil himself.</p> + +<p>The light illumined the lanthorn-bearer only fitfully, but to the +terror-stricken women he appeared to be preternaturally tall and broad, +with wide caped coat pulled up to his ears and an old-fashioned tricorne +hat on his head; his face was entirely hidden by a black mask, and his +hands by black kid gloves.</p> + +<p>"I pray you ladies," he said quietly, and this time the voice was +obviously disguised and quite unrecognisable. "I pray you have no fear. +Neither I nor my men will do you or yours the slightest harm, if you +will allow me without any molestation on your part to make an +examination of the interior of your carriage."</p> + +<p>Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne remained silent: the one from fear, the +other from dignity. But it was not in Crystal's nature to submit quietly +to any unlawful coercion.</p> + +<p>"This is an infamy," she protested loudly, "and you, my man, will swing +on the nearest gallows for it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt I should if I were found out," said the man imperturbably, +"but the military patrols of M. le Comte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> d'Artois don't come out as far +as this: nevertheless I must ask you ladies not to detain me on my +business any longer. My men are at the door and it is over a quarter of +an hour ago since we placed M. de St. Genis temporarily yet effectually +hors de combat. I pray you, therefore, step out without delay so that I +may proceed to ascertain whether there is anything in this carriage +likely to suit my requirements."</p> + +<p>"You must be a madman as well as a thief," retorted Crystal loudly, "to +imagine that we would submit to such an outrage."</p> + +<p>"If you do not submit, Madame," said the man calmly, "I will order my +man to shoot M. le Comte in the right leg."</p> + +<p>"You would not dare. . . ."</p> + +<p>But the miscreant turned his head slowly round and called over his +shoulder into the night:</p> + +<p>"Attention, my men! M. le Comte de Cambray!—have you got him?"</p> + +<p>"Aye! aye, sir!" came from out the darkness.</p> + +<p>Crystal gave a wild scream, and with an agonised gesture of terror +clutched the highway robber by the coat.</p> + +<p>"No! no!" she cried. "Stop! stop! no! Father! Help!"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," said the man, quietly releasing his coat from her +clinging hands, "remember that M. le Comte is perfectly safe if you will +deign to step out of the carriage without further delay."</p> + +<p>He held the lanthorn in one hand, the other was suddenly imprisoned by +Crystal's trembling fingers.</p> + +<p>"Sir," she pleaded in a voice broken by terror and anxiety, "we are +helpless travellers on our way to Paris, driven out of our home by the +advancing horde of Corsican brigands. Our little all we have with us. +You cannot take that all from us. Let us give you some money of our own +free will, then the shame of robbing women who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> have in the darkness of +the night been rendered helpless will not rest upon you. Oh! have pity +upon us. Your voice is so gentle you must be good and kind. You will let +us proceed on our way, will you not? and we'll take a solemn oath that +we'll not attempt to put any one on your track. You will, won't you? I +swear to you that you will be doing a far finer deed thereby than you +can possibly dream of."</p> + +<p>"I have some jewelry about my person," here interposed Madame's sharp +voice drily, "also some gold. I agree to what my niece says. We'll swear +to do nothing against you when we reach Lyons, if you will be content +with what we give you of our own free will and let us go in peace."</p> + +<p>The man allowed both ladies to speak without any interruption on his +part. He even allowed Crystal's dainty fingers to cling around his +gloved hand for as long as she chose: no doubt he found some pleasure in +this tearful appeal from such beautiful lips, for Crystal looked +divinely pretty just then, with the flickering light of the lanthorn +throwing her fair head into bold relief against the surrounding gloom. +Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears, her delicate mouth was +quivering with the piteousness of her appeal.</p> + +<p>But when Mme. la Duchesse had finished speaking and began to divest +herself of her rings he released his hand very gently and said in his +even, quiet voice:</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, Madame; but as it happens I have no use for ladies' +trinkets, while all that you have been good enough to tell me only makes +me the more eager to examine the contents of this carriage."</p> + +<p>"But there's nothing of value in it," asserted Madame unblushingly, +"except what we are offering you now."</p> + +<p>"That is as may be, Madame. I would wish to ascertain."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>"You impious malapert!" she cried out wrathfully, "would you dare lay +hands upon a woman?"</p> + +<p>"No, Madame, certainly not," he replied. "I will merely, as I have had +the honour to tell you, order my men to shoot M. le Comte de Cambray in +the right leg."</p> + +<p>"You vagabond! you thief! you wouldn't dare," expostulated Madame, who +seemed now on the verge of hysteria.</p> + +<p>"Attention, my men!" he called once more over his left shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It is no use, <i>ma tante</i>," here interposed Crystal with sudden calm. +"We must yield to brute force. Let us get out and allow this abominable +thief to wreak his impious will with us, else we lay ourselves open to +further outrage at his hands. Be sure that retribution, swift and +certain, will overtake him in the end."</p> + +<p>"Come! that's wisely spoken," said the man, who seemed in no way +perturbed by the scornful glances which Crystal and Madame now freely +darted upon him. He stood a little aside, holding the door open for them +to step out of the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Where is M. le Comte de Cambray?" queried Crystal as she brushed past +him.</p> + +<p>"Close by," he replied, "to your right now, Mademoiselle, and perfectly +safe, and M. le Marquis de St. Genis is not two hundred mètres away, +equally secure and equally safe. Here, le Bossu," he added, calling out +into the night, "ease the gag round your prisoner's mouth a little so +that he may speak to the ladies."</p> + +<p>While Madame la Duchesse groped her way along in the direction whence +came sounds of stirring, groaning and not a little cursing which +proclaimed the presence of some men held captive by others, Crystal +remained beside the carriage door as if rooted to the spot. The feeble +light of the lanthorn had shown her at a glance that the masked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +miscreant had taken every precaution for the success of his nefarious +purpose. How many men he had with him altogether, she could not of +course ascertain: half a dozen perhaps, seeing that her father, the +coachman and two postillions had been overpowered and were being closely +guarded, whilst she distinctly saw that two men at least were standing +behind their chief at this moment in order to ward off any possible +attack against him from the rear, while he himself was engaged in the +infamous task of robbing the coach of its contents.</p> + +<p>Crystal saw him start to work in a most methodical manner. He had stood +the lanthorn on the floor of the carriage and was turning over every +cushion and ransacking every pocket. The leather wallets which he found, +he examined with utmost coolness, seeing indeed that they were stuffed +full of banknotes and drafts. His huge caped coat appeared to have +immense pockets, into which those precious wallets disappeared one by +one.</p> + +<p>She knew of course that resistance was useless: the occasional glint of +the feeble lanthorn light upon the pistols held by the men close beside +her taught her the salutary lesson of silence and dignity. She clenched +her hands until her nails were almost driven into the flesh of her +palms, and her face now glowed with a fierce and passionate resentment. +This money which might have saved the King and France from the immediate +effects of the usurper's invasion was now the booty of a common thief! +Wild thoughts of vengeance coursed through her brain: she felt like a +tiger-cat that was being robbed of its young. Once—unable to control +herself—she made a wild dash forward, determined to fight for her +treasure, to scratch or to bite—to do anything in fact rather than +stand by and see this infamous spoliation. But immediately her hands +were seized, and an ominous word of command rang out weirdly through the +night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>"Resistance here! Attention over there!"</p> + +<p>Her father's safety was a guarantee of her own acquiescence. Struggling, +fighting was useless! the abominable thief must be left to do his work +in peace.</p> + +<p>It did not take long. A minute or two later he too had stepped out of +the carriage. He ordered one of his followers to hold the lanthorn and +then quietly took up his stand beside the open door.</p> + +<p>"Now, ladies, an you desire it," he said calmly, "you may continue your +journey. Your coachman and your men are close here, on the road, +securely bound. M. de St. Genis is not far off—straight up the +road—you cannot miss him. We leave you free to loosen their bonds. To +horse, my men!" he added in a loud, commanding voice. "Le Bossu, hold my +horse a moment! and you ladies, I pray you accept my humble apologies +that I do not stop to see you safely installed."</p> + +<p>As in a dream Crystal heard the bustle incident on a number of men +getting to horse: in the gloom she saw vague forms moving about +hurriedly, she heard the champing of bits, the clatter of stirrup and +bridle. The masked man was the last to move. After he had given the +order to mount he stood for nearly a minute by the carriage door, +exactly facing Crystal, not five paces away.</p> + +<p>His companion had put the lanthorn down on the step, and by its light +she could see him distinctly: a mysterious, masked figure who, with +wanton infamy, had placed the satisfaction of his dishonesty and of his +greed athwart the destiny of the King of France.</p> + +<p>Crystal knew that through the peep-holes of his mask, the man's eyes +were fixed intently upon her and the knowledge caused a blush of +mortification and of shame to flood her cheeks and throat. At that +moment she would gladly have given her life for the power to turn the +tables upon that abominable rogue, to filch from him that precious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +treasure which she had hoped to deposit at the feet of the King for the +ultimate success of his cause: and she would have given much for the +power to tear off that concealing mask, so that for the rest of her life +she might be able to visualise that face which she would always +execrate.</p> + +<p>Something of what she felt and thought must have been apparent in her +expressive eyes, for presently it seemed to her as if beneath the narrow +curtain that concealed the lower part of the man's face there hovered +the shadow of a smile.</p> + +<p>The next moment he had the audacity slightly to raise his hat and to +make her a bow before he finally turned to go. Crystal had taken one +step backward just then, whether because she was afraid that the man +would try and approach her, or because of a mere sense of dignity, she +could not herself have said. Certain it is that she did move back and +that in so doing her foot came in contact with an object lying on the +ground. The shape and size of it were unmistakable, it was the pistol +which the Comte must have dropped when first he stepped out of the +carriage, and was seized upon by this band of thieves. Guided by that +same strange and wonderful instinct which has so often caused women in +times of war to turn against the assailants of their men or devastation +of their homes, Crystal picked up the weapon without a moment's +hesitation; she knew that it was loaded, and she knew how to use it. +Even as the masked man moved away into the darkness, she fired in the +direction whence his firm footsteps still sent their repeated echo.</p> + +<p>The short, sharp report died out in the still, frosty air; Crystal +vainly strained her ears to catch the sound of a fall or a groan. But in +the confusion that ensued she could not distinguish any individual +sound. She knew that Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne had screamed, she heard +a few loud curses, the clatter of bits and bridles, the snorting of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +horses and presently the noise of several horses galloping away, out in +the direction of Chambéry.</p> + +<p>Then nothing more.</p> + + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>M. le Comte as well as the coachman and postillions were lying helpless +and bound somewhere in the darkness. It took the three women some time +to find them first and then to release them.</p> + +<p>Crystal with great presence of mind had run to the horses' heads, +directly after she had fired that random shot. The poor, frightened +animals had reared and plunged, and had thereby succeeded in dragging +the heavy carriage out of the ditch. After which they had stopped, rigid +for a moment and trembling as horses will sometimes when they are +terrified, before they start running away for dear life. That moment was +Crystal's opportunity and fortunately she took it at the right time and +in the right way.</p> + +<p>A hand on the leaders' bridles, a soothing voice, the absence of further +alarming noises tended at once to quieten the team—a set of good steady +Normandy draft-horses with none too much corn in their bellies to heat +their sluggish blood.</p> + +<p>While Crystal stood at her post, Mme. la Duchesse—cool and +practical—found her way firstly to M. le Comte, then to the coachman +and postillions, and ordering Jeanne to help her, she succeeded in +freeing the men from their bonds.</p> + +<p>Then calling to one of them to precede her with a lanthorn, she started +on the quest for Maurice de St. Genis. He was found—as that abominable +thief had said—some two hundred yards up the road, very securely bound +and with his own handkerchief tied round his mouth, but otherwise +comfortably laid on a dry bit of roadside grass.</p> + +<p>Mme. la Duchesse would not reply to his questions, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> after he was +released and able to stand up she made him give her a brief account of +his adventure. It had all been so sudden and so quick—he had fallen +back a little behind the carriage as soon as the night had set in, as he +thought it safer to keep along the edge of the road. He was feeling +tired and drowsy, and allowing his horse to amble along in the slow +jog-trot peculiar to its race. No doubt his attention had for some time +been on the wander, when, all at once, in the darkness someone seized +hold of his horse by the bridle and forced it back upon its haunches. +The next moment Maurice felt himself grabbed by the leg, and dragged off +his horse: he shouted for help, but the carriage was on ahead and its +own rattle prevented the shouts from being heard. After which he was +bound and gagged and summarily left to lie by the roadside. He had had +no chance against the ruffians, as they were numerous, but they did not +attempt to ill-use him in any way.</p> + +<p>Slowly hobbling towards the carriage beside Mme. la Duchesse, for he was +cramped and stiff, Maurice told her all there was to tell. He had heard +the distant scuffle, the shouts and calls, also one pistol-shot at the +end, but he had been rendered helpless even before the carriage had come +to a halt in the ditch.</p> + +<p>It was M. le Comte who in his accustomed measured tones now gave Maurice +de St. Genis the details of this awful adventure: the ransacking of the +carriage by the mysterious miscreant—the loss of the twenty-five +millions, the complete shattering of all hope to help the King with this +money in the hour of his need, and finally Crystal's desperate act of +revenge, as she shot the pistol off into the darkness, hoping at least +to disable the impudent rogue who had done them and the King such a +fatal injury.</p> + +<p>St. Genis listened to it all with lips held tightly pressed together, +firm determination causing every muscle in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> body to grow taut and +firm with the earnestness of his resolve.</p> + +<p>When M. le Comte had finished speaking, and with a sigh of +discouragement had suggested an immediate continuation of his journey, +Maurice said resolutely:</p> + +<p>"Do you go on straightway to Lyons with the ladies, my dear Comte, but I +shall not leave this neighbourhood till by some means or other I find +those miscreants and lay their infamous leader by the heel."</p> + +<p>"Well spoken, Maurice," said the Comte guardedly, "but how will you do +it?—it is late and the night darker than ever."</p> + +<p>"You must spare me one of your horses, my dear Comte," replied the young +man, "as mine apparently has been stolen by those abominable thieves, +and I'll ride back to the nearest village—you remember we passed it not +half an hour ago. I'll get lodgings there and get some information. In +the meanwhile perhaps you will see M. le Comte d'Artois immediately, +tell him all that has happened and beg him to send me as early in the +morning as possible a dozen cavalrymen or so, to help me scour the +country. I'll be on the look-out for them on this road by six o'clock, +and, please God! the day shall not go by before we have those infamous +marauders by the heels. Twenty-five millions, remember, are not dragged +about open country quite so easily as those thieves imagine. They are +bound to leave some trace of their whereabouts sometimes."</p> + +<p>He appeared so confident and so cheerful that some of his optimism +infected M. le Comte too. The latter promised to get an audience of M. +le Comte d'Artois that very evening, and of course the necessary cavalry +patrol would at once be forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"God grant you success, Maurice," he added fervently, and the young +man's energy and enthusiasm were also rewarded by a warm, glowing look +from Crystal.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>A quarter of an hour afterwards, M. le Comte's travelling coach was once +more ready for departure. Pierre had been given his orders to make due +haste for Lyons, and to drive a unicorn team of three horses instead of +a regulation four, whereupon he had muttered a string of oaths which +would have caused a Paris wine-shop loafer to blush.</p> + +<p>One of the horses thereupon was detached from the team for Maurice's use +and made ready with one of the postillions' saddles; the other +postillion had to climb up to the seat next to the coachman: all three +men were feeling not a little shamed at the sorry rôle which they had +just played, and they vowed revenge against the mysterious thieves who +had sprung upon them unawares and in the dark, or Mordieu! they would +have suffered severely for their impudence.</p> + +<p>In silence M. le Comte, Mme. la Duchesse and Crystal, followed by +faithful Jeanne, re-entered the carriage. No one had been hurt. M. le +Comte's arms felt a little stiff from the cords which had bound them +behind his back and Jeanne was inclined to be hysterical, but Crystal +felt a fierce resentment burning in her heart. Somehow she had no hope +that Maurice would succeed, even though she threw him at the last a +kindly and encouraging smile. Her one hope was that she had inflicted a +painful if not a deadly wound upon the shameless robber of the King's +money.</p> + +<p>Soon the party was once more comfortably settled and the cumbrous +vehicle, after another violent lurch, was once more on its way.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Maurice! good luck!" called M. le Comte at the last.</p> + +<p>The young man waited until the heavy carriage swung more easily upon its +springs, then he mounted his horse, turned its head in the opposite +direction and rode slowly back up the road.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>Inside the vehicle all was silent for a while, then M. le Comte asked +quietly:</p> + +<p>"Did he find everything?"</p> + +<p>"Everything," replied Crystal.</p> + +<p>"I put in five wallets."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He took them all."</p> + +<p>"It is curious they should have fallen on us just by that broken +bridge."</p> + +<p>"They were lying in wait for us, of course."</p> + +<p>"Knowing that we had the money, do you think?" asked the Comte.</p> + +<p>"Of course," replied Crystal with still that note of bitter resentment +in her voice.</p> + +<p>"But who, besides ourselves and the préfet? . . ." began the Comte, who +clearly was very puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Victor de Marmont for one . . ." retorted the girl.</p> + +<p>"Surely you don't suppose that he would play the rôle of a highwayman +and . . ."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," she broke in somewhat impatiently, "he wouldn't have the +pluck for one thing, and moreover the masked man was considerably taller +than Victor."</p> + +<p>"Well, then?"</p> + +<p>"It is only an idea, father, dear," she said more gently, "but somehow I +cannot believe that this was just ordinary highway robbery. This road is +supposed to be quite safe: travellers are not warned against armed +highwaymen, and marauders wouldn't be so well horsed and clothed. My +belief is that it was a paid gang stationed at the broken bridge on +purpose to rob us and no one else."</p> + +<p>"Maurice will soon be after them to-morrow, and I'll see M. le Comte +d'Artois directly we get to Lyons," said the Comte after a slight pause, +during which he was obviously pondering over his daughter's suggestion.</p> + +<p>"It won't be any use, father," Crystal said with a sigh. "The whole +thing has been organised, I feel sure, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> head that planned this +abominable robbery will know how to place his booty in safety."</p> + +<p>Whereupon the Comte sighed, for he was too well-bred to curse in the +presence of his daughter and his sister, Mme. la Duchesse had said +nothing all this while: nor did she offer any comment upon the +mysterious occurrence all the time that the next stage of the wearisome +journey proceeded.</p> + + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>Less than an hour later the coach came to a halt once more.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte woke up with a start.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is it now?"</p> + +<p>Crystal had not been asleep: her thoughts were too busy, her brain too +much tormented with trying to find some plausible answer to the riddle +which agitated her: "Who had planned this abominable robbery? Was it +indeed Victor de Marmont himself? or had a greater, a mightier mind than +his discovered the secret of this swift journey to Paris and ordered the +clever raid upon the treasure?"</p> + +<p>The rumble of the wheels had—though she was awake—prevented her from +hearing the rapid approach of a number of horses in the wake of the +coach, until a peremptory: "Halt! in the name of the Emperor!" suddenly +chased every other thought away; like her father she murmured: "My God! +what is it now?"</p> + +<p>This time there was no mystery, there would be no puzzlement as to the +meaning of this fresh attack. The air was full of those sounds that +denote the presence of many horses and of many men; there was, too, the +clinking of metal, the champing of steel bits, the brief words of +command which proclaimed the men to be soldiers.</p> + +<p>They appeared to be all round the coach, for the noise of their presence +came from everywhere at once.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>Already the Comte had put his head out of the window: "What is it now?" +he asked again, more peremptorily this time.</p> + +<p>"In the name of the Emperor!" was the loud reply.</p> + +<p>"We do not halt in the name of an usurper," said the Comte. "En avant, +Pierre!"</p> + +<p>"You urge those horses on at your peril, coachman," was the defiant +retort.</p> + +<p>A quick word of command was given, there was more clanking of metal, +snorting of horses, loud curses from Pierre on the box, and the +commanding voice spoke again:</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte de Cambray!"</p> + +<p>"That is my name!" replied the Comte. "And who is it, pray, who dares +impede peaceful travellers on their way?"</p> + +<p>"By order of the Emperor," was the curt reply.</p> + +<p>"I know of no such person in France!"</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!" was shouted defiantly in response.</p> + +<p>Whereupon M. le Comte de Cambray—proud, disdainful and determined to +show no fear or concern, withdrew from the window and threw himself back +against the cushions of the carriage.</p> + +<p>"What in the Virgin's name is the meaning of this?" murmured Mme. la +Duchesse.</p> + +<p>"God in heaven only knows," sighed the Comte.</p> + +<p>But obviously the coach had not been stopped by a troop of mounted +soldiers for the mere purpose of proclaiming the Emperor's name on the +high road in the dark. The same commanding voice which had answered the +Comte's challenge was giving rapid orders to dismount and to bring along +one of the carriage lanthorns.</p> + +<p>The next moment the door of the coach was opened from without, and the +light of the lanthorn held up by a man in uniform fell full on the +figure and on the profile of Victor de Marmont.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>"M. le Comte, I regret," he said coldly, "in the name of the Emperor I +must demand from you the restitution of his property."</p> + +<p>The Comte shrugged his shoulders and vouchsafed no reply.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," said de Marmont, more peremptorily this time, "I have +twenty-four men with me, who will seize by force if necessary that which +I herewith command you to give up voluntarily."</p> + +<p>Still no reply. M. le Comte de Cambray would think himself bemeaned were +he to parley with a traitor.</p> + +<p>"As you will, M. le Comte," was de Marmont's calm comment on the old +man's attitude. "Sergeant!" he commanded, "seize the four persons in +this coach. Three of them are women, so be as gentle as you can. Go +round to the other door first."</p> + +<p>"Father," now urged Crystal gently, "do you think that this is wise—or +dignified?"</p> + +<p>"Wisely spoken, Mlle. Crystal," rejoined de Marmont. "Have I not said +that I have two dozen soldiers with me—all trained to do their duty? +Why should M. le Comte allow them to lay hands upon you and on Mme. la +Duchesse?"</p> + +<p>"It is an outrage," broke in the Comte savagely. "You and your soldiers +are traitors, rebels and deserters."</p> + +<p>"But we are in superior numbers, M. le Comte," said de Marmont with a +sneer. "Would it not be wiser to yield with a good grace? Mme. la +Duchesse," he added with an attempt at geniality, "yours was always the +wise head, I am told, that guided the affairs of M. le Comte de Cambray +in the past. Will you not advise him now?"</p> + +<p>"I would, my good man," retorted the Duchesse, "but my wise counsels +would benefit no one now, seeing that you have been sent on a fool's +errand."</p> + +<p>De Marmont laughed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>"Does Mme. la Duchesse mean to deny that twenty-five million francs +belonging to the Emperor are hidden at this moment inside this coach?"</p> + +<p>"I deny, Monsieur de Marmont, that any twenty-five million francs belong +to the son of an impecunious Corsican attorney—and I also deny that any +twenty-five million francs are in this coach at the present moment."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what I desire to ascertain, Madame."</p> + +<p>"Ascertain by all means then," quoth Madame impatiently, "the other +thief ascertained the same thing an hour ago, and I must confess that he +did so more profitably than you are like to do."</p> + +<p>"The other thief?" exclaimed de Marmont, greatly puzzled.</p> + +<p>"It is as Mme. la Duchesse has deigned to tell you," here interposed the +Comte coolly. "I have no objection to your knowing that I had intended +to convey to His Majesty the King—its rightful owner—a sum of +money—originally stolen by the Corsican usurper from France—but that +an hour ago a party of armed thieves—just like yourself—attacked us, +bound and gagged me and my men, ransacked my coach and made off with the +booty."</p> + +<p>"And I thank God now," murmured Crystal involuntarily, "that the money +has fallen into the hands of a common highwayman rather than in those of +the scourge of mankind."</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte . . ." stammered de Marmont, who, still incredulous, yet +vaguely alarmed, was nevertheless determined not to accept this +extraordinary narrative with blind confidence.</p> + +<p>But M. le Comte de Cambray's dignity rose at last to the occasion: "You +choose to disbelieve me, Monsieur?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>De Marmont made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Will my word of honour not suffice?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>"My orders, M. le Comte," said de Marmont gruffly, "are that I bring +back to my Emperor the money that is his. I will not leave one stone +unturned . . ."</p> + +<p>"Enough, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with calm dignity. "We will +alight now, if your soldiers will stand aside."</p> + +<p>And for the second time on this eventful night, Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +and Mlle. Crystal de Cambray, together with faithful Jeanne, were forced +to alight from the coach and to stand by while the cushions of the +carriage were being turned over by the light of a flickering lanthorn +and every corner of the interior ransacked for the elusive treasure.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing here, mon Colonel," said a gruff voice out of the +darkness, after a while.</p> + +<p>A loud curse broke from de Marmont's lips.</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied?" asked the Comte coldly, "that I have told you the +truth?"</p> + +<p>"Search the luggage in the boot," cried de Marmont savagely, without +heeding him, "search the men on the box! bring more light here! That +money is somewhere in this coach, I'll swear. If I do not find it I'll +take every one here back a prisoner to Grenoble . . . or . . ."</p> + +<p>He paused, himself ashamed of what he had been about to say.</p> + +<p>"Or you will order your soldiers to lay hands upon our persons, is that +it, M. de Marmont?" broke in Crystal coldly.</p> + +<p>He made no reply, for of a truth that had been his thought: foiled in +his hope of rendering his beloved Emperor so signal a service, he had +lost all sense of chivalry in this overwhelming feeling of baffled rage.</p> + +<p>Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt +ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had +done. He hated the Comte . . . he hated all royalists and all enemies of +the Emperor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> . . . but he hated the Comte doubly because of the insults +which he (de Marmont) had had to endure that evening at Brestalou. He +had looked upon this expedition as a means of vengeance for those +insults, a means, too, of showing his power and his worth before Crystal +and of winning her through that power which the Emperor had given him, +and through that worth which the Emperor had recognised.</p> + +<p>But, though he hated the Comte he knew him to be absolutely incapable of +telling a deliberate lie, and absolutely incapable of bartering his word +of honour for the sake of his own safety.</p> + +<p>Crystal's words brought this knowledge back to his mind; and now the +desire seized him to prove himself as chivalrous as he was powerful. He +was one of those men who are so absolutely ignorant of a woman's nature +that they believe that a woman's love can be won by deeds as apart from +personality, and that a woman's dislike and contempt can be changed into +love. He loved Crystal more absolutely now than he had ever done in the +days when he was practically her accepted suitor: his unbridled and +capricious nature clung desperately to that which he could not hold, and +since he had felt—that evening at Brestalou—that his political +convictions had placed an insuperable barrier between himself and +Crystal de Cambray, he felt that no woman on earth could ever be quite +so desirable.</p> + +<p>His mistake lay in this: that he believed that it was his political +convictions alone which had turned Crystal away from him: he felt that +he could have won her love through her submission once she was his wife, +now he found that he would have to win her love first and her wifely +submission would only follow afterwards.</p> + +<p>Just now—though in the gloom he could only see the vague outline of her +graceful form, and only heard her voice as through a veil of +darkness—he had the longing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> prove himself at once worthy of her +regard and deserving of her gratitude.</p> + +<p>Without replying to her direct challenge, he made a vigorous effort to +curb his rage, and to master his disappointment. Then he gave a few +brief commands to his sergeant, ordering him to repair the disorder +inside the coach, and to stop all further searching both of the vehicle +and of the men.</p> + +<p>Finally he said with calm dignity: "M. le Comte, I must offer you my +humble apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected. +I humbly beg Mme. la Duchesse and Mademoiselle Crystal to accept these +expressions of my profound regret. A soldier's life and a soldier's duty +must be my excuse for the part I was forced to take in this untoward +happening. Mme. la Duchesse, I pray you deign to re-enter your carriage. +M. le Comte, if there is aught I can do for you, I pray you command me. +. . ."</p> + +<p>Neither the Duchesse nor the Comte, however, deigned to take the +slightest notice of the abominable traitor and of his long tirade. +Madame was shivering with cold and yawning with fatigue, and in her +heart consigned the young brute to everlasting torments.</p> + +<p>The Comte would have thought it beneath his dignity to accept any +explanation from a follower of the Corsican usurper. Without a word he +was now helping his sister into the carriage.</p> + +<p>Jeanne, of course, hardly counted—she was dazed into semi-imbecility by +the renewed terrors she had just gone through: so for the moment Victor +felt that Crystal was isolated from the others. She stood a little to +one side—he could only just see her, as the sergeant was holding up the +lanthorn for Mme. la Duchesse to see her way into the coach. M. le Comte +went on to give a few directions to the coachman.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the +carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind +word for me?"</p> + +<p>"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an +outrage?"</p> + +<p>"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty."</p> + +<p>"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont—a soldier of the King. Now you +are only a deserter."</p> + +<p>"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to +victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back +into his own once more."</p> + +<p>"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from +different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to +discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt +in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me."</p> + +<p>"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he +urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on +the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks +to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness +under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have +not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon."</p> + +<p>"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all +that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage +door.</p> + +<p>Victor smothered a curse. These aristos were as arrogant as ever. What +lesson had the revolution and the guillotine taught them? None. This +girl who had spent her whole life in poverty and exile, and was +like—after a brief interregnum—to return to exile and poverty again, +was not a whit less proud than her kindred had been when they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> walked in +their hundreds up the steps of the guillotine with a smile of lofty +disdain upon their lips.</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont was a son of the people—of those who had made the +revolution and had fought the whole of Europe in order to establish +their right to govern themselves as they thought best, and he hated all +these aristos—the men who had fled from their country and abandoned it +when she needed her sons' help more than she had ever done before.</p> + +<p>The aristocrat was for him synonymous with the émigré—with the man who +had raised a foreign army to fight against France, who had brought the +foreigner marching triumphantly into Paris. He hated the aristocrat, but +he loved Crystal, the one desirable product of that old regime system +which he abhorred.</p> + +<p>But with him a woman's love meant a woman's submission. He was more +determined than ever now to win her, but he wanted to win her through +her humiliation and his triumph—excitement had turned his brain? Well! +so be it, fear and oppression would turn her heart and crush her pride.</p> + +<p>He made no further attempt to detain her: he had asked for a kind word +and she had given him withering scorn. Excitement had turned his brain +. . . he was not even worthy of parley—not even worthy of a formal +refusal!</p> + +<p>To his credit be it said that the thought of immediate revenge did not +enter his mind then. He might have subjected her then and there to +deadly outrage—he might have had her personal effects searched, her +person touched by the rough hands of his soldiers. But though his +estimate of a woman's love was a low one, it was not so base as to +imagine that Crystal de Cambray would ever forgive so dastardly an +insult.</p> + +<p>As she walked past him to the door, however, he said under his breath:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>"Remember, Mademoiselle, that you and your family at this moment are +absolutely in my power, and that it is only because of my regard for you +that I let you all now depart from here in peace."</p> + +<p>Whether she heard or not, he could not say; certain it is that she made +no reply, nor did she turn toward him at all. The light of the lanthorn +lit up her delicate profile, pale and drawn, her tightly pressed lips, +the look of utter contempt in her eyes, which even the fitful shadow +cast by her hair over her brows could not altogether conceal.</p> + +<p>The Comte had given what instructions he wished to Pierre. He stood by +the carriage door waiting for his daughter: no doubt he had heard what +went on between her and de Marmont, and was content to leave her to deal +what scorn was necessary for the humiliation of the traitor.</p> + +<p>He helped Crystal into the carriage, and also the unfortunate Jeanne; +finally he too followed, and pulled the door to behind him.</p> + +<p>Victor did not wait to see the coach make a start. He gave the order to +remount.</p> + +<p>"How far are we from St. Priest?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not eight kilomètres, mon Colonel," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"En avant then, ventre-à-terre!" he commanded, as he swung himself into +the saddle.</p> + +<p>The great high road between Grenoble and Lyons is very wide, and Pierre +had no need to draw his horses to one side, as de Marmont and his troop, +after much scrambling, champing of bits and clanking of metal, rode at a +sharp trot past the coach and him.</p> + +<p>For some few moments the sound of the horses' hoofs on the hard road +kept the echoes of the night busy with their resonance, but soon that +sound grew fainter and fainter still—after five minutes it died away +altogether.</p> + +<p>M. de Comte put his head out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Eh bien, Pierre," he called, "why don't we start?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>The postillion cracked his whip; Pierre shouted to his horses; the heavy +coach groaned and creaked and was once more on its way.</p> + +<p>In the interior no one spoke. Jeanne's terror had melted in a silent +flow of tears.</p> + +<p class="section_break">Lyons was reached shortly before midnight. M. le Comte's carriage had +some difficulty in entering the town, as by orders of M. le Comte +d'Artois it had already been placed in a state of defence against the +possible advance of the "band of pirates from Corsica." The bridge of La +Guillotière had been strongly barricaded and it took M. le Comte de +Cambray some little time to establish his identity before the officer in +command of the post allowed him to proceed on his way.</p> + +<p>The town was fairly full owing to the presence of M. le Comte d'Artois, +who had taken up his quarters at the archiepiscopal palace, and of his +staff, who were scattered in various houses about the town. Nevertheless +M. le Comte and his family were fortunate enough in obtaining +comfortable accommodation at the Hotel Bourbon.</p> + +<p>The party was very tired, and after a light supper retired to bed.</p> + +<p>But not before M. le Comte de Cambray had sent a special autographed +message to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois explaining to him under what +tragic circumstances the sum of twenty-five million francs destined to +reach His Majesty the King had fallen into a common highwayman's hands +and begging that a posse of cavalry be sent out on the road after the +marauders and be placed under the orders of M. le Marquis de St. Genis, +who would be on the look-out for their arrival. He begged that the posse +should consist of not less than thirty men, seeing that some armed +followers of the Corsican brigand were also somewhere on the way.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE RIVALS</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>The weather did not improve as the night wore on: soon a thin, cold +drizzle added to the dreariness and to Maurice de St. Genis' +ever-growing discomfort.</p> + +<p>He had started off gaily enough, cheered by Crystal's warm look of +encouragement and comforted by the feeling of certainty that he would +get even with that mysterious enemy who had so impudently thrown himself +athwart a plan which had service of the King for its sole object.</p> + +<p>Maurice had not exchanged confidences with Crystal since the adventure, +but his ideas—without his knowing it—absolutely coincided with hers. +He, too, was quite sure that no common footpad had engineered their +daring attack. Positive knowledge of the money and its destination had +been the fountain from which had sprung the comedy of the masked +highwayman and his little band of robbers. Maurice mentally reckoned +that there must have been at least half a dozen of these bravos—of the +sort that in these times were easily enough hired in any big city to +play any part, from that of armed escort to nervous travellers to that +of seeker of secret information for the benefit of either political +party—loafers that hung round the wine-shops in search of a means of +earning a few days' rations, discharged soldiers of the Empire some of +them, whose loyalty to the Restoration had been questioned from the +first.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>Maurice had no doubt that whatever motive had actuated the originator of +the bold plan to possess himself of twenty-five million francs, he had +deliberately set to work to employ men of that type to help him in his +task.</p> + +<p>It had all been very audacious and—Maurice was bound to admit—very +well carried out. As for the motive, he was never for a moment in doubt. +It was a Bonapartist plot, of that he felt sure, as well as of the fact +that Victor de Marmont was the originator of it all. He probably had not +taken any active part in the attack, but he had employed the +men—Maurice would have taken an oath on that!</p> + +<p>The Comte de Cambray must have let fall an unguarded hint in the course +of his last interview with de Marmont at Brestalou, and when Victor went +away disgraced and discomfited he, no doubt, thought to take his revenge +in the way most calculated to injure both the Comte and the royalist +cause.</p> + +<p>Satisfied with this mental explanation of past events, St. Genis had +ridden on in the darkness, his spirits kept up with hopes and thoughts +of a glaring counter revenge. But his limbs were still stiff and bruised +from the cramped position in which he had lain for so long, and +presently, when the cold drizzle began to penetrate to his bones, his +enthusiasm and confidence dwindled. The village seemed to recede further +and further into the distance. He thought when he had ridden through it +earlier in the evening that it was not very far from the scene of the +attack—a dozen kilomètres perhaps—now it seemed more like thirty; he +thought too that it was a village of some considerable size—five +hundred souls or perhaps more—he had noticed as he rode through it a +well-illuminated, one-storied house, and the words "Débit de vins" and +"Chambres pour voyageurs" painted in bold characters above the front +door. But now he had ridden on and on along the dark road for what +seemed endless hours—uncon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>scious of time save that it was dragging on +leaden-footed and wearisome . . . and still no light on ahead to betray +the presence of human habitations, no distant church bells to mark the +progress of the night.</p> + +<p>At last, in desperation, Maurice de St. Genis had thought of wrapping +himself in his cloak and getting what rest he could by the roadside, for +he was getting very tired and saddle-sore, when on his left he perceived +in the far distance, glimmering through the mist, two small lights like +bright eyes shining in the darkness.</p> + +<p>What kind of a way led up to those welcome lights, Maurice had, of +course, no idea; but they proclaimed at any rate the presence of human +beings, of a house, of the warmth of fire; and without hesitation the +young man turned his horse's head at right angles from the road.</p> + +<p>He had crossed a couple of ploughed fields and an intervening ditch, +when in the distance to his right and behind him he heard the sound of +horses at a brisk trot, going in the direction of Lyons.</p> + +<p>Maurice drew rein for a moment and listened until the sound came nearer. +There must have been at least a score of mounted men—a military patrol +sent out by M. le Comte d'Artois, no doubt, and now on its way back to +Lyons. Just for a second or two the young man had thoughts of joining up +with the party and asking their help or their escort: he even gave a +vigorous shout which, however, was lost in the clang and clatter of +horses' hoofs and of the accompanying jingle of metal.</p> + +<p>He turned his horse back the way he had come; but before he had +recrossed one of the ploughed fields, the troop of mounted men—whatever +they were—had passed by, and Maurice was left once more in solitude, +shouting and calling in vain.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it then, but to turn back again, and to make his +way as best he could toward those inviting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> lights. In any case nothing +could have been done in this pitch-dark night against the highway +thieves, and St. Genis had no fear that M. le Comte d'Artois would fail +to send him help for his expedition against them on the morrow.</p> + +<p>The lights on ahead were getting perceptibly nearer, soon they detached +themselves still more clearly in the gloom—other lights appeared in the +immediate neighbourhood—too few for a village—thought Maurice, and +grouped closely together, suggesting a main building surrounded by other +smaller ones close by.</p> + +<p>Soon the whole outline of the house could be traced through the +enveloping darkness: two of the windows were lighted from within, and an +oil lamp, flickering feebly, was fixed in a recess just above the door. +The welcome words: "Chambres pour voyageurs. Aristide Briot, +propriétaire," greeted Maurice's wearied eyes as he drew rein. Good luck +was apparently attending him for, thus picking his way across fields, he +had evidently struck an out-of-the-way hostelry on some bridle path off +the main road, which was probably a short cut between Chambéry and +Vienne.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, he managed to dismount—stiff as he was—and having +tried the door and found it fastened, he hammered against it with his +boot.</p> + +<p>A few moments later, the bolts were drawn and an elderly man in blue +blouse and wide trousers, his sabots stuffed with straw, came shuffling +out of the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he called in a feeble, querulous voice.</p> + +<p>"A traveller—on horseback," replied Maurice. "Come, petit père," he +added more impatiently, "will you take my horse or call to one of your +men?"</p> + +<p>"It is too late to take in travellers," muttered the old man. "It is +nearly midnight, and everyone is abed except me."</p> + +<p>"Too late, morbleu?" exclaimed the young man peremp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>torily. "You surely +are not thinking of refusing shelter to a traveller on a night like +this. Why, how far is it to the nearest village?"</p> + +<p>"It is very late," reiterated the old man plaintively, "and my house is +quite full."</p> + +<p>"There's a shake-down in the kitchen anyway, I'll warrant, and one for +my horse somewhere in an outhouse," retorted Maurice as without more ado +he suddenly threw the reins into the old man's hand and unceremoniously +pushed him into the house.</p> + +<p>The man appeared to hesitate for a moment or two. He grumbled and +muttered something which Maurice did not hear, and his shrewd eyes—the +knowing eyes of a peasant of the Dauphiné—took a rapid survey of the +belated traveller's clothes, the expensive caped coat, the well-made +boots, the fashionable hat, which showed up clearly now by the light +from within.</p> + +<p>Satisfied that there could be no risk in taking in so well-dressed a +traveller, feeling moreover that a good horse was always a hostage for +the payment of the bill in the morning, the man now, without another +word or look at his guest, turned his back on the house and led the +horse away—somewhere out into the darkness—Maurice did not take the +trouble to ascertain where.</p> + +<p>He was under shelter. There was the remnant of a wood-fire in the hearth +at the corner, some benches along the walls. If he could not get a bed, +he could certainly get rest and warmth for the night. He put down his +hat, took off his coat, and kicked the smouldering log into a blaze; +then he drew a chair close to the fire and held his numbed feet and +hands to the pleasing warmth.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of food and wine presented themselves too, now that he felt a +little less cold and stiff, and he awaited the old man's return with +eagerness and impatience.</p> + +<p>The shuffling of wooden sabots outside the door was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> pleasing sound: a +moment or two later the old man had come back and was busying himself +with once more bolting his front door.</p> + +<p>"Well now, père Briot," said Maurice cheerily, "as I take it you are the +proprietor of this abode of bliss, what about supper?"</p> + +<p>"Bread and cheese if you like," muttered the man curtly.</p> + +<p>"And a bottle of wine, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes. A bottle of wine."</p> + +<p>"Well! be quick about it, petit père. I didn't know how hungry I was +till you talked of bread and cheese."</p> + +<p>"Would you like some cold meat?" queried the man indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Of course I should! Have I not said that I was hungry?"</p> + +<p>"You'll pay for it all right enough?"</p> + +<p>"I'll pay for the supper before I stick a fork into it," rejoined +Maurice impatiently, "but in Heaven's name hurry up, man! I am half dead +with sleep as well as with hunger."</p> + +<p>The old man—a real peasant of the Dauphiné in his deliberate manner and +shrewd instincts of caution—once more shuffled out of the room, and St. +Genis lapsed into a kind of pleasant torpor as the warmth of the fire +gradually crept through his sinews and loosened all his limbs, while the +anticipation of wine and food sent his wearied thoughts into a happy +day-dream.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he was installed before a substantial supper, and +worthy Aristide Briot was equally satisfied with the two pieces of +silver which St. Genis had readily tendered him.</p> + +<p>"You said your house was full, petit père," said Maurice after a while, +when the edge of his hunger had somewhat worn off. "I shouldn't have +thought there were many travellers in this out-of-the-way place."</p> + +<p>"The place is not out-of-the-way," retorted the old man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> gruffly. "The +road is a good one, and a short cut between Vienne and Chambéry. We get +plenty of travellers this way!"</p> + +<p>"Well! I did not strike the road, unfortunately. I saw your lights in +the distance and cut across some fields. It was pretty rough in the +dark, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"That's just what those other cavaliers said, when they turned up here +about an hour ago. A noisy crowd they were. I had no room for them in my +house, so they had to go."</p> + +<p>St. Genis at once put down his knife and fork.</p> + +<p>"A noisy crowd of travellers," he exclaimed, "who arrived here an hour +ago?"</p> + +<p>"Parbleu!" rejoined the other, "and all wanting beds too. I had no room. +I can only put up one or two travellers. I sent them on to Levasseur's, +further along the road. Only the wounded man I could not turn away. He +is up in our best bedroom."</p> + +<p>"A wounded man? You have a wounded man here, petit père?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! it's not much of a wound," explained the old man with unconscious +irrelevance. "He himself calls it a mere scratch. But my old woman took +a fancy to him: he is young and well-looking, you understand. . . . She +is clever at bandages too, so she has looked after him as if he were her +own son."</p> + +<p>Mechanically, St. Genis had once more taken up his knife and fork, +though of a truth the last of his hunger had vanished. But these +Dauphiné peasants were suspicious and queer-tempered, and already the +young man's surprise had matured into a plan which he would not be able +to carry through without the help of Aristide Briot. Noisy cavaliers—he +mused to himself—a wounded man! . . . wounded by the stray shot aimed +at him by Crystal de Cambray! Indeed, St. Genis had much ado to keep his +excite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>ment in check, and to continue with a pretence at eating while +Briot watched him with stolid indifference.</p> + +<p>"Petit père," said the young man at last with as much unconcern as he +could affect. "I have been thinking that you have—unwittingly—given me +an excellent piece of news. I do believe that the man in your best +bedroom upstairs is a friend of mine whom I was to have met at Lyons +to-day and whose absence from our place of tryst had made me very +anxious. I was imagining that all sorts of horrors had happened to him, +for he is in the secret service of the King and exposed to every kind of +danger. His being wounded in some skirmish either with highway robbers +or with a band of the Corsican's pirates would not surprise me in the +least, and the fact that he had some half-dozen mounted men with him +confirms me in my belief that indeed it is my friend who is lying +upstairs, as he often has to have an escort in the exercise of his +duties. At any rate, petit père," he concluded as he rose from the +table, "by your leave, I'll go up and ascertain."</p> + +<p>While he rattled off these pretty proceeds of his own imagination, +Maurice de St. Genis kept a sharp watch on Aristide Briot's face, ready +to note the slightest sign of suspicion should it creep into the old +man's shrewd eyes.</p> + +<p>Briot, however, did not exhibit any violent interest in his guest's +story, and when the latter had finished speaking he merely said, +pointing to the remnants of food upon the table:</p> + +<p>"I thought you said that you were hungry."</p> + +<p>"So I was, petit père," rejoined Maurice impatiently, "so I was: but my +hunger is not so great as it was, and before I eat another morsel I must +satisfy myself that it is my friend who is safe and well in your old +woman's care."</p> + +<p>"Oh! he is well enough," grunted Briot, "and you can see him in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"That I cannot, for I shall have to leave here soon after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> dawn. And I +could not get a wink of sleep whilst I am in such a state of uncertainty +about my friend."</p> + +<p>"But you can't go and wake him now. He is asleep for sure, and my old +woman wouldn't like him to be disturbed, after all the care she has +given him."</p> + +<p>St. Genis, fretting with impatience, could have cursed aloud or shaken +the obstinate old peasant roughly by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wake him," he retorted, irritated beyond measure at the +man's futile opposition. "I'll go up on tiptoe, candle in hand—you +shall show me the way to his room—and I'll just ascertain whether the +wounded man is my friend or not, then I'll come down again quietly and +finish my supper.</p> + +<p>"Come, petit père, I insist," he added more peremptorily, seeing that +Briot—with the hesitancy peculiar to his kind—still made no movement +to obey, but stood close by scratching his scanty locks and looking +puzzled and anxious.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for him Maurice understood the temperament of these peasants +of the Dauphiné, he knew that with their curious hesitancy and inherent +suspiciousness it was always the easiest to make up their minds for +them.</p> + +<p>So now—since he was absolutely determined to come to grips with that +abominable thief upstairs, before the night was many minutes older—he +ceased to parley with Briot.</p> + +<p>A candle stood close to his hand on the table, a bit of kindling wood +lay in a heap in one corner, with the help of the one he lighted the +other, then candle in hand he walked up to the door.</p> + +<p>"Show me the way, petit père," he said.</p> + +<p>And Aristide Briot, with a shrug of the shoulders which implied that he +there and then put away from him any responsibility for what might or +might not occur after this, and without further comment, led the way +upstairs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>On the upper landing at the top of the stairs Briot paused. He pointed +to a door at the end of the narrow corridor, and said curtly:</p> + +<p>"That's his room."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, petit père," whispered St. Genis in response. "Don't wait +for me, I'll be back directly."</p> + +<p>"He is not yet in bed," was Briot's dry comment.</p> + +<p>A thin streak of light showed underneath the door. As St. Genis walked +rapidly toward it he wondered if the door would be locked. That +certainly was a contingency which had not occurred to him. His design +was to surprise a wounded and helpless thief in his sleep and to force +him then and there to give up the stolen money, before he had time to +call for help.</p> + +<p>But the miscreant was evidently on the watch, Briot still lingered on +the top of the stairs, there were other people sleeping in the house, +and St. Genis suddenly realised that his purpose would not be quite so +easy of execution as he had hot-headedly supposed.</p> + +<p>But the end in view was great, and St. Genis was not a man easily +deterred from a set purpose. There was the royalist cause to aid and +Crystal to be won if he were successful.</p> + +<p>He knocked resolutely at the door, then tried the latch. The door was +locked: but even as the young man hesitated for a moment wondering what +he would do next, a firm step resounded on the floor on the other side +of the partition and the next moment the door was opened from within, +and a peremptory voice issued the usual challenge:</p> + +<p>"Who goes there?"</p> + +<p>A tall figure appeared as a massive silhouette under the lintel. St. +Genis had the candle in his hand. He dropped it in his astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>"Mr. Clyffurde!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>At sight of St. Genis the Englishman, whose right arm was in a sling, +had made a quick instinctive movement back into the room, but equally +quickly Maurice had forestalled him by placing his foot across the +threshold.</p> + +<p>Then he turned back to Aristide Briot.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, petit père," he called out airily, "it is indeed my +friend, just as I thought. I'm going to stay and have a little chat with +him. Don't wait up for me. When he is tired of my company I'll go back +to the parlour and make myself happy in front of the fire. Good-night!"</p> + +<p>As Clyffurde no longer stood in the doorway, St. Genis walked straight +into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving good old Aristide +to draw what conclusions he chose from the eccentric behaviour of his +nocturnal visitors.</p> + +<p>With a rapid and wrathful gaze, St. Genis at once took stock of +everything in the room. A sigh of satisfaction rose to his lips. At any +rate the rogue could not deny his guilt. There, hanging on a peg, was +the caped coat which he had worn, and there on the table were two +damning proofs of his villainy—a pair of pistols and a black mask.</p> + +<p>The whole situation puzzled him more than he could say. Certainly after +the first shock of surprise he had felt his wrath growing hotter and +hotter every moment, the other man's cool assurance helped further to +irritate his nerves, and to make him lose that self-control which would +have been of priceless value in this unlooked-for situation.</p> + +<p>Seeing that Maurice de St. Genis was absolutely speechless with surprise +as well as with anger, there crept into Clyffurde's deep-set grey eyes a +strange look of amusement, as if the humour of his present position was +more obvious than its shame.</p> + +<p>"And what," he asked pleasantly, "has procured me the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> honour at this +late hour of a visit from M. le Marquis de St. Genis?"</p> + +<p>His words broke the spell. There was no longer any mystery in the +situation. The condemnatory pieces of evidence were there, Clyffurde's +connection with de Marmont was well known—the plot had become obvious. +Here was an English adventurer—an alien spy—who had obviously been +paid to do this dirty work for the usurper, and—as Maurice now +concluded airily—he must be made to give up the money which he had +stolen before he be handed over to the military authorities at Lyons and +shot as a spy or a thief—Maurice didn't care which: the whole thing was +turning out far simpler and easier than he had dared to hope.</p> + +<p>"You know quite well why I am here," he now said, roughly. "Of a truth, +for the moment I was taken by surprise, for I had not thought that a man +who had been honoured by the friendship of M. le Comte de Cambray and of +his family was a thief, as well as a spy."</p> + +<p>"And now," said Clyffurde, still smiling and apparently quite +unperturbed, "that you have been enlightened on this subject to your own +satisfaction, may I ask what you intend to do?"</p> + +<p>"Force you to give up what you have stolen, you impudent thief," +retorted the other savagely.</p> + +<p>"And how are you proposing to do that, M. de St. Genis?" asked the +Englishman with perfect equanimity.</p> + +<p>"Like this," cried Maurice, whose exasperation and fury had increased +every moment, as the other man's assurance waxed more insolent and more +cool.</p> + +<p>"Like this!" he cried again, as he sprang at his enemy's throat.</p> + +<p>A past master in the art of self-defence, Clyffurde—despite his wounded +arm—was ready for the attack. With his left on guard he not only +received the brunt of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> onslaught, but parried it most effectually +with a quick blow against his assailant's jaw.</p> + +<p>St. Genis—stunned by this forcible contact with a set of exceedingly +hard knuckles—fell back a step or two, his foot struck against some +object on the floor, he lost his balance and measured his length +backwards across the bed.</p> + +<p>"You abominable thief . . . you . . ." he cried, choking with rage and +with discomfiture as he tried to struggle to his feet.</p> + +<p>But this he at once found that he could not do, seeing that a pair of +firm and muscular knees were gripping and imprisoning his legs, even +while that same all-powerful left hand with the hard knuckles had an +unpleasant hold on his throat.</p> + +<p>"I should have tried some other method, M. de St. Genis, had I been in +your shoes," came in irritatingly sarcastic accents from his calm +antagonist.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the insolent rogue did not appear in the least overwhelmed by +the enormity of his crime or by the disgrace of being so ignominiously +found out. From his precarious position across the bed St. Genis had a +good view of the rascal's finely knit figure, of his earnest face, now +softened by a smile full of kindly humour and good-natured contempt.</p> + +<p>An impartial observer viewing the situation would certainly have thought +that here was an impudent villain vanquished and lying on his back, +whilst being admonished for his crimes by a just man who had might as +well as right on his side.</p> + +<p>"Let me go, you confounded thief," St. Genis cried, as soon as the +unpleasant grip on his throat had momentarily relaxed, "you accursed spy +. . . you . . ."</p> + +<p>"Easy, easy, my young friend," said the other calmly; "you have called +me a thief quite often enough to satisfy your rage: and further epithets +might upset my temper."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>"Let go my throat!"</p> + +<p>"I will in a moment or two, as soon as I have made up my mind what I am +going to do with you, my impetuous young friend—whether I shall truss +you like a fowl and put you in charge of our worthy host, as guilty of +assaulting one of his guests, or whether I shall do you some trifling +injury to punish you for trying to do me a grave one."</p> + +<p>"Right is on my side," said St. Genis doggedly. "I do not care what you +do to me."</p> + +<p>"Right is apparently on your side, my friend. I'll not deny it. +Therefore, I still hesitate."</p> + +<p>"Like a rogue and a vagabond at dead of night you attacked and robbed +those who have never shown you anything but kindness."</p> + +<p>"Until the hour when they turned me out of their house like a dishonest +lacquey, without allowing me a word of explanation."</p> + +<p>"Then this is your idea of vengeance, is it, Mr. Clyffurde?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, M. de St. Genis, it is. But not quite in the manner that you +suppose. I am going to set you free now in order to set your mind at +rest. But let me warn you that I shall be just as much on the alert +against another attack from you as ever I was before, and that I could +ward off two or even three assailants with my left arm and knee as +easily as I warded off one. It is a way we have in England."</p> + +<p>He relaxed his hold on Maurice's legs and throat, and the young +man—fretting and fuming, wild with impotent wrath and with +mortification—struggled to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Are you proposing to give me some explanation to mitigate your crime?" +he said roughly. "If so, let me tell you that I will accept none. +Putting the question aside of your abominable theft, you have committed +an outrage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> against people whom I honour, and against the woman whom I +love."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I propose to give you any explanation, M. de St. Genis," +retorted Clyffurde, who still spoke quite quietly and evenly. "But for +the sake of your own peace of mind, which you will I hope communicate to +the people whom you honour, I will tell you a few simple facts."</p> + +<p>Neither of the men sat down: they stood facing one another now across +the table whereon stood a couple of tallow candles which threw fitful, +yellow lights on their faces—so different, so strangely +contrasted—young and well-looking both—both strongly moved by passion, +yet one entirely self-controlled, while in the other's eyes that passion +glowed fierce and resentful.</p> + +<p>"I listen," said St. Genis curtly.</p> + +<p>And Clyffurde began after a slight pause: "At the time that you fell +upon me with such ill-considered vigour, M. de St. Genis," he said, "did +you know that but for my abominable outrage upon the persons whom you +honour, the money which they would gladly have guarded with their life +would have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte's agents?"</p> + +<p>"In theirs or yours, what matters?" retorted St. Genis savagely, "since +His Majesty is deprived of it now."</p> + +<p>"That is where you are mistaken, my young friend," said the other +quietly. "His Majesty is more sure of getting the money now than he was +when M. le Comte de Cambray with his family and yourself started on that +quixotic if ill-considered errand this morning."</p> + +<p>St. Genis frowned in puzzlement:</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you," he said curtly.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it simple enough? You and your friends credited me with +friendship for de Marmont: he is hot-headed and impetuous, and words +rush out of his mouth that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> should keep to himself. I knew from +himself that Bonaparte had charged him to recover the twenty-five +millions which M. le préfet Fourier had placed in the Comte de Cambray's +charge."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not warn the Comte then?" queried St. Genis, who, still +mistrustful, glowered at his antagonist.</p> + +<p>"Would he have listened to me, think you?" asked the other with a quiet +smile. "Remember, he had turned me out of his house two nights before, +without a word of courtesy or regret—on the mere suspicion of my +intercourse with de Marmont. Were you too full with your own rage to +notice what happened then? Mlle. Crystal drew away her skirts from me as +if I were a leper. What credence would they have given my words? Would +the Comte even have admitted me into his presence?"</p> + +<p>"And so . . . you planned this robbery . . . you . . ." stammered St. +Genis, whose astonishment and puzzlement were rendering him as +speechless as his rage had done. "I'll not believe it," he continued +more firmly; "you are fooling me, now that I have found you out."</p> + +<p>"Why should I do that? You are in my hands, and not I in yours. +Bonaparte is victorious at Grenoble. I could take the money to him and +earn his gratitude, or use the money for mine own ends. What have I to +fear from you? What cause to fool you? Your opinion of me? M. le Comte's +contempt or goodwill? Bah! after to-night are we likely to meet again?"</p> + +<p>St. Genis said nothing in reply. Of a truth there was nothing that he +could say. The Englishman's whole attitude bore the impress of truth. +Even through that still seething wrath which refused to be appeased, St. +Genis felt that the other was speaking the truth. His mind now was in +turmoil of wonderment. This man who stood here before him had done +something which he—St. Genis—could not comprehend. Vaguely he realised +that beneath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> the man's actions there still lay a yet deeper foundation +of dignity and of heroism and one which perhaps would never be wholly +fathomed.</p> + +<p>It was Clyffurde who at last broke the silence between them:</p> + +<p>"You, M. de St. Genis," he said lightly, "would under like circumstances +have acted just as I did, I am sure. The whole idea was so easy of +execution. Half a dozen loafers to aid me, the part of highwayman to +play—an old man and two or three defenceless women—my part was not +heroic, I admit," he added with a smile, "but it has served its purpose. +The money is safe in my keeping now, within a few days His Majesty the +King of France shall have it, and all those who strive to serve him +loyally can rest satisfied."</p> + +<p>"I confess I don't understand you," said St. Genis, as he seemed to +shake himself free from some unexplainable spell that held him. "You +have rendered us and the legitimate cause of France a signal service! +Why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"You forget, M. de St. Genis, that the legitimate cause of France is +England's cause as well."</p> + +<p>"Are you a servant of your country then? I thought you were a tradesman +engaged in buying gloves."</p> + +<p>Clyffurde smiled. "So I am," he said, "but even a tradesman may serve +his country, if he has the opportunity."</p> + +<p>"I hope that your country will be duly grateful," said Maurice, with a +sigh. "I know that every royalist in France would thank you if they +knew."</p> + +<p>"By your leave, M. de St. Genis, no one in France need know anything but +what you choose to tell them. . . ."</p> + +<p>"You mean . . ."</p> + +<p>"That except for reassuring M. le Comte de Cambray and . . . and Mlle. +Crystal, there is no reason why they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> should ever know what passed +between us in this room to-night."</p> + +<p>"But if the King is to have the money, he . . ."</p> + +<p>"He will never know from me, from whence it comes."</p> + +<p>"He will wish to know. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Come, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde, with a slight hint of +impatience, "is it for me to tell you that Great Britain has more than +one agent in France these days—that the money will reach His Majesty +the King ultimately through the hands of his foreign minister M. le +Comte de Jaucourt . . . and that my name will never appear in connection +with the matter? . . . I am a mere servant of Great Britain—doing my +duty where I can . . . nothing more."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you are in the British Secret Service? No?—Well! I don't +profess to understand you English people, and you seem to me more +incomprehensible than any I have known. Not that I ever believed that +you were a mere tradesman. But what shall I say to M. le Comte de +Cambray?" he added, after a slight pause, during which a new and strange +train of thought altered the expression of wonderment on his face, to +one that was undefinable, almost furtive, certainly undecided.</p> + +<p>"All you need say to M. le Comte," replied Clyffurde, with a slight tone +of impatience, "is that you are personally satisfied that the money will +reach His Majesty's hand safely, and in due course. At least, I presume +that you are satisfied, M. de St. Genis," he continued, vaguely +wondering what was going on in the young Frenchman's brain.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, of course I am satisfied," murmured the other, "but . . ."</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Crystal would want to know something more than that. She will ask +me questions . . . she . . . she will insist . . . I had promised her to +get the money back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> myself . . . she will expect an explanation . . . +she . . ."</p> + +<p>He continued to murmur these short, jerky sentences almost inaudibly, +avoiding the while to meet the enquiring and puzzled gaze of the +Englishman.</p> + +<p>When he paused—still murmuring, but quite inaudibly now—Clyffurde made +no comment, and once more there fell a silence over the narrow room. The +candles flickered feebly, and Bobby picked up the metal snuffers from +the table and with a steady and deliberate hand set to work to trim the +wicks.</p> + +<p>So absorbed did he seem in this occupation that he took no notice of St. +Genis, who with arms crossed in front of him, was pacing up and down the +narrow room, a heavy frown between his deep-set eyes.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Somewhere in the house down below, an old-fashioned clock had just +struck two. Clyffurde looked up from his absorbing task.</p> + +<p>"It is late," he remarked casually; "shall we say good-night, M. de St. +Genis?"</p> + +<p>The sound of the Englishman's voice seemed to startle Maurice out of his +reverie. He pulled himself together, walked firmly up to the table and +resting his hand upon it, he faced the other man with a sudden gaze made +up partly of suddenly conceived resolve and partly of lingering +shamefacedness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clyffurde," he began abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Have you any cause to hate me?"</p> + +<p>"Why no," replied Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile. "Why +should I have?"</p> + +<p>"Have you any cause to hate Mlle. Crystal de Cambray?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"You have no desire," insisted Maurice, "to be revenged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> on her for the +slight which she put upon you the other night?"</p> + +<p>His voice had grown more steady and his look more determined as he put +these rapid questions to Clyffurde, whose expressive face showed no sign +of any feeling in response save that of complete and indifferent +puzzlement.</p> + +<p>"I have no desire with regard to Mlle. de Cambray," replied Bobby +quietly, "save that of serving her, if it be in my power."</p> + +<p>"You can serve her, Sir," retorted Maurice firmly, "and that right +nobly. You can render the whole of her future life happy beyond what she +herself has ever dared to hope."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Maurice paused: once more, with a gesture habitual to him, he crossed +his arms over his chest and resumed his restless march up and down the +narrow room.</p> + +<p>Then again he stood still, and again faced the Englishman, his dark +enquiring eyes seeming to probe the latter's deepest thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Did you know, Mr. Clyffurde," he asked slowly, "that Mlle. Crystal de +Cambray honours me with her love?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I knew that," replied the other quietly.</p> + +<p>"And I love her with my heart and soul," continued Maurice impetuously. +"Oh! I cannot tell you what we have suffered—she and I—when the +exigencies of her position and the will of her father parted +us—seemingly for ever. Her heart was broken and so was mine: and I +endured the tortures of hell when I realised at last that she was lost +to me for ever and that her exquisite person—her beautiful soul—were +destined for the delight of that low-born traitor Victor de Marmont."</p> + +<p>He drew breath, for he had half exhausted himself with the volubility +and vehemence of his diction. Also he seemed to be waiting for some +encouragement from Clyffurde, who, however, gave him none, but sat +unmoved and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> apparently supremely indifferent, while a suffering heart +was pouring out its wails of agony into his unresponsive ear.</p> + +<p>"The reason," resumed St. Genis somewhat more calmly, "why M. le Comte +de Cambray was opposed to our union, was purely a financial one. Our +families are of equal distinction and antiquity, but alas! our fortunes +are also of equal precariousness: we, Sir, of the old noblesse gave up +our all, in order to follow our King into exile. Victor de Marmont was +rich. His fortune could have repurchased the ancient Cambray estates and +restored to that honoured name all the brilliance which it had +sacrificed for its principles."</p> + +<p>Still Clyffurde remained irritatingly silent, and St. Genis asked him +somewhat tartly:</p> + +<p>"I trust I am making myself clear, Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, so far," replied the other quietly, "but I am afraid I don't +quite see how you propose that I could serve Mlle. Crystal in all this."</p> + +<p>"You can with one word, one generous action, Sir, put me in a position +to claim Crystal as my wife, and give her that happiness which she +craves for, and which is rightly her due."</p> + +<p>A slight lifting of the eyebrows was Clyffurde's only comment.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clyffurde," now said Maurice, with the obvious firm resolve to end +his own hesitancy at last, "you say yourself that by taking this money +to His Majesty, or rather to his minister, you, individually, will get +neither glory nor even gratitude—your name will not appear in the +transaction at all. I am quoting your own words, remember. That is so, +is it not?"</p> + +<p>"It is so—certainly."</p> + +<p>"But, Sir, if a Frenchman—a royalist—were able to render his King so +signal a service, he would not only gain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> gratitude, but recognition and +glory. . . . A man who was poor and obscure would at once become rich +and distinguished. . . ."</p> + +<p>"And in a position to marry the woman he loved," concluded Bobby, +smiling.</p> + +<p>Then as Maurice said nothing, but continued to regard him with glowing, +anxious eyes, he added, smiling not altogether kindly this time,</p> + +<p>"I think I understand, M. de St. Genis."</p> + +<p>"And . . . what do you say?" queried the other excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Let me make the situation clear first, as I understand it, Monsieur," +continued Bobby drily. "You are—and I mistake not—suggesting at the +present moment that I should hand over the twenty-five millions to you, +in order that you should take them yourself to the King in Paris, and by +this act obtain not only favours from him, but probably a goodly share +of the money, which you—presumably—will have forced some unknown +highwayman to give up to you. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"It was not money for myself I thought of, Sir," murmured St. Genis +somewhat shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"No, no, of course not," rejoined Clyffurde with a tone of sarcasm quite +foreign to his usual easy-going good-nature. "You were thinking of the +King's favours, and of a future of distinction and glory."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking chiefly of Crystal, Sir," said the other haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Quite so. You were thinking of winning Mlle. Crystal by a . . . a +subterfuge."</p> + +<p>"An innocent one, Sir, you will admit. I should not be robbing you in +any way. And remember that it is only Crystal's hand that is denied me: +her love I have already won."</p> + +<p>A look of pain—quickly suppressed and easily hidden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> from the other's +self-absorbed gaze—crossed the Englishman's earnest face.</p> + +<p>"I do remember that, Monsieur," he said, "else I certainly would never +lend a hand in the . . . subterfuge."</p> + +<p>"You will do it then?" queried the other eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I have not said so."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but you will," pleaded Maurice hotly. "Sir! the eternal gratitude +of two faithful hearts would be yours always—for Crystal will know it +all, once we are married, I promise you that she will. And in the midst +of her happiness she will find time to bless your generosity and your +selflessness . . . whilst I . . ."</p> + +<p>"Enough, I beg of you, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde now, with +angry impatience. "Believe me! I do not hug myself with any thought of +my own virtues, nor do I desire any gratitude from you: if I hand over +the money to you, it is sorely against my better judgment and distinctly +against my duty: but since that duty chiefly lies in being assured that +the King of France will receive the money safely, why then by handing it +over to you I have that assurance, and my conscience will rest at +comparative ease. You shall have the money, Sir, and you shall marry +Mlle. Crystal on the strength of the King's gratitude towards you. And +Mlle. Crystal will be happy—if you keep silence over this transaction. +But for God's sake let's say no more about it: for of a truth you and I +are playing but a sorry rôle this night."</p> + +<p>"A sorry rôle?" protested the other.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a sorry rôle. Are you not deceiving a woman? Am I not running +counter to my duty?"</p> + +<p>"I but deceive Crystal temporarily. I love her and only deceive in order +to win her. The end justifies the means: Nor do you, in my opinion, run +counter to your duty. . . ."</p> + +<p>But Clyffurde interrupted him roughly: "I pray you, Sir, make no comment +on mine actions. My own silent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> comments on these are hard enough to +bear: your eulogies would raise bounds to my patience."</p> + +<p>Whereupon he walked quickly up to the bed and from under the mattress +extricated five leather wallets which he threw one by one upon the +table.</p> + +<p>"Here is the King's money," he said curtly; "you could never have taken +it from me by force, but I give it over to you willingly now. If within +a week from now I hear that the King has not received it, I will +proclaim you a liar and a thief."</p> + +<p>"Sir . . . you dare . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nay! we'll not quarrel. I don't want to do you any hurt. You know from +experience that I could kill you or wring your neck as easily as you +could kill a child; but Mlle. Crystal's love is like a protecting shield +all round you, so I'll not touch you again. But don't ask me to measure +my words, for that is beyond my power. Take the money, M. de St. Genis, +and earn not only the King's gratitude but also Mlle. Crystal's, which +is far better worth having. And now, I pray you, leave me to rest. You +must be tired too. And our mutual company hath become irksome to us +both."</p> + +<p>He turned his back on St. Genis and sat down at the table, drawing +paper, pen and inkhorn toward him, and with clumsy, left hand began +laboriously to form written characters, as if St. Genis' presence or +departure no longer concerned him.</p> + +<p>An importunate beggar could not have been more humiliatingly dismissed. +St. Genis had flushed to the very roots of his hair. He would have given +much to be able to chastise the insolent Englishman then and there. But +the latter had not boasted when he said that he could wring Maurice's +neck as easily with his left hand as with his right, and Maurice within +his heart was bound to own that the boast was no idle one. He knew that +in a hand-to-hand fight he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> was no match for that heavy-framed, +hard-fisted product of a fog-ridden land.</p> + +<p>He would not trust himself to speak any more, lest another word cause +prudence to yield to exasperation. Another moment of hesitation, a shrug +of the shoulders—perhaps a muttered curse or two—and St. Genis picked +up one by one the wallets from the table.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde never looked up while he did so: he continued to form awkward, +illegible characters upon the paper before him, as if his very life +depended on being able to write with his left hand.</p> + +<p>The next moment St. Genis had walked rapidly out of the room. Bobby left +off writing, threw down his pen, and resting his elbow upon the table +and his head in his hand, he remained silent and motionless while St. +Genis' quick and firm footsteps echoed first along the corridor, then +down the creaking stairs and finally on the floor below. After which +there came the sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the dragging +of a chair across a wooden floor, and nothing more.</p> + +<p>All was still in the house at last. The old-fashioned clock downstairs +struck half-past two.</p> + +<p>With a smothered cry of angry contempt Clyffurde seized on the papers +that lay scattered on the table and crushed them up in his hand with a +gesture of passionate wrath.</p> + +<p>Then he strode up to the window, threw open the rickety casement and let +the pure cold air of night pour into the room and dissipate the +atmosphere of cowardice, of falsehood and of unworthy love that still +seemed to hang there where M. le Marquis de St. Genis had basely +bargained for his own ends, and outraged the very name of Love by +planning base deeds in its name.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE CRIME</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Victor de Marmont had spent that same night in wearisome agitation. His +mortification and disappointment would not allow him to rest.</p> + +<p>He had brought his squad of cavalry up as far as St. Priest, which lies +a little off the main road, about half-way between Lyons and the scene +of de Marmont's late discomfiture. Here he and his men had spent the +night, only to make a fresh start early the next morning—back for +Grenoble—seeing that M. le Comte d'Artois with thirty or forty thousand +troops was even now at Lyons.</p> + +<p>When, an hour after leaving St. Priest, the little troop came upon a +solitary horseman, riding a heavy carriage horse with a postillion's +bridle, de Marmont at first had no other thought save that of malicious +pleasure at recognising the man, whom just now he hated more cordially +than any other man in the world.</p> + +<p>M. de St. Genis—for indeed it was he—was peremptorily challenged and +questioned, and his wrath and impotent attempts at arrogance greatly +delighted de Marmont.</p> + +<p>To make oneself actively unpleasant to a rival is apt to be a very +pleasurable sensation. Victor had an exceedingly disagreeable half-hour +to avenge and to declare St. Genis a prisoner of war, to order his +removal to Grenoble pending the Emperor's pleasure, to command him to +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> silent when he desired to speak was so much soothing balsam spread +upon the wounds which his own pride had suffered at Brestalou last +Sunday eve.</p> + +<p>It was not until a casual remark from the sergeant under his command +caused him to notice the bulging pockets of St. Genis' coat, that Victor +thought to give the order to search the prisoner.</p> + +<p>The latter entered a vigorous protest: he fought and he threatened: he +promised de Marmont the hangman's rope and his men terrible reprisals, +but of course he was fighting a losing battle. He was alone against five +and twenty, his first attempt at getting hold of the pistols in his belt +was met with a threat of summary execution: he was dragged out of the +saddle, his arms were forced behind his back, while rough hands turned +out the precious contents of his coat-pockets! All that he could do was +to curse fate which had brought these pirates on his way, and his own +short-sightedness and impatience in not waiting for the armed patrol +which undoubtedly would have been sent out to him from Lyons in response +to M. le Comte de Cambray's request.</p> + +<p>Now he had the deadly chagrin and bitter disappointment of seeing the +money which he had wrested from Clyffurde last night at the price of so +much humiliation, transferred to the pockets of a real thief and +spoliator who would either keep it for himself or—what in the +enthusiastic royalist's eyes would be even worse—place it at the +service of the Corsican usurper. He could hardly believe in the reality +of his ill luck, so appalling was it. In one moment he saw all the hopes +of which he had dreamed last night fly beyond recall. He had lost +Crystal more effectually, more completely than he ever had done before. +If the Englishman ever spoke of what had occurred last night . . . if +Crystal ever knew that he had been fool enough to lose the treasure +which had been in his possession for a few hours—her con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>tempt would +crush the love which she had for him: nor would the Comte de Cambray +ever relent.</p> + +<p>De Marmont's triumph too was hard to bear: his clumsy irony was terribly +galling.</p> + +<p>"Would M. le Marquis de St. Genis care to continue his journey to Lyons +now? would he prefer not to go to Grenoble?"</p> + +<p>St. Genis bit his tongue with the determination to remain silent.</p> + +<p>"M. de St. Genis is free to go whither he chooses."</p> + +<p>The permission was not even welcome. Maurice would as lief be taken +prisoner and dragged back to Grenoble as face Crystal with the story of +his failure.</p> + +<p>Quite mechanically he remounted, and pulled his horse to one side while +de Marmont ordered his little squad to form once more, and after the +brief word of command and a final sarcastic farewell, galloped off up +the road back toward Lyons at the head of his men, not waiting to see if +St. Genis came his way too or not.</p> + +<p>The latter with wearied, aching eyes gazed after the fast disappearing +troop, until they became a mere speck on the long, straight road, and +the distant morning mist finally swallowed them up.</p> + +<p>Then he too turned his horse's head in the same direction back toward +Lyons once more, and allowing the reins to hang loosely in his hand, and +letting his horse pick its own slow way along the road, he gave himself +over to the gloominess of his own thoughts.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>He too had some difficulty in entering the town. M. le Duc d'Orléans, +cousin of the King, had just arrived to support M. le Comte d'Artois, +and together these two royal princes had framed and posted up a +proclamation to the brave Lyonese of the National Guard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>The whole city was in a turmoil, for M. le Duc d'Orléans—who was +nothing if not practical—had at once declared that there was not the +slightest chance of a successful defence of Lyons, and that by far the +best thing to do would be to withdraw the troops while they were still +loyal.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte d'Artois protested; at any rate he wouldn't do anything so +drastic till after the arrival of Marshal Macdonald, to whom he had sent +an urgent courier the day before, enjoining him to come to Lyons without +delay. In the meanwhile he and his royal cousin did all they could to +kindle or at any rate to keep up the loyalty of the troops, but +defection was already in the air: here and there the men had been seen +to throw their white cockades into the mud, and more than one cry of +"Vive l'Empereur!" had risen even while Monsieur himself was reviewing +the National Guard on the Place Bellecour.</p> + +<p>The bridge of La Guillotière was stoutly barricaded, but as St. Genis +waited out in the open road while his name was being taken to the +officer in command he saw crowds of people standing or walking up and +down on the opposite bank of the river.</p> + +<p>They were waiting for the Emperor, the news of whose approach was +filling the townspeople with glee.</p> + +<p>Heartsick and wretched, St. Genis, after several hours of weary waiting, +did ultimately obtain permission to enter the city by the ferry on the +south side of the city. Once inside Lyons, he had no difficulty in +ascertaining where such a distinguished gentleman as M. le Comte de +Cambray had put up for the night, and he promptly made his way to the +Hotel Bourbon, his mind, at this stage, still a complete blank as to how +he would explain his discomfiture to the Comte and to Crystal.</p> + +<p>In the present state of M. le Comte d'Artois' difficulties the money +would have been thrice welcome, and St. Genis felt the load of failure +weighing thrice as heavily on his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> soul, and dreaded the +reproaches—mute or outspoken—which he knew awaited him. If only he +could have thought of something! something plausible and not too +inglorious! There was, of course, the possibility that he had failed to +come upon the track of the thieves at all—but then he had no business +to come back so soon—and he didn't want to come back, only that there +was always the likelihood of the Englishman speaking of what had +occurred—not necessarily with evil intent . . . but . . . some words of +his: "If within a week I hear that the King of France has not received +this money, I will proclaim you a liar and a thief!" rang unpleasantly +in St. Genis' ears.</p> + +<p>The young man's mind, I repeat, was at this point still a blank as to +what explanation he would give to the Comte de Cambray of his own +miserable failure.</p> + +<p>He was returning—after an ardent promise to overtake the thief and to +force him to give up the money—without apparently having made any +effort in that direction—or having made the effort, failing signally +and ignominiously—a foolish and unheroic position in either case.</p> + +<p>To tell the whole unvarnished truth, his interview with Clyffurde and +his thoughtlessness in wandering along the road all alone, laden with +twenty-five million francs, not waiting for the arrival of M. le Comte +d'Artois' patrol, was unthinkable.</p> + +<p>Then what? St. Genis, determined not to tell the truth, found it a +difficult task to concoct a story that would be plausible and at the +same time redound to his credit. His disappointment was so bitter now, +his hopes of winning Crystal and glory had been so bright, that he found +it quite impossible to go back to the hard facts of life—to his own +poverty and the unattainableness of Crystal de Cambray—without making a +great effort to win back what Victor de Marmont had just wrested from +him.</p> + +<p>Through the whirl of his thoughts, too, there was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> vague sense of +resentment against Clyffurde—coupled with an equally vague sense of +fear. He, Maurice, might easily keep silent over the transaction of last +night, but Clyffurde might not feel inclined to do so. He would want to +know sooner or later what had become of the money . . . had he not +uttered a threat which made Maurice's cheeks even now flush with wrath +and shame?</p> + +<p>Certain words and gestures of the Englishman had stood out before +Maurice's mind in a way that had stirred up those latent jealousies +which always lurk in the heart of an unsuccessful wooer. Clyffurde had +been generous—blind to his own interests—ready to sacrifice what +recognition he had earned: he had spared his assailant and agreed to an +unworthy subterfuge, and St. Genis' tormented brain began to wonder why +he had done all this.</p> + +<p>Was it for love of Crystal de Cambray?</p> + +<p>St. Genis would not allow himself to answer that question, for he felt +that if he did he would hate that hard-fisted Englishman more thoroughly +than he had ever hated any man before—not excepting de Marmont. De +Marmont was an evil and vile traitor who never could cross Crystal's +path of life again. . . . But not so the Englishman, who had planned to +serve her and who would have succeeded so magnificently but for +his—Maurice's—interference!</p> + +<p>If this explanation of Clyffurde's strangely magnanimous conduct was the +true one, then indeed St. Genis felt that he would have everything to +fear from him. For indeed was it so very unlikely that the Englishman +was throughout acting in collusion with Victor de Marmont, who was known +to be his friend?</p> + +<p>Was it so very unlikely that—seeing himself unmasked—he had found a +sure and rapid way of allowing the money to pass through St. Genis' +hands into those of de Marmont, and at the same time hopelessly +humiliating and discrediting his rival in the affections of Mlle. de +Cambray?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>That the suggestion of handing the money over to him had come originally +from Maurice de St. Genis himself, the young man did not trouble himself +to remember. The more he thought this new explanation of past events +over, the more plausible did it seem and the more likely of acceptance +by M. le Comte de Cambray and by Crystal, and St. Genis at last saw his +way to appearing before them not only zealous but heroic—even if +unfortunate—and it was with a much lightened heart that he finally drew +rein outside the Hotel Bourbon.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>M. le Comte de Cambray, it seems, was staying at the Hotel for a few +days, so the proprietor informed M. de St. Genis. M. le Comte had gone +out, but Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen was upstairs with Mlle. de Cambray.</p> + +<p>With somewhat uncertain step St. Genis followed the obsequious +proprietor, who had insisted on conducting M. le Marquis to the ladies' +apartments himself. They occupied a suite of rooms on the first floor, +and after a timid knock at the door, it was opened by Jeanne from +within, and Maurice found himself in the presence of Crystal and of the +Duchesse and obliged at once to enter upon the explanation which, with +their first cry of surprise, they already asked of him.</p> + +<p>"Well!" exclaimed Crystal eagerly, "what news?"</p> + +<p>"Of the money?" murmured Maurice vaguely, who above all things was +anxious to gain time.</p> + +<p>"Yes! the King's money!" rejoined the girl with slight impatience. "Have +you tracked the thieves? Do you know where they are? Is there any hope +of catching them?"</p> + +<p>"None, I am afraid," he replied firmly.</p> + +<p>Crystal gave a cry of bitter disappointment and reproach. "Then, +Maurice," she exclaimed almost involuntarily, "why are you here?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>And Mme. la Duchesse, folding her mittened hands before her, seemed +mutely to be asking the same question.</p> + +<p>"But did you come upon the thieves at all?" continued Crystal with eager +volubility. "Where did they go to for the night? You must have come on +some traces of their passage. Oh!" she added vehemently, "you ought not +to have deserted your post like this!"</p> + +<p>"What could I do," he murmured. "I was all alone . . . against so many. +. . ."</p> + +<p>"You said that you would get on the track of the thieves," she urged, +"and father told you that he would speak with M. le Comte d'Artois as +soon as possible. Monsieur has promised that an armed patrol would be +sent out to you, and would be on the lookout for you on the road."</p> + +<p>"An armed patrol would be no use. I came back on purpose to stop one +being sent."</p> + +<p>"But why, in Heaven's name?" exclaimed the Duchesse.</p> + +<p>"Because a troop of deserters with that traitor Victor de Marmont is +scouring the road, and . . ."</p> + +<p>"We know that," said Crystal, "we were stopped by them last night, after +you left us. They were after the money for the usurper, who had sent +them, and I thanked God that twenty-five millions had enriched a common +thief rather than the Corsican brigand."</p> + +<p>"Surely, Maurice," said the Duchesse with her usual tartness, "you were +not fool enough to allow the King's money to fall into that abominable +de Marmont's hands?"</p> + +<p>"How could I help it?" now exclaimed the young man, as if driven to the +extremity of despair. "The whole thing was a huge plot beyond one man's +power to cope with. I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence +as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the +beaten track—at dead of night—a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I +tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to +me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling +himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees, +and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my +pockets at last."</p> + +<p>"You forced him—how splendid!" reiterated Crystal, whose glowing eyes +were fixed upon Maurice with all the admiration which she felt.</p> + +<p>"Yes! that money was in my pocket for the rest of the happy night, but +the abominable thief knew well that his friend Victor de Marmont was on +the road with five and twenty armed deserters in the pay of the Corsican +brigand. Hardly had I left the hostelry and found my way back to the +main road when I was surrounded, assailed, searched and robbed. I +repeat!" continued St. Genis, warming to his own narrative, "what could +I do alone against so many?—the thief and his hirelings I managed +successfully, but with the money once in my possession I could not risk +staying an hour longer than I could help in that den of cutthroats. But +they were in league with de Marmont, and, though I would have guarded +the King's money with my life, it was filched from me ere I could draw a +single weapon in its defence."</p> + +<p>He had sunk in a chair, half exhausted with the effort of his own +eloquence, and now, with elbows resting on his knees and head buried in +his hands, he looked the picture of heroic misery.</p> + +<p>Crystal said nothing for a while; there was a deep frown of puzzlement +between her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," she said resolutely at last, "you said just now that the +thief was in collusion with his friend de Marmont. What did you mean by +that?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather that you guessed what I meant, Crystal," replied Maurice +without looking up at her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>"You mean . . . that . . ." she began slowly.</p> + +<p>"That it was Mr. Clyffurde, our English friend," broke in Madame tartly, +"who robbed us on the broad highway. I suspected it all along."</p> + +<p>"You suspected it, <i>ma tante</i>, and said nothing?" asked the girl, who +obviously had not taken in the full significance of Maurice's statement.</p> + +<p>"I said absolutely nothing," replied Madame decisively, "firstly, +because I did not think that I would be doing any good by putting my own +surmises into my brother's head, and, secondly, because I must confess +that I thought that nice young Englishman had acted pour le bon motif."</p> + +<p>"How could you think that, <i>ma tante</i>?" ejaculated Crystal hotly: "a +good motive? to rob us at dead of night—he, a friend of Victor de +Marmont—an adherent of the Corsican! . . ."</p> + +<p>"Englishmen are not adherents of the Corsican, my dear," retorted Madame +drily, "and until Maurice's appearance this morning, I was satisfied +that the money would ultimately reach His Majesty's own hands."</p> + +<p>"But we were taking the money to His Majesty ourselves."</p> + +<p>"And Victor de Marmont was after it. Mr. Clyffurde may have known that. +. . . Remember, my dear," continued Madame, "that these were my +impressions last night. Maurice's account of the den of cutthroats has +modified these entirely."</p> + +<p>Again Crystal was silent. The frown had darkened on her face: there was +a line of bitter resentment round her lips—a look of contempt, of hate, +of a desire to hurt, in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," she said abruptly at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I did wound that thief, did I not?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>"Yes. In the shoulder . . . it gave me a slight advantage . . ." he said +with affected modesty.</p> + +<p>"I am glad. And you . . . you were able to punish him too, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I punished him."</p> + +<p>He was watching her very closely, for inwardly he had been wondering how +she had taken his news. She was strangely agitated, so Maurice's +troubled, jealous heart told him; her face was flushed, her eyes were +wet and a tiny lace handkerchief which she twisted between her fingers +was nothing but a damp rag.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I hate him! I hate him!" she murmured as with an impatient gesture +she brushed the gathering tears from her eyes. "Father had been so kind +to him—so were we all. How could he? how could he?"</p> + +<p>"His duty, I suppose," said St. Genis magnanimously.</p> + +<p>"His duty?" she retorted scornfully.</p> + +<p>"To the cause which he served."</p> + +<p>"Duty to a usurper, a brigand, the enemy of his country. Was he, then, +paid to serve the Corsican?"</p> + +<p>"Probably."</p> + +<p>"His being in trade—buying gloves at Grenoble—was all a plant then?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so," said St. Genis, who much against his will now was +sinking ever deeper and deeper in the quagmire of lying and cowardice +into which he had allowed himself to drift.</p> + +<p>"And he was nothing better than a spy!"</p> + +<p>No one, not even Crystal herself, could have defined with what feelings +she said this. Was it solely contempt? or did a strange mixture of +regret and sorrow mingle with the scorn which she felt? Swiftly her +thoughts had flown back to that Sunday evening—a very few days +ago—when the course of her destiny was so suddenly changed once more, +when her marriage with a man whom she could never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> love was broken off, +when the possibilities once more rose upon the horizon of her life, of a +renewed existence of poverty and exile in the wake of a dispossessed +king.</p> + +<p>That same evening a man whom she had hardly noticed before—a man +neither of her own nationality nor of her own caste—this same +Englishman, Clyffurde, had entered into her life—not violently or +aggressively, but just with a few words of intense sympathy and with a +genuine offer of friendship; and she somehow, despite much kindness +which encompassed her always, had felt cheered and warmed by his words, +and a strange and sweet sense of security against hurt and sorrow had +entered her heart as she listened to them.</p> + +<p>And now she knew that all that was false—false his sympathy, false his +offers of friendship—his words were false, his hand-grasp false. +Treachery lurked behind that kindly look in his eyes, and falsehood +beneath his smile.</p> + +<p>"He was nothing better than a spy!" The sting of that thought hurt her +more than she could have thought possible. She had so few real friends +and this one had proved a sham. Had she been alone she would have given +way to tears, but before Maurice or even her aunt she was ashamed of her +grief, ashamed of her feelings and of her thoughts. There was a great +deal yet that she wished to know, but somehow the words choked her when +she wanted to ask further questions. Fortunately Mme. la Duchesse was +taking Maurice thoroughly to task. She asked innumerable questions, and +would not spare him the relation of a single detail.</p> + +<p>"Tell us all about it from the beginning, Maurice," she said. "Where did +you first meet the rogue?"</p> + +<p>And Maurice—weary and ashamed—was forced to embark on a minute account +of adventures that were lies from beginning to end: he had stumbled +across the wayside hostelry on a lonely by-path: he had found it full of +cut-throats: he had stalked and waylaid their chief in his own room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +and forced him to give up the money by the weight of his fists.</p> + +<p>It was paltry and pitiable: nevertheless, St. Genis, as he warmed to his +tale, lost the shame of it; only wrath remained with him: anger that he +should be forced into this despicable rôle through the intrigues of a +rival.</p> + +<p>In his heart he was already beginning to find innumerable excuses for +his cowardice: and his rage and hatred grew against Clyffurde as +Madame's more and more persistent questions taxed his imagination almost +to exhaustion.</p> + +<p>When, after half an hour of this wearying cross-examination, Madame at +last granted him a respite, he made a pretext of urgent business at M. +le Comte d'Artois' headquarters and took his leave of the ladies. He +waited in vain hope that the Duchesse's tact would induce her to leave +him alone for a moment with Crystal. Madame stuck obstinately to her +chair and was blind and deaf to every hint of appeal from him, whilst +Crystal, who was singularly absorbed and had lent but a very indifferent +ear to his narrative, made no attempt to detain him.</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand to kiss, just as Madame had done; it lay hot and +moist in his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Crystal," he continued to murmur as his lips touched her fingers, "I +love you . . . I worked for you . . . it is not my fault that I failed."</p> + +<p>She looked at him kindly and sympathetically through her tears, and gave +his hand a gentle little pressure.</p> + +<p>"I am sure it was not your fault," she replied gently, "poor Maurice. +. . ."</p> + +<p>It was not more than any kind friend would say under like circumstances, +but to a lover every little word from the beloved has a significance of +its own, every look from her has its hidden meaning. Somewhat satisfied +and cheered Maurice now took his final leave:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>"Does M. le Comte propose to continue his journey to Paris?" he asked at +the last.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" Crystal replied, "he could not stay away while he feels that +His Majesty may have need of him. Oh, Maurice!" she added suddenly, +forgetting her absorption, her wrath against Clyffurde, her own +disappointment—everything—in face of the awful possible calamity, and +turning anxious, appealing eyes upon the young man, "you don't think, do +you, that that abominable usurper will succeed in ousting the King once +more from his throne?"</p> + +<p>And St. Genis—remembering Laffray and Grenoble, remembering what was +going on in Lyons at this moment, the silent grumblings of the troops, +the defaced white cockades, the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which he +himself had heard as he rode through the town—St. Genis, remembering +all this, could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders in miserable +doubt.</p> + +<p>When he had gone at last, Crystal's thoughts veered back once more to +Clyffurde and to his treachery.</p> + +<p>"What abominable deceit, <i>ma tante</i>!" she cried, and quite against her +will tears of wrath and of disappointment rose to her eyes. "What +villainy! what odious, execrable treachery!"</p> + +<p>Madame shrugged her shoulders and took up her knitting.</p> + +<p>"These days, my dear," she said with unwonted placidity, "the world is +so full of treachery that men and women absorb it by every pore."</p> + +<p>"But I shall not leave it at that," rejoined Crystal resolutely. "I'll +find a means of punishing that vile traitor . . . I'll make him feel the +hatred which he has so richly deserved—I shall not rest till I have +made him suffer as he makes me suffer now. . . ."</p> + +<p>"My dear—my dear—" protested Mme. la Duchesse, not a little shocked at +the girl's vehemence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>Indeed, Crystal's otherwise sweet, gentle, yielding personality seemed +completely transformed: for the moment she was just a sensitive woman +who has been hit and hurt, and whose desire for retaliation is keener, +more relentless than that of a man. All the soft look in her blue eyes +had gone—they looked dark and hard—her fair curls were matted against +her damp forehead; indeed, Madame thought that for the moment all +Crystal's beauty had gone—the sweet, submissive beauty of the girl, the +grace of movement, the shy, appealing gentleness of her ways. She now +looked all determination, resentment, and, above all, revenge.</p> + +<p>"The dear child," sighed the Duchesse over her knitting, "it is the +English blood in her. Those people never know how to accept the +inevitable: they are always wanting to fight someone for something and +never know when they are beaten."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>And the triumphal march from the gulf of Jouan continued uninterrupted +to Paris.</p> + +<p>After Laffray and Grenoble, Lyons, where the silk-weavers of La +Guillotière assembled in their thousands to demolish the barricades +which had been built up on their bridge against the arrival of the +Emperor, and watched his entry into their city waving kerchiefs and hats +in his honour, and tricolour flags and cockades fished out of cupboards, +where they had lain hidden but not forgotten for one whole year.</p> + +<p>After Lyons, Villefranche, where sixty thousand peasants and workmen +awaited his arrival at the foot of the tree of Liberty, on the top of +which a brass eagle, the relic of some old standard, glistened like gold +as it caught the rays of the setting sun.</p> + +<p>And Nevers, where the townsfolk urged the regiments as they march +through the city to tear the white cockades from their hats! And +Chalon-sur-Saône, where the workpeople commandeer a convoy of artillery +destined for the army of M. le Comte d'Artois!</p> + +<p>The préfets of the various départements, the bureaucracy of provinces +and cities, are not only amazed but struck with terror:</p> + +<p>"This is a new Revolution!" they cry in dismay.</p> + +<p>Yes! it is a new Revolution! the revolt of the peasantry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> of the poor, +the humble, the oppressed! The hatred which they felt against that old +regime which had come back to them with its old arrogance and its former +tyrannies had joined issue with the cult of the army for the Emperor who +had led it to glory, to fortune and to fame.</p> + +<p>The people and the army were roused by the same enthusiasm, and marched +shoulder to shoulder to join the standard of Napoleon—the little man in +the shabby hat and the grey redingote, who for them personified the +spirit of the great revolution, the great struggle for liberty and its +final victory.</p> + +<p>The army of the Comte d'Artois—that portion of it which remained +loyal—was powerless against the overwhelming tide of popular +enthusiasm, powerless against dissatisfaction, mutterings and constant +defections in its ranks. The army would have done well in Provence—for +Provence was loyal and royalist, man, woman and child: but Napoleon took +the route of the Alps, and avoided Provence; by the time he reached +Lyons he had an army of his own and M. le Comte d'Artois—fearing more +defections and worse defeats—had thought it prudent to retire.</p> + +<p>It has often been said that if a single shot had been fired against his +original little band Napoleon's march on Paris would have been stopped. +Who shall tell? There are such "ifs" in the world, which no human mind +can challenge. Certain it is that that shot was not fired. At Laffray, +Randon gave the order, but he did not raise his musket himself; on the +walls of Grenoble St. Genis, in command of the artillery and urged by +the Comte de Cambray, did not dare to give the order or to fire a gun +himself. "The men declare," he had said gloomily, "that they would blow +their officers from their own guns."</p> + +<p>And at Lyons there was not militiaman, a royalist, volunteer or a pariah +out of the streets who was willing to fire that first and "single shot": +and though Marshal Macdonald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> swore ultimately that he would do it +himself, his determination failed him at the last when surrounded by his +wavering troops he found himself face to face with the conqueror of +Austerlitz and Jena and Rivoli and a thousand other glorious fights, +with the man in the grey redingote who had created him Marshal of France +and Duke of Tarente on the battlefields of Lombardy, his comrade-in-arms +who had shared his own scanty army rations with him, slept beside him +round the bivouac fires, and round whom now there rose a cry from end to +end of Lyons: "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Victor de Marmont did not wait for the arrival of the Emperor at Lyons: +nor did he attempt to enter the city. He knew that there was still some +money in the imperial treasury brought over from Elba, and his +mind—always in search of the dramatic—had dwelt with pleasure on +thoughts of the day when the Emperor, having entered Fontainebleau, or +perhaps even Paris and the Tuileries, would there be met by his faithful +de Marmont, who on bended knees in the midst of a brilliant and admiring +throng would present to him the twenty-five million francs originally +the property of the Empress herself and now happily wrested from the +cupidity of royalist traitors.</p> + +<p>The picture pleased de Marmont's fancy: he dwelt on it with delight, he +knew that no one requited a service more amply and more generously than +Napoleon: he knew that after this service rendered there was nothing to +which he—de Marmont—young as he was, could not aspire—title, riches, +honours, anything he wanted would speedily become his, and with these to +his credit he could claim Crystal de Cambray once more.</p> + +<p>Oh! she would be humbled again by then, she and her father too, the +proud aristocrats, doomed once more to penury and exile, unless he—de +Marmont—came forth like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the fairy prince to the beggarmaid with hands +laden with riches, ready to lay these at the feet of the woman he loved.</p> + +<p>Yes! Crystal de Cambray would be humbled! De Marmont, though he felt +that he loved her more and better than any man had ever loved any woman +before, nevertheless had a decided wish that she should be humbled and +suffer bitterly thereby. He felt that her pride was his only enemy: her +pride and royalist prejudices. Of the latter he thought but little: +confident of his Emperor's success, he thought that all those hot-headed +royalists would soon realise the hopelessness of their cause—rendered +all the more hopeless through its short-lived triumph of the past +year—and abandon it gradually and surely, accepting the inevitable and +rejoicing over the renewed glory which would come over France.</p> + +<p>As for her pride! well! that was going to be humbled, along with the +pride of the Bourbon princes, of that fatuous old king, of all those +arrogant aristocrats who had come back after years of exile, as +arrogant, as tyrannical as ever before.</p> + +<p>These were pleasing thoughts which kept Victor de Marmont company on his +way between Lyons and Fontainebleau. Once past Villefranche he sent the +bulk of his escort back to Lyons, where the Emperor should have arrived +by this time: he had written out a superficial report of his expedition, +which the sergeant in charge of the little troop was to convey to the +Emperor's own hands. He only kept two men with him, put himself and them +into plain, travelling clothes which he purchased at Villefranche, and +continued his journey to the north without much haste; the roads were +safe enough from footpads, he and his two men were well armed, and what +stragglers from the main royalist army he came across would be far too +busy with their own retreat and their own disappointment to pay much +heed to a civilian and seemingly harmless traveller.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>De Marmont loved to linger on the way in the towns and hamlets where the +news of the Emperor's approach had already been wafted from Grenoble, or +Lyons, or Villefranche on the wings of wind or birds, who shall say? +Enough that it had come, that the peasants, assembled in masses in their +villages, were whispering together that he was coming—the little man in +the grey redingote—l'Empereur!</p> + +<p>And de Marmont would halt in those villages and stop to whisper with the +peasants too: Yes! he was coming! and the whole of France was giving him +a rousing welcome! There was Laffray and Grenoble and Lyons! the army +rallied to his standard as one man!</p> + +<p>And de Marmont would then pass on to another village, to another town, +no longer whispering after a while, but loudly proclaiming the arrival +of the Emperor who had come into his own again.</p> + +<p>After Nevers he was only twenty-four hours ahead of Napoleon and his +progress became a triumphant one: newspapers, despatches had filtrated +through from Paris—news became authentic, though some of it sounded a +little wild. Wherever de Marmont arrived he was received with +acclamations as the man who had seen the Emperor, who had assisted at +the Emperor's magnificent entry into Grenoble, who could assure citizens +and peasantry that it was all true, that the Emperor would be in Paris +again very shortly and that once more there would be an end to tyranny +and oppression, to the rule of the aristocrats and a number of +incompetent and fatuous princes.</p> + +<p>He did not halt at Fontainebleau, for now he knew that the Court of the +Tuileries was in a panic, that neither the Comte d'Artois, nor the Duc +de Berry, nor any of the royal princes had succeeded in keeping the army +together: that defections had been rife for the past week, even before +Napoleon had shown himself, and that Marshal Ney, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> bravest soldier +in France, had joined his Emperor at Auxerre.</p> + +<p>No! de Marmont would not halt at Fontainebleau. It was Paris that he +wanted to see! Paris, which to-day would witness the hasty flight of the +gouty and unpopular King whom it had never learned to love! Paris +decking herself out like a bride for the arrival of her bridegroom! +Paris waiting and watching, while once again on the Tuileries and the +Hôtel de Ville, on the Louvre and the Luxembourg, on church towers and +government buildings the old tricolour flag waved gaily in the wind.</p> + +<p>He slept that night at a small hotel in the Louvre quarter, but the +whole evening he spent on the Place du Carrousel with the crowd outside +the Tuileries, watching the departure from the palace of the infirm King +of France and of his Court. The crowd was silent and obviously deeply +moved. The spectacle before it of an old, ailing monarch, driven forth +out of the home of his ancestors, and forced after an exile of three and +twenty years and a brief reign of less than one, to go back once more to +misery and exile, was pitiable in the extreme.</p> + +<p>Many forgot all that the brief reign had meant in disappointments and +bitter regrets, and only saw in the pathetic figure that waddled +painfully from portico to carriage door a monarch who was unhappy, +abandoned and defenceless: a monarch, too, who, in his unheroic, +sometimes grotesque person, was nevertheless the representative of all +the privileges and all the rights, of all the dignity and majesty +pertaining to the most ancient ruling dynasty in Europe, as well as of +all the humiliations and misfortunes which that same dynasty had +endured.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>It is late in the evening of March 20th. A thin mist is spreading from +the river right over Paris, and from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> Place du Carrousel the lighted +windows of the Tuileries palace appear only like tiny, dimly-flickering +stars.</p> + +<p>Here an immense crowd is assembled. It has waited patiently hour after +hour, ever since in the earlier part of the afternoon a courier has come +over from Fontainebleau with the news that the Emperor is already there +and would be in Paris this night.</p> + +<p>It is the same crowd which twenty-four hours ago shed a tear or two in +sympathy for the departing monarch: now it stands here—waiting, +excited, ready to cheer the return of a popular hero—half-forgotten, +wildly acclaimed, madly welcomed, to be cursed again, and again +forgotten so soon. It was a heterogeneous crowd forsooth! made up in +great part of the curious, the idle, the indifferent, and in great part, +too, of the Bonapartist enthusiasts and malcontents who had groaned +under the reactionary tyranny of the Restoration—of malcontents, too, +of no enthusiasm, who were ready to welcome any change which might bring +them to prominence or to fortune. With here and there a sprinkling of +hot-headed revolutionaries, cursing the return of the Emperor as +heartily as they had cursed that of the Bourbon king: and here and there +a few heart-sick royalists, come to watch the final annihilation of +their hopes.</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood among the crowd for a +while. He knew that the Emperor would probably not be in Paris before +night, and he loved to be in the very midst of the wave of enthusiasm +which was surging higher and ever higher in the crowd, and hear the +excited whispers, and to feel all round him, wrapping him closely like a +magic mantle of warmth and delight, the exaltation of this mass of men +and women assembled here to acclaim the hero whom he himself adored. +Closely buttoned inside his coat he had scraps of paper worth the ransom +of any king.</p> + +<p>Among the crowd, too, Bobby Clyffurde moved and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> stood. He was one of +those who watched this enthusiasm with a heart filled with forebodings. +He knew well how short this enthusiasm would be: he knew that within a +few weeks—days perhaps—the bold and reckless adventurer who had so +easily reconquered France would realise that the Imperial crown would +never be allowed to sit firmly upon his head. None in this crowd knew +better that the present pageant and glory would be short-lived, than did +this tall, quiet Englishman who listened with half an ear and a smile of +good-natured contempt to the loud cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose +spontaneously whenever the sound of horses' hoofs or rattles of wheels +from the direction of Fontainebleau suggested the approach of the hero +of the day. None knew better than he that already in far-off England +another great hero, named Wellington, was organising the forces which +presently would crush—for ever this time—the might and ambitions of +the man whom England had never acknowledged as anything but a usurper +and a foe.</p> + +<p>And closely buttoned inside his coat Clyffurde had a letter which he had +received at his lodgings in the Alma quarter only a few moments before +he sallied forth into the streets. That letter was an answer to a +confidential enquiry of his own sent to the Chief of the British Secret +Intelligence Department resident in Paris, desiring to know if the +Department had any knowledge of a vast sum of money having come +unexpectedly into the hands of His Majesty the King of France, before +his flight from the capital.</p> + +<p>The answer was an emphatic "No!" The Intelligence Department knew of no +such windfall. But its secret agents reported that Victor de Marmont, +captain of the usurper's body-guard, had waylaid M. le Marquis de St. +Genis on the high road not far from Lyons. The escort which had +accompanied Victor de Marmont on that occasion had been dismissed by him +at Villefranche, and the information which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> the British Secret +Intelligence Department had obtained came through the indiscretion of +the sergeant in charge of the escort, who had boasted in a tavern at +Lyons that he had actually searched M. de St. Genis and found a large +sum of money upon him, of which M. de Marmont promptly took possession.</p> + +<p>When Bobby Clyffurde received this letter and first mastered its +contents, the language which he used would have done honour to a Toulon +coal-heaver. He cursed St. Genis' stupidity in allowing himself to be +caught; but above all he cursed himself for his soft-heartedness which +had prompted him to part with the money.</p> + +<p>The letter which brought him the bad news seemed to scorch his hand, and +brand it with the mark of folly. He had thought to serve the woman he +loved, first, by taking the money from her, since he knew that Victor de +Marmont with an escort of cavalry was after it, and, secondly, by +allowing the man whom she loved to have the honour and glory of laying +the money at his sovereign's feet. The whole had ended in a miserable +fiasco, and Clyffurde felt sore and wrathful against himself.</p> + +<p>And also among the crowd—among those who came, heartsick, hopeless, +forlorn, to watch the triumph of the enemy as they had watched the +humiliation of their feeble King—was M. le Comte de Cambray with his +daughter Crystal on his arm.</p> + +<p>They had come, as so many royalists had done, with a vague hope that in +the attitude of the crowd they would discern indifference rather than +exultation, and that the active agents of their party, as well as those +of England and of Prussia, would succeed presently in stirring up a +counter demonstration, that a few cries of "Vive le roi!" would prove to +the army at least and to the people of Paris that acclamations for the +usurper were at any rate not unanimous.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>But the crowd was not indifferent—it was excited: when first the Comte +de Cambray and Crystal arrived on the Place du Carrousel, a number of +white cockades could be picked out in the throng, either worn on a hat +or fixed to a buttonhole, but as the afternoon wore on there were fewer +and fewer of these small white stars to be seen: the temper of the crowd +did not brook this mute reproach upon its enthusiasm. One or two +cockades had been roughly torn and thrown into the mud, and the wearer +unpleasantly ill-used if he persisted in any royalistic demonstration. +Crystal, when she saw these incidents, was not the least frightened. She +wore her white cockade openly pinned to her cloak; she was far too +loyal, far too enthusiastic and fearless, far too much a woman to yield +her convictions to the popular feeling of the moment; and she looked so +young and so pretty, clinging to the arm of her father, who looked a +picturesque and harmless representative of the fallen regime, that with +the exception of a few rough words, a threat here and there, they had so +far escaped active molestation.</p> + +<p>And the crowd presently had so much to see that it ceased to look out +for white cockades, or to bait the sad-eyed royalists. A procession of +carriages, sparse at first and simple in appearance, had begun to make +its way from different parts of the town across the Place du Carrousel +toward the Tuileries. They arrived very quietly at first, with as little +clatter as possible, and drew up before the gates of the Pavillon de +Flore with as little show as may be: the carriage doors were opened +unostentatiously, and dark, furtive figures stepped out from them and +almost ran to the door of the palace, so eager were they to escape +observation, their big cloaks wrapped closely round them to hide the +court dress or uniform below.</p> + +<p>Ministers, dignitaries of the Court, Councillors of State; majordomos, +stewards, butlers, body-servants; they all came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> one by one or in groups +of twos or threes. As the afternoon wore on these arrivals grew less and +less furtive; the carriages arrived with greater clatter and to-do, with +finer liveries and more gorgeous harness. Those who stepped out of the +carriage doors were no longer quick and stealthy in their movements: +they lingered near the step to give an order or to chat to a friend; the +big cloak no longer concealed the gorgeous uniform below, it was allowed +to fall away from the shoulder, so as to display the row of medals and +stars, the gold embroidery, the magnificence of the Court attire.</p> + +<p>The Emperor had left Fontainebleau! Within an hour he would be in Paris! +Everyone knew it, and the excitement in the crowd that watched grew more +and more intense. Last night these same men and women had looked with +mute if superficial sympathy on the departure of Louis XVIII. through +these same palace gates: many eyes then became moist at the sight, as +memory flew back twenty years to the murdered king—his flight to +Varennes, his ignominious return, his weary Calvary from prison to court +house and thence to the scaffold. And here was his brother—come back +after twenty-three years of exile, acclaimed by the populace, cheered by +foreign soldiers—Russians, Austrians, English—anything but French—and +driven forth once more to exile after the brief glory that lasted not +quite a year.</p> + +<p>But this the crowd of to-day has already forgotten with the completeness +peculiar to crowds: men, women, and children too, they are no longer +mute, they talk and they chatter; they scream with astonishment and +delight whenever now from more and more carriages, more and more +gorgeously dressed folk descend. The ladies are beginning to arrive: the +wives of the great Court dignitaries, the ladies of the Court and +household of the still-absent Empress: they do not attempt to hide their +brilliant toilettes, their bare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> shoulders and arms gleam through the +fastenings of their cloaks, and diamonds sparkle in their hair.</p> + +<p>The crowd has recognised some of the great marshals, the men who in the +Emperor's wake led the French troops to victory in Italy, in Prussia, in +Austria: Maret Duc de Bassano is there and the crowd cheers him, the Duc +de Rovigo, Marshal Davout, Prince d'Eckmühl, General Excelmans, one of +Napoleon's oldest companions at arms, the Duke of Gaeta, the Duke of +Padua, a crowd of generals and superior officers. It seems like the +world of the Sleeping Beauty and of the Enchanted Castle—which a kiss +has awakened from its eleven months' sleep. The Empire had only been +asleep, it had dreamed a bad dream, wherein its hero was a prisoner and +an exile: now it is slowly wakening back to life and to reality.</p> + +<p>The night wears on: darkness and fog envelop Paris more and more. +Excitement becomes akin to anxiety. If the Emperor did leave +Fontainebleau when the last courier said that he did, he should +certainly be here by now. There are strange whispers, strange waves of +evil reports that spread through the waiting crowd: "A royalist fanatic +had shot at the Emperor! the Emperor was wounded! he was dead!"</p> + +<p>Oh! the excitement of that interminable wait!</p> + +<p>At last, just as from every church tower the bells strike the hour of +nine, there comes the muffled sound of a distant cavalcade: the sound of +horses galloping and only half drowning that of the rumbling of coach +wheels.</p> + +<p>It comes from the direction of the embankment, and from far away now is +heard the first cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" The noise gets louder and more +clear, the cries are repeated again and again till they merge into one +great, uproarious clamour. Like the ocean when lashed by the wind, the +crowd surges, moves, rises on tiptoe, subsides, falls back to crush +forward again and once more to retreat as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> heavy coach, surrounded by +a thousand or so of mounted men, dashes over the cobbles of the Place du +Carrousel, whilst the clamour of the crowd becomes positively deafening.</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>The officers in the courtyard of the palace rush to the coach as it +draws up at the Pavillon de Flore: one of them succeeds in opening the +carriage door. The Emperor is literally torn out of the carriage, +carried to the vestibule, where more officers seize him, raise him from +the crowd, bear him along, hoisted upon their shoulders, up the +monumental staircase.</p> + +<p>Their enthusiasm is akin to delirium: they nearly tear their hero to +pieces in their wild, mad, frantic welcome.</p> + +<p>"In Heaven's name, protect his person," exclaims the Duc de Vicence +anxiously; and he and Lavalette manage to get hold of the banisters and +by dint of fighting and pushing succeed in walking backwards step by +step in front of the Emperor, thus making a way for him.</p> + +<p>Lavalette can hardly believe his eyes, and the Duc de Vicence keeps +murmuring: "It is the Emperor! It is the Emperor!"</p> + +<p>And he—the little stout man in green cloth coat and white +breeches—walks up the steps of his reconquered palace like a man in a +dream: his eyes are fixed apparently on nothing, he makes no movement to +keep his too enthusiastic friends away: the smile upon his lips is +meaningless and fixed.</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferates the crowd.</p> + +<p>Vive l'Empereur for one hundred days: a few weeks of joy, a few weeks of +anxiety, a few weeks of indecision, of wavering and of doubt. Then +defeat more irrevocable than before! exile more distant! despair more +complete.</p> + +<p>Vive l'Empereur while we shout with excitement, while we remember the +disappointments of the past year, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> we hope for better things from +a hand that has lost its cunning, a mind that has lost its power.</p> + +<p>Vive l'Empereur! Let him live for an hundred days, while we forget our +enthusiasm and Europe prepares its final crushing blow. Let him live +until we remember once again the horrors of war, the misery, the famine, +the devastated homes! until once more we see the maimed and crippled +crawling back wearily from the fields of glory, until our ears ring with +the wails of widows and the cries of the fatherless.</p> + +<p>Then let him no longer live, for he it is who has brought this misery on +us through his will and through his ambition, and France has suffered so +much from the aftermath of glory, that all she wants now is rest.</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>Gradually—but it took some hours—the tumult and excitement in and +round the Tuileries subsided. The Emperor managed to shut himself up in +his study and to eat some supper in peace, while gradually outside his +windows the crowd—who had nothing more to see and was getting tired of +staring up at glittering panes of glass—went back more or less quietly +to their homes.</p> + +<p>Only in the courtyard of the Tuileries, the troopers of the cavalry +which had formed the Emperor's escort from Fontainebleau tethered their +horses to the railings, rolled themselves in their mantles and slept on +the pavements, giving to this portion of the palace the appearance of a +bivouac in a place which has been taken by storm.</p> + +<p>One of the last to leave the Place du Carrousel was Bobby Clyffurde. The +crowd was thin by this time, but it was the tired and the +indifferent—the merely curious—who had been the first to go. Those who +remained to the last were either the very enthusiastic who wanted to set +up a final shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" after their idol had entirely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +disappeared from their view, or the malcontents who would not lose a +moment to discuss their grievances, to murmur covert threats, or suggest +revolt in some shape or form or kind.</p> + +<p>Bobby slipped quickly past several of these isolated groups, indifferent +to the dark and glowering looks of suspicion that were cast at his tall, +muscular figure with the firm step and the defiant walk that was vaguely +reminiscent of the British troops that had been in Paris last year at +the time of the foreign occupation. He had skirted the Tuileries gardens +and was walking along the embankment which now was dark and solitary +save for some rowdy enthusiasts on ahead who, arm in arm in two long +rows that reached from the garden railings to the parapet, were +obstructing the roadway and shouting themselves hoarse with "Vive +l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Clyffurde, who was walking faster than they did, was just deliberating +in his mind whether he would turn back and go home some other way or +charge this unpleasant obstruction from the rear and risk the +consequences, when he noticed two figures still further on ahead walking +in the same direction as he himself and the rowdy crowd.</p> + +<p>One of these two figures—thus viewed in the distance, through the mist +and from the back—looked nevertheless like that of a woman, which fact +at once decided Bobby as to what he would do next. He sprinted toward +the crowd as fast as he could, but unfortunately he did not come up with +them in time to prevent the two unfortunate pedestrians being surrounded +by the turbulent throng which, still arm in arm and to the accompaniment +of wild shouts, had formed a ring around them and were now vociferating +at the top of raucous voices:</p> + +<p>"À bas la cocarde blanche! À bas! Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>A flickering street lamp feebly lit up this unpleasant scene. Bobby saw +the vague outline of a man and of a woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> standing boldly in the midst +of the hostile crowd while two white cockades gleamed defiantly against +the dark background of their cloaks. To an Englishman, who was a +pastmaster in the noble art of using fists and knees to advantage, the +situation was neither uncommon nor very perilous. The crowd was noisy it +is true, and was no doubt ready enough for mischief, but Clyffurde's +swift and scientific onslaught from the rear staggered and disconcerted +the most bold. There was a good deal more shouting, plenty of cursing; +the Englishman's arms and legs seemed to be flying in every direction +like the arms of a windmill; a good many thuds and bumps, a few groans, +a renewal of the attack, more thuds and groans, and the discomfited +group of roisterers fled in every direction.</p> + +<p>Bobby with a smile turned to the two motionless figures whom he had so +opportunely rescued from an unpleasant plight.</p> + +<p>"Just a few turbulent blackguards," he said lightly, as he made a quick +attempt at readjusting the set of his coat and the position of his satin +stock. "There was not much fight in them really, and . . ."</p> + +<p>He had, of course, lost his hat in the brief if somewhat stormy +encounter and now—as he turned—the thin streak of light from the +street-lamp fell full upon his face with its twinkling, deep-set eyes, +and the half-humorous, self-deprecatory curl of the firm mouth.</p> + +<p>A simultaneous exclamation came from his two protégés and stopped the +easy flow of his light-hearted words. He peered closely into the gloom +and it was his turn now to exclaim, half doubting, wholly astonished:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Crystal . . . M. le Comte. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Sir," broke in the Comte slowly, and with a voice that seemed +to be trembling with emotion, "it is to my daughter and to myself that +you have just rendered a signal and generous service. For this I tender +you my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> thanks, yet believe me, I pray you when I say that both she and +I would rather have suffered any humiliation or ill-usage from that +rough crowd than owe our safety and comfort to you."</p> + +<p>There was so much contempt, hatred even, in the tone of voice of this +old man whose manner habitually was a pattern of moderation and of +dignity that for the moment Clyffurde was completely taken aback. +Puzzlement fought with resentment and with the maddening sense that he +was anyhow impotent to avenge even so bitter an insult as had just been +hurled upon him—against a man of the Comte's years and status.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," he said at last, "will you let me remind you that the +other day when you turned me out of your house like a dishonest servant, +you would not allow me to say a single word in my own justification? The +man on whose word you condemned me then without a hearing, is a +scatter-brained braggart who you yourself must know is not a man to be +trusted and . . ."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with perfect sangfroid, "even +if I acted on that evening with undue haste and ill-considered judgment, +many things have happened since which you yourself surely would not wish +to discuss with me, just when you have rendered me a signal service."</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, M. le Comte," retorted Clyffurde with equal coolness, "I +know of nothing which could possibly justify the charges which, not +later than last Sunday, you laid at my door."</p> + +<p>"The charge which I laid at your door then, Mr. Clyffurde, has not been +lifted from its threshold yet. I charged you with deliberately +conspiring against my King and my country all the while that you were +eating bread and salt at my table. I charged you with striving to render +assistance to that Corsican usurper whom may the great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> God punish, and +you yourself practically owned to this before you left my house."</p> + +<p>"This I did not, M. le Comte," broke in Clyffurde hotly. "As a man of +honour I give you my word, that except for my being in de Marmont's +company on the day that he posted up the Emperor's proclamation in +Grenoble, I had no hand in any political scheme."</p> + +<p>"And you would have me believe you," exclaimed the Comte, with +ever-growing vehemence, "when you talk of that Corsican brigand as 'the +Emperor.' Those words, Sir, are an insult, and had you not saved my +daughter and me just now from violence I would—old as I am—strike you +in the face for them."</p> + +<p>With an impatient sigh at the old man's hot-headed obstinacy, Clyffurde +turned with a look of appeal to Crystal, who up to now had taken no part +in the discussion: "Mademoiselle," he said gently, "will you not at +least do me justice? Cannot you see that I am clumsy at defending mine +own honour, seeing that I have never had to do it before?"</p> + +<p>"I only see, Monsieur," she retorted coldly, "that you are making vain +and pitiable efforts to regain my father's regard—no doubt for purposes +of your own. But why should you trouble? You have nothing more to gain +from us. Your clever comedy of a highwayman on the road has succeeded +beyond your expectations. The Corsican who now sits in the armchair +lately vacated by an infirm monarch whom you and yours helped to +dethrone, will no doubt reward you for your pains. As for me I can only +echo my father's feelings: I would ten thousand times sooner have been +torn to pieces by a rough crowd of ignorant folk than owe my safety to +your interference."</p> + +<p>She took her father's arm and made a movement to go: instinctively +Clyffurde tried to stop her: at her words he had flushed with anger to +the very roots of his hair. The injustice of her accusation maddened +him, but the bitter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> resentment in the tone of her voice, the look of +passionate hatred with which she regarded him as she spoke, positively +appalled him.</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte," he said firmly, "I cannot let you go like this, whilst +such horrible thoughts of me exist in your mind. England gave you +shelter for three and twenty years; in the name of my country's kindness +and hospitality toward you, I—as one of her sons—demand that you tell +me frankly and clearly exactly what I am supposed to have done to +justify this extraordinary hatred and contempt which you and +Mademoiselle Crystal seem now to have for me."</p> + +<p>"One of England's sons, Monsieur!" retorted the Comte equally firmly. +"Nay! you are not even that. England stands for right and for justice, +for our legitimate King and the punishment of the usurper."</p> + +<p>"Great God!" he exclaimed, more and more bewildered now, "are you +accusing me of treachery against mine own country? This will I allow no +man to do, not even . . ."</p> + +<p>"Then, Sir, I pray you," rejoined Crystal proudly, "go and seek a +quarrel with the man who has unmasked you; who caught you red-handed +with the money in your possession which you had stolen from us, who +forced you to give up what you had stolen, and whom then you and your +friend Victor de Marmont waylaid and robbed once more. Go then, Mr. +Clyffurde, and seek a quarrel with the Marquis de St. Genis, who has +already struck you in the face once and no doubt will be ready to do so +again."</p> + +<p>And what of Clyffurde's thoughts while the woman whom he loved with all +the strength of his lonely heart poured forth these hideous insults upon +him? Amazement, then wrath, bewilderment, then final hopelessness, all +these sensations ran riot through his brain.</p> + +<p>St. Genis had behaved like an abominable blackguard! this he gathered +from what she said: he had lied like a mean skunk and betrayed the man +who had rendered him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> an infinitely great service. Of him Clyffurde +wouldn't even think! Such despicable, crawling worms did exist on God's +earth: he knew that! but he possessed the happy faculty, the sunny +disposition that is able to pass a worm by and ignore its existence +while keeping his eyes fixed upon all that is beautiful in earth and in +the sky. Of St. Genis, therefore, he would not think; some day, perhaps, +he might be able to punish him—but not now—not while this poor, +forlorn, heartsick girl pinned her implicit faith upon that wretched +worm and bestowed on him the priceless guerdon of her love. An infinity +of pity rose in his kindly heart for her and obscured every other +emotion. That same pity he had felt for her before, a sweet, protecting +pity—gentle sister to fiercer, madder love which had perhaps never been +so strong as it was at this hour when, for the second time, he was about +to make a supreme sacrifice for her.</p> + +<p>That the sacrifice must be made, he already knew: knew it even when +first St. Genis' name escaped her lips. She loved St. Genis and she +believed in him, and he, Clyffurde, who loved her with every fibre of +his being, with all the passionate ardour of his lonely heart, could +serve her no better than by accepting this awful humiliation which she +put upon him. If he could have justified himself now, he would not have +done it, not while she loved St. Genis, and he—Clyffurde—was less than +nothing to her.</p> + +<p>What did it matter after all what she thought of him? He would have +given his life for her love, but short of that everything else was +anyhow intolerable—her contempt, her hatred? what mattered? since +to-night anyhow he would pass out of her life for ever.</p> + +<p>He was ready for the sacrifice—sacrifice of pride, of honour, of peace +of mind—but he did want to know that that sacrifice would be really +needed and that when made it would not be in vain: and in order to gain +this end he put a final question to her:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>"One moment, Mademoiselle," he said, "before you go will you tell me one +thing at least; was it M. de St. Genis himself who accused me of +treachery?"</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why I should deny it, Sir," she replied coldly. "It +was M. de St. Genis himself who gave to my father and to me a full +account of the interview which he had with you at a lonely inn, some few +kilomètres from Lyons, and less than two hours after we had been +shamefully robbed on the highroad of money that belonged to the King."</p> + +<p>"And did M. de St. Genis tell you, Mademoiselle, that I purposed to use +that money for mine own ends?"</p> + +<p>"Or for those of the Corsican," she retorted impatiently. "I care not +which. Yes! Sir, M. de St. Genis told me that with his own lips and when +I had heard the whole miserable story of your duplicity and your +treachery, I—a helpless, deceived and feeble woman—did then and there +register a vow that I too would do you some grievous wrong one day—a +wrong as great as you had done not only to the King of France but to me +and to my father who trusted you as we would a friend. What you did +to-night has of course altered the irrevocableness of my vow. I owe, +perhaps, my father's life to your timely intervention and for this I +must be grateful, but . . ."</p> + +<p>Her voice broke in a kind of passionate sob, and it took her a moment or +two to recover herself, even while Clyffurde stood by, mute and with +well-nigh broken heart, his very soul so filled with sorrow for her that +there was no room in it even for resentment.</p> + +<p>"Father let us go now," Crystal said after a while with brusque +transition and in a steady voice; "no purpose can be served by further +recriminations."</p> + +<p>"None, my dear," said the Comte in his usual polished manner. +"Personally I have felt all along that explanations could but aggravate +the unpleasantness of the present posi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>tion. Mr. Clyffurde understands +perfectly, I am sure. He had his axe to grind—whether personal or +political we really do not care to know—we are not likely ever to meet +again. All we can do now is to thank him for his timely intervention on +our behalf and . . ."</p> + +<p>"And brand him a liar," broke in Clyffurde almost involuntarily and with +bitter vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, Monsieur," retorted the Comte coldly, "neither my daughter +nor I have done that. It is your deeds that condemn you, your own +admissions and the word of M. de St. Genis. Would you perchance suggest +that he lied?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," rejoined Clyffurde with perfect calm, "it is I who lied, of +course."</p> + +<p>He had said this very slowly and as if speaking with mature +deliberation: not raising his voice, nor yet allowing it to quiver from +any stress of latent emotion. And yet there was something in the tone of +it, something in the man's attitude, that suggested such a depth of +passion that, quite instinctively, the Comte remained silent and awed. +For the moment, however, Clyffurde seemed to have forgotten the older +man's presence; wounded in every fibre of his being by the woman whom he +loved so tenderly and so devotedly, he had spoken only to her, +compelling her attention and stirring—even by this simple admission of +a despicable crime—an emotion in her which she could not—would not +define.</p> + +<p>She turned large inquiring eyes on him, into which she tried to throw +all that she felt of hatred and contempt for him. She had meant to wound +him and it seemed indeed as if she had succeeded beyond her dearest +wish. By the dim, flickering light of the street-lamp his face looked +haggard and old. The traitor was suffering almost as much as he +deserved, almost as much—Crystal said obstinately to herself—as she +had wished him to do. And yet, at sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> of him now, Crystal felt a +strong, unconquerable pity for him: the womanly instinct no doubt to +heal rather than to hurt.</p> + +<p>But this pity she was not prepared to show him: she wanted to pass right +out of his life, to forget once and for all that sense of warmth of the +soul, of comfort and of peace which she had felt in his presence on that +memorable evening at Brestalou. Above all, she never wanted to touch his +hand again, the hand which seemed to have such power to protect and to +shield her, when on that same evening she had placed her own in it.</p> + +<p>Therefore, now she took her father's arm once more: she turned +resolutely to go. One more curt nod of the head, one last look of +undying enmity, and then she would pass finally out of his life for +ever.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>How Clyffurde got back to his lodgings that night he never knew. +Crystal, after his final admission, had turned without another word from +him, and he had stood there in the lonely, silent street watching her +retreating form—on her father's arm—until the mist and gloom swallowed +her up as in an elvish grave. Then mechanically he hunted for his hat +and he, too, walked away.</p> + +<p>That was the end of his life's romance, of course. The woman whom he +loved with his very soul, who held his heart, his mind, his imagination +captive, whose every look on him was joy, whose every smile was a +delight, had gone out of his life for ever! She had turned away from him +as she would from a venomous snake! she hated him so cruelly that she +would gladly hurt him—do him some grievous wrong if she could. And +Clyffurde was left in utter loneliness with only a vague, foolish +longing in his heart—the longing that one day she might have her wish, +and might have the power to wound him to death—bodily just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> as she had +wounded him to the depth of his soul to-night.</p> + +<p>For the rest there was nothing more for him to do in France. King Louis +was not like to remain at Lille very long: within twenty-four hours +probably he would continue his journey—his flight—to Ghent—where once +more he would hold his court in exile, with all the fugitive royalists +rallied around his tottering throne.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde had already received orders from his chief at the Intelligence +Department to report himself first at Lille, then—if the King and court +had already left—at Ghent. If, however, there were plenty of men to do +the work of the Department it was his intention to give up his share in +it and to cross over to England as soon as possible, so as to take up +the first commission in the new army that he could get. England would be +wanting soldiers more urgently than she had ever done before: mother and +sisters would be well looked after: he—Bobby—had earned a fortune for +them, and they no longer needed a bread-winner now: whilst England +wanted all her sons, for she would surely fight.</p> + +<p>Clyffurde, who had seen the English papers that morning—as they were +brought over by an Intelligence courier—had realised that the debates +in Parliament could only end one way.</p> + +<p>England would not tolerate Bonaparte; she would not even tolerate his +abdication in favour of his own son. Austria had already declared her +intention of renewing the conflict and so had Prussia. England's +decision would, of course, turn the scale, and Bobby in his own mind had +no doubt which way that decision would go.</p> + +<p>The man whom the people of France loved, and whom his army idolised, was +the disturber of the peace of Europe. No one would believe his +protestations of pacific intentions now: he had caused too much +devastation, too much misery in the past—who would believe in him for +the future?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>For the sake of that past, and for dread of the future, he must go—go +from whence he could not again return, and Bobby Clyffurde—remembering +Grenoble, remembering Lyons, Villefranche and Nevers—could not +altogether suppress a sigh of regret for the brave man, the fine genius, +the reckless adventurer who had so boldly scaled for the second time the +heights of the Capitol, oblivious of the fact that the Tarpeian Rock was +so dangerously near.</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>At this same hour when Bobby Clyffurde finally bade adieu to all the +vague hopes of happiness which his love for Crystal de Cambray had +engendered in his heart, his whilom companion in the long ago—rival and +enemy now—Victor de Marmont, was laying a tribute of twenty-five +million francs at the feet of his beloved Emperor, and receiving the +thanks of the man to serve whom he would gladly have given his life.</p> + +<p>"What reward shall we give you for this service?" the Emperor had +deigned to ask.</p> + +<p>"The means to subdue a woman's pride, Sire, and make her thankful to +marry me," replied de Marmont promptly.</p> + +<p>"A title, what?" queried the Emperor. "You have everything else, you +rogue, to please a woman's fancy and make her thankful to marry you."</p> + +<p>"A title, Sire, would be a welcome addition," said de Marmont lightly, +"and the freedom to go and woo her, until France and my Emperor need me +again."</p> + +<p>"Then go and do your wooing, man, and come back here to me in three +months, for I doubt not by then the flames of war will have been kindled +against me again."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>But the hand had lost its cunning, the mighty brain its indomitable +will-power. Genius was still there, but it was cramped now by +indecision—the indecision born of a sense of enmity around, suspicion +where there should have been nothing but enthusiasm, and the blind +devotion of the past.</p> + +<p>The man who, all alone, by the force of his personality and of his +prestige had reconquered France, who had been acclaimed from the Gulf of +Jouan to the gates of the Tuileries as the saviour of France, the +people's Emperor, the beloved of the nation returned from exile, the man +who on the 20th of March had said with his old vigour and his old pride: +"Failure is the nightmare of the feeble! impotence, the refuge of the +poltroon!" the man who had marched as in a dream from end to end of +France to find himself face to face with the whole of Europe in league +against him, with a million men being hastily armed to hurl him from his +throne again, now found the south of France in open revolt, the west +ready to rise against him, the north in accord with his enemies.</p> + +<p>He has not enough men to oppose to those millions, his arsenals are +depleted, his treasury empty. And after he has worked sixteen hours out +of the twenty-four at reorganising his army, his finances, his machinery +of war, he has to meet a set of apathetic or openly hostile ministers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +constitutional representatives, men who are ready to thwart him at every +turn, jealous only of curtailing his power, of obscuring his ascendency, +of clipping the eagle's wings, ere it soars to giddy heights again. And +to them he must give in, from them he must beg, entreat: give up, give +up all the time one hoped-for privilege after another, one power after +another.</p> + +<p>He yields the military dictatorship to other—far less competent—hands; +he grants liberty to the press, liberty of debate, liberty of election, +liberty to all and sundry: but suspicion lurks around him; they suspect +his sincerity, his goodwill, they doubt his promises, they mistrust that +dormant Olympian ambition which has precipitated France into humiliation +and brought the strangers' armies within her gates.</p> + +<p>The same man was there—the same genius who even now could have mastered +all the enemies of France and saved her from her present subjection and +European insignificance, but the men round him were not the same. He, +the guiding hand, was still there, but the machinery no longer worked as +it had done in the past before disaster had blunted and stiffened the +temper of its steel.</p> + +<p>The men around the Emperor were not now as they were in the days of Jena +and Austerlitz and Wagram. Their characters and temperaments had +undergone a change. Disaster had brought on slackness, the past year of +constant failures had engendered a sense of discouragement and +demoralisation, a desire to argue, to foresee difficulties, to foretell +further disasters.</p> + +<p>He saw it all well enough—he the man with the far-seeing mind and the +eagle-eyes that missed nothing—neither a look of indecision, nor an +indication of revolt. He saw it all but he could do nothing, for he too +felt overwhelmed by that wave of indecision and of discouragement. Faith +in himself, energy in action, had gone. He envisaged the possibility of +a vanquished and dismembered France.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>Above all he had lost belief in his Star: the star of his destiny which, +rising over the small island of Corsica, shining above a humble +middle-class home, had guided him step by step, from triumph to triumph, +to the highest pinnacle of glory to which man's ambition has ever +reached.</p> + +<p>That star had been dimmed once, its radiance was no longer unquenchable: +"Destiny has turned against me," he said, "and in her I have lost my +most valuable helpmate."</p> + +<p>And now the whole of Europe had declared war against him, and in a final +impassioned speech he turns to his ministers and to the representatives +of his people: "Help me to save France!" he begs, "afterwards we'll +settle our quarrels."</p> + +<p>One hundred days after he began his dream-march, from the gulf of Jouan +in the wake of his eagle, he started from Paris with the Army which he +loved and which alone he trusted, to meet Europe and his fate on the +plains of Belgium.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>And in Brussels they danced, danced late into the night. No one was to +know that within the next three days the destinies of the whole world +would be changed by the hand of God.</p> + +<p>And how to hide from timid eyes the sense of this oncoming destiny? how +to stop for a few brief hours the flow of women's tears?</p> + +<p>The ball should have been postponed—Her Grace of Richmond was willing +that it should be so. How could men and women dance, flirt and make +merry while Death was already reckoning the heavy toll of brave young +lives which she would demand on the morrow? But who knows England who +has not seen her at the hour of danger?</p> + +<p>Put off the ball? why! perish the thought! The timid townsfolk of +Brussels or the ladies of the French royalist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> party who were in great +numbers in the city might think there was something amiss. What was +amiss? some gallant young men would go on the morrow and conquer or die +for England's honour! there's nothing amiss in that! Why put off the +ball? The girls would be disappointed—they who like to dance—why +should they be deprived of partners, just because some of them would lie +dead on the battlefield to-morrow?</p> + +<p>Open your salons, Madame la Duchesse! The soldiers of Britain will come +to your ball. They will laugh and dance and flirt to-night as bravely as +they will die to-morrow.</p> + +<p>The sands of life are running low for them: in a few hours perhaps a +bullet, a bayonet, who knows? will cut short that merry laugh, still the +gallant heart that even now takes a last and fond farewell from a +blushing partner, after a waltz, in a sweet-scented alcove with sounds +of soft and distinct music around that stills the coming cannon's roar.</p> + +<p>Gordon and Lancey, Crawford and Ponsonby and Halkett, aye! and +Wellington too! What immortal names are spoken by the flunkeys to-night +as they usher in these brave men into the hostess' presence. The +ballroom is brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, the +women have put on their pretty dresses, displaying bare arms and +dazzling shoulders; the men are in showy uniforms, glittering with stars +and decorations: Orange, Brunswick, Nassau, English, Belgian, Scottish, +French, all are there gay with gold and silver braid.</p> + +<p>The confusion of tongues is greater surely than round the tower of +Babel. German and French and English, Scots accent and Irish brogue, +pedantic Hanoverian and lusty Brunswick tones, all and more of these +varied sounds mingle with one another, and half-drown by their clamour +the sweet strains of the Viennese orchestra that discoursed dreamy +waltzes from behind a bower of crimson roses;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> whilst ponderous Flemish +wives of city burgomasters gaze open-mouthed at the elegant ladies of +the old French noblesse, and shy Belgian misses peep enviously at their +more self-reliant English friends.</p> + +<p>And the hostess smiles equally graciously to all: she is ready with a +bright word of welcome for everybody now, just as she will be anon with +a mute look of farewell, when—at ten o'clock—by Wellington's commands, +one by one, one officer after another will slip out of this hospitable +house, out into the rainy night, for a hurried visit to lodgings or +barracks to collect a few necessaries, and then to work—to horse or +march—to form into the ranks of battle as they had formed for the +quadrille—squares to face the enemy—advance, deploy as they had done +in the mazes of the dance! to fight as they had danced! to give their +life as they had given a kiss.</p> + +<p>Bobby Clyffurde only saw Crystal de Cambray from afar. He had his +commission in Colin Halkett's brigade; his orders were the same as those +of many others to-night: to put in an appearance at Her Grace's ball, to +dispel any fears that might be confided to him through a fair partner's +lips: to show confidence, courage and gaiety, and at ten o'clock to +report for duty.</p> + +<p>But the crowd in the ball-room was great, and Crystal de Cambray was the +centre of a very close and exclusive little crowd, as indeed were all +the ladies of the old French noblesse, who were here in their numbers. +They had left their country in the wake of their dethroned king and +despite the anxieties and sorrows of the past three months, while the +star of the Corsican adventurer seemed to shine with renewed splendour, +and that of the unfortunate King of France to be more and more on the +wane, they had somehow filled the sleepy towns of Belgium—Ghent, +Brussels, Charleroi—with the atmosphere of their own elegance and their +unimpeachable good taste.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>Clyffurde knew that the Comte de Cambray had settled in Brussels with +his daughter and sister, pending the new turn in the fortunes of his +cause: the English colony there provided the royalist fugitives with +many friends, and Ghent was already overfull with the immediate +entourage of the King. But Bobby had never met either the Comte or +Crystal again.</p> + +<p>He had crossed over to England almost directly after that final and +fateful interview with them: he had obtained his commission and was back +again in Belgium—as a fighting man, ready for the work which was +expected from Britain's sons by the whole of Europe now.</p> + +<p>And to-night he saw her again. His instinct, intuition, prescience, what +you will, had told him that he would meet her here—and to his weary +eyes, when first he caught sight of her across the crowded room, she had +never seemed more exquisite, nor more desirable. She was dressed all in +white, with arms and shoulders bare, her fair hair dressed in the quaint +mode of the moment with a high comb and a multiplicity of curls. She had +a bunch of white roses in her belt and carried a shawl of gossamer lace +that encircled her shoulders, like a diaphanous cobweb, through which +gleamed the shimmering whiteness of her skin.</p> + +<p>She did not see him of course: he was only one of so many in a crowd of +English officers who were about to fight and to die for her country and +her cause as much as for their own. But to him she was the only living, +breathing person in the room—all the others were phantoms or puppets +that had no tangible existence for him save as a setting, a background +for her.</p> + +<p>And poor Bobby would so gladly have thrown all pride to the winds for +the right to run straight to her across the width of the room, to fall +at her feet, to encircle her knees, and to wring from her a word of +comfort or of trust. So strong was this impulse, that for one moment it +seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> absolutely irresistible; but the next she had turned to Maurice +de St. Genis, who was never absent from her side, and who seemed to +hover over her with an air of proprietorship and of triumphant mastery +which caused poor Bobby to grind his heel into the oak floor, and to +smother a bitter curse which had risen insistent to his lips.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Madame la Duchesse d'Agen spoke to him once, while he stood by watching +Crystal's dainty form walking through the mazes of a quadrille with her +hand in that of St. Genis.</p> + +<p>"They look well matched, do they not, Mr. Clyffurde?" Madame said in +broken English and with something of her usual tartness; "and you? are +you not going to recognise old friends, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly, whilst the hot blood rushed up to his cheek, so +sudden had been the wave of memory which flooded his brain, at the sound +of Madame's sharp voice. Now he stooped and kissed the slender little +hand which was being so cordially held out to him.</p> + +<p>"Old friends, Madame la Duchesse?" he queried with a quick sigh of +bitterness. "Nay! you forget that it was as a traitor and a liar that +you knew me last."</p> + +<p>"It was as a young fool that I knew you all the time," she retorted +tartly, even though a kindly look and a kindly smile tempered the +gruffness of her sally. "The male creature, my dear Mr. Clyffurde," she +added, "was intended by God and by nature to be a selfish beast. When he +ceases to think of himself, he loses his bearings, flounders in a +quagmire of unprofitable heroism which benefits no one, and generally +behaves like a fool."</p> + +<p>"Did I do all that?" asked Clyffurde with a smile.</p> + +<p>"All of it and more. And look at the muddle you have made of things. +Crystal has never got over that miserably aborted engagement of hers to +de Marmont, and is no hap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>pier now with Maurice de St. Genis than she +would have been with . . . well! with anybody else who had had the good +sense to woo and win her in a straightforward, proper and selfish +masculine way."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle de Cambray, I understand," rejoined Clyffurde stiffly, "is +formally affianced now to M. de St. Genis."</p> + +<p>"She is not formally affianced, as you so pedantically and affectedly +put it, my friend," replied Madame with her accustomed acerbity. "But +she probably will marry him, if he comes out of this abominable war +alive, and if the King of France . . . whom may God protect—comes into +his own again. For His Majesty has taken those two young jackanapes +under his most gracious protection, and has promised Maurice a lucrative +appointment at his court—if he ever has a court again."</p> + +<p>"Then Mademoiselle de Cambray must be very happy, for which—if I dare +say so—I am heartily rejoiced."</p> + +<p>"So am I," said the Duchesse drily, "but let me at the same time tell +you this: I have always known that Englishmen were peculiarly idiotic in +certain important matters of life, but I must say that I had no idea +idiocy could reach the boundless proportions which it has done in your +case. Well!" she added with sudden gentleness, "farewell for the +present, mon preux chevalier: it is not too late, remember, to bear in +mind certain old axioms both of chivalry and of commonsense—the most +obvious of which is that nothing is gained by sitting open-mouthed, +whilst some one else gets the largest helpings at supper. And if it is +any comfort to you to know that I never believed St. Genis' story of +lonely inns, of murderous banditti and whatnots, well then, I give you +that information for what you may choose to make of it."</p> + +<p>And with a final friendly nod and a gentle pressure of her aristocratic +hand on his, which warmed and comforted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> Bobby's sore heart, she turned +away from him and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>In spite of rain and blustering wind outside the fine ballroom—as the +evening progressed—became unpleasantly hot. Dancing was in full swing +and the orchestra had just struck up the first strains of that +inspiriting new dance—the latest importation from Vienna—a dreamy +waltz of which dowagers strongly disapproved, deeming it licentious, +indecent, and certainly ungraceful, but which the young folk delighted +in, and persisted in dancing, defying the mammas and all the +proprieties.</p> + +<p>Maurice de St. Genis after the last quadrille had led Crystal away from +the ballroom to a small boudoir adjoining it, where the cool air from +outside fanned the curtains and hangings and stirred the leaves and +petals of a bank of roses that formed a background to a couple of +seats—obviously arranged for the convenience of two persons who desired +quiet conversation well away from prying eyes and ears.</p> + +<p>Here Crystal had been sitting with Maurice for the past quarter of an +hour, while from the ballroom close by came as in a dream to her the +gentle lilt of the waltz, and from behind her, a cluster of +sweet-scented crimson roses filled the air with their fragrance. Crystal +didn't feel that she wanted to talk, only to sit here quietly with the +sound of the music in her ears and the scent of roses in her nostrils. +Maurice sat beside her, but he did not hold her hand. He was leaning +forward with his elbows on his knees and he talked much and earnestly, +the while she listened half absently, like one in a dream.</p> + +<p>She had often heard, in the olden days in England, her aunt speak of the +strange doings of that Doctor Mesmer in Paris who had even involved +proud Marie Antoinette in an unpleasant scandal with his weird +incantations and wizard-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>like acts, whereby people—sensible women and +men—were sent at his will into a curious torpor, which was neither +sleep nor yet wakefulness, and which produced a yet more strange sense +of unreality and dreaminess, and visions of things unsubstantial and +unearthly.</p> + +<p>And sitting here surrounded with roses and with that languorous lilt in +her ear, Crystal felt as if she too were under the influence of some +unseen Mesmer, who had lulled the activity of her brain into a kind of +wakeful sleep even while her senses remained keenly, vitally on the +alert. She knew, for instance, that Maurice spoke of the coming +struggle, the final fight for King and country. He had been enrolled in +a Nassau regiment, under the command of the Prince of Orange: he +expected to be in the thick of a fight to-morrow. "Bonaparte never +waits," Crystal heard him say quite distinctly, "he is always ready to +attack. Audacity and a bold use of his artillery were always his most +effectual weapons."</p> + +<p>And he went on to tell her of his own plans, his future, his hopes: he +spoke of the possibility of death and of this being a last farewell. +Crystal tried to follow him, tried to respond when he spoke of his love +for her—a love, the strength of which—he said—she would never be able +to gauge.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for the strength of my love for you, Crystal," he said +almost fiercely, "I could not bear to face possible death to-morrow +. . . not without telling you . . . not without making reparation for my +sin."</p> + +<p>And still in that curious trance-like sense of aloofness, Crystal +murmured vaguely:</p> + +<p>"Sin, Maurice? What sin do you mean?"</p> + +<p>But he did not seem to give her a direct reply: he spoke once more only +of his love. "Love atones for all sins!" he reiterated once or twice +with passionate earnestness. "Even God puts Love above everything on +earth. Love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> is an excuse for everything. Love justifies everything. +Such love as I have for you, Crystal, makes everything else—even sin, +even cowardice—seem insignificant and meaningless."</p> + +<p>She agreed with what he said, for indeed she felt too tired to argue the +point, or even to get his sophistry into her head. Strangely enough she +felt out of tune with him to-night—with him—Maurice—the lover of her +girlhood, the man from whom she had parted with such desperate heartache +three months ago, in the avenue at Brestalou. Then it had seemed as if +the world could never hold any happiness for her again, once Maurice had +gone out of her life. Now he had come back into it. Chance and the +favour of the King had once more made a future happy union with him +possible. She ought to have been supremely happy, yet she was out of +tune. His passionate words of love found only a cold response in her +heart.</p> + +<p>For the past three months she had constantly been at war with her own +self for this: she hated and despised herself for that numbness of the +heart which had so unaccountably taken all the zest and the joy out of +her life. Does one love one day and become indifferent the next? What +had become of the girlish love that had invested Maurice de St. Genis +with the attributes of a hero? What had he done that the pedestal on +which her ideality had hoisted him should have proved of such brittle +clay?</p> + +<p>He was still the gallant, high-born, well-bred gentleman whom she had +always known; he was on the eve of fighting for his King and country, +ready to give his life for the same cause which she loved so ardently; +he was even now speaking tender words of love and of farewell. Yet she +was out of tune with him. His words of Love almost irritated her, for +they dragged her out of that delicious dream-like torpor which +momentarily peopled the world for her with gold-headed, white-winged +mysterious angels, and filled the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> air with soft murmurings and sweet +sounds, and a divine fragrance that was not of this earth.</p> + +<p>It must have been that she grew very sleepy—probably the heat weighed +her eyelids down—certainly she found it impossible to keep her eyes +open, and Maurice apparently thought that she felt faint. Always in the +same vague way she heard him making suggestions for her comfort: "Could +he get her some wine?" or "Should he try and find Madame la Duchesse?"</p> + +<p>Then she realised how she longed for a little rest, for perfect +solitude, for perfect freedom to give herself over to the sweet torpor +which paralysed her brain and limbs—tired, sleepy, or under the subtle +influence of some mysterious agency—she did not know which she was; but +she did know that she would have given everything she could at this +moment for a few minutes' complete solitude.</p> + +<p>So she contrived to smile and to look up almost gaily into Maurice's +anxious face: "I think really, Maurice," she said, "I am just a little +bit sleepy. If I could remain alone for five minutes, I would go +honestly to sleep and not be ashamed of myself. Could you . . . could +you just leave me for five or ten minutes? . . . and . . . and, Maurice, +will you draw that screen a little nearer? . . ." she added, affecting a +little yawn; "nobody can see me then . . . and really, really I shall be +all right . . . if I could have a few minutes' quiet sleep."</p> + +<p>"You shall, Crystal, of course you shall," said Maurice, eager and +anxious to do all that she wanted. He arranged a cushion behind her +head, put a footstool to her feet and pulled the screen forward so that +now—where she sat—no one could see her from the ballroom, and as in +response to repeated encores from the dancers, the orchestra had +embarked upon a new waltz, she was not likely to be disturbed.</p> + +<p>"I'll try and find Mme. la Duchesse," he said after he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> assured +himself that she was quite comfortable, "and tell her that you are quite +well, but must not be disturbed."</p> + +<p>She caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze.</p> + +<p>"You are kind, Maurice," she murmured.</p> + +<p>She felt exactly like a tired child, now that she had been made so +comfortable, and she liked Maurice so much, oh! so much! no brother +could have been dearer.</p> + +<p>"You won't go way without waking me, Maurice," she said as he bent down +to kiss her.</p> + +<p>"No, no, of course not," he replied; "it still wants a quarter before +ten."</p> + +<p>The screen shut off all the glare from the candles. The sense of +isolation was complete and delicious: the roses smelt very sweet, the +soft strains of the waltz sounded like elfin music.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Like elfin music—tender, fitful, dreamy!—an exquisite languor stole +into Crystal's limbs. She was not asleep, yet she was in dreamland—all +alone in semi-darkness, that was restful and soothing, and with the +fragrance of crimson roses in her nostrils and their velvety petals +brushing against her cheek.</p> + +<p>Like elfin music!—sweet strains of infinite sadness—the tune of the +Infinite mingling with the semblance of reality!</p> + +<p>Like elfin music—or like the voice of a human being in pain—the note +of sadness became the only real note now!</p> + +<p>What really happened after this Crystal never rightly knew. Whenever in +the future her memory went back to this hour, she could not be sure +whether in truth she had been waking or dreaming, or at what precise +moment she became fully conscious of a presence close beside her—just +behind the bank of roses—and of a voice—low, earnest, quivering with +passionate emotion—that reached her ear as if through the tender +melodies played by the orchestra.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>It almost seemed to her—when she thought over all the circumstances in +her mind—that she must have been subtly conscious of the presence all +along—all the while that Maurice was still with her and she felt so +curiously languid, longing only for darkness and solitude.</p> + +<p>Something encompassed her now that she could not define: the warmth of +Love, the sense of protection and security—almost as if unseen arms, +that were strong and devoted and selfless, held her closely, shielding +her from evil and from the taint of selfish human passions.</p> + +<p>And presently she heard her name—whispered low and with a note of +tender appeal.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were closed and she paid no heed: but the appeal was once more +whispered—this time more insistently, and almost against her will she +murmured:</p> + +<p>"Who calls?"</p> + +<p>"An unfortunate whom you hate and despise, and who would have given his +life to serve you."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" she reiterated.</p> + +<p>"A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep away from your side, and +longed for one more sound of your voice even though it uttered words +more cruel than man can stand."</p> + +<p>"What would you like to hear?"</p> + +<p>"One word of comfort to ease that terrible sting of hate which has +burned into my very soul, till every minute of life has become +unendurable agony."</p> + +<p>"How could I know," she asked, and now her eyes were wide open, gazing +out into nothingness, not turned yet in the direction whence that +dream-voice came: "how could I know that my hatred made you suffer or +that you cared for comfort from me?"</p> + +<p>"How could you know, Crystal?" the voice replied. "You could know that, +my dear, just as surely as you know that in a stormy night the sky is +dark, just as you know that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> when heavy clouds obscure the blue ether +above, no ray of sunshine warms the shivering earth. Just as you know +that you are beautiful and exquisite, so you knew, Crystal, that I loved +you from the deepest depths of my soul."</p> + +<p>"How could I guess?"</p> + +<p>"By that subtle sense which every human being has. And you did guess it, +Crystal, else you would not have hated me as you did."</p> + +<p>"I hated you because I thought you a traitor."</p> + +<p>"Is it too late to swear to you that my only thought was to serve you? +. . ."</p> + +<p>"By working against my King and country?" she retorted with just this +one brief flash of her old vehemence.</p> + +<p>"By working for my country and for yours. This I swear by your sweet +eyes—by your dear mouth that hurt me so cruelly that evening—I swear +it by the damnable agony which you made me endure . . . by the abject +cowardice which dragged me to your side now like a whining wretch that +craves for a crumb of comfort . . . by all that you have made me suffer. +. . . Crystal, I swear to you that I was never false . . . false, great +God! when with every drop of my blood, with every fibre of my heart, +with every nerve, every sinew, every thought I love you."</p> + +<p>The voice was so low, never above a whisper, and all around her Crystal +felt again that delicious sense of warmth—the breath of Love that +brings man's heart so near to God—the sense of security in a man's +all-encompassing Love which women prize above everything else on earth.</p> + +<p>The music was just an accompaniment to that low, earnest whispering; the +soft strains of the violins made it still seem like a voice that comes +through a veil of dreams. Instinctively Crystal began to hum the +waltz-tune and her little head with its quaint coronet of fair curls +beat time to the languid lilt.</p> + +<p>"Will you dance with me, Crystal?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>"No! no!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"Just once—to-night. To-morrow we fight—let us dance to-night."</p> + +<p>And before she could protest further, her will seemed to fall away from +her: she knew that her father, her aunt would be angry, that—as like as +not—Maurice would make a scene. She knew that Maurice—to whom she had +plighted her troth—had branded this man as a liar and a traitor: her +father believed him to be a traitor, and she . . . Well! what had he +done to disprove Maurice's accusations? A few words of passionate +protestations! . . . Did they count? . . . He wore his King's +uniform—many careless adventurers did that these strenuous times! . . .</p> + +<p>And he wanted her to dance . . . ! how could she—Crystal de Cambray, +the future wife of the Marquis de St. Genis, the cynosure of a great +many eyes to-night—how could she show herself in public on his arm, in +a crowded ballroom?</p> + +<p>Yet she could not refuse. She could not. Surely it was all a dream, and +in a dream man is but the slave of circumstance and has no will of his +own.</p> + +<p>She was very young and loved to dance: and she had heard that Englishmen +danced well. Besides, it was all a dream. She would wake in a moment or +two and find herself sitting quietly among the roses with Maurice beside +her, telling her of his love, and of their happy future together.</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>But in the meanwhile the dream was lasting. Her partner was a perfect +dancer, and this new, delicious waltz—inspiriting yet languorous, +rhythmical and half barbaric—sent a keen feeling of joy and of zest +into Crystal's whole being.</p> + +<p>She was not conscious of the many stares that were levelled at her as +she suddenly appeared among the crowd in the ballroom, her face flushed +with excitement, her per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>fect figure moving with exquisite grace to the +measure of the dance.</p> + +<p>The last dance together!</p> + +<p>A few moments before, Clyffurde had made his way to the small boudoir in +search of fresh air, and had withdrawn to a window embrasure away from a +throng that maddened him in his misery of loneliness: then he realised +that Crystal was sitting quite close to him, that St. Genis, who had +been in constant attendance on her, presently left her to herself and +that without even moving from where he was he could whisper into her ear +that which had lain so heavily on his heart that at times he had felt +that it must break under the intolerable load.</p> + +<p>Then as the soft strains of the music from the orchestra struck upon his +ear, the insistent whim seized him to make her dance with him, just +once—to-night. To-morrow the cannon would roar once more—to-morrow +Europe would make yet another stand against the bold adventurer whom +seemingly nothing could crush.</p> + +<p>To-morrow a bullet—a bayonet—a sword-thrust—but to-night a last dance +together.</p> + +<p>Those whims come at times to those who are doomed to die. Clyffurde's +one hope of peace lay in death upon the battlefield. Life was empty now. +He had fought against the burden of loneliness left upon him when +Crystal passed finally out of his life. But the burden had proved +unconquerable. Only death could ease him of the load: for life like this +was stupid and intolerable.</p> + +<p>Men would die within the next few days in their hundreds and in their +thousands: men who were happy, who had wives and children, men on whose +lives Love shed its happy radiance. Then why not he? who was more lonely +than any man on earth—left lonely because the one woman who filled all +the world for him, hated him and was gone from him for ever.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>But a last dance with her to-night! The right to hold her in his arms! +this he had never done, though his muscles had often ached with the +longing to hold her. But dancing with her he could feel her against him, +clasp her closely, feel her breath against his cheek.</p> + +<p>She was not very tall and her head—had she chosen—could just have +rested in the hollow of his shoulder. The thought of it sent the blood +rushing hotly to his head and with his two strong hands he would at that +moment have bent a bar of iron, or smashed something to atoms, in order +to crush that longing to curse against Fate, against his destiny that +had so wantonly dangled happiness before him, only to thrust him into +utter loneliness again.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke to her—and finally asked for the dance.</p> + +<p>And now he held her, and guided her through the throng, her tiny feet +moving in unison with his. And all the world had vanished: he had her to +himself, for these few happy moments he could hold her and refuse to let +her go. He did not care—nor did she—that many curious and some angry +glances followed their every movement. Till the last bar was played, +till the final chord was struck she was absolutely his—for she had +given up her will to him.</p> + +<p>The last dance together! He sent his heart to her, all his heart—and +the music helped him, and the rhythm; the very atmosphere of the +room—rose-scented—helped him to make her understand. He could have +kissed her hair, so close were the heaped-up fair curls to his mouth; he +could have whispered to her, and nobody would hear: he could have told +her something at any rate, of that love which had filled his heart since +all time, not months or years since he had known her, but since all time +filling every minute of his life. He could have taught her what love +meant, thrilled her heart with thoughts of might-have-been; he could +have roused sweet pity in her soul, love's gentle mother that has the +power to give birth to Love.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>But he did not kiss her, nor did he speak: because though he was quite +sure that she would understand, he was equally sure that she could not +respond. She was not his—not his in the world of realities, at any +rate. Her heart belonged to the friend of her childhood, the only man +whom she would ever love—the man by whom he—poor Bobby!—had been +content to be defamed and vilified in order that she should remain happy +in her ideals and in her choice. So he was content only to hold her, his +arm round her waist, one hand holding hers imprisoned—she herself +becoming more and more the creature of his dreams, the angel that +haunted him in wakefulness and in sleep: immortally his bride, yet never +to be wholly his again as she was now in this heavenly moment where they +stood together within the pale of eternity.</p> + +<p>In this, their last dance together!</p> + + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>Far into the night, into the small hours of the morning, Crystal de +Cambray sat by the open window of her tiny bedroom in the small +apartment which her father had taken for himself and his family in the +rue du Marais.</p> + +<p>She sat, with one elbow resting on the window-sill, her right hand +fingering, with nervy, febrile movements, a letter which she held. +Jeanne had handed it to her when she came home from the ball: M. de St. +Genis, Jeanne explained, had given it to her earlier in the evening +. . . soon after ten o'clock it must have been . . . M. le Marquis +seemed in a great hurry, but he made Jeanne swear most solemnly that +Mademoiselle Crystal should have the letter as soon as she came home +. . . also M. le Marquis had insisted that the letter should be given to +Mademoiselle when she was alone.</p> + +<p>Not a little puzzled—for had she not taken fond leave of Maurice +shortly before ten o'clock, when he had told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> her that his orders were +to quit the ball then and report himself at once at headquarters. He had +seemed very despondent, Crystal thought, and the words which he spoke +when finally he kissed her, had in them all the sadness of a last +farewell. Crystal even had felt a tinge of remorse—when she saw how sad +he was—that she had not responded more warmly to his kiss. It almost +seemed as if her heart rebelled against it, and when he pressed her with +his accustomed passionate ardour to his breast, she had felt a curious +shrinking within herself, a desire to push him away, even though her +whole heart went out to him with pity and with sorrow.</p> + +<p>And now here was this letter. Crystal was a long time before she made up +her mind to open it: the paper—damp with the rain—seemed to hold a +certain fatefulness within its folds. At last she read the letter, and +long after she had read it she sat at the open window, listening to the +dreary, monotonous patter of the rain, and to the distant sounds of +moving horses and men, the rattle of wheels, the bugle calls, the +departure of the allied troops to meet the armies of the great +adventurer on the billowing plains of Belgium.</p> + +<p>This is what Maurice had written to her a few moments before he left; +and it must have taken him some time to pen the lengthy epistle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My beautiful Crystal</span>,</p> + +<p>"I may never come back. Something tells me that my life, +such as it is—empty and worthless enough, God knows—has +nearly run its full course. But if I do come back to claim +the happiness which your love holds out for me,—I will not +face you again with so deep a stain upon mine honour. I did +not tell you before because I was too great a coward. I +could not bear to think that you would despise me—I could +not encounter the look of contempt in your eyes: so I +remained silent to the call of honour. And now I speak +because the next few hours will atone for everything. If I +come back you will forgive. If I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> fall you will mourn. In +either case I shall be happy that you know. Crystal! in all +my life I spoke only one lie, and that was three months +ago, when I set out to reclaim the King's money, which had +been filched from you on the high road, and returned +empty-handed. I found the money and I found the thief. No +thief he, Crystal, but just a quixotic man, who desired to +serve his country, our cause and you. That man was your +friend Mr. Clyffurde. I don't think that I was ever jealous +of him. I am not jealous of him now. Our love, Crystal, is +too great and too strong to fear rivalry from anyone. He +had taken the money from you because he knew that Victor de +Marmont, with a strong body of men to help him, would have +filched it from you for the benefit of the Corsican. He +took the money from you because he knew that neither you +nor the Comte would have listened to any warnings from him. +He took the money from you with the sole purpose of +conveying it to the King. Then I found him and taunted him, +until the temptation came to me to act the part of a coward +and a traitor. And this I did, Crystal, only because I +loved you—because I knew that I could never win you while +I was poor and in humble circumstances. I soon found out +that Clyffurde was a friend. I begged him to let me have +the money so that I might take it to the King and earn +consideration and a reward thereby. That was my sin, +Crystal, and also that I lied to you to disguise the sorry +rôle which I had played. Clyffurde gave me the money +because I told him how we loved one another—you and I—and +that happiness could only come to you through our mutual +love. He acted well, though in truth I meant to do him no +wrong. Later Victor de Marmont came upon me, and wrested +the money from me, and I was helpless to guard that for +which I had played the part of a coward.</p> + +<p>"I have eased my soul by telling you this, Crystal, and I +know that no hard thoughts of me will dwell in your mind +whilst I do all that a man can do for honour, King and +country.</p> + +<p>"Remember that the next few hours, perhaps, will atone for +everything, and that Love excuses all things.</p> + +<p>"Yours in love and sorrow,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Maurice</span>."</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>The letter, crumpled and damp, remained in Crystal's hand all the while +that she sat by the open window, and the sound of moving horses and men +in the distance conjured up before her eyes mental visions of all that +to-morrow might mean. The letter was damp with her tears now, they had +fallen incessantly on the paper while she re-read it a second time and +then re-read it again.</p> + +<p>A quixotic man! Maurice said airily. How little he understood! How well +she—Crystal—knew what had been the motive of that quixotic action. She +had learned so much to-night in the mazes of a waltz. Now, when she +closed her eyes, she could still feel the dreamy motion with that strong +arm round her, and she could hear the sweet, languid lilt of the music, +and all the delicious elvish whisperings that reached her ear through +the monotonous cadence of the dance. Of what her heart had felt then, +she need now no longer be ashamed: all that should shame her now were +her thoughts in the past, the belief that the hand which had held hers +on that evening—long ago—in Brestalou could possibly have been the +hand of a traitor: that the low-toned voice that spoke to her so +earnestly of friendship then could ever be raised for the utterance of a +lie.</p> + +<p>Of such thoughts indeed she could be ashamed, and of her cruelty that +other night in Paris, when she had made him suffer so abominably through +her injustice and her contempt.</p> + +<p>"The next few hours, perhaps, will atone for everything," Maurice had +added. Ah, well! perhaps! But they could not erase the past; they could +not control the more distant future. Maurice would come back—Crystal +prayed earnestly that he should—but Clyffurde was gone out of her life +for ever. God alone knew how this renewed war would end! How could she +hope ever to meet a friend who had gone away determined never to see her +again?</p> + +<p>A last dance together! Well! they had had it! and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> was the end. The +end of a sweet romance that had had no beginning. He had gone now, as +Maurice had gone, as all the men had gone who had listened to their +country's call, and she, Crystal, could not convey to him even by a +message, by a word, that she understood all that he had done for her, +all that his actions had meant of devotion, of self-effacement, of pure +and tender Love.</p> + +<p>A last dance together, and that had been the end. Even thoughts of him +would be forbidden her after this: for her thoughts were no longer free +of him, her heart was no longer free; her promise belonged to Maurice, +but her heart, her thoughts were no longer hers to give.</p> + +<p>It was all too late! too late! the next few hours might atone for the +past but they could not call it back.</p> + +<p>Weary and heart-sick Crystal crawled into bed when the grey light of +dawn peeped cold and shy into her room. She could not sleep, but she lay +quite still while one by one those distant sounds died away in the misty +morning. In this semi-dreamlike state it seemed to her as if she must be +able to distinguish the sound of <i>his</i> horse's hoofs from among a +thousand others: it seemed as if something in herself must tell her +quite plainly where he was, what he did, when he got to horse, which way +he went. And presently she closed her eyes against the grey, monotonous +light, and during one brief moment she felt deliciously conscious of a +sweet, protecting presence somewhere near her, of soft whisperings of +fondness and of friendship: the sound of a dream-voice reached her ear +and once again as in the sweet-scented alcove she felt herself +murmuring: "Who calls?" and once more she heard the tender wailing as of +a stricken soul in pain: "A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep +away from your side."</p> + +<p>And memory-echoes lingered round her, bringing back every sound of his +mellow voice, every look in his eyes, the touch of his hand—oh! that +exquisite touch!—and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> last words before he asked her to dance: +"With every drop of my blood, with every nerve, every sinew, every +thought I love you."</p> + +<p>And her heart with a long-drawn-out moan of unconquerable sorrow sent +out into the still morning air its agonised call in reply:</p> + +<p>"Come back, my love, come back! I cannot live without you! You have +taught me what Love is—pure, selfless and protecting—you cannot go +from me now—you cannot. In the name of that Love which your tender +voice has brought into being, come back to me. Do not leave me +desolate!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE TARPEIAN ROCK</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Rain, rain! all the morning! God's little tool—innocent-looking little +tool enough—for the remodelling of the destinies of this world.</p> + +<p>God chose to soak the earth on that day—and the formidable artillery +that had swept the plateau of Austerlitz, the vales of Marengo, the +cemetery of Eylau, was rendered useless for the time being because up in +the inscrutable kingdom of the sky a cloud had chosen to burst—or had +burst by the will of God—and water soaked the soft, spongy soil of +Belgium and the wheels of artillery wagons sank axle-deep in the mud.</p> + +<p>If only the ground had been dry! if only the great gambler—the genius, +the hero, call him what you will, but the gambler for all that—if only +he had staked his crown, his honour and that of Imperial France on some +other stake than his artillery! If only . . . ! But who shall tell?</p> + +<p>Is it indeed a cloud-burst that changed the whole destinies of Europe? +Ye materialists, ye philosophers! answer that.</p> + +<p>Is it to the rain that fell in such torrents until close on midday of +that stupendous 18th of June, that must be ascribed this wonderful and +all-embracing change that came over the destinies of myriads of people, +of entire nations, kingdoms and empires? Rather is it not because God +just on that day of all days chose to show this world of pigmies—great +men, valiant heroes, controlling genius and all-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>powerful +conquerors—the entire extent of His might—so far and no further—and +in order to show it, He selected that simple, seemingly futile means +. . . just a heavy shower of rain.</p> + +<p>At half-past eleven the cannon began to roar on the plains of Mont Saint +Jean,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> but not before. Before that it had rained: rained heavily, and +the ground was soaked through, and the all-powerful artillery of the +most powerful military genius of all times was momentarily powerless.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Waterloo.</p></div> + +<p>Had it not rained so persistently and so long that same compelling +artillery would have begun its devastating work earlier in the day—at +six mayhap, or mayhap at dawn, another five, six, seven hours to add to +the length of that awful day: another five, six, seven hours wherein to +tax the tenacity, the heroic persistence of the British troops: another +five, six, seven hours of dogged resistance on the one side, of +impetuous charges on the other, before the arrival of Blücher and his +Prussians and the turning of the scales of blind Justice against the +daring gambler who had staked his all.</p> + +<p>But it was only at half-past eleven that the cannon began to roar, and +the undulating plain carried the echo like a thunder-roll from heaving +billow to heaving billow till it broke against the silent majesty of the +forest of Soigne.</p> + +<p>Here with the forest as a background is the highest point of Mont +Saint Jean: and here beneath an overhanging elm—all day on +horseback—anxious, frigid and heroic, is Wellington—with a rain of +bullets all round him, watching, ceaselessly watching that horizon far +away, wrapped now in fog, anon in smoke and soon in gathering darkness: +watching for the promised Prussian army that was to ease the terrible +burden of that desperate stand which the British troops were bearing and +had borne all day with such unflinching courage and dogged tenacity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>It is in vain that his aides-de-camp beg him to move away from that +perilous position.</p> + +<p>"My lord," cries Lord Hill at last in desperation, "if you are killed, +what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"The same as I do now," replies Wellington unmoved, "hold this place to +the last man."</p> + +<p>Then with a sudden outburst of vehemence, that seems to pierce almost +involuntarily the rigid armour of British phlegm and British +self-control, he calls to his old comrades of Salamanca and Vittoria:</p> + +<p>"Boys, which of us now can think of retreating? What would England think +of us, if we do?"</p> + +<p>Heroic, unflinching and cool the British army has held its ground +against the overwhelming power of Napoleon's magnificent cavalry. Raw +recruits some of them, against the veterans of Jena and of Wagram! But +they have been ordered to hold the place to the last man, and in close +and serried squares they have held their ground ever since half-past +eleven this morning, while one after another the flower of Napoleon's +world-famed cavalry had been hurled against them.</p> + +<p>Cuirassiers, chasseurs, lancers, up they come to the charge, like +whirlwinds up the declivities of the plateau. Like a whirlwind they rush +upon those stolid, immovable, impenetrable squares, attacking from every +side, making violent, obstinate, desperate onsets upon the stubborn +angles, the straight, unshakable walls of red coats; slashing at the +bayonets with their swords, at crimson breasts with their lances, firing +their pistols right between those glowing eyes, right into those firm +jaws and set teeth.</p> + +<p>The sound of bullets on breastplates and helmets and epaulettes is like +a shower of hailstones upon a sheet of metal.</p> + +<p>Twice, thrice, nay more—a dozen times—they return to the charge, and +the plateau gleams with brandished steel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> like a thousand flashes of +simultaneous fork-lightning on the vast canopy of a stormy sky.</p> + +<p>From midday till after four, a kind of mysterious haze covers this field +of noble deeds. Fog after the rain wraps the gently-billowing Flemish +ground in a white semi-transparent veil—covers with impartial coolness +all the mighty actions, the heroic charges and still more heroic stands, +all the silent uncomplaining sufferings, the glorious deaths, all the +courage and all the endurance.</p> + +<p>Through the grey mists we see a medley of moving colours—blue and grey +and scarlet and black—of shakos and sabretaches, of English and French +and Hanoverian and Scotch, of epaulettes and bare knees; we hear the +sound of carbine and artillery fire, the clank of swords and bayonets, +the call of bugle and trumpet and the wail of the melancholy pibroch: +tunics and gold tassels and kilts—a medley of sounds and of visions!</p> + +<p>We see the attack on Hougoumont—the appearance of Bülow on the heights +of Saint Lambert—the charge of the Inniskillings and the Scots +Greys—the death of valiant Ponsonby. We see Marshal Ney Prince of +Moskowa—the bravest soldier in France—we see him everywhere where the +mêlée is thickest, everywhere where danger is most nigh. His magnificent +uniform torn to shreds, his gold lace tarnished, his hair and whiskers +singed, his face blackened by powder, indomitable, unconquered, superb, +we hear him cry: "Where are those British bullets? Is there not one left +for me?"</p> + +<p>He knows—none better!—that the plains of Mont Saint Jean are the great +gambling tables on which the supreme gambler—Napoleon, once Emperor of +the French and master of half the world—had staked his all. "If we come +out of this alive and conquered," he cries to Heymès, his aide-de-camp, +"there will only be the hangman's rope left for us all."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>And we see the gambler himself—Napoleon, Emperor still and still +certain of victory—on horseback all day, riding from end to end of his +lines; he is gayer than he has ever been before. At Marengo he was +despondent, at Austerlitz he was troubled: but at Waterloo he has no +doubts. The star of his destiny has risen more brilliant than ever +before.</p> + +<p>"The day of France's glory has only just dawned," he calls, and his mind +is full of projects—the triumphant march back into Paris—the Germans +driven back to the Rhine—the English to the sea.</p> + +<p>His only anxiety—and it is a slight one still—is that Grouchy with his +fresh troops is so late in arriving.</p> + +<p>Still, the Prussians are late too, and the British cannot hold the place +for ever.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>At three o'clock the fog lifts—the veil that has wrapped so many +sounds, such awful and wonderful visions, in a kind of mystery, is +lifted now, and it reveals . . . what? Hougoumont invested—Brave Baring +there with a handful of men—English, German, Brunswickians—making a +last stand with ten rounds of ammunition left to them per man, and the +French engineers already battering in the gates of the enclosing wall +that surrounds the château and chapel of Goumont: the farm of La Haye +Sainte taken—Ney there with his regiment of cuirassiers and five +battalions of the Old Guard: and the English lines on the heights of +Mont Saint Jean apparently giving way.</p> + +<p>We see too a vast hecatomb: glory and might must claim their many +thousand victims: the dead and dying lie scattered like pawns upon an +abandoned chessboard, the humble pawns in this huge and final gamble for +supremacy and power, for national existence and for liberty. Hougoumont, +La Haye Sainte, Papelotte are sown with illustrious dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>—but on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the British still hold their ground.</p> + +<p>Wellington is still there on the heights, with the majestic trees of +Soigne behind him, the stately canopy of the elm above his head—more +frigid than before, more heroic, but also more desperately anxious.</p> + +<p>"Blücher or nightfall," he sighs as a fresh cavalry charge is hurled +against those indomitable British squares. The thirteenth assault, and +still they stand or kneel on one knee, those gallant British boys; +bayonet in hand or carbine, they fire, fall out and re-form again: +shaken, hustled, encroached on they may be, but still they stand and +fire with coolness and precision . . . the ranks are not broken yet.</p> + +<p>Officers ride up to the field-marshal to tell him that the situation has +become desperate, their regiments decimated, their men exhausted. They +ask for fresh orders: but he has only one answer for them:</p> + +<p>"There are no fresh orders, save to hold out to the last man."</p> + +<p>And down in the valley at La Belle Alliance is the great gambler—the +man who to-day will either be Emperor again—a greater, mightier monarch +than even he has ever been—or who will sink to a status which perhaps +the meanest of his erstwhile subjects would never envy.</p> + +<p>But just now—at four o'clock—when the fog has lifted—he is flushed +with excitement, exultant in the belief in victory.</p> + +<p>The English centre on Mont Saint Jean is giving way at last, he is told.</p> + +<p>"The beginning of retreat!" he cries.</p> + +<p>And he, who had been anxious at Austerlitz, despondent at Marengo, is +gay and happy and brimming full of hope.</p> + +<p>"De Marmont," he calls to his faithful friend, "De Marmont, go ride to +Paris now; tell them that victory is ours! No, no," he adds excitedly, +"don't go all the way—ride to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> Genappe and send a messenger to Paris +from there—then come back to be with us in the hour of victory."</p> + +<p>And Victor de Marmont rides off in order to proclaim to the world at +large the great victory which the Emperor has won this day over all the +armies of Europe banded and coalesced against him.</p> + +<p class="section_break">From far away on the road of Ohain has come the first rumour that +Blücher and his body of Prussians are nigh—still several hours' march +from Waterloo but advancing—advancing. For hours Wellington has been +watching for them, until wearily he has sighed: "Blücher or nightfall +alone can save us from annihilation now."</p> + +<p>The rumour—oh! it was merely the whispering of the wind, but still a +rumour nevertheless—means fresh courage to tired, half-spent troops. +Even deeds of unparalleled heroism need the stimulus of renewed hope +sometimes.</p> + +<p>The rumour has also come to the ears of the Emperor, of Ney and of all +the officers of the staff. They all know that those magnificent British +troops whom they have fought all day must be nigh to their final +desperate effort at last—with naught left to them but their stubborn +courage and that tenacity which has been ever since the wonder of the +world.</p> + +<p>They know, these brave soldiers of Napoleon—who have fought and admired +the brave foe—that the 1st and 2nd Life Guards are decimated by now; +that entire British and German regiments are cut up; that Picton is +dead, the Scots Greys almost annihilated. They know what havoc their +huge cavalry charges have made in the magnificent squares of British +infantry; they know that heroism and tenacity and determination must +give way at last before superior numbers, before fresh troops, before +persistent, ever-renewed attacks.</p> + +<p>Only a few fresh troops and Ney declares that he can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> conquer the final +dogged endurance of the British troops, before they in their turn +receive the support of Blücher and his Prussians, or before nightfall +gives them a chance of rest.</p> + +<p>So he sends Colonel Heymès to his Emperor with the urgent message: "More +troops, I entreat, more troops and I can break the English centre before +the Prussians come!"</p> + +<p>None knew better than he that this was the great hazard on which the +life and honour of his Emperor had been staked, that Imperial France was +fighting hand to hand with Great Britain, each for her national +existence, each for supremacy and might and the honour of her flag.</p> + +<p>Imperial France—bold, daring, impetuous!</p> + +<p>Great Britain—tenacious, firm and impassive!</p> + +<p>Wellington under the elm-tree, calmly scanning the horizon while bullets +whiz past around his head, and ordering his troops to hold on to the +last man!</p> + +<p>The Emperor on horseback under a hailstorm of shot and shell and bullets +riding from end to end of his lines!</p> + +<p>Ney and his division of cuirassiers and grenadiers of the Old Guard had +just obeyed the Emperor's last orders which had been to take La Haye +Sainte at all costs: and the intrepid Maréchal now, flushed with +victory, had sent his urgent message to Napoleon:</p> + +<p>"More troops! and I can yet break through the English centre before the +arrival of the Prussians."</p> + +<p>"More troops?" cried the Emperor in despair, "where am I to get them +from? Am I a creator of men?"</p> + +<p>And from far away the rumour: "Blücher and the Prussians are nigh!"</p> + +<p>"Stop that rumour from spreading to the ears of our men! In God's name +don't let them know it," adjures Napoleon in a message to Ney.</p> + +<p>And he himself sends his own staff officers to every point of the field +of battle to shout and proclaim the news that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> is Grouchy who is +nigh, Grouchy with reinforcements, Grouchy with the victorious troops +from Ligny, fresh from conquered laurels!</p> + +<p>And the news gives fresh heart to the Imperial troops:</p> + +<p>"Vive l'Empereur!" they shout, more certain than ever of victory.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>The grey day has yielded at last to the kiss of the sun. Far away at +Braine l'Alleud a vivid streak of gold has rent the bank of heavy +clouds. It is now close on seven o'clock—there are two more hours to +nightfall and Blücher is not yet here.</p> + +<p>Some of the Prussians have certainly debouched on Plancenoit, but +Napoleon's Old Guard have turned them out again, and from Limale now +comes the sound of heavy cannonade as if Grouchy had come upon Blücher +after all and all hopes of reinforcements for the British troops were +finally at an end.</p> + +<p>Napoleon—Emperor still and still flushed with victory—looks through +his glasses on the British lines: to him it seems that these are shaken, +that Wellington is fighting with the last of his men. This is the hour +then when victory waits—attentive, ready to bestow her crown on him who +can hold out and fight the longest—on him who at the last can deliver +the irresistible attack.</p> + +<p>And Napoleon gives the order for the final attack, which must be more +formidable, more overpowering than any that have gone before. The +plateau of Mont Saint Jean, he commands, must be carried at all costs!</p> + +<p>Cuirassiers, lancers and grenadiers, then, once more to the charge! +strew once more the plains of Waterloo with your dying and your dead! +Up, Milhaud, with your guards! Poret with your grenadiers! Michel with +your chasseurs! Up, ye heroes of a dozen campaigns, of a hundred +victories!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> Up, ye old growlers with the fur bonnets—Napoleon's +invincible Old Guard! With Ney himself to lead you! a hero among heroes! +the bravest where all are brave!</p> + +<p>Have you ever seen a tidal wave of steel rising and surging under the +lash of the gale? So they come now, those cuirassiers and lancers and +chasseurs, their helmets, their swords, their lances gleaming in the +golden light of the sinking sun; in closed ranks, stirrup to stirrup +they swoop down into the valley, and rise again scaling the muddy +heights. Superb as on parade, with their finest generals at their head: +Milhaud, Hanrion, Michel, Mallet! and Ney between them all.</p> + +<p>Splendid they are and certain of victory: they gallop past as if at a +revue on the Place du Carrousel opposite the windows of the Tuileries; +all to the repeated cry of "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>And as they gallop past the wounded and the dying lift themselves up +from the blood-stained earth, and raise their feeble voices to join in +that triumphant call: "Vive l'Empereur!" There's an old veteran there, +who fought at Austerlitz and at Jena; he has three stripes upon his +sleeve, but both his legs are shattered and he lies on the roadside +propped up against a hedge, and as the superb cavalry ride proudly by he +shouts lustily: "Forward, comrades! a last victorious charge! Long live +the Emperor!"</p> + +<p class="section_break">After that who was to blame? Was human agency to blame? Did Ney—the +finest cavalry leader in Napoleon's magnificent army, the veteran of an +hundred glorious victories—did he make the one blunder of his military +career by dividing his troops into too many separate columns rather than +concentrating them for the one all-powerful attack upon the British +centres? Did he indeed mistake the way and lead his splendid cavalry by +round-about crossways to the plateau instead of by the straight Brussels +road?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>Or did the obscure traitor—over whom history has thrown a veil of +mystery—betray this fresh advance against the British centre to +Wellington?</p> + +<p>Was any man to blame? Was it not rather the hand of God that had already +fallen with almighty and divine weight upon the ambitious and reckless +adventurer?—was it not the voice of God that spoke to him through the +cannon's roar of Waterloo: "So far but no farther shalt thou go! Enough +of thy will and thy power and thy ambition!—Enough of this scourge of +bloodshed and of misery which I have allowed thee to wield for so +long!—Enough of devastated homes, of starvation and of poverty! enough +of the fatherless and of the widow!"</p> + +<p>And up above on the plateau the British troops hear the thunder of +thousands of horses' hoofs, galloping—galloping to this last charge +which must be irresistible. And sturdy, wearied hands, black with powder +and stained with blood, grasp more firmly still the bayonet, the rifle +or the carbine, and they wait—those exhausted, intrepid, valiant men! +they wait for that thundering charge, with wide-open eyes fixed upon the +crest of the hill—they wait for the charge—they are ready for +death—but they are not prepared to yield.</p> + +<p>Along the edge of the plateau in a huge semicircle that extends from +Hougoumont to the Brussels road the British gunners wait for the order +to fire.</p> + +<p>Behind them Wellington—eagle-eyed and calm, warned by God—or by a +traitor but still by God—of the coming assault on his positions—scours +the British lines from end to end: valiant Maitland is there with his +brigade of guards, and Adam with his artillery: there are Vandeleur's +and Vivian's cavalry and Colin Halkett's guards! heroes all! ready to +die and hearing the approach of Death in that distant roar of +thunder—the onrush of Napoleon's invincible cavalry.</p> + +<p>Here, too, further out toward the east and the west, ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>tending the +British lines as far as Nivelles on one side and Brussels on the other, +are William Halkett's Hanoverians, Duplat's German brigade, the Dutch +and the Belgians, the Brunswickers, and Ompteda's decimated corps. The +French royalists are here too, scattered among the foreign +troops—brother prepared to fight brother to the death! St. Genis is +among the Brunswickers. But Bobby Clyffurde is with Maitland's guards.</p> + +<p>And now the wave of steel is surging up the incline: the gleam of +shining metal pierces the distant haze, casques and lances glitter in +the slowly sinking sun, whilst from billow to billow the echo brings to +straining ears the triumphant cry "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the British artillery ranged along the crest has made +a huge breach in that solid, moving mass of horses and of steel. Quickly +the breach is repaired: the ranks close up again! This is a parade! a +review! The eyes of France are upon her sons! and "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Still they come!</p> + +<p>Volley after volley from the British guns makes deadly havoc among those +glistering ranks!</p> + +<p>But nevertheless they come!</p> + +<p>No halt save for the quick closing up into serried, orderly columns. And +then on with the advance!—like the surging up of a tidal wave against +the cliffs—on with the advance! up the slopes toward the crest where +those who are in the front ranks are mowed down by the British +guns—their places taken by others from the rear—those others mowed +down again, and again replaced—falling in their hundreds as they reach +the crest, like the surf that shivers and dies as it strikes against the +cliffs.</p> + +<p>Ney's horse is killed under him—the fifth to-day—but he quickly +extricates himself from saddle and stirrups and continues on his way—on +foot, sword in hand—the sword that conquered at Austerlitz, at Eylau +and at Moskowa.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> Round him the grenadiers of the Old Guard—they with +the fur bonnets and the grizzled moustaches—tighten up their ranks.</p> + +<p>They advance behind the cavalry! and after every volley from the British +guns they shout loudly: "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>And anon the tidal wave—despite the ebb, despite the constant breaking +of its surf—has by sheer force of weight hurled itself upon the crest +of the plateau.</p> + +<p>The Brunswickers on the left are scattered. Cleeves and Lloyd have been +forced to abandon their guns: the British artillery is silenced and the +chasseurs of Michel hold the extreme edge of the upland, and turn a +deadly fusillade upon Colin Halkett's brigade already attacked by +Milhaud and his guards and now severely shaken.</p> + +<p>"See the English General!" cries Duchaud to his cuirassiers, "he is +between two fires. He cannot escape."</p> + +<p>No! he cannot but he seizes the colours of the 33rd whose young +lieutenant has just fallen, and who threaten to yield under the +devastating cross-fire: he brandishes the tattered colours, high up +above his head—as high as he can hold them—he calls to his men to +rally, and then falls grievously wounded.</p> + +<p>But his guards have rallied. They stand firm now, and Duchaud, chewing +his grey moustache, murmurs his appreciation of so gallant a foe.</p> + +<p>"That side will win," he mutters, "who can best keep on killing."</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>"Up, guards, and at them!"</p> + +<p>Maitland's brigade of guards had been crouching in the +corn—crouching—waiting for the order to charge—red-coated lions in +the ripening corn—ready to spring at the word.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>And Death the harvester in chief stands by with his scythe ready for the +mowing.</p> + +<p>"Up, guards, and at them!"</p> + +<p>It is Maitland and his gallant brigade of guards—out of the corn they +rise and front the three battalions of Michel's chasseurs who were the +first to reach the highest point of the hill. They fire and Death with +his scythe has laid three hundred low. The tricolour flag is riddled +with grapeshot and Général Michel has fallen.</p> + +<p>Then indeed the mighty wave of steel can advance no longer: for it is +confronted with an impenetrable wall—a wall of living, palpitating, +heroic men—men who for hours have stood their ground and fought for the +honour of Britain and of her flag—men who with set teeth and grim +determination were ready to sell their lives dearly if lives were to be +sold—men in fact who have had their orders to hold out to the last man +and who are going to obey those orders now.</p> + +<p>"Up, guards, and at them," and surprised, bewildered, staggered, the +chasseurs pause: three hundred of their comrades lie dead or dying on +the ground. They pause: their ranks are broken: with his last dying sigh +brave Général Michel tries to rally them. But he breathes his last ere +he succeeds: his second in command loses his head. He should have +ordered a bayonet charge—sudden, swift and sure—against that red wall +that rushes at them with such staggering power: but he too tries to +rally his men, to reform their ranks—how can they re-form as for parade +under the deadly fire of the British guards?</p> + +<p>Confusion begins its deathly sway: the chasseurs—under conflicting +orders—stand for full ten minutes almost motionless under that +devastating fire.</p> + +<p>And far away on the heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian +bayonets are seen silhouetted against the sunset sky.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>Wellington has seen it. Blücher has come at last! One final effort, one +more mighty gigantic, superhuman struggle and the glorious end would be +in sight. He gives the order for a general charge.</p> + +<p>"Forward, boys," cries Colonel Saltoun to his brigade. "Now is the +time!"</p> + +<p>Heads down the British charge. The chasseurs are already scattered, but +behind the chasseurs, fronting Maitland's brigade, fronting Adam and his +artillery, fronting Saltoun and Colborne the Fire-Eater, the Old Guard +is seen to advance, the Old Guard who through twelve campaigns and an +hundred victories have shown the world how to conquer and how to die.</p> + +<p>When Michel's chasseurs were scattered, when their General fell; when +the English lines, exhausted and shaken for a moment, rallied at +Wellington's call: "Up, guards, and at them!" when from far away on the +heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian bayonets were +silhouetted against the sunset sky, then did Napoleon's old growlers +with their fur bonnets and their grizzled moustaches enter the line of +action to face the English guards. They were facing Death and knew it +but still they cried: "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Heads down the British charge, whilst from Ohain comes the roar of +Blücher's guns, and up from the east, Zieten with the Prussians rushes +up to join in the assault.</p> + +<p>Then the carnage begins: for the Old Guard is still advancing—in solid +squares—solemn, unmoved, magnificent: the bronze eagles on their +bonnets catch the golden rays of the setting sun. Thus they advance in +face of deadly fire: they fall like corn before the scythe. A sublime +suicide to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and not one of the brigade is +missing except those who are dead.</p> + +<p>They know—none better—that this is the beginning of the end. Perhaps +they do not care to live if their Emperor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> is to be Emperor no longer, +if he is to be sent back to exile—to the prison of Elba or worse: and +so they advance in serried squares, while Maitland's artillery has +attacked them in the rear. Great gaps are made in those ranks, but they +are quickly filled up again: the squares become less solid, smaller, but +they remain compact. Still they advance.</p> + +<p>But now close behind them Blücher's guns begin to thunder and Zieten's +columns are rapidly gaining ground: all round their fur bonnets a +hailstorm of grape-shot is raging whilst Adam's artillery is in action +within fifty paces at their flank. But the old growlers who had suffered +death with silent fortitude in the snows of Russia, who had been as +grand in their defeat at Moscow and at Leipzic as they had been in the +triumphs of Auerstadt or of Friedland—they neither staggered nor paused +in their advance. On they went—carrying their muskets on their +shoulders—a cloud of tirailleurs in front of them, right into the +cross-fire of the British guns: their loud cry of "Vive l'Empereur" +drowning that other awesome, terrible cry which someone had raised a +while ago and which now went from mouth to mouth: "We are betrayed! +<i>Sauve qui peut!</i>"</p> + +<p>The Prussians were in their rear; the British were charging their front, +and panic had seized the most brilliant cavalry the world had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"Sauve qui peut" is echoed now and re-echoed all along the crest of the +plateau. And the echo rolls down the slope into the valley where +Reille's infantry and a regiment of cuirassiers, and three more +battalions of chasseurs, are making ready to second the assault on Mont +Saint Jean. Reille and his infantry pause and listen: the cuirassiers +halt in their upward movement, whilst up on the ridge of the plateau +where Donzelot's grenadiers have attacked the brigade of Kempt and +Lambert and Pack, the whisper goes from mouth to mouth:</p> + +<p>"We are betrayed! <i>Sauve qui peut!</i>"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>Panic seizes the younger men: they turn their horses' heads back toward +the slopes. The stampede has commenced: very soon it grows. The British +in front, the Prussians in the rear: "Sauve qui peut!"</p> + +<p>Ney amongst them is almost unrecognisable. His face is coal-black with +powder: he has no hat, no epaulettes and only half a sword: rage, +anguish, bitterness are in his husky voice as he adjures, entreats, +calls to the demoralised army—and insults it, execrates it in turn. But +nothing but Death will stop that army now in its headlong flight.</p> + +<p>"At least stop and see how a Marshal of France dies on the field of +honour," he calls.</p> + +<p>But the voice which led these same men to victory at Moskowa has lost +its potency and its magic. The men cry "Vive Ney!" but they do not +stand. The stampede has become general. In the valley below the infantry +has started to run up the slope of La Belle Alliance: after it the +cavalry with reins hanging loose, stirrups lost, casques, sabretaches, +muskets—anything that impedes—thrown into the fields to right and +left. La Haye Sainte is evacuated, Hougoumont is abandoned; Papelotte, +Plancenoit, the woods, the plains are only filled with running men and +the thunder of galloping chargers.</p> + +<p class="section_break">Alone the Old Guard has remained unshaken. Whilst all around them what +was once the Grand Army is shattered, destroyed, melted like ice before +a devastating fire, they have continued to advance, sublime in their +fortitude, in their endurance, their contempt for death. One by one +their columns are shattered and there are none now to replace those that +fall. And as the gloom of night settles on this vast hecatomb on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the conquerors of Jena and Austerlitz and +Friedland make their last stand round the bronze eagle—all that is left +to them of the glories of the past.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>And when from far away the cry of "Sauve qui peut" has become only an +echo, and the bronze eagle shattered by a bullet lies prone upon the +ground shielded against capture in its fall by a circling mountain of +dead, when finally Night wraps all the heroism, the glory, the sorrow +and the horrors of this awful day in the sable folds of her +all-embracing mantle, Napoleon's Old Guard has ceased to be.</p> + +<p class="section_break">And out in the western sky a streak of vivid crimson like human blood +has broken the bosom of the clouds: the glow of the sinking sun rests on +this huge dissolution of what was once so glorious and unconquered and +great. Then it is that Wellington rides to the very edge of the plateau +and fronts the gallant British troops at this supreme hour of oncoming +victory, and lifting his hat high above his head he waves it three times +in the air.</p> + +<p>And from right and left they come, British, Hanoverians, Belgians and +Brunswickers to deliver the final blow to this retreating army, wounded +already unto death.</p> + +<p>They charge now: they charge all of them, cavalry, infantry, gunners, +forty thousand men who have forgotten exhaustion, forgotten what they +have suffered, forgotten what they had endured. On they come with a rush +like a torrent let loose; the confusion of sounds and sights becomes a +pandemonium of hideousness, bugles and drums and trumpets and bagpipes +all mingle, merge and die away in the fast gathering twilight.</p> + +<p>And the tidal wave of steel recedes down the slopes of Mont Saint Jean, +into the valley and thence up again on Belle Alliance, with a mêlée of +sounds like the breaking of a gigantic line of surf against the +irresistible cliffs, or the last drawn-out sigh of agony of dying giants +in primeval times.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>On the road to Genappe in the mystery of the moonlit night a solitary +rider turned into a field and dismounted.</p> + +<p>Carried along for a time by the stream of the panic, he found himself +for a moment comparatively alone—left as it were high and dry by the +same stream which here had divided and flowed on to right and left of +him. He wore a grey redingote and a shabby bicorne hat.</p> + +<p>Having dismounted he slipped the bridle over his arm and started to walk +beside his horse back toward Waterloo.</p> + +<p>A sleep-walker in pursuit of his dream!</p> + +<p>Heavy banks of grey clouds chased one another with mad fury across the +midsummer sky, now obscuring the cold face of the moon, now allowing her +pale, silvery rays to light up this gigantic panorama of desolation and +terror and misery. To right and left along the roads and lanes, across +grassland and cornfields, canals, ditches and fences the last of the +Grand Army was flying headlong, closely pursued by the Prussians. And at +the farm of La Belle Alliance Wellington and Blücher had met and shaken +hands, and had thanked God for the great and glorious victory.</p> + +<p>But the sleep-walker went on in pursuit of his dream—he walked with +measured steps beside his weary horse, his eyes fixed on the horizon far +away, where the dull crimson glow of smouldering fires threw its last +weird light upon this vast abode of the dead and the dying. He walked +on—slowly and mechanically back to the scene of the overwhelming +cataclysm where all his hopes lay irretrievably buried. He walked +on—majestic as he had never been before, in the brilliant throne-room +of the Tuileries or the mystic vastness of Notre Dame when the Imperial +crown sat so ill upon his plebeian head. . . . He walked on—silent, +exalted and great—great through the magnitude of his downfall.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>And to right and left of him, like the surf that recedes on a pebbly +beach, the last of his once invincible army was flying back to +France—back in the wake of those who had been lucky enough to fly +before—bodies of men who had been the last to realise that an heroic +stand round a fallen eagle could no longer win back that which was lost, +and that if life be precious it could only be had in flight—bits of +human wreckage too, forgotten by the tide—they all rolled and rushed +and swept past the silent wayfarer . . . quite close at times: so close +that every man could see him quite distinctly, could easily distinguish +by the light of the moon the grey redingote and the battered hat which +they all knew so well—which they had been wont to see in the forefront +of an hundred victorious charges.</p> + +<p>Now half-blinded by despair and by panic they gazed with uncomprehending +eyes on the man and on the horse and merely shouted to him as they +rushed galloping or running by, "The Prussians are on us! <i>Sauve qui +peut!</i>"</p> + +<p>And the dreamer still looked on that distant crimson glow and in the +bosom of those wind-swept clouds he saw the pictures of Austerlitz and +Jena and Wagram, pictures of glory and might and victory, and the shouts +which he heard were the ringing cheers round the bivouac fires of long +ago.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST THROW</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>It was close on half-past nine and the moon full up on the stormy sky +when a couple of riders detached themselves out of the surging mass of +horses and men that were flying pell-mell towards Genappe, and slightly +checking their horses, put them to a slower gallop and finally to a +trot.</p> + +<p>On their right a small cottage gleamed snow-white in the cold, searching +light of the moon. A low wall ran to right and left of it and enclosed a +small yard at the back of the cottage; the wall had a gate in it which +gave on the fields beyond. At the moment that the two riders trotting +slowly down the road reached the first angle of the wall, the gate was +open and a man leading a white horse and wearing a grey redingote turned +into the yard.</p> + +<p>"My God! the Emperor!" exclaimed one of the riders as he drew rein.</p> + +<p>They both turned their horses into the field, skirting the low, +enclosing wall until they reached the gate. The white horse was now +tethered to a post and the man in the grey redingote was standing in the +doorway at the rear of the cottage. The two men dismounted and in their +turn led their horses into the yard: at sight of them the man in the +grey redingote seemed to wake from his sleep.</p> + +<p>"Berthier," he said slowly, "is that you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sire,—and Colonel Bertrand is here too."</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>"We earnestly beg you, Sire, to come with us to Genappe. There is not +the slightest hope of rallying any portion of your army now. The +Prussians are on us. You might fall into their hands."</p> + +<p>Berthier—conqueror and Prince of Wagram—spoke very earnestly and with +head uncovered, but more abruptly and harshly than he had been wont to +do of yore in the salons of the Tuileries or on the glory-crowned +battlefields at the close of a victorious day.</p> + +<p>"I am coming! I am coming!" said the Emperor with a quick sigh of +impatience. "I only wanted to be alone a moment—to think things out—to +. . ."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing quite so urgent, Sire, as your safety," retorted the +Prince of Wagram drily.</p> + +<p>The Emperor did not—or did not choose to—heed his great Marshal's +marked want of deference. Perhaps he was accustomed to the moods of +these men whom his bounty had fed and loaded with wealth and dignities +and titles in the days of his glory, and who had proved only too ready, +alas!—even last year, even now—to desert him when disaster was in +sight.</p> + +<p>Without another word he turned on his heel and pushing open the cottage +door he disappeared into the darkness of the tiny room beyond. With an +impatient shrug of the shoulders Berthier prepared to follow him. +Colonel Bertrand busied himself with tethering the horses, then he too +followed Berthier into the building.</p> + +<p>It was deserted, of course, as all isolated cottages and houses had been +in the vicinity of Quatre Bras or Mont Saint Jean. Bertrand struck a +tinder and lighted a tallow candle that stood forlorn on a deal table in +the centre of the room. The flickering light revealed a tiny cottage +kitchen—hastily abandoned but scrupulously clean—white-washed walls, a +red-tiled floor, the iron hearth, the painted dresser decorated with +white crockery, shiny tin pans hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> in rows against the walls and two +or three rush chairs. Napoleon sat down.</p> + +<p>"I again entreat you, Sire—" began Berthier more earnestly than before.</p> + +<p>But the Emperor was staring straight out before him, with eyes that +apparently saw something beyond that rough white wall opposite, on which +the flickering candle-light threw such weird gargantuan shadows. The +precious minutes sped on: minutes wherein death or capture strode with +giant steps across the fields of Flanders to this lonely cottage where +the once mightiest ruler in Europe sat dreaming of what might have been. +The silence of the night was broken by the thunder of flying horses' +hoofs, by the cries of "Sauve qui peut!" and distant volleys of +artillery proclaiming from far away that Death had not finished all his +work yet.</p> + +<p>Bertrand and Berthier stood by, with heads uncovered: silent, moody and +anxious.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the dreamer roused himself for a moment and spoke abruptly and +with his usual peremptory impatience: "De Marmont," he said. "Has either +of you seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Not lately, Sire," replied Colonel Bertrand, "not since five o'clock at +any rate."</p> + +<p>"What was he doing then?"</p> + +<p>"He was riding furiously in the direction of Nivelles. I shouted to him. +He told me that he was making for Brussels by a circuitous way."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is right! Well done, my brave de Marmont! Braver than your +treacherous kinsman ever was! So you saw him, did you, Bertrand? Did he +tell you that he had just come from Genappe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sire, he did," replied Bertrand moodily. "He told me that by your +orders he had sent a messenger from there to Paris with news of your +victory: and that by to-morrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> morning the capital would be ringing +with enthusiasm and with cheers."</p> + +<p>"And by the time de Marmont came back from Genappe," interposed the +Prince of Wagram with a sneer, "the plains of Waterloo were ringing with +the Grand Army's '<i>Sauve qui peut!</i>'"</p> + +<p>"An episode, Prince, only an episode!" said Napoleon with an angry frown +of impatience. "To hear you now one would imagine that Essling had never +been. We have been beaten back, of course, but for the moment the world +does not know that. Paris to-morrow will be be-flagged and the bells of +Notre Dame will send forth their joyous peals to cheer the hearts of my +people. And in Brussels this afternoon thousands of our +enemies—Belgians, Dutch, Hanoverians, Brunswickers—were rushing +helter-skelter into the town—demoralised and disorganised after that +brilliant charge of our cuirassiers against the Allied left."</p> + +<p>"Would to God the British had been among them too," murmured old Colonel +Bertrand. "But for their stand . . ."</p> + +<p>"And a splendid stand it was. Ah! but for that. . . . To think that if +Grouchy had kept the Prussians away, in only another hour we . . ."</p> + +<p>The dreamer paused in his dream of the might have been: then he +continued more calmly:</p> + +<p>"But I was not thinking of that just now. I was thinking of those who +fled to Brussels this afternoon with the news of our victory and of +Wellington's defeat."</p> + +<p>"Even then the truth is known in Brussels by now," protested Berthier.</p> + +<p>"Yes! but not before de Marmont has had the time and the pluck to save +us and our Empire! . . . Berthier," he continued more vehemently, "don't +stand there so gloomy, man . . . and you, too, my old Bertrand. . . . +Surely, surely you have realised that at this terrible juncture we must +utilise every circumstance which is in our favour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> . . . That early +news of our victory . . . we can make use of that. . . . A big throw in +this mighty game, but we can do it . . . Berthier, do you see how we can +do it . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"No, Sire, I confess that I do not," replied the Marshal gloomily.</p> + +<p>"You do not see?" retorted the Emperor with a frown of angry impatience. +"De Marmont did—at once—but he is young—and enthusiastic, whereas +you. . . . But don't you see that the news of Wellington's defeat must +have enormous consequences on the money markets of the world—if only +for a few hours? . . . It must send the prices on the foreign Bourses +tumbling about people's ears and create an absolute panic on the London +Stock Exchange. Only for a few hours of course . . . but do you not see +that if any man is wise enough to buy stock in London during that panic +he can make a fortune by re-selling the moment the truth is known?"</p> + +<p>"Even then, Sire," stammered Berthier, a little confused by this +avalanche of seemingly irrelevant facts hurled at him at a moment when +the whole map of Europe was being changed by destiny and her future +trembled in the hands of God.</p> + +<p>"Ah, de Marmont saw it all . . . at once . . ." continued the Emperor +earnestly, "he saw eye to eye with me. He knows that money—a great deal +of money—is just what I want now . . . money to reorganise my army, to +re-equip and reform it. The Chamber and my Ministers will never give me +what I want. . . . My God! they are such cowards! and some of them would +rather see the foreign troops again in Paris than Napoleon Emperor at +the Tuileries. You should know that, Maréchal, and you, too, my good +Bertrand. De Marmont knows it . . . that is why he rode to Brussels at +the hour when I alone knew that all was lost at Waterloo, but when half +Europe still thought that the Corsican ogre had conquered again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>. . . . +De Marmont is in Brussels now . . . to-night he crosses over to +England—to-morrow morning he and his broker will be in the Stock +Exchange in London—calm, silent, watchful. An operation on the Bourse, +what? like hundreds that have been done before . . . but in this case +the object will be to turn one million into fifty so that with it I +might rebuild my Empire again."</p> + +<p>He spoke with absolute conviction, and with indomitable fervour, sitting +here quietly, he—the architect of the mightiest empire of modern +days—just as he used to do in the camps at Austerlitz and Jena and +Wagram and Friedland—with one clenched hand resting upon the rough deal +table, the flickering light of the tallow candle illuminating the wide +brow, the heavy jaw, those piercing eyes that still gazed—in this hour +of supreme catastrophe—into a glorious future destined never to +be—scheming, planning, scheming still, even while his Grand Army was +melting into nothingness all around him, and distant volleys of musketry +were busy consummating the final annihilation of the Empire which he had +created and still hoped to rebuild.</p> + +<p>Berthier gave a quick sign of impatience.</p> + +<p>Rebuild an Empire, ye gods!—an Empire!—when the flower of its manhood +lies pale and stark like the windrows of corn after the harvester has +done his work. Thoughts of a dreamer! Schemes of a visionary! How will +the quaking lips which throughout the length and breadth of this vast +hecatomb now cry, "Sauve qui peut!" how will they ever intone again the +old "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>The conqueror of Wagram gave a bitter sigh and faithful Bertrand hung +his head gloomily; but de Marmont had neither sighed nor doubted: but +then de Marmont was young—he too was a dreamer, and an enthusiast and a +visionary. His idol in his eyes had never had feet of clay. For him the +stricken man was his Emperor still—the architect, the creator, the +invincible conqueror—checked for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> moment in his glorious work, but +able at his will to rebuild the Empire of France again on the very ruins +that smouldered now on the fields of Waterloo.</p> + +<p>"I can do it, Sire," he had cried exultantly, when his Emperor first +expounded his great, new scheme to him. "I can be in Brussels in an +hour, and catch the midnight packet for England at Ostend. At dawn I +shall be in London, and by ten o'clock at my post. I know a financier—a +Jew, and a mightily clever one—he will operate for me. I have a million +or two francs invested in England, we'll use these for our operations! +Money, Sire! You shall have millions! Our differences on the Stock +Exchange will equip the finest army that even you have ever had! Fifty +millions? I'll bring you a hundred! God has not yet decreed the downfall +of the Empire of France!"</p> + +<p>So de Marmont had spoken this afternoon in the enthusiasm of his youth +and of his hero-worship: and since then the great dreamer had continued +to weave his dreams! Nothing was lost, nothing could be lost whilst +enthusiasm such as that survived in the hearts of the young.</p> + +<p>And still wrapped in his dream he sat on, while danger and death and +disgrace threatened him on every side. Berthier and Bertrand entreated +in vain, in vain tried to drag him away from this solitary place, where +any moment a party of Prussians might find and capture him.</p> + +<p>Unceremoniously the Prince of Wagram had blown out the flickering light +that might have attracted the attention of the pursuers. It was a very +elementary precaution, the only one he or Bertrand was able to take. The +horses were out in the yard for anyone to see, and the greatest spoil of +victory might at any moment fall into the hands of the meanest Prussian +soldier out for loot.</p> + +<p>But the dreamer still sat on in the gloom, with the pale light of the +moon streaming in through the narrow casement window and illumining that +marble-like face, rigid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> and set, that seemed only to live by the +glowing eyes—the eyes that looked into the future and the past and +heeded not the awful present.</p> + +<p>Close on a quarter of an hour went by until at last he jumped to his +feet, with the sudden cry of "To Genappe!"</p> + +<p>Berthier heaved a sigh of relief and Bertrand hurried out to unfasten +the horses.</p> + +<p>"You are impatient, Prince," said the Emperor almost gaily, as he strode +with a firm step to the door. "You are afraid those cursed Prussians +will put the Corsican ogre into a cage and send him at once to His +Victorious Bourbon Majesty King Louis XVIII. Not so, my good Berthier, +not so. The Star of my Destiny has not yet declined. I've done all the +thinking I wanted to do. Now we'll to Genappe, where we'll rally the +remnants of our army and then quietly await de Marmont's return with the +millions which we want. After that we'll boldly on to Paris and defy my +enemies there . . . En avant, Maréchal! the Corsican ogre is not in the +iron cage yet!"</p> + +<p>Outside Bertrand was holding his stirrup for him. He swung himself +lightly in the saddle and turned out of the farmyard gate into the open, +throwing back his head and sniffing the storm-laden air as if he was +about to lead his army to one of his victorious charges. Not waiting to +see how close the other two men followed him, he put his horse at once +at a gallop.</p> + +<p>He rode on—never pausing—never looking round even on that gigantic +desolation which the cold light of the moon weirdly and fitfully +revealed—his mind was fixed upon a fresh throw on the gaming table of +the world.</p> + +<p>Overhead the storm-driven clouds chased one another with unflagging fury +across the moonlit sky, now obscuring, now revealing that gigantic +dissolution of the Grand Army, so like the melting of ice and frost +under the fierce kiss of the sun.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>More than men in an attack, less than women in a retreat, the finest +cavalry Europe had ever seen was flying like sand before the wind: but +the somnambulist rode on in his sleep, forgetting that on these vast and +billowing fields twenty-six thousand gallant French heroes had died for +the sake of his dreams.</p> + +<p>Bertrand and the Prince of Wagram followed—gloomy and silent—they knew +that all suggestions would be useless, all saner advice remain unheeded. +Besides, de Marmont had gone, and after all, what did it all matter? +What did anything matter, now that Empire, glory, hope, everything were +irretrievably lost?</p> + +<p>And in faithful Bertrand's deep-set eyes there came a strange, far-off +look, almost of premonition, as if in his mind he could already see that +lonely island rock in the Atlantic, and the great gambler there, eating +out his heart with vain and bitter regrets.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>But de Marmont had never had any doubts, never any forebodings: he only +had boundless faith in his hero and boundless enthusiasm for his cause. +Accustomed to handle money since early manhood, owner of a vast fortune +which he had administered himself with no mean skill, he had no doubt +that the Emperor's scheme for manufacturing a few millions in a wild +gamble on the Stock Exchange was not only feasible but certain of +success.</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly the false news of Wellington's defeat would reach London +to-morrow, as it had already reached Paris and Brussels. The panic in +the money market was a foregone conclusion: the quick rise in prices +when the truth became known was equally certain. It only meant +forestalling the arrival of Wellington's despatches in London by four +and twenty hours, and one million would make fifty during that time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>As de Marmont had told his Emperor, he had several hundred thousand +pounds invested in England, on which he could lay his hands: operations +on the Bourse were nothing new to him: and already while he was still +listening with respect and enthusiasm to his Emperor's instructions, he +was longing to get away. He knew the country well between here and +Brussels, and he was wildly longing to be at work, to be flying across +the low-lying land, on to Brussels and then across to England in the +wake of the awful news of complete disaster.</p> + +<p>He would steal the uniform of some poor dead wretch—a Belgium or a +Hanoverian or a black Brunswicker, he didn't care which—it wouldn't +take long to strip the dead, and the greatness of the work at stake +would justify the sacrilege. In the uniform of one of the Allied army he +could safely continue his journey to Brussels, and with luck could reach +the city long before sunset.</p> + +<p>In Brussels he would at once obtain civilian clothes and then catch the +evening packet for England at Ostend. Oh, no! it was not likely that +Wellington could send a messenger over to London quite so soon!</p> + +<p>At this hour—it was just past five—he was still on Mont Saint Jean +making another desperate stand against the Imperial cavalry with troops +half worn out with discouragement and whose endurance must even now be +giving way.</p> + +<p>At this hour the Prussians had appeared at Braine L'Alleud, they had +engaged Reille at Plancenoit, but Wellington and the British had still +to hold their ground or the news which de Marmont intended to accompany +to London might prove true after all.</p> + +<p>Ye gods, if only that were possible! How gladly would Victor then have +lost the hundred thousands which he meant to risk to-morrow! Wellington +really vanquished before Blücher could come to his rescue! Napoleon +once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> more victorious, as he had always been, and a mightier monarch +than before! Then he, Victor de Marmont, the faithful young enthusiast +who had never ceased to believe when others wavered, who at this last +hour—when the whole world seemed to crumble away from under the feet of +the man who had once been its master—was still ready to serve his +Emperor, never doubting, always hoping, he would reap such a reward as +must at last dazzle the one woman who could make that reward for him +doubly precious.</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont had effected the gruesome exchange. He was now dressed +in the black uniform of a Brunswick regiment wherein so many French +royalists were serving. By a wide détour he had reached the approach to +Brussels. Indeed it seemed as if the news which he had sent flying to +Paris was true after all. Behind the forest of Soigne where he now was, +the fields and roads were full of running men and galloping horses. The +dull green of Belgian uniforms, the yellow facings of the Dutch, the +black of Brunswickers, all mingled together in a moving kaleidoscopic +mass of colour: men were flying unpursued yet panic-stricken towards +Brussels, carrying tidings of an awful disaster to the allied armies in +their haggard faces, their quivering lips, their blood-stained tunics.</p> + +<p>De Marmont joined in with them: though his heart was full of hope, he +too contrived to look pale and spent and panic-stricken at will—he +heard the shouts of terror, the hastily murmured "All is lost! even the +British can no longer stand!" as horses maddened with fright bore their +half-senseless riders by. He set his teeth and rode on. His dark eyes +glowed with satisfaction; there was no fear that the great gambler would +stake his last in vain: the news would travel quick enough—as news of +disaster always will. Brussels even now must be full of weeping women +and children, as it soon would be of terror-driven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> men, of wounded and +of maimed crawling into the shelter of the town to die in peace.</p> + +<p>And as he rode, de Marmont thought more and more of Crystal. The last +three months had only enhanced his passionate love for her and his +maddening desire to win her yet at all costs. St. Genis would of course +be fighting to-day. Perchance a convenient shot would put him +effectively out of the way. De Marmont had vainly tried in this wild +gallopade to distinguish his rival's face among this mass of foreigners.</p> + +<p>As for the Englishman! Well! no doubt he had disappeared long ago out of +Crystal de Cambray's life. De Marmont had never feared him greatly. That +one look of understanding between Crystal and Clyffurde, and the +latter's strange conduct about the money at the inn, were alone +responsible for the few twinges of jealousy which de Marmont had +experienced in that quarter.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the Englishman was a negligible quantity. De Marmont did not +fear him. There was only St. Genis, and with the royalist cause rendered +absolutely hopeless—as it would be, as it <i>must</i> be—St. Genis and the +Comte de Cambray and all those stiff-necked aristocrats of the old +regime who had thought fit to turn their proud backs on him at Brestalou +three months ago, would be irretrievably ruined and discredited and +would have to fly the country once more . . . and Crystal, faced with +the alternative of penury in England or a brilliant existence at the +Tuileries as the wife of the Emperor's most faithful friend, would make +her choice as he—de Marmont—never doubted that any woman would.</p> + +<p>Hope for him had already become reality. Brussels was the half-way halt +to the uttermost heights of his ambition. Fortune, the Emperor's +gratitude, the woman he loved, all waited for him there. He reached the +city just as that distant horizon in the west was lit up by a streak of +brilliant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> crimson from the fast sinking sun: just when—had he but +known it!—on the crest of Mont Saint Jean, Wellington had waved his hat +over his head and given the heroic British army—exhausted, but +undaunted—the order for a general charge; just when the Grand Army, +finally checked in its advance, had first set up the ominous call that +was like the passing-bell of its dying glory: "Sauve qui peut!"</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>"Sauve qui peut!"</p> + +<p>Bobby Clyffurde heard the cry too through the fast gathering shadows of +unconsciousness that closed in round his wearied senses, and, as a film +that was so like the kindly veil of approaching Death spread over his +eyes, he raised them up just once to that vivid crimson glow far out in +the west, and on the winged chariot of the setting sun he sent up his +last sigh of gratitude to God. All day he had called for Death—all day +he had wooed her there where bullets and grape-shot were thickest—where +her huge scythe had been most busily at work.</p> + +<p>Sons of fond mothers, husbands, sweethearts that were dearly loved, +brothers that would be endlessly mourned, lives that were more precious +than any earthly treasures—the ghostly harvester claimed them all with +impartial cruelty. And he—desolate and lonely—with no one greatly to +care if he came back or no—with not a single golden thread of hope to +which he might cling, without a dream to brighten the coming days of +dreariness—with a life in the future that could hold nothing but vain +regrets, Bobby had sought Death twenty times to-day and Death had +resolutely passed him by.</p> + +<p>But now he was grateful for that: he was thankful that he had lived just +long enough to see the sunset, just long enough to take part in that +last glorious charge in obedience to Wellington's inspiring command: +"Up, guards, and at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> them!" he was glad to have lived just long enough +to hear the "Sauve qui peut!" to know that the Grand Army was in full +retreat, that Blücher had come up in time, that British pluck and +British endurance had won the greatest victory of all times for +Britain's flag and her national existence.</p> + +<p>Now with a rough bandage hastily tied round his head where grape-shot +had lacerated cheek and ear, with a bayonet thrust in the thigh and +another in the arm, Bobby had remained lying there with many thousands +round him as silent, as uncomplaining, as he—in the down-trodden +corn—and with the tramp of thousands of galloping, fleeing horses, the +clash of steel and fusillade of tirailleurs and artillery reaching his +dimmed senses like a distant echo from the land of ghosts. And before +his eyes—half veiled in unconsciousness, there flitted the tender, +delicate vision of Crystal de Cambray: of her blue eyes and soft fair +hair, done up in a quaint mass of tiny curls; of the scarf of filmy lace +which she always liked to wrap round her shoulders, and through the lace +the pearly sheen of her skin, of her arms, and of her throat. The air +around him had become pure and rarified: that horrible stench of powder +and smoke and blood no longer struck his nostrils—it was roses, roses +all around him—crimson roses—sweet and caressing and fragrant—with +soft, velvety petals that brushed against his cheek—and from somewhere +close by came a dreamy melody, the half-sad, half-gay lilt of an +intoxicating dance.</p> + +<p>It was delicious! and Bobby, wearied, sore and aching in body, felt his +soul lifted to some exquisite heights which were not yet heaven, of +course, but which must of a truth form the very threshold of Paradise.</p> + +<p>He saw Crystal more and more clearly every moment: now he was looking +straight into her blue eyes, and her little hand, cool and white as +snow, rested upon his burning fore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>head. She smiled on him—as on a +friend—there was no contempt, no harshness in her look—only a great, +consoling pity and something that seemed like an appeal!</p> + +<p>Yes! the longer he himself looked into those blue eyes of hers, the more +sure he was that there was an appeal in them. It almost seemed as if she +needed him, in a way that she had never needed him before. Apparently +she could not speak: she could not tell him what it was she wanted: but +her little hands seemed to draw him up, out of the trodden, trampled +corn, and having soothed his aches and pains they seemed to impel him to +do something—that was important . . . and imperative . . . something +that she wanted done.</p> + +<p>He begged her to let him lie here in peace, for he was now comforted and +happy. He was quite sure now that he was dead, that her sweet face had +been the last tangible vision which he had seen on earth, ere he closed +his eyes in the last long sleep.</p> + +<p class="section_break">He had seen her and she had gone. All of a sudden she had vanished, and +darkness was closing in around him: the scent of roses faded into the +air, which was now filled again with horrid sounds—the deafening roar +of cannon, the sharp and incessant retort of rifle-fire, the awesome +mêlée of cries and groans and bugle-calls and sighs of agony, and one +deafening cry—so like the last wail of departing souls—which came from +somewhere—not very far away: "Vive l'Empereur!"</p> + +<p>Bobby raised himself to a sitting posture. His head ached terribly—he +was stiff in every limb: a burning, almost intolerable pain gnawed at +his thigh and at his left arm. But consciousness had returned and with +it all the knowledge of what this day had meant: all round him there was +the broken corn, stained with blood and mud, all round him lay the dead +and the dying in their thousands. Far away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> in the west a crimson glow +like fire lit up this vast hecatomb of brave lives sacrificed, this +final agony of the vast Empire, the might and grandeur of one man laid +low this day by the mightier hand of God.</p> + +<p>It lit up with the weird light of the dying day the pallid, clean-shaven +faces of gallant British boys, the rugged faces of the Scot, the olive +skin of the child of Provence, the bronzed cheeks of old veterans: it +threw its lurid glow on red coats and black coats, white facings and +gilt epaulettes; it drew sparks as of still-living fire from +breastplates and broken swords, discarded casques and bayonets, +sabretaches and kilts and bugles and drums, and dead horses and arms and +accoutrements and dead and dying men, all lying pell-mell in a huge +litter with the glow of midsummer sunset upon them—poor little +chessmen—pawns and knights—castles of strength and kings of some +lonely mourning hearts—all swept together by the Almighty hand of the +Great Master of this terrestrial game.</p> + +<p>But with returning consciousness Bobby's gaze took in a wider range of +vision. He visualised exactly where he was—on the south slope of Mont +Saint Jean with La Haye Sainte on ahead a little to his left, and the +whitewashed walls of La Belle Alliance still further away gleaming +golden in the light of the setting sun.</p> + +<p>He saw that on the wide road which leads to Genappe and Charleroi the +once invincible cavalry of the mighty Emperor was fleeing helter-skelter +from the scene of its disaster: he saw that the British—what was left +of them—were in hot pursuit! He saw from far Plancenoit the +scintillating casques of Blücher's Prussians.</p> + +<p>And on the left a detachment of allied troops—Dutch, Belgian, +Brunswickers—had just started down the slope of the plateau to join in +this death-dealing pell-mell, where amongst the litter of dead and +dying, in the confusion of pursuer and pursued, comrade fought at times +against com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>rade, brother fired on brother—Prussian against British.</p> + +<p>Down below behind the farm buildings of La Haye Sainte two battalions of +chasseurs of the Old Guard had made a stand around a tattered bit of +tricolour and the bronze eagle—symbol of so much decadent grandeur and +of such undying glory. "A moi chasseurs," brave Général Pelet had cried. +"Let us save the eagle or die beneath its wing."</p> + +<p>And those who heard this last call of despair stopped in their headlong +flight; they forged a way for themselves through the mass of running +horses and men, they rallied to their flag, and with their +tirailleurs—kneeling on one knee—ranged in a circle round them, they +now formed a living bulwark for their eagle, of dauntless breasts and +bristling bayonets.</p> + +<p>And upon this mass of desperate men, the small body of raw Dutch and +Belgian and German troops now hurled themselves with wild huzzas and +blind impetuousness. Against this mass of heroes and of conquerors in a +dozen victorious campaigns—men who had no longer anything to lose but +life, and to whom life meant less than nothing now—against them a +handful of half-trained recruits, drunk with the cry of "Victory" which +drowned the roar of the cannon and the clash of sabres, drunk with the +vision of glory which awaited them if that defiant eagle were brought to +earth by them!</p> + +<p>And as Bobby staggered to his feet he already saw the impending +catastrophe—one of the many on this day of cumulative disasters. He saw +the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers rush wildly to the +charge—young men—enthusiasts—brave—but men whose ranks had twice +been broken to-day—who twice had rallied to their colours and then had +broken again—men who were exhausted—men who were none too ably +led—men in fact—and there were many French royalists among their +officers—who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> not the physical power of endurance which had enabled +the British to astonish the world to-day.</p> + +<p>Bobby could see amongst them the Brunswickers and their black coats—he +would have known them amongst millions of men. The full brilliance of +the evening glow was upon them—on their black coats and the silver +galoons and tassels; two of their officers had made a brave show in +Brussels three days—or was it a hundred years?—ago at the Duchess of +Richmond's ball. Bobby remembered them so well, for one of these two +officers was Maurice de St. Genis.</p> + +<p>Oh! how Crystal would love to see him now—even though her dear heart +would be torn with anxiety for him—for he was fighting bravely, bravely +and desperately as every one had fought to-day, as these chasseurs of +the Old Guard—just the few of them that remained—were fighting still +even at this hour round that tattered flag and that bronze eagle, and +with the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" dying upon their lips.</p> + +<p>Despair indeed on both sides—even at this hour when the merest incident +might yet turn the issue of this world-conflict one way or the other. +Bobby, as he steadied himself on his feet, had seen that the attack was +already turning into a rout. Not only had Pelet's chasseurs held the +Dutch and Brunswickers at bay, not only had their tirailleurs made +deadly havoc among their assailants, but the latter now were threatened +with absolute annihilation even whilst all around them their +allies—British and Prussian—were crying "Victory!"</p> + +<p>Bobby could see them quite clearly—for he saw with that subtle and +delicate sense which only a great and pure passion can give!—he saw the +danger at the very moment when it was born—at the precise instant when +it threatened that handful of black-coated men, one of whose officers +was named St. Genis. He saw the first sign of wavering, of stupefaction, +that followed the impetuous charge:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> he saw the gaps in the ranks after +that initial deadly volley from the tirailleurs. It almost seemed as if +he could hear those shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the rallying cry of +commanding officers—it was all so near—not more than three hundred +yards away, and the clear, stormy atmosphere carried sights and sounds +upon its wing.</p> + +<p>Another volley from the tirailleurs and the Dutch and Brunswickers +turned to fly: in vain did their officers call, they wanted to get away! +They tried to fly—to run, for now the chasseurs were at them with +bayonets—they tried to run, but the ground was littered with their own +wounded and dead—with the wounded and the dead of a long day of +carnage: they stumbled at every step—fell over the dying and the +wounded—over dead and wounded horses—over piles of guns and swords and +bayonets, and sabretaches, over forsaken guns and broken carriages, +litter that impeded them in front even as they were driven with the +bayonet from the rear.</p> + +<p>Bobby saw it all, for they were coming now—pursued and pursuers—as +fast as ever they could; they were coming, these flying, black-coated +men, casting away their gay trappings as well as their arms, trying to +run—to get away—but stumbling, falling all the time—picking +themselves up, falling and running again.</p> + +<p>And in that one short moment while the whole brief tragedy was enacted +before his eyes, Bobby also saw, in a vision that was equally swift and +fleeting, the blue eyes of Crystal drowned in tears. He saw her with +fair head drooping like a lily, he saw the quiver of her lips, heard the +moan of pain that would come to her lips when the man she loved was +brought home to her—dead. And in that same second—so full of +portent—Bobby understood why it was that her sweet image had called to +him for help just now. Again she called, again she beckoned—her blue +eyes looked on him with an appeal that was all-compelling:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> her two dear +hands were clasped and she begged of him that he should be her friend.</p> + +<p>Such visions come from God! no man sees them save he whose soul is great +and whose heart is pure. Poor Bobby Clyffurde—lonely, heart-broken, +desolate—saw the exquisite face that he would have loved to kiss—he +saw it with the golden glow of evening upon the delicate cheeks, and +with the lurid light of fire and battle upon the soft, fair hair.</p> + +<p>And the greatness of his love helped him to understand what life still +held for him—the happiness of supreme sacrifice.</p> + +<p>All around him was death, but there was some life too: one or two poor, +abandoned riderless horses were quietly picking bits of corn from +between the piles of dead and dying men, or were standing, sniffing the +air with dilated nostrils, and snorting with terror at the deafening +noise. Bobby had steadied himself, neither his head nor his limbs were +aching now—at any rate he had forgotten them—all that he remembered +was what he saw, those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly and +could not and who were being slaughtered like insects even as they +stumbled and fled.</p> + +<p>And Bobby caught the bridle of one of these poor, terror-stricken beasts +that stood snorting and sniffing not far away: he crawled up into the +saddle, for his thigh was numb and one of his arms helpless. But once on +horseback he could get along—over trampled corn and over the dead—on +toward that hideous corner behind the farm of La Haye Sainte where +desperate men were butchering others that were more desperate than +they—in among that seething crowd of black coats and fur bonnets, of +silver tassels and of brass eagles, into a whirlpool of swords and +bayonets and gun-fire from the tirailleurs—for there he had seen the +man whom Crystal loved—for whose sake she would eat out her heart with +mourning and regret.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>In the deafening noise of shrieking and sighs and whizzing bullets and +cries of agony he heard Crystal's voice telling him what to do. Already +he had seen St. Genis struggling on his knees not fifty mètres away from +the first line of tirailleurs, not a hundred from the advancing steel +wall of fixed bayonets. Maurice had thrown back his head, in the +hopelessness of his despair; the evening sun fell full upon his haggard, +blood-stained face, upon his wide-open eyes filled with the terror of +death. The next moment Bobby Clyffurde was by his side; all around him +bullets were whizzing—all around him men sighed their last sigh of +agony. He stooped over his saddle: "Can you pull yourself up?" he +called. And with his one sound arm he caught Maurice by the elbow and +helped him to struggle to his feet. The horse, dazed with terror, +snorted at the smell of blood, but he did not move. Maurice, equally +dazed, scrambled into the saddle—almost inert—a dead weight—a thing +that impeded progress and movement; but the thing that Crystal loved +above all things on earth and which Bobby knew he must wrest out of +these devouring jaws of Death and lay—safe and sound—within the +shelter of her arms.</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>After that it meant a struggle—not for his own life, for indeed he +cared little enough for that—but for the sake of the burden which he +was carrying—a burden of infinite preciousness since Crystal's heart +and happiness were bound up with it.</p> + +<p>Maurice de St. Genis clung half inert to him with one hand gripping the +saddle-bow, the other clutching Bobby's belt with convulsive tenacity. +Bobby himself was only half conscious, dazed with the pain of wounds, +the exertion of hoisting that dead weight across his saddle, the +deafening noise of whizzing bullets round him, the boring of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> the +frightened horse against its bridle, as it tried to pick its way through +the tangled heaps upon the ground.</p> + +<p>But every moment lessened the danger from stray bullets, and the chance +of the bayonet charge from behind. The cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" round +that still standing eagle were drowned in the medley and confusion of +hundreds of other sounds. Bobby was just able to guide his horse away +from the spots where the fighting was most hot and fierce, where +Vivian's hussars attacked those two battalions of cuirassiers, where +Adam's brigade of artillery turned the flank of the chasseurs and laid +the proud bronze eagle low, where Ney and the Old Guard were showing to +the rest of the Grand Army how grizzled veterans fought and died.</p> + +<p>He rode straight up the plateau, however, but well to the right now, +picking his way carefully with that blind instinct which the tracked +beast possesses and which the hunted man sometimes receives from God.</p> + +<p>The dead and the dying were less thick here upon the ground. It was here +that earlier in the day the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers +had supported the British left, during those terrific cavalry charges +which British endurance and tenacity had alone been able to withstand. +It was here that Hacke's Cumberland Hussars had broken their ranks and +fled, taking to Brussels and thence to Ghent the news of terrific +disaster. Bobby's lips were tight set and he snorted like a war-horse +when he thought of that—when he thought of the misery and sorrow that +must be reigning in Brussels now—and of the consternation at Ghent +where the poor old Bourbon King was probably mourning his dead hopes and +his vanished throne.</p> + +<p>In Brussels women would be weeping; and Crystal—forlorn and +desolate—would perhaps be sitting at her window watching the stream of +fugitives that came in—wounded and exhausted—from the field of battle, +recounting tales of a catastrophe which had no parallel in modern times: +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> Crystal, seeing and hearing this, would think of the man she loved, +and believing him to be dead would break her heart with sorrow.</p> + +<p>And when Bobby thought of that he was spurred to fresh effort, and he +pulled himself together with a desperate tension of every nerve and +sinew, fighting exhaustion, ignoring pain, conjuring up the vision of +Crystal's blue eyes and her pleading look as she begged him to save her +from lifelong sorrow and the anguish of future loneliness. Then he no +longer heard the weird and incessant cannonade, he no longer saw the +desolation of this utter confusion around him, he no longer felt +exhausted, or the weight of that lifeless, impeding burden upon his +saddle-bow.</p> + +<p>Stray bands of fugitives with pursuers hot on their heels passed him by, +stray bullets flew to right and left of him, whizzing by with their +eerie, whistling sound; he was now on the outskirts of the great +pursuit—anon he reached the crest of Mont Saint Jean at last, and +almost blindly struck back eastward in the direction of the forest of +Soigne.</p> + +<p>It was blind instinct—and nothing more—that kept him on his horse: he +clung to his saddle with half-paralysed knees, just as a drowning man +will clutch a floating bit of wreckage that helps him to keep his head +above the water. The stately trees of Soigne were not far ahead now: +through the forest any track that bore to the left would strike the +Brussels road; only a little more strength—another effort or two—the +cool solitude of the wood would ease the weight of the burden and the +throbbing of nerves and brain. The setting sun shone full upon the leafy +edge of the wood; hazelnut and beech and oak and clumps of briar rose +quivered under the rough kiss of the wind that blew straight across the +lowland from the southwest, bringing with it still the confusion of +sounds—the weird cannonades and dismal bugle-calls—in such strange +contrast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> to the rustle of the leaves and the crackling of tiny twigs in +the tangled coppice.</p> + +<p>How cool and delicious it must be under those trees—and there was a +narrow track which must lead straight to the Brussels road—the ground +looked soft and mossy and damp after the rain—oh! for the strength to +reach those leafy shadows, to plunge under that thicket and brush with +burning forehead against those soft green leaves heavy with moisture! +Oh! for the power to annihilate this distance of a few hundred yards +that lie between this immense graveyard open to wind and scorching sun, +and the green, cool moss and carpet of twigs and leaves and soft, +sweet-smelling earth, on which a weary body and desolate soul might find +eternal rest! . . .</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>On! on! through the forest of Soigne! There was no question as yet of +rest.</p> + +<p>Maurice had not yet wakened from his trance. Bobby vaguely wondered if +he were not already dead. There was no stain of blood upon his fine +uniform, but it was just possible that in stumbling, running and falling +he had hit his head or received a blow which had deprived him of +consciousness directly after he had scrambled into the saddle.</p> + +<p>Bobby remembered how pale and haggard he had looked and how his hand had +by the merest instinct clutched at the saddle-bow, and then had dropped +away from it—helpless and inert. Now he lay quite still with his head +resting against Bobby's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Under the trees it was cool and the air was sweet and soothing: Bobby +with his left hand contrived to tear a handful of leaves from the +coppice as he passed: they were full of moisture and he pressed them +against Maurice's lips and against his own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>The forest was full of sounds: of running men and horses, the rattle of +wheels, and the calls of terror and of pain, with still and always that +awesome background of persistent cannonade. But Bobby heard nothing, saw +nothing save the narrow track in front of him, along which the horse now +ambled leisurely, and from time to time—when he looked down—the pale, +haggard face of the man whom Crystal loved.</p> + +<p>At one moment Maurice opened his eyes and murmured feebly: "Where am I?"</p> + +<p>"On the way to Brussels," Bobby contrived to reply.</p> + +<p>A little later on horse and rider emerged out of the wood and the +Brussels road stretched out its long straight ribbon before Bobby +Clyffurde's dull, uncomprehending gaze.</p> + +<p>Close by at his feet the milestone marked the last six kilomètres to +Brussels. Only another half-dozen kilomètres—only another hour's ride +at most! . . . Only!!! . . . when even now he felt that the next few +minutes must see him tumbling head-foremost from the saddle.</p> + +<p>Far away beyond the milestone on his right—in a meadow, the boundary of +which touched the edge of the wood—women were busy tossing hay after +the rain, all unconscious of the simple little tragedy that was being +enacted so close to them: their cotton dresses and the kerchiefs round +their heads stood out as trenchant, vivid notes of colour against the +dull grey landscape beyond. A couple of haycarts were standing by: +beside them two men were lighting their pipes. The wind was playing with +the hay as the women tossed it, and their shrill laughter came echoing +across the meadow.</p> + +<p>And even now the ground was shaken with the repercussion of distant +volleys of artillery, and along the road a stream of men were running +toward Brussels, horses galloped by frightened and riderless, or +dragging broken gun-carriages behind them in the mud. The whole of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +stream was carrying the news of Wellington's disaster to Brussels and to +Ghent: not knowing that behind them had already sounded the passing bell +for the Empire of France.</p> + +<p>Bobby had drawn rein on the edge of the wood to give his horse a rest, +and for a while he watched that running stream, longing to shout to them +to turn back—there was no occasion to run—to see what had been done, +to take a share in that glorious, final charge for victory. But his +throat was too parched for a shout, and as he watched, he saw in among a +knot of mounted men—fugitives like the others, pale of face, anxious of +mien and with that intent look which men have when life is precious and +has got to be saved—he saw a man in the same uniform that St. Genis +wore—a Brunswicker in black coat and silver galoons—who stared at him, +persistently and strangely, as he rode by.</p> + +<p>The face though much altered by three days' growth of beard, and by the +set of the shako worn right down to the brows, was nevertheless a +familiar one. Bobby—stupefied, deprived for the moment of thinking +powers, through sheer exhaustion and burning pain—taxed his weary brain +in vain to understand the look of recognition which the man in the black +uniform cast upon him as he passed.</p> + +<p>Until a lightly spoken: "Hullo, my dear Clyffurde!" uttered gaily as the +rider drew near to the edge of the road, brought the name of "Victor de +Marmont!" to Bobby's quivering lips.</p> + +<p>And just for the space of sixty seconds Fate rubbed her gaunt hands +complacently together, seeing that she had brought these three men +together—here on this spot—three men who loved the same woman, each +with the utmost ardour and passion at his command—each even at this +very moment striving to win her and to work for her happiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>Behind them in the plains of Waterloo the cannon still was roaring: de +Marmont was on his way to redeem the fallen fortunes of the hero whom he +worshipped and to win imperial regard, imperial favours, fortune and +glory wherewith to conquer a girl's obstinacy. St. Genis—pale and +unconscious—seemed even in his unconsciousness to defy the power of any +rival by the might of early love, of old associations, of similarity of +caste and of political ideals. He had fought for the cause which she and +he had both equally at heart and by his very helplessness now he seemed +to prove that he could do no more than he had done and that he had the +right to claim the solace and comfort which her girlish lips and her +girlish love had promised him long ago.</p> + +<p>Whilst Bobby had nothing to promise and nothing to give save +devotion—his hope, his desire and his love were bounded by her +happiness. And since her happiness lay in the life of the man whom he +had dragged out of the jaws of Death, what greater proof could he give +of his love than to lay down his life for him and for her?</p> + +<p>De Marmont's keen eyes took in the situation at a glance: he threw a +quick look of savage hatred on St. Genis and cast one of contemptuous +pity on Clyffurde. Then with a shrug of the shoulders and a light, +triumphant laugh, he set spurs to his horse and rode swiftly away.</p> + +<p>Bobby's lack-lustre eyes followed horse and rider down the road till +they grew smaller and smaller still and finally disappeared in the +distance. For a moment he felt puzzled. What was de Marmont doing in +this stream of senseless, panic-stricken men? What was he doing in the +uniform of one of the Allied nations? Why had he laughed so gaily and +appeared so triumphant in his mien?</p> + +<p>Did he not know then that his hero had fallen along with his mighty +eagle? that the brief adventure begun in the gulf of Jouan had ended in +a hopeless tragedy on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> field of Waterloo? But why that uniform? Poor +Bobby's head ached too much to allow him to think, and time was getting +on.</p> + +<p>The road now was deserted. The last of the fugitives formed but a cloud +of black specks on the line of the horizon far off toward Brussels. From +the hayfield there came the merry sound of women's laughter, while far +away cannon and musketry still roared. And over the long, straight +road—bordered with straight poplar trees—the setting sun threw +ever-lengthening shadows.</p> + +<p>Maurice opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he asked again.</p> + +<p>"Close to Brussels now," replied Bobby.</p> + +<p>"To Brussels?" murmured St. Genis feebly. "Crystal!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Bobby. "Crystal! God bless her!" Then as St. Genis was +trying to move, he added: "Can you shift a little?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," replied the other.</p> + +<p>"If you could ease the pressure on my leg . . . steady, now! steady! +. . . Can you sit up in the saddle? . . . Are you hurt? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Not much. My head aches terribly. I must have hit it against something. +But that is all. I am only dizzy and sick."</p> + +<p>"Could you ride on to Brussels alone, think you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"It is not far. The horse is very quiet. He will amble along if you give +him his head."</p> + +<p>"But you?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to rest. I'll find shelter in a cottage perhaps . . . or in +the wood."</p> + +<p>St. Genis said nothing more for the moment. He was intent on sliding +down from the saddle without too much assistance from Bobby. When he had +reached the ground,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> it took him a little while to collect himself, for +his head was swimming: he closed his eyes and put out a hand to steady +himself against a tree.</p> + +<p>When Maurice opened his eyes again, Bobby was sitting on the ground by +the roadside: the horse was nibbling a clump of fresh, green grass.</p> + +<p>For the first time since that awful moment when stumbling and falling +against a pile of dead, with Death behind and all around him, he had +heard the welcome call: "Can you pull yourself up?" and felt the +steadying grip upon his elbow—Maurice de St. Genis looked upon the man +to whom he owed his life.</p> + +<p>With that stained bandage round his head, dulled and bloodshot eyes, +face blackened with powder and smoke and features drawn and haggard, +Bobby Clyffurde was indeed almost unrecognisable. But Maurice knew him +on the instant. Hitherto, he had not thought of how he had come out of +that terrible hell-fire behind La Haye Sainte—indeed, he had quickly +lost consciousness and never regained it till now: and now he knew that +the same man who in the narrow hotel room near Lyons had ungrudgingly +rendered him a signal service—had risked his life to-day for +his—Maurice's sake.</p> + +<p>No one could have entered that awful mêlée and faced the bayonet charge +of Pelet's cuirassiers and the hail of bullets from their tirailleurs +without taking imminent risk of death. Yet Clyffurde had done it. Why? +Maurice—wide-eyed and sullen—could only find one answer to that +insistent question.</p> + +<p>That same deadly pang of jealousy which had assailed his heart after the +midnight interview at the inn now held him in its cruel grip again. He +felt that he hated the man to whom he owed his life, and that he hated +himself for this mean and base ingratitude. He would not trust himself +to speak or to look on Bobby at all, lest the ugly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> thoughts which were +floating through his mind set their stamp upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Will you ride on to Brussels?" he said at last. "I can wait here . . . +and perhaps you could send a conveyance for me later on. M. le Comte de +Cambray would . . ."</p> + +<p>"M. le Comte de Cambray and Mademoiselle Crystal are even now devoured +with anxiety about you," broke in Clyffurde as firmly as he could. "And +I could not ride to Brussels—even though some one were waiting for me +there—I really am not able to ride further. I would prefer to sit here +and rest."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to leave you . . . after . . . after what you have done +for me . . . I would like to . . ."</p> + +<p>"I would like you to scramble into that saddle and go," retorted Bobby +with a momentary return to his usual good-natured irony, "and to leave +me in peace."</p> + +<p>"I'll send out a conveyance for you," rejoined St. Genis. "I know M. le +Comte de Cambray would wish . . ."</p> + +<p>"Mention my name to M. le Comte at your peril . . ." began Clyffurde.</p> + +<p>"But . . ."</p> + +<p>"By the Lord, man," now exclaimed Bobby with a sudden burst of energy, +"if you do not go, I vow that sick as I am, and sick though you may be, +I'll yet manage to punch your aching head."</p> + +<p>Then as the other—still reluctantly—turned to take hold of the horse's +bridle, he added more gently: "Can you mount?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I am better now."</p> + +<p>"You won't turn giddy, and fall off your horse?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so."</p> + +<p>"Talk about the halt leading the blind!" murmured Clyffurde as he +stretched himself out once more upon the soft ground, whilst Maurice +contrived to hoist himself up into the saddle. "Are you safe now?" he +added as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> young man collected the reins in his hand, and planted his +feet firmly into the stirrups.</p> + +<p>"Yes! I am safe enough," replied St. Genis. "It is only my head that +aches: and Brussels is not far."</p> + +<p>Then he paused a moment ere he started to go—with lips set tight and +looking down on Bobby, whose pale face had taken on an ashen hue:</p> + +<p>"How you must despise me," he said bitterly.</p> + +<p>But Bobby made no reply: he was just longing to be left alone, whilst +the other still seemed inclined to linger.</p> + +<p>"Would to God," Maurice said with a sigh, "that M. le Comte heard the +evil news from other lips than mine."</p> + +<p>"Evil news?" And Bobby, whom semi-consciousness was already taking off +once more to the land of visions and of dreams—was brought back to +reality—as if with a sudden jerk—with those two preposterous little +words.</p> + +<p>"What evil news?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The allied armies have retreated all along the line . . . the Corsican +adventurer is victorious . . . our poor King . . ."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, you young fool," cried Bobby hoarsely. "The Lord help +you but I do believe you are about to blaspheme . . ."</p> + +<p>"But . . ."</p> + +<p>"The Allied Armies—the British Army, God bless it!—have covered +themselves with glory—Napoleon and his Empire have ceased to be. The +Grand Army is in full retreat . . . the Prussians are in pursuit. . . . +The British have won the day by their pluck and their endurance. . . . +Thank God I lived just long enough to see it all, ere I fell . . ."</p> + +<p>"But when we charged the cuirassiers . . ." began St. Genis, not knowing +really if Bobby was raving in delirium, or speaking of what he knew. He +wanted to ask further questions, to hear something more before he +started for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> Brussels . . . the only thing which he remembered with +absolute certainty was that awful charge of his regiment against the +cuirassiers, then the panic and the rout: and he judged the whole issue +of the battle by what had happened to a detachment of Brunswickers.</p> + +<p>And yet, of course—before the charge—he had seen and known all that +Bobby told him now. That rush of the Brunswickers and the Dutch down the +hillside was only a part of the huge and glorious charge of the whole of +the Allied troops against the routed Grand Army of Napoleon. He had +neither the physical strength nor the desire to think out all that it +would mean to him personally if what Bobby now told him was indeed +absolutely true.</p> + +<p>He was longing to make the wounded man rouse himself just once more and +reiterate the glad news which meant so much to him—Maurice—and to +Crystal. But it was useless to think of that now. Bobby was either +unconscious or asleep. For a moment a twinge of real pity made St. +Genis' heart ache for the man who seemed to be left so lonely and so +desolate: jealousy itself gave way before that more gentle feeling. +After all, Crystal could only be true to the love of her childhood; her +heart belonged to the companion, the lover, the ideal of her girlish +dreams. This stranger here loved her—that was obvious—but Crystal had +never looked on him with anything but indifference. Even that dance last +night . . . but of this Maurice would not think lest pity die out of his +heart again . . . and jealousy and hate walk hand in hand with base +ingratitude.</p> + +<p>He turned his horse's head round to the road, pressed his knees into its +sides, and then as the poor, weary beast started to amble leisurely down +the road, Maurice looked back for the last time on the prostrate, +pathetic figure of the lonely man who had given his all for him: he +looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> at every landmark which would enable him to find that man +again—the angle of the forest where it touched the meadow,—the +milestone, the trees by the roadside—oh! he meant to do his duty, to do +it well and quickly, to send the conveyance, to neglect nothing; then, +with a sigh—half of bitterness, yet full of satisfaction—he finally +turned away and looked straight out before him into the distance where +Brussels lay, and where the happiness of Crystal's love called to him, +and he would find rest and peace in the warm affection of her faithful +heart.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE LOSING HANDS</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>An hour later Maurice de St. Genis was in Brussels. Though his head +still ached his mind was clear, and thoughts of Crystal—of happiness +with her now at last within sight—had chased every other thought away.</p> + +<p>His home had been with the de Cambrays ever since those old, sad days in +England; he had a home to go to now:—a home where the kindly friendship +of the Comte as well as the love of Crystal was ready to welcome him. +The warmth of anticipated happiness and well-being warmed his heart and +gave strength to his body. The horrors of the past few hours seemed all +to have melted away behind him on the Brussels road as did the +remembrance of a man—wounded himself and spent—risking his life for +the sake of a friend. Not that St. Genis meant to be ungrateful—nor did +he forget that wounded man—lying alone and sick on the fringe of the +wood by the roadside.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had taken his horse round to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, and before even he had a wash or had his uniform cleaned of +stains and mud, he rushed to the headquarters of the Army Service to see +how soon a conveyance could be sent out to his friend—and when he was +unable to obtain what he wanted there, he rushed from hospital to +hospital, thence to two or three doctors whom he knew of to see what +could be done. But the hospitals<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> were already over-full and over-busy: +their ambulances were all already on the way: as for the doctors, they +were all from home—all at work where their skill was most needed—an +army of doctors, of ambulances and drivers would not suffice at this +hour to bring all the wounded in from the spot where that awful battle +was raging.</p> + +<p>And Maurice saw time slipping by: he had already spent an hour in a +fruitless quest. He longed to see Crystal and waxed impatient at the +delay. Anon at the English hospital a kindly person—who listened +sympathetically to his tale—promised him that the ambulance which was +just setting out in the direction of Mont Saint Jean would be on the +look-out for his wounded friend by the roadside; and Maurice with a sigh +of relief felt that he had indeed done his duty and done his best.</p> + +<p>At the English hospital Clyffurde would be splendidly looked +after—nowhere else could he find such sympathetic treatment! And +Maurice with a light heart went back to the barracks in the rue des +Comédiens, where he had a wash and had his uniform cleaned. Somewhat +refreshed, though still very tired, he hurried round to the rue du +Marais, where the Comte de Cambray had his lodgings. The first sight of +Brussels had already told him the whole pitiable tale of panic and of +desolation which had filled the city in the wake of the fugitive troops. +The streets were encumbered with vehicles of every kind—carts, +barouches, barrows—with horses loosely tethered, with the wounded who +lay about on litters of straw along the edges of the pavement, in +doorways, under archways in the centre of open places, with crowds of +weeping women and crying children wandering aimlessly from place to +place trying to find the loved one who might be lying here, hurt or +mayhap dying.</p> + +<p>And everywhere men in tattered uniforms, with grimy hands and faces, and +boots knee-deep in stains of mud,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> stood about or sat in the empty +carts, talking, gesticulating, giving sundry, confused and contradictory +accounts of the great battle—describing Napoleon's decisive +victory—Wellington's rout—the prolonged absence of Blücher and the +Prussians, cause of the terrible disaster.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte d'Artois had rushed precipitately from Brussels up to Ghent +to warn His Majesty the King of France that all hope of saving his +throne was now at an end, and that the wisest course to pursue was to +return to England and resign himself once more to obscurity and exile.</p> + +<p>M. le Prince de Condé too had gone off to Antwerp in a huge barouche, +having under his care the treasure and jewels of the crown hastily +collected three months ago at the Tuileries.</p> + +<p>In every open space a number of prisoners were being guarded by mixed +patrols of Dutch, Belgian or German soldiers, and their cry of "Vive +l'Empereur!" which they reiterated with unshakable obstinacy roused the +ire of their captors, and provoked many a savage blow, and many a broken +head.</p> + +<p>But St. Genis did not pause to look on these sights: he had not the +strength to stand up in the midst of these confused masses of +terror-driven men and women, and to shout to them that they were +fools—that all their panic must be turned to joy, their lamentations to +shouts of jubilation. News of victory was bound to spread through the +city within the next hour, and he himself longed only to see Crystal, to +reassure her as to his own safety, to see the light of happiness kindled +in her eyes by the news which he brought. He had not the strength for +more.</p> + +<p>It was old Jeanne who opened the door at the lodgings in the rue du +Marais when Maurice finally rang the bell there.</p> + +<p>"M. le Marquis!" she exclaimed. "Oh! but you are ill."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>"Only very tired and weak, Jeanne," he said. "It has been an awful day."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but M. le Comte will be pleased!"</p> + +<p>"And Mademoiselle Crystal?" asked Maurice with a smile which had in it +all the self-confidence of the accepted lover.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Crystal will be happy too," said Jeanne. "She has been so +unhappy, so desperately anxious all day."</p> + +<p>"Can I see her?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is out for the moment, M. le Marquis. And M. le Comte has +gone to the Cercle des Légitimistes in the rue des Cendres—perhaps M. +le Marquis knows—it is not far."</p> + +<p>"I would like to see Mademoiselle Crystal first. You understand, don't +you, Jeanne?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, M. le Marquis," sighed faithful Jeanne, who was always +inclined to be sentimental.</p> + +<p>"How long will she be, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! another half hour. Perhaps more. Mademoiselle has gone to the +cathedral. If M. le Marquis will give himself the trouble to walk so +far, he cannot fail to see Mademoiselle when she comes out of church."</p> + +<p>But already—before Jeanne had finished speaking—Maurice had turned on +his heel and was speeding back down the narrow street. Tired and weak as +he was, his one idea was to see Crystal, to hear her voice, to see the +love-light in her eyes. He felt that at sight of her all fatigue would +be gone, all recollections of the horrors of this day wiped out with the +first look of joy and relief with which she would greet him.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>The service was over, and the congregation had filed out of the +cathedral. Crystal was one of the last to go. She stood for a long while +in the porch looking down with unseeing eyes on the bustle and +excitement which went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> on in the Place down below. Her mind was not +here. It was far indeed from the crowd of terror-stricken or gossiping +men and women, of wounded soldiers, terrified peasantry and anxious +townsfolk that encumbered the precincts of the stately edifice.</p> + +<p>From the remote distance—out toward the south—came the boom and roar +of cannon and musket fire—almost incessant still. There was her heart! +there her thoughts! with the brave men who were fighting for their +national existence—with the British troops and with their +sufferings—and she stood here, staring straight out before +her—dry-eyed and pale and small white hands clasped tightly together.</p> + +<p>The greater part of to-day she had sat by the open window in the shabby +drawing-room in the rue du Marais, listening to that awful fusillade, +wondering with mind well-nigh bursting with horror and with misery which +of those cruel shots which she heard in the dim distance would still for +ever the brave and loyal heart that had made so many silent sacrifices +for her.</p> + +<p>And her father, vaguely thinking that she was anxious about +Maurice—vaguely wondering that she cared so much—had done his best to +try and comfort her: "She need not fear much for Maurice," he had told +her as reassuringly as he could—"the Brunswickers were not likely to +suffer much. The brunt of the conflict would fall upon the British. Ah! +but they would lose very heavily. Wellington had not more than seventy +thousand men to put up against the Corsican's troops; and only a hundred +and fifty cannon against two hundred and eighty. Yes, the British would +probably be annihilated by superior forces: but no doubt the other +allies—and the Brunswickers—would come off a great deal better."</p> + +<p>But Mme. la Duchesse douairière d'Agen offered no such consolation. She +contented herself with saying that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> was sure in her mind that +Maurice would come through quite safely, and that she prayed to God with +all her heart and soul that the gallant British troops would not suffer +too heavily. Then with her fine, gentle hand she patted Crystal's fair +curls which were clinging matted and damp against the young girl's +burning forehead. And she stooped and kissed those aching dry blue eyes +and whispered quite under her breath so that Crystal could not be sure +if she heard correctly: "May God protect him too! He is a brave and a +good man!"</p> + +<p>And then Crystal had gone out to seek peace and rest in beautiful old +Ste. Gudule, so full of memories of other conflicts, other prayers, +other deeds of heroism of long ago. Here in the dim light and the +silence and the peace, her quivering nerves had become somewhat stilled: +and when she came out she was able just for the moment neither to see or +hear the terror-mongers down below and only to think of the heroes out +there on the field of battle for whom she had just prayed with such +passionate earnestness.</p> + +<p>Suddenly in the crowd she recognised Maurice. He was coming up the +cathedral steps, looking for her, no doubt—Jeanne must have directed +him. When he drew near to her, he saw that a look of happy surprise and +of true joy lit up the delicate pathos of her face. He ran quickly to +her now. He would have taken her in his arms—here in face of the +crowd—but there was something in her manner which instinctively sobered +him and he had to be content with the little cold hands which she held +out to him and with imprinting a kiss upon her finger tips.</p> + +<p>Already in his eyes she had read that the news which he brought was not +so bad as rumour had foretold.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," she cried excitedly, with a little catch in her throat, "you +are well and safe, thank God! And what news? . . ."</p> + +<p>"The news is good," Maurice replied. "Victory is as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>sured by now. It has +been a hard day, but we have won."</p> + +<p>She said nothing for a moment. But the tears gathered in her eyes, her +lips quivered and Maurice knew that she was thanking God. Then she +turned back to him and he could see her face glowing with excitement.</p> + +<p>"And our allies," she asked, and now that little catch in her throat was +more marked, "the British troops? . . . We heard that they behaved like +heroes, and bore the brunt of this awful battle."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about the British troops, my sweet," he replied +lightly, "but what news I have I will have to impart to your father as +well as to you. So it will have to keep until I see him . . . but just +now, Crystal, while we are alone . . . I have other things to say to +you."</p> + +<p>But it is doubtful if Crystal heard more than just the first words which +he had spoken, for she broke in quite irrelevantly:</p> + +<p>"You don't know about the British troops, Maurice? Oh! but you must +know! . . . Don't you know what British regiments were engaged? . . ."</p> + +<p>"I know that none of our own people were in British regiments, Crystal," +he retorted somewhat drily, "whereas the Brunswickers and Nassauers were +as much French as German . . . they fought gallantly all day . . . you +do not ask so much about them."</p> + +<p>"But . . ." she stammered while a hot flush spread over her cheeks, "I +thought . . . you said . . ."</p> + +<p>"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender +reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and +that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo? +Are you not glad that I am here?"</p> + +<p>He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm +attitude which had begun to chill him. Had he not been in deadly danger +all the day? Had she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> not heard that distant cannon's roar which had +threatened his life throughout all these hours? Had he not come back out +of the very jaws of Death?</p> + +<p>And yet here she stood white as a lily and as unruffled; except for that +one first exclamation of joy not a single cry from the heart had forced +itself through her pale, slightly trembling lips: yet she was sweet and +girlish and tender as of old and even now at the implied reproach her +eyes had quickly filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"How can you ask, Maurice?" she protested gently. "I have thought of you +and prayed for you all day."</p> + +<p>It was her quiet serenity that disconcerted him—the kindly tone of her +voice—her calm, unembarrassed manner checked his passionate impulse and +caused him to bite his underlip with vexation until it bled.</p> + +<p>The shadows of evening were closing in around them: from the windows of +the houses close by dim, yellow lights began to blink like eyes. +Overhead, the exquisite towers of Ste. Gudule stood out against the +stormy sky like perfect, delicate lace-work turned to stone, whilst the +glass of the west window glittered like a sheet of sapphires and +emeralds and rubies, as it caught the last rays of the sinking sun. +Crystal's graceful figure stood out in its white, summer draperies, +clear and crystalline as herself against the sombre background of the +cathedral porch.</p> + +<p>And Maurice watched her through the dim shadows of gathering twilight: +he watched her as a fowler watches the bird which he has captured and +never wholly tamed. Somehow he felt that her love for him was not quite +what it had been until now: that she was no longer the same girlish, +submissive creature on whose soft cheeks a word or look from him had the +power to raise a flush of joy.</p> + +<p>She was different now—in a curious, intangible way which he could not +define.</p> + +<p>And jealousy reared up its threatening head more in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>sistently:—bitter +jealousy which embraced de Marmont, Clyffurde, Fate and +Circumstance—but Clyffurde above all—the stranger hitherto deemed of +no account, but who now—wounded, abandoned, dying, perhaps—seemed a +more formidable rival than Maurice awhile ago had deemed possible.</p> + +<p>He cursed himself for that touch of sentiment—he called it +cowardice—which the other night, after the ball, had prompted him to +write to Crystal. But for that voluntary confession—he thought—she +could never have despised him. And following up the train of his own +thoughts, and realising that these had not been spoken aloud, he +suddenly called out abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Is it because of my letter, Crystal?"</p> + +<p>She gave a start, and turned even paler than she had been before. +Obviously she had been brought roughly back from the land of dreams.</p> + +<p>"Your letter, Maurice?" she asked vaguely, "what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I wrote you a letter the other night," he continued, speaking quickly +and harshly, "after the ball. Did you receive it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And read it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"And is it because of it that your love for me has gone?"</p> + +<p>He had not meant to put his horrible suspicions into words. The very +fact—now that he had spoken—appeared more tangible, even irremediable. +She did not reply to his taunt, and he came a little closer to her and +took her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it from his grasp he held +it tightly and bent down his head so that in the gathering gloom he +could read every line of her face.</p> + +<p>"Because of what I told you in my letter you despised me, did you not?" +he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>Again she made no reply. What could she say that would not hurt him far +more than did her silence? The next moment he had drawn her back right +into the shadow of the cathedral walls, into a dark angle, where no one +could see either her or him. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and +compelled her to look him straight in the face.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Crystal," he said slowly and with desperate earnestness. "Once, +long ago, I gave you up to de Marmont, to affluence and to +considerations of your name and of our caste. It all but broke my heart, +but I did it because your father demanded that sacrifice from you and +from me. I was ready then to stand aside and to give up all the dreams +of my youth. . . . But now everything is different. For one thing, the +events of the past hundred days have made every man many years older: +the hell I went through to-day has helped to make a more sober, more +determined man of me. Now I will not give you up. I will not. My way is +clear: I can win you with your father's consent and give him and you all +that de Marmont had promised. The King trusts me and will give me what I +ask. I am no longer a wastrel, no longer poor and obscure. And I will +not give you up—I swear it by all that I have gone through to-day. I +will not! if I have to kill with my own hand every one who stands in my +way."</p> + +<p>And Crystal, smiling, quite kindly and a little abstractedly at his +impulsive earnestness, gently removed his hands from her shoulders and +said calmly:</p> + +<p>"You are tired, Maurice, and overwrought. Shall we go in and wait for +father? He will be getting anxious about me." And without waiting to see +if he followed her, she turned to walk toward the steps.</p> + +<p>St. Genis smothered a violent oath, but he said nothing more. He was +satisfied with what he had done. He knew that women liked a masterful +man and he meant every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> word which he said. He would not give her up +. . . not now . . . and not to . . . Ye gods! he would not think of +that;—he would not think of the lonely roadside nor of the wounded man +who had robbed him of Crystal's love. He had done his duty by +Clyffurde—what more could he have done at this hour?—and he meant to +do far more than that—he meant to go back to the English hospital as +soon as possible, to see that Clyffurde had every attention, every care, +every comfort that human sympathy can bestow. What more could he do? He +would have done no good by going out with the ambulance himself—surely +not—he would have missed seeing Crystal—and she would have fretted and +been still more anxious . . . his first duty was to Crystal . . . and +. . . and . . . St. Genis only thought of Crystal and of himself and the +voice of Conscience was compulsorily stilled.</p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Having lulled his conscience to sleep and satisfied his self-love by a +passionate tirade, Maurice followed Crystal down the steps at the west +front of Ste. Gudule.</p> + +<p>Immediately opposite them at the corner of the narrow rue de Ligne was +the old Auberge des Trois Rois, from whence the diligence started twice +a day in time to catch the tide and the English packet at Ostend. +Maurice and Crystal stood for a moment together on the steps watching +the bustle and excitement, the comings and goings of the crowd, which +always attend such departures. All day there had been a steady stream of +fugitives out of the town, taking their belongings with them: the +diligence was for the well-to-do and the indifferent who hurried away to +England to await the advent of more settled times.</p> + +<p>Victor de Marmont had secured his place inside the coach. He had +exchanged his borrowed uniform for civilian clothes, he had bestowed his +belongings in the ve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>hicle and he was standing about desultorily waiting +for the hour of departure. The diligence would not arrive at Ostend till +five o'clock in the morning: then with the tide the packet would go out, +getting into London well after midday. Chance, as represented by the +tide, had seriously handicapped de Marmont's plans. But enthusiasm and +doggedness of purpose whispered to him that he still held the winning +card. The English packet was timed to arrive in London by two o'clock in +the afternoon, he would still have two hours to his credit before +closing time on 'Change and another hour in the street. Time to find his +broker and half an hour to spare: that would still leave him an hour +wherein to make a fortune for his Emperor.</p> + +<p>At one time he was afraid that he would not be able to secure a seat in +the diligence, so numerous were the travellers who wished to leave +Brussels behind them. But in this, Chance and the length of his purse +favoured him: he bought his seat for an exorbitant price, but he bought +it; and at nine o'clock the diligence was timed to start.</p> + +<p>It was now half-past eight. And just then de Marmont caught sight of +Crystal and St. Genis coming down the cathedral steps.</p> + +<p>He had half an hour to spare and he followed them. He wanted to speak to +Crystal—he had wanted it all day—but the difficulty of getting what +clothes he required and the trouble and time spent in bargaining for a +seat in the diligence had stood in his way. M. le Comte de Cambray would +never, of course, admit him inside his doors, and it would have meant +hanging about in the rue du Marais and trusting to a chance meeting with +Crystal when she went out, and for this he had not the time.</p> + +<p>And the chance meeting had come about in spite of all adverse +circumstances: and de Marmont followed Crystal through the crowded +streets, hoping that St. Genis would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> take leave of her before she went +indoors. But even if he did not, de Marmont meant to have a few words +with Crystal. He was going to win a gigantic fortune for the +Emperor—one wherewith that greatest of all adventurers could once again +recreate the Empire of France: he himself—rich already—would become +richer still and also—if his coup succeeded—one of the most trusted, +most influential men in the recreated Empire. He felt that with the +offer of his name he could pour out a veritable cornucopia of abundant +glory, honours, wealth at a woman's feet. And his ambition had always +been bound up in a great measure with Crystal de Cambray. He certainly +loved her in his way, for her beauty and her charm; but, above all, he +looked on her as the very personification of the old and proud regime +which had thought fit to scorn the parvenu noblesse of the Empire, and +for a powerful adherent of Napoleon to be possessed of a wife out of +that exclusive milieu was like a fresh and glorious trophy of war on a +conqueror's chariot-wheel.</p> + +<p>De Marmont had the supreme faith of an ambitious man in the power of +wealth and of court favour. He knew that Napoleon was not a man who ever +forgot a service efficiently rendered, and would repay this +one—rendered at the supreme hour of disaster—with a surfeit of +gratitude and of gifts which must perforce dazzle any woman's eyes and +conquer her imagination.</p> + +<p>Besides his schemes, his ambitions, the future which awaited him, what +had an impecunious wastrel like St. Genis to offer to a woman like +Crystal de Cambray?</p> + +<p class="section_break">Outside the house in the rue du Marais where the Comte de Cambray +lodged, St. Genis and Crystal paused, and de Marmont, who still kept +within the shadows, waited for a favourable opportunity to make his +presence known.</p> + +<p>"I'll find M. le Comte and bring him back with me," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> heard St. Genis +saying. "You are sure I shall find him at the Légitimiste?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," Crystal replied. "He did not mean to leave the Cercle till +about nine. He is sure to wait for every bit of news that comes in."</p> + +<p>"It will be a great moment for me, if I am the first to bring in +authentic good news."</p> + +<p>"You will be quite the first, I should say," she assented, "but don't +let father stay too long talking. Bring him back quickly. Remember I +haven't heard all the news yet myself."</p> + +<p>St. Genis went up to the front door and rang the bell, then he took +leave of Crystal. De Marmont waited his opportunity. Anon, Jeanne opened +the door, and St. Genis walked quickly back down the street.</p> + +<p>Crystal paused a moment by the open door in order to talk to Jeanne, and +while she did so de Marmont slipped quickly past her into the house and +was some way down the corridor before the two women had recovered from +their surprise. Jeanne, as was her wont, was ready to scream, but +despite the fast gathering gloom Crystal had at once recognised de +Marmont. She turned a cold look upon him.</p> + +<p>"An intrusion, Monsieur?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"We'll call it that, Mademoiselle, an you will," he replied +imperturbably, "and if you will kindly order your servant to go, it +shall be a very brief one."</p> + +<p>"My father is from home," she said.</p> + +<p>De Marmont smiled and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I know that," he said, "or I would not be here."</p> + +<p>"Then your intrusion is that of a coward, if you knew that I was +unprotected."</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid of me, Crystal?" he asked with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid of no one," she replied. "But since you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> and I have nothing +to say to one another, I beg that you will no longer force your company +upon me."</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, but there is something very important which I must say to +you. I have news of to-day's doings out there at Waterloo, which bear +upon the whole of your future and upon your happiness. I myself leave +for England in less than half an hour. I was taking my place in the +diligence outside the Trois Rois when I saw you coming down the +cathedral steps. Fate has given me an opportunity for which I sought +vainly all day. You will never regret it, Crystal, if you listen to me +now."</p> + +<p>"I listen," she broke in coolly. "I pray you be as brief as you can."</p> + +<p>"Will you order the servant to go?"</p> + +<p>For a moment longer she hesitated. Commonsense told her that it was +neither prudent nor expedient to hold converse with this man, who was an +avowed and bitter enemy of her cause. But he had spoken of the doings at +Waterloo and spoken of them in connection with her own future and her +happiness, and—prudent or not—she wanted to hear what he had to say, +in the vague hope that from a chance word carelessly dropped by Victor +de Marmont she would glean, if only a scrap, some news of that on which +St. Genis would not dwell but on which hung her heart and her very +life—the fate of the British troops.</p> + +<p>After all he might know something, he might say something which would +help her to bear this intolerable misery of uncertainty: and on the +merest chance of that she threw prudence to the winds.</p> + +<p>"You may go, Jeanne," she said. "But remain within call. Leave the front +door open," she added. "M. le Comte and M. le Marquis will be here +directly."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you are well protected," said Victor de Marmont with a careless +shrug of the shoulders, as Jeanne's heavy, shuffling footsteps died away +down the corridor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>"Now, M. de Marmont," said Crystal coolly. "I listen."</p> + +<p>She was leaning back against the wall—her hands behind her, her pale +face and large blue eyes with their black dilated pupils turned +questioningly upon him. The walls of the corridor were painted white, +after the manner of Flemish houses, the tiled floor was white too, and +Crystal herself was dressed all in white, so that the whole scene made +up of pale, soft tints looked weird and ghostly in the twilight and +Crystal like an ethereal creature come down from the land of nymphs and +of elves.</p> + +<p>And de Marmont, too—like St. Genis a while ago—felt that never had +this beautiful woman—she was no longer a girl now—looked more +exquisite and more desirable, and he—conscious of the power which +fortune and success can give, thought that he could woo and win her once +again in spite of caste-prejudice and of political hatred. St. Genis had +felt his position unassailable by virtue of old associations, common +sympathies and youthful vows: de Marmont relied on feminine ambition, +love of power, of wealth and of station, and at this moment in Crystal's +shining eyes he only read excitement and the unspoken desire for all +that he was prepared to offer.</p> + +<p>"I have only a few moments to spare, Crystal," he said slowly, and with +earnest emphasis, "so I will be very brief. For the moment the Emperor +has suffered a defeat—as he did at Eylau or at Leipzic—his defeats are +always momentary, his victories alone are decisive and abiding. The +whole world knows that. It needs no proclaiming from me. But in order to +retrieve that momentary defeat of to-day he has deigned to ask my help. +The gods are good to me! they have put it within my power to help my +Emperor in his need. I am going to England to-night in order to carry +out his instructions. By to-morrow afternoon I shall have finished my +work. The Empire of France will once more rise triumphant and glorious +out of the ashes of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> a brief defeat; the Emperor once more, Phœbus-like, +will drive the chariot of the Sun, Lord and Master of Europe, greater +since his downfall, more powerful, more majestic than ever before. And +I, who will have been the humble instrument of his reconquered glory, +will deserve to the full his bounty and his gratitude."</p> + +<p>He paused for lack of breath, for indeed he had talked fast and volubly: +Crystal's voice, cold and measured, broke in on the silence that ensued.</p> + +<p>"And in what way does all this concern me, M. de Marmont?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It concerns your whole future, Crystal," he replied with ever-growing +solemnity and conviction. "You must have known all along that I have +never ceased to love you: you have always been the only possible woman +for me—my ideal, in fact. Your father's injustice I am willing to +forget. Your troth was plighted to me and I have done nothing to deserve +all the insults which he thought fit to heap upon me. I wanted you to +know, Crystal, that my love is still yours, and that the fortune and +glory which I now go forth to win I will place with inexpressible joy at +your feet."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and an air of supreme indifference spread +over her face. "Is that all?" she asked coldly.</p> + +<p>"All? What do you mean? I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"I mean that you persuaded me to listen to you on the pretence that you +had news to tell me of the doings at Waterloo—news on which my +happiness depended. You have not told me a single fact that concerns me +in the least."</p> + +<p>"It concerns you as it concerns me, Crystal. Your happiness is bound up +with mine. You are still my promised wife. I go to win glory for my name +which will soon be yours. You and I, Crystal, hand in hand! think of +it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> our love has survived the political turmoils—united in love, +united in glory, you and I will be the most brilliant stars that will +shine at the Imperial Court of France."</p> + +<p>She did not try to interrupt his tirade, but looked on him with cool +wonderment, as one gazes on some curious animal that is raving and +raging behind iron bars. When he had finished she said quietly:</p> + +<p>"You are mad, I think, M. de Marmont. At any rate, you had better go +now: time is getting on, and you will lose your place in the diligence."</p> + +<p>He was less to her than the dust under her feet, and his protestations +had not even the power to rouse her wrath. Indeed, all that worried her +at this moment was vexation with herself for having troubled to listen +to him at all: it had been worse than foolish to suppose that he had any +news to impart which did not directly concern himself. So now, while he, +utterly taken aback, was staring at her open-mouthed and bewildered, she +turned away, cold and full of disdain, gathering her draperies round +her, and started to walk slowly toward the stairs. Her clinging white +skirt made a soft, swishing sound as it brushed the tiled floor, and she +herself—with her slender figure, graceful neck and crown of golden +curls, looked, as the gloom of evening wrapped her in, more like an +intangible elf—an apparition—gliding through space, than just a +scornful woman who had thought fit to reject the importunate addresses +of an unwelcome suitor.</p> + +<p>She left de Marmont standing there in the corridor—like some +presumptuous beggar—burning with rage and humiliation, too +insignificant even to be feared. But he was not the man to accept such a +situation calmly: his love for Crystal had never been anything but a +selfish one—born of the desire to possess a high-born, elegant wife, +taken out of the very caste which had scorned him and his kind: her +acquiescence he had always taken for granted: her love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> he meant to win +after his wooing of her hand had been successful—until then he could +wait. So certain too was he of his own power to win her, in virtue of +all that he had to offer, that he would not take her scorn for real or +her refusal to listen to him as final.</p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>Before she had reached the foot of the stairs, he was already by her +side, and with a masterful hand upon her arm had compelled her, by +physical strength, to turn and to face him once more.</p> + +<p>"Crystal," he said, forcing himself to speak quietly, even though his +voice quivered with excitement and passionate wrath, "as you say, I have +only a few moments to spare, but they are just long enough for me to +tell you that it is you who are mad. I daresay that it is difficult to +believe in the immensity of a disaster. M. de St. Genis no doubt has +been filling your ears with tales of the allied armies' victories. But +look at me, Crystal—look at me and tell me if you have ever seen a man +more in deadly earnest. I tell you that I am on my way to aid the +Emperor in reforming his Empire on a more solid basis than it has ever +stood before. Have you ever known Napoleon to fail in what he set +himself to do? I tell you that he is not crushed—that he is not even +defeated. Within a month the allies will be on their knees begging for +peace. The era of your Bourbon kings is more absolutely dead to-day than +it has ever been. And after to-day there will be nothing for a royalist +like your father or like Maurice de St. Genis but exile and humiliation +more dire than before. Your father's fate rests entirely in your hands. +I can direct his destiny, his life or his death, just as I please. When +you are my wife, I will forgive him the insults which he heaped on me at +Brestalou . . . but not before. . . . As for Maurice de St. Genis +. . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>"And what of him, you abominable cur?"</p> + +<p>The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's +lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands +gripping him by the throat. The attack was so swift and so unexpected +that he was entirely off his guard: he lost his footing upon the +slippery floor, and before he could recover himself he was being forced +back and back until his spine was bent nearly double and his head +pressed down backward almost to the level of his knees.</p> + +<p>"Let him go, Maurice! you might kill him. Throw him out of the door."</p> + +<p>It was M. le Comte de Cambray who spoke. He and St. Genis had arrived +just in time to save Crystal from a further unpleasant scene. She, +however, had not lost her presence of mind. She had certainly listened +to de Marmont's final tirade, because she knew that she was helpless in +his hands, but she had never been frightened for a moment. Jeanne was +within call, and she herself had never been timorous: at the same time +she was thankful enough that her father and St. Genis were here.</p> + +<p>Maurice was almost blind with rage: he would have killed de Marmont but +for the Comte's timely words, which luckily had the effect of sobering +him at this critical moment. He relaxed his convulsive grip on de +Marmont's throat, but the latter had already lost his balance; he fell +heavily, his body sliding along the slippery floor, while his head +struck against the projecting woodwork of the door.</p> + +<p>He uttered a loud cry of pain as he fell, then remained lying inert on +the ground, and in the dim light his face took on an ashen hue.</p> + +<p>In an instant Crystal was by his side.</p> + +<p>"You have killed him, Maurice," she cried, as woman-like—tender and +full of compassion now—she ran to the stricken man.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>"I hope I have," said St. Genis sullenly. "He deserved the death of a +cur."</p> + +<p>"Father, dear," said Crystal authoritatively, "will you call to Jeanne +to bring water, a sponge, towels—quickly: also some brandy."</p> + +<p>She paid no heed to St. Genis: and she had already forgotten de +Marmont's dastardly attitude toward herself. She only saw that he was +helpless and in pain: she knelt by his side, pillowed his head on her +lap, and with soothing, gentle fingers felt his shoulders, his arms, to +see where he was hurt. He opened his eyes very soon and encountered +those tender blue eyes so full of sweet pity now: "It is only my head, I +think," he said.</p> + +<p>Then he tried to move, but fell back again with a groan of pain: "My leg +is broken, I am afraid," he murmured feebly.</p> + +<p>"I had best fetch a doctor," rejoined M. le Comte.</p> + +<p>"If you can find one, father, dear," said Crystal. "M. de Marmont ought +to be moved at once to his home."</p> + +<p>"No! no!" protested Victor feebly, "not home! to the Trois Rois . . . +the diligence. . . . I must go to England to-night . . . the Emperor's +orders."</p> + +<p>"The doctor will decide," said Crystal gently. "Father, dear, will you +go?"</p> + +<p>Jeanne came with water and brandy. De Marmont drank eagerly of the one, +and then sipped the other.</p> + +<p>"I must go," he said more firmly, "the diligence starts at nine +o'clock."</p> + +<p>Again he tried to move, and a great cry of agony rose to his throat—not +of physical pain, though that was great too, but the wild, agonising +shriek of mental torment, of disappointment and wrath and misery, +greater than human heart could bear.</p> + +<p>"The Emperor's orders!" he cried. "I must go!"</p> + +<p>Crystal was silent. There was something great and ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>jestic, something +that compelled admiration and respect in this tragic impotence, this +failure brought about by uncontrolled passion at the very hour when +success—perhaps—might yet have changed the whole destinies of the +world. De Marmont lying here, helpless to aid his Emperor—through the +furious and jealous attack of a rival—was at this moment more worthy of +a good woman's regard than he had been in the flush of his success and +of his arrogance, for his one thought was of the Emperor and what he +could no longer do for him. He tried to move and could not: "The +Emperor's orders!" came at times with pathetic persistence from his +lips, and Crystal—woman-like—tried to soothe and comfort him in his +failure, even though his triumph would only have aroused her scorn.</p> + +<p>And time sped on. From the towers of the cathedral came booming the hour +of nine. The shadows in the narrow street were long and dark, only a +pale thin reflex of the cold light of the moon struck into the open +doorway and the white corridor, and detached de Marmont's pale face from +the surrounding gloom.</p> + +<p>The Emperor's orders and because of a woman these could now no longer be +obeyed. If de Marmont had not seen Crystal on the cathedral steps, if he +had not followed her—if he had not allowed his passion and arrogant +self-will to blind him to time and to surroundings—who knows? but the +whole map of Europe might yet have been changed.</p> + +<p>A fortune in London was awaiting a gambler who chose to stake everything +on a last throw—a fortune wherewith the greatest adventurer the world +has ever known might yet have reconstituted an army and reconquered an +Empire—and he who might have won that fortune was lying in the narrow +corridor of an humble lodging house—with a broken leg—helpless and +eating out his heart now with vain regret. Why? Because of a girl with +fair curls and blue eyes—just a woman—young and desirable—another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +tiny pawn in the hands of the Great Master of this world's game.</p> + +<p>The rain in the morning at Waterloo—Blücher's arrival or Grouchy's—a +man's selfish passion for a woman who cared nothing for him—who shall +dare to say that these tiny, trivial incidents changed the destinies of +the world?</p> + +<p>Think on it, O ye materialists! ye worshippers of Chance! Is it indeed +the infinitesimal doings of pigmies that bring about the great upheavals +of the earth? Do ye not rather see God's will in that fall of rain? +God's breath in those dying heroes who fell on Mont Saint Jean? do ye +not recognise that it was God's finger that pointed the way to Blücher +and stretched de Marmont down helpless on the ground?</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>The arrival of M. le Comte de Cambray, accompanied by a doctor and two +men carrying an improvised stretcher, broke the spell of silence that +had fallen on this strange scene of pathetic failure which seemed but an +humble counterpart of that great and irretrievable one which was being +enacted at this same hour far away on the road to Genappe.</p> + +<p>After the booming of the cathedral clock, de Marmont had ceased to +struggle: he accepted defeat probably because he, too—in spite of +himself—saw that the day of his idol's destiny was over, and that the +brilliant Star which had glittered on the firmament of Europe for a +quarter of a century had by the will of God now irretrievably declined. +He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of +gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly +placid and quiescent.</p> + +<p>Even, perhaps—for such is human nature and such the heart of youth—as +he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> so much pity toward him a sense +of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts +away. Crystal was kind—he argued to himself—she has already +forgiven—women are so ready to forgive faults and errors that spring +from an intensity of love.</p> + +<p>He sought her hand and she gave it—just as a sweet Sister of Mercy and +Gentleness would do, for whom the individual man—even the enemy—does +not exist—only the suffering human creature whom her touch can soothe. +He persuaded himself easily enough that when he pressed her hand she +returned the pressure, and renewed hope went forth once more soaring +upon the wings of fancy.</p> + +<p>Then the doctor came. M. le Comte had been fortunate in securing +him—had with impulsive generosity promised him ample payment—and then +brought him along without delay. He praised Mlle. de Cambray for her +kindness to the patient, asked a few questions as to how the accident +had occurred, and was satisfied that M. de Marmont had slipped on the +tiled floor and then struck his head against the door. He was not likely +to examine the purple bruises on the patient's throat: his business +began and ended with a broken leg to mend. As M. le Comte de Cambray +assured him that M. de Marmont was very wealthy, the worthy doctor most +readily offered his patient the hospitality of his own house until +complete recovery.</p> + +<p>He then superintended the lifting of the sick man on to the stretcher, +and having taken final leave of M. le Comte, Mademoiselle and all those +concerned and given his instructions to the bearers, he was the first to +leave the house.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte, pleasantly conscious of Christian duty toward an enemy +nobly fulfilled, nodded curtly to de Marmont, whom he hated with all his +heart, and then turned his back on an exceedingly unpleasant scene, +fervently wishing that it had never occurred in his house, and equally +fervently thankful that the accident had not more fateful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> consequences. +He retired to his smoking-room, calling to St. Genis and to Crystal to +follow him.</p> + +<p>But Crystal did not go at once. She stood in the dark corridor—quite +still—watching the stretcher bearers in their careful, silent work, +little guessing on what a filmy thread her whole destiny was hanging at +this moment. The Fates were spinning, spinning, spinning and she did not +know it. Had the solemn silence which hung so ominously in the twilight +not been broken till after the sick man had been borne away, the whole +of Crystal's future would have been shaped differently.</p> + +<p>But as with the rain at Waterloo, God had need of a tool for the +furtherance of His will and it was Maurice de St. Genis whom He +chose—Maurice who with his own words set the final seal to his destiny.</p> + +<p>De Marmont's eyes as he was being carried over the threshold dwelt upon +the graceful form of Crystal—clad all in white—all womanliness and +gentleness now—her sweet face only faintly distinguishable in the +gloom. St. Genis, whose nerves were still jarred with all that he had +gone through to-day and irritated by Crystal's assiduity beside the sick +man, resented that last look of farewell which de Marmont dared to throw +upon the woman whom he loved. An ungenerous impulse caused him to try +and aim a last moral blow at his enemy:</p> + +<p>"Come, Crystal," he said coldly, "the man has been better looked after +than he deserves. But for your father's interference I should have wrung +his neck like the cowardly brute that he was."</p> + +<p>And with the masterful air of a man who has both right and privilege on +his side, he put his arm round Crystal's waist and tried to draw her +away, and as he did so he whispered a tender: "Come, Crystal!" in her +ear.</p> + +<p>De Marmont—who at this moment was taking a last fond look at the girl +he loved, and was busy the while making<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> plans for a happy future +wherein Crystal would play the chief rôle and would console him for all +disappointments by the magnitude of her love—de Marmont was brought +back from the land of dreams by the tender whisperings of his rival. His +own helplessness sent a flood of jealous wrath surging up to his brain. +The wild hatred which he had always felt for St. Genis ever since that +awful humiliation which he had suffered at Brestalou, now blinded him to +everything save to the fact that here was a rival who was gloating over +his helplessness—a man who twice already had humiliated him before +Crystal de Cambray—a man who had every advantage of caste and of +community of sympathy! a man therefore who must be in his turn +irretrievably crushed in the sight of the woman whom he still hoped to +win!</p> + +<p>De Marmont had no definite idea as to what he meant to do. Perhaps, just +at this moment, the pale, intangible shadow of Reason had lifted up one +corner of the veil that hid the truth from before his eyes—the absolute +and naked fact that Crystal de Cambray was not destined for him. She +would never marry him—never. The Empire of France was no more—the +Emperor was a fugitive. To St. Genis and his caste belonged the +future—and the turn had come for the adherents of the fallen Emperor to +sink into obscurity or to go into exile.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, it is certain that in this fateful moment de Marmont +was only conscious of an all-powerful overwhelming feeling of hatred and +the determination that whatever happened to himself he must and would +prevent St. Genis from ever approaching Crystal de Cambray with words of +love again. That he had the power to do this he was fully conscious.</p> + +<p>"Crystal!" he called, and at the same time ordered the bearers to halt +on the doorstep for a moment. "Crystal, will you give me your hand in +farewell?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>The young girl would probably have complied with his wish, but St. Genis +interposed.</p> + +<p>"Crystal," he said authoritatively, "your father has already called you. +You have done everything that Christian charity demands. . . ." And once +more he tried to draw the young girl away.</p> + +<p>"Do not touch her, man," called de Marmont in a loud voice, "a coward +like you has no right to touch the hand of a good woman."</p> + +<p>"M. de Marmont," broke in Crystal hotly, "you presume on your +helplessness. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Pay no heed to the ravings of a maniac, Crystal," interposed St. Genis +calmly, "he has fallen so low now, that contemptuous pity is all that he +deserves."</p> + +<p>"And contempt without pity is all that you deserve, M. le Marquis de St. +Genis," cried de Marmont excitedly. "Ask him, Mademoiselle Crystal, ask +him where is the man who to-day saved his life? whom I myself saw to-day +on the roadside, wounded and half dead with fatigue, on horseback, with +the inert body of M. de St. Genis lying across his saddle-bow. Ask him +how he came to lie across that saddle-bow? and whether his English +friend and mine, Bobby Clyffurde, did not—as any who passed by could +guess—drag him out of that hell at Waterloo and bring him into safety, +whilst risking his own life. Ask him," he continued, working himself up +into a veritable fever of vengeful hatred, as he saw that St. +Genis—sullen and glowering—was doing his best to drag Crystal away, to +prevent her from listening further to this awful indictment, these +ravings of a lunatic half-distraught with hate. "Ask him where is +Clyffurde now? to what lonely spot he has crawled in order to die while +M. le Marquis de St. Genis came back in gay apparel to court Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray? Ah! M. de St. Genis, you tried to heap opprobrium +upon me—you talked glibly of contempt and of pity. Of a truth 'tis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> I +do pity you now, for Mademoiselle Crystal will surely ask you all those +questions, and by the Lord I marvel how you will answer them."</p> + +<p>He fell back exhausted, in a dead faint no doubt, and St. Genis with a +wild cry like that of a beast in fury seized the nearest weapon that +came to his hand—a heavy oak chair which stood against the wall in the +corridor—and brandished it over his head. He would—had not Crystal at +once interposed—have killed de Marmont with one blow: even so he tried +to avoid Crystal in order to forge for himself a clear passage, to free +himself from all trammels so that he might indulge his lust to kill.</p> + +<p>"Take the sick man away! quickly!" cried Crystal to the stretcher +bearers. And they—realising the danger—the awfulness of the tragedy +which, with that clumsy weapon wielded by a man who was maddened with +rage, was hovering in the air, hurried over the threshold with their +burden as fast as they could: then out into the street: and Crystal +seizing hold of the front door shut it to with a loud bang after them.</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>Then with a cry that was just primitive in its passion—savage almost +like that of a lioness in the desert who has been robbed of her +young—she turned upon St. Genis:</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" she called, and her voice was quite unrecognisable, +harsh and hoarse and peremptory.</p> + +<p>"Crystal, let me assure you," protested Maurice, "that I have already +done all that lay in my power. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" she broke in with the same fierce intensity.</p> + +<p>She stood there before him—wild, haggard, palpitating—a passionate +creature passionately demanding to know where the loved one was. It +seemed as if she would have torn the words out of St. Genis' throat, so +bitter and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>tense was the look of contempt and of hatred wherewith she +looked on him.</p> + +<p>M. le Comte—very much upset and ruffled by all that he had heard—came +out of his room just in time to see the stretcher-bearers disappearing +with their burden through the front door, and the door itself closed to +with a bang by Crystal. Truly his sense of decorum and of the fitness of +things had received a severe shock and now he had the additional +mortification of seeing his beautiful daughter—his dainty and +aristocratic Crystal—in a state bordering on frenzy.</p> + +<p>"My darling Crystal," he exclaimed, as he made his way quickly to her +side and put a restraining hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>But Crystal now was far beyond his control: she shook off his hand—she +paid no heed to him, she went closer up to St. Genis and once more +repeated her ardent, passionate query:</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"At the English hospital, I hope," said St. Genis with as much cool +dignity as he could command. "Have I not assured you, Crystal, that I've +done all I could? . . ."</p> + +<p>"At the English hospital? . . . you hope? . . ." she retorted in a voice +that sounded trenchant and shrill through the overwhelming passion which +shook and choked it in her throat. "But the roadside—where you left him +. . . to die in a ditch perhaps . . . like a dog that has no home? . . . +where was that?"</p> + +<p>"I gave full directions at the English hospital," he replied. "I +arranged for an ambulance to go and find him . . . for a bed for him +. . . I. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Give me those directions," she commanded.</p> + +<p>"On the way to Waterloo . . . on the left side of the road . . . close +by the six kilomètre milestone . . . the angle of the forest of Soigne +is just there . . . and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> is a meadow which joins the edge of the +wood where they were making hay to-day. . . . No driver can fail to find +the place, Crystal . . . the ambulance. . . ."</p> + +<p>But now she was no longer listening to him. She had abruptly turned her +back on him and made for the door. Her father interposed.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to do, Crystal?" he said peremptorily.</p> + +<p>"Go to him, of course," she said quietly—for she was quite calm now—at +any rate outwardly—strong and of set purpose.</p> + +<p>"But you do not know where he is."</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the English hospital first . . . father, dear, will you let +me pass?"</p> + +<p>"Crystal," said M. le Comte firmly, as he stood his ground between his +daughter and the door, "you cannot go rushing through the streets of +Brussels alone—at this hour of the night—through all the soldiery and +all the drunken rabble."</p> + +<p>"He is dying," she retorted, "and I am going to find him. . . ."</p> + +<p>"You have taken leave of your senses, Crystal," said the Comte sternly. +"You seem to have forgotten your own personal dignity. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Father! let me go!" she demanded—for she had tried to measure her +physical strength against his, and he was holding her wrists now whilst +a look of great anger was on his face.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that +lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added +harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to +second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at +this hour of the night."</p> + +<p>"But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke +in a tart voice from the back of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> corridor. "Crystal, child! try and +bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to +the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good +enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me."</p> + +<p>And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and +practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful +Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief—almost of happiness—Crystal at +last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the +old woman: "<i>Ma tante</i>," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . +if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break."</p> + +<p>M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an +argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a +look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to +interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as +she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her—with or +without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but +one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by +making the best of this situation—of which he still highly disapproved.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your +way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to +nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist +that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career +about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench."</p> + +<p>"Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as +your father wishes—it will save a lot of argument and save time as +well."</p> + +<p>But even before the words were out of Madame's mouth, Crystal was +running along the corridor—ready to obey. At the foot of the stairs St. +Genis intercepted her.</p> + +<p>"Let me pass!" she cried wildly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>"Not before you have said that you have forgiven me!" he entreated as he +clung to her white draperies with a passionate gesture of appeal.</p> + +<p>An exclamation which was almost one of loathing escaped her lips and +with a jerk she freed her skirt from his clutch. Then she ran quickly up +the stairs. Outside the door of her own room on the first landing she +paused for one minute, and from out of the gloom her voice came to him +like the knell of passing hope.</p> + +<p>"If he comes back alive out of the hell to which you condemned him," she +said, "I may in the future endure the sight of you again. . . . If he +dies . . . may God forgive you!"</p> + +<p>The opening and shutting of a door told him that she was gone, and he +was left in company with his shame.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE WINNING HAND</h3> + + +<p>Until far into the night the air reverberated with incessant +cannonade—from the direction of Genappe and from that of Wavre—but +just before dawn all was still. The stream of convoys which bore the +wounded along the road to Brussels from Mont Saint Jean and Hougoumont +and La Haye Sainte had momentarily ceased its endless course. The sky +had that perfect serenity of a midsummer's night, starlit and azure with +the honey-coloured moon sinking slowly down towards the west. Here at +the edge of the wood the air had a sweet smell of wet earth and damp +moss and freshly cut hay: it had all the delicious softness of a loved +one's embrace.</p> + +<p>Through the roar of distant cannonade, Bobby had slept. For a time after +St. Genis left him he had watched the long straight road with dull, +unseeing eyes—he had seen the first convoy, overfilled with wounded men +lying huddled on heaped-up straw, and had thanked God that he was lying +on this exquisitely soft carpet made of thousands of tiny green +plants—moss, grass, weeds, young tendrils and growing buds and opening +leaves that were delicious to the touch. He had quite forgotten that he +was wounded—neither his head nor his leg nor his arm seemed to hurt him +now: and he was able to think in peace of Crystal and of her happiness.</p> + +<p>St. Genis would have come to her by then: she would be happy to see him +safe and well, and perhaps—in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> midst of her joy—she would think of +the friend who so gladly offered up his life for her.</p> + +<p>When the air around was no longer shaken by constant repercussion, Bobby +fell asleep. It was not yet dawn, even though far away in the east there +was a luminous veil that made the sky look like living silver. Behind +him among the trees there was a moving and a fluttering—the birds were +no longer asleep—they had not begun to sing but they were shaking out +their feathers and opening tiny, round eyes in farewell to departing +night.</p> + +<p>That gentle fluttering was a sweet lullaby, and Bobby slept and +dreamed—he dreamed that the fluttering became louder and louder, and +that, instead of birds, it was a group of angels that shook their wings +and stood around him as he slept.</p> + +<p>One of the angels came nearer and laid a hand upon his head—and Bobby +dreamed that the angel spoke and the words that it said filled Bobby's +heart with unearthly happiness.</p> + +<p>"My love! my love!" the angel said, "will you try and live for my sake?"</p> + +<p>And Bobby would not open his eyes, for fear the angel should go away. +And though he knew exactly where he was, and could feel the soft carpet +of leaves, and smell the sweet moisture in the air, he knew that he must +still be dreaming, for angels are not of this earth.</p> + +<p>Then a strong kind hand touched his wrist, and felt the beating of his +heart, and a rough, pleasant voice said in English: "He is exhausted and +very weak, but the fever is not high: he will soon be all right." And to +add to the wonderful strangeness of his dream, the angel's voice near +him murmured: "Thank God! thank God!"</p> + +<p>Why should an angel thank God that he—Bobby Clyffurde—was not likely +to die?</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>—bending over +him—a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever +seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled +like rose-leaves in the breeze. He was still dreaming and there was a +haze between him and that perfect vision of loveliness. And the kind, +rough voice somewhere close by said: "Have you got that stretcher +ready?" and two other voices replied, "Yes, Sir."</p> + +<p>But the lips close above him said nothing, and it was Bobby now who +murmured: "My love, is it you?"</p> + +<p>"Your love for always," the dear lips replied, "nothing shall part us +now. Yours for always to bring you back to life. Yours when you will +claim me—yours for life."</p> + +<p>They lifted him onto a stretcher, and then into a carriage and a very +kind face which he quickly enough recognised as Mme. la Duchesse +d'Agen's smiled very encouragingly upon him, whereupon he could not help +but ask a very pertinent question:</p> + +<p>"Mme. la Duchesse, is all this really happening?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, my good man," Madame replied; and indeed there was nothing +dreamlike in her tart, dry voice: "Crystal and I really have dragged Dr. +Scott away from the bedside of innumerable other sick and wounded men, +and also from any hope of well-earned rest to-night: we have also really +brought him to a spot very accurately described by our worthy friend, +St. Genis, but where, unfortunately, you had not chosen to remain, else +we had found you an hour sooner. Is there anything else you want to +know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! Madame la Duchesse, many things," murmured Bobby. "Please go +on telling me."</p> + +<p>Madame laughed: "Well!" she said, "perhaps you would like to know that +some kind of instinct, or perhaps the hand of God guided one of our +party to the place where you had gone to sleep. You may also wish to +know, that though you seem in a bad way for the present, you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> going +to be nursed back to life under Dr. Scott's own most hospitable roof: +but since Crystal has undertaken to do the nursing, I imagine that my +time for the next six weeks will be taken up in arguing with my dear and +pompous brother that he will now have to give his consent to his +daughter becoming the wife of a vendor of gloves."</p> + +<p>Bobby contrived to smile: "Do you think that if I promised never to buy +or sell gloves again, but in future to try and live like a gentleman—do +you think then that he will consent?"</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear boy," said Madame, subduing her harsh voice to tones +of gentleness, "that after my brother knows all that I know and all that +his daughter desires, he will be proud to welcome you as his son."</p> + +<p>The doctor's wide barouche lumbered slowly along the wide, straight +road. In the east the luminous veil that still hid the rising sun had +taken on a hue of rosy gold: the birds, now fully awake, sang their +morning hymn. From the direction of Wavre came once more the cannon's +roar.</p> + +<p>Inside the carriage Dr. Scott, sitting at the feet of his patient, gave +a peremptory order for silence. But Bobby—immeasurably happy and +contented—looked up and saw Crystal de Cambray—no longer a girl now, +but a fair and beautiful woman who had learned to the last letter the +fulsome lesson of Love. She sat close beside him, and her arm was round +his reclining head, and, looking at her, he saw the lovelight in her +dear eyes whenever she turned them on him. And anon, when Mme. la +Duchesse engaged Dr. Scott in a close and heated argument, Bobby felt +sweet-scented lips pressed against his own.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 120%;">THE END</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>The original text is inconsistent regarding the +spelling and hyphenation of some words. Except when noted in the +corrections below, the spelling of individual words has been left as it +was in the original edition, even when the same word is spelled +differently elsewhere in the text.</p> + +<p>In Chapter I, a quotation mark has been added after "for a rainy day."; +and a period has been added after "'To Grenoble?' exclaimed de Marmont".</p> + +<p>In Chapter II, "experiences which I gleamed in exile" has been changed +to "experiences which I gleaned in exile"; and "a sterotyped smile" has +been changed to "a stereotyped smile".</p> + +<p>In Chapter IV, "The dim has become deafening" has been changed to "The +din has become deafening"; and "brief comamnds to his sergeant" has been +changed to "brief commands to his sergeant".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VII, "the conquerer of Austerlitz" has been changed to "the +conqueror of Austerlitz"; and "the fugutive royalists rallied" has been +changed to "the fugitive royalists rallied".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VIII, "from the Gulf of Juan to the gates of the Tuileries" +has been changed to "from the Gulf of Jouan to the gates of the +Tuileries"; "from the gulf of Juan in the wake of his eagle" has been +changed to "from the gulf of Jouan in the wake of his eagle"; "neither +sleep not yet wakefulness" has been changed to "neither sleep nor yet +wakefulness"; and "that she had not desponded more warmly to his kiss" +has been changed to "that she had not responded more warmly to his +kiss".</p> + +<p>In Chapter X, "those black-coated Brunswickers who longer to fly" has +been changed to "those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly".</p> + +<p>No other corrections have been made to the original text.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25955-h.txt or 25955-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/5/25955">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/9/5/25955</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bronze Eagle + A Story of the Hundred Days + + +Author: Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy + + + +Release Date: July 2, 2008 [eBook #25955] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + + * * * * * + +By BARONESS ORCZY + +THE BRONZE EAGLE +A BRIDE OF THE PLAINS +THE LAUGHING CAVALIER +"UNTO CAESAR" +EL DORADO +MEADOWSWEET +THE NOBLE ROGUE +THE HEART OF A WOMAN +PETTICOAT RULE + +GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY +NEW YORK + + * * * * * + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + +A Story of the Hundred Days + +by + +BARONESS ORCZY + +Author of "The Laughing Cavalier," "The Scarlet Pimpernel," Etc., Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + +New York +George H. Doran Company + +Copyright, 1915, +by Baroness Orczy +Copyright, 1915, +by George H. Doran Company + +This novel was published serially, under the title of "Waterloo" + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + THE LANDING AT JOUAN 9 +I. THE GLORIOUS NEWS 14 +II. THE OLD REGIME 49 +III. THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR 85 +IV. THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS 138 +V. THE RIVALS 196 +VI. THE CRIME 221 +VII. THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL 236 +VIII. THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT 261 +IX. THE TARPEIAN ROCK 285 +X. THE LAST THROW 305 +XI. THE LOSING HANDS 338 +XII. THE WINNING HAND 370 + + + + +THE BRONZE EAGLE + + +THE LANDING AT JOUAN + + +The perfect calm of an early spring dawn lies over headland and +sea--hardly a ripple stirs the blue cheek of the bay. The softness of +departing night lies upon the bosom of the Mediterranean like the dew +upon the heart of a flower. + +A silent dawn. + +Veils of transparent greys and purples and mauves still conceal the +distant horizon. Breathless calm rests upon the water and that awed hush +which at times descends upon Nature herself when the finger of Destiny +marks an eventful hour. + +But now the grey and the purple veils beyond the headland are lifted one +by one; the midst of dawn rises upwards like the smoke of incense from +some giant censers swung by unseen, mighty hands. + +The sky above is of a translucent green, studded with stars that blink +and now are slowly extinguished one by one: the green has turned to +silver, and the silver to lemon-gold: the veils beyond the upland are +flying in the wake of departing Night. + +The lemon-gold turns to glowing amber, anon to orange and crimson, and +far inland the mountain peaks, peeping shyly through the mist, blush a +vivid rose to find themselves so fair. + +And to the south, there where fiery sea blends and merges with fiery +sky, a tiny black speck has just come into view. Larger and larger it +grows as it draws nearer to the land, now it seems like a bird with +wings outspread--an eagle flying swiftly to the shores of France. + +In the bay the fisher folk, who are making ready for their day's work, +pause a moment as they haul up their nets: with rough brown hands held +above their eyes they look out upon that black speck--curious, +interested, for the ship is not one they have seen in these waters +before. + +"'Tis the Emperor come back from Elba!" says someone. + +The men laugh and shrug their shoulders: that tale has been told so +often in these parts during the past year: the good folk have ceased to +believe in it. It has almost become a legend now, that story that the +Emperor was coming back--their Emperor--the man with the battered hat +and the grey redingote: the people's Emperor, he who led them from +victory to victory, whose eagles soared above every capital and every +tower in Europe, he who made France glorious and respected: her +citizens, men, her soldiers, heroes. + +And with stately majesty the dawn yields to day, the last tones of +orange have faded from the sky: it is once more of a translucent green +merging into sapphire overhead. And the great orb in the east rises from +out the trammels of the mist, and from awakening Earth and Sea comes the +great love-call, the triumphant call of Day. And far away upon the +horizon to the south, the black speck becomes more distinct and more +clear; it takes shape, substance, life. + +It divides and multiplies, for now there are three or four specks +silhouetted against the sky--not three or four, but five--no! six--no! +seven! Seven black specks which detach themselves one by one, one from +another and from the vagueness beyond--experienced eyes scan the horizon +with enthusiasm and excitement which threaten to blur the clearness of +their vision. Anyone with an eye for sea-going craft can distinguish +that topsail-schooner there, well ahead of the rest of the tiny fleet, +skimming the water with swift grace, and immediately behind her the +three-masted polacca--hm! have we not seen her in these waters +before?--and the two graceful feluccas whose lateen sails look so like +the outspread wings of a bird! + +But it is on the schooner that all eyes are riveted now: she skips along +so fast that within an hour her pennant is easily distinguishable--red +and white! the flag of Elba, of that diminutive toy-kingdom which for +the past twelve months has been ruled over by the mightiest conqueror +this modern world has ever known. + +The flag of Elba! then it is the Emperor coming back! + +A crowd had gathered on the headland now--a crowd made up of bare-footed +fisher-folk, men, women, children, and of the labourers from the +neighbouring fields and vineyards: they have all come to greet the +Emperor--the man with the battered hat and the grey redingote, the +curious, flashing eyes and mouth that always spoke genial words to the +people of France! + +Traitors turned against him--Ney! de Marmont! Bernadotte! those on whom +he had showered the full measure of his friendship, whom he had loaded +with honours, with glory and with wealth. Foreign armies joined in +coalition against France and forced the people's Emperor to leave his +country which he loved so well, had sent him to humiliation and to +exile. But he had come back, as all his people had always said that he +would! He had come back, there was the topsail-schooner that was +bringing him home so swiftly now. + +Another hour and the schooner's name can be deciphered quite +easily--_L'Inconstant_, and that of the polacca _Le Saint-Esprit_ . . . +and beyond these _L'Etoile_ and _Saint Joseph_, _Caroline_. And the +entire little fleet flies the flag of Elba. + +The Emperor has come back! Bare-footed fisherfolk whisper it among +themselves, the labourers in the valley call the news to those upon the +hills. + +Why! after another hour or so, there are those among the small knot who +stand congregated on the highest point of the headland, who swear that +they can see the Emperor--standing on the deck of the _L'Inconstant_. + +He wears a black bicorne hat, and his grey redingote: he is pacing up +and down the deck of the schooner, his hands held behind his back in the +manner so familiar to the people of France. And on his hat is pinned the +tricolour of France. Everyone on shore who is on the look-out for the +schooner now can see the tricolour quite plainly. A mighty shout escapes +the lusty throats of the men on the beach, the women are on the verge of +tears from sheer excitement, and that shout is repeated again and again +and sends its ringing echo from cliff to cliff, and from fort to fort as +the red and white pennant of the kingdom of Elba is hauled down from the +ship's stern and the tricolour flag--the flag of Liberty and of +regenerate France--is hoisted in its stead. + +The soft breeze from the south unfurls its folds and these respond to +his caress. The red, white and blue make a trenchant note of colour now +against the tender hues of the sea: flaunting its triumphant message in +the face of awakening nature. + +The eagle has left the bounds of its narrow cage of Elba: it has taken +wing over the blue Mediterranean! within an hour, perhaps, or two, it +will rest on the square church tower of Antibes--but not for long. Soon +it will take to its adventurous flight again, and soar over valley and +mountain peak, from church belfry to church belfry until it finds its +resting-place upon the towers of Notre Dame. + +One hour after noon the curtain has risen upon the first act of the most +adventurous tragedy the world has ever known. + +Napoleon Bonaparte has landed in the bay of Jouan with eleven hundred +men and four guns to reconquer France and the sovereignty of the world. +Six hundred of his old guard, six score of his Polish light cavalry, +three or four hundred Corsican chasseurs: thus did that sublime +adventurer embark upon an expedition the most mad, the most daring, the +most heroic, the most egotistical, the most tragic and the most glorious +which recording Destiny has ever written in the book of this world. + +The boats were lowered at one hour after noon, and the landing was +slowly and methodically begun: too slowly for the patience of the old +guard--the old "growlers" with grizzled moustache and furrowed cheeks, +down which tears of joy and enthusiasm were trickling at sight of the +shores of France. They were not going to wait for the return of those +boats which had conveyed the Polish troopers on shore: they took to the +water and waded across the bay, tossing the salt spray all around them +as they trod the shingle, like so many shaggy dogs enjoying a bath; and +when six hundred fur bonnets darkened the sands of the bay at the foot +of the Tower of la Gabelle, such a shout of "Vive l'Empereur" went forth +from six hundred lusty throats that the midday spring air vibrated with +kindred enthusiasm for miles and miles around. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GLORIOUS NEWS + + +I + +Where the broad highway between Grenoble and Gap parts company from the +turbulent Drac, and after crossing the ravine of Vaulx skirts the +plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and +mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle on the +left and in wayward curves continues its length through the woods +upwards to the hamlet of Vaulx and the shrine of Notre Dame. + +Far away to the west the valley of the Drac lies encircled by the +pine-covered slopes of the Lans range, whilst towering some seven +thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Moucherolle +glistens like a sea of myriads of rose-coloured diamonds under the kiss +of the morning sun. + +There was more than a hint of snow in the sharp, stinging air this +afternoon, even down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the +northeast whipped up the faces of the two riders as they turned their +horses at a sharp trot up the bridle path. + +Though it was not long since the sun had first peeped out above the +forests of Pelvoux, the riders looked as if they had already a long +journey to their credit; their horses were covered with sweat and +sprinkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered +with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But +despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and +unconscious grace which marks the man accustomed to hard and constant +riding, though--to the experienced eye--there would appear a vast +difference in the style and manner in which each horseman handled his +mount. + +One of them had the rigid precision of bearing which denotes military +training: he was young and slight of build, with unruly dark hair +fluttering round the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and +escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of +the neck; he held himself very erect and rode his horse on the curb, the +reins gathered tightly in one gloved hand, and that hand held closely +and almost immovably against his chest. + +The other sat more carelessly--though in no way more loosely--in his +saddle: he gave his horse more freedom, with a chain-snaffle and reins +hanging lightly between his fingers. He was obviously taller and +probably older than his companion, broader of shoulder and fairer of +skin; you might imagine him riding this same powerful mount across a +sweep of open country, but his friend you would naturally picture to +yourself in uniform on the parade ground. + +The riders soon left the valley of the Drac behind them; on ahead the +path became very rocky, winding its way beside a riotous little mountain +stream, whilst higher up still, peeping through the intervening trees, +the white-washed cottages of the tiny hamlet glimmered with dazzling +clearness in the frosty atmosphere. At a sharp bend of the road, which +effectually revealed the foremost of these cottages, distant less than +two kilometres now, the younger of the two men drew rein suddenly, and +lifting his hat with outstretched arm high above his head, he gave a +long sigh which ended in a kind of exultant call of joy. + +"There is Notre Dame de Vaulx," he cried at the top of his voice, and +hat still in hand he pointed to the distant hamlet. "There's the spot +where--before the sun darts its midday rays upon us--I shall hear great +and glorious and authentic news of _him_ from a man who has seen him as +lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the +sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope in his eyes. +Oh!" he went on speaking with extraordinary volubility, "it is all too +good to be true! Since yesterday I have felt like a man in a dream!--I +haven't lived, I have scarcely breathed, I . . ." + +The other man broke in upon his ravings with a good-humoured growl. + +"You have certainly behaved like an escaped lunatic since early this +morning, my good de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that--as +we shall have to mix again with our fellow-men presently--you might try +to behave with some semblance of reasonableness." + +But de Marmont only laughed. He was so excited that his lips trembled +all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed just as if some inward +fire was burning deep down in his soul. + +"No! I can't," he retorted. "I want to shout and to sing and to cry +'Vive l'Empereur' till those frowning mountains over there echo with my +shouts--and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and +curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will--an escaped +lunatic--if to be mad with joy be a proof of insanity. Clyffurde, my +dear friend," he added more soberly, "I am honestly sorry for you +to-day." + +"Thank you," commented his companion drily. "May I ask how I have +deserved this genuine sympathy?" + +"Well! because you are an Englishman, and not a Frenchman," said the +younger man earnestly; "because you--as an Englishman--must desire +Napoleon's downfall, his humiliation, perhaps his death, instead of +exulting in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him, +following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my +nationality or my patriotism demanded that I should fight against +Napoleon, that I should hate him, or vilify him, I firmly believe that I +would turn my sword against myself, so shamed should I feel in my own +eyes." + +It was the Englishman's turn to laugh, and he did it very heartily. His +laugh was quite different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it, +more good temper, more appreciation of everything that tends to gaiety +in life and more direct defiance of what is gloomy. + +He too had reined in his horse, presumably in order to listen to his +friend's enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his +merry, pleasant eyes a quaint look of half contemptuous tolerance +tempered by kindly humour. + +"Well, you see, my good de Marmont," he said, still laughing, "you +happen to be a Frenchman, a visionary and weaver of dreams. Believe me," +he added more seriously, "if you had the misfortune to be a prosy, +shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just +because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would +realise soberly and calmly that while Napoleon Bonaparte is allowed to +rule over France--or over any country for the matter of that--there will +never be peace in the world or prosperity in any land." + +The younger man made no reply. A shadow seemed to gather over his +face--a look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait +for the great adventurer, had touched the young enthusiast with a +warning finger. + +Whereupon Clyffurde resumed gaily once more: + +"Shall we," he said, "go slowly on now as far as the village? It is not +yet ten o'clock. Emery cannot possibly be here before noon." + +He put his horse to a walk, de Marmont keeping close behind him, and in +silence the two men rode up the incline toward Notre Dame de Vaulx. On +ahead the pines and beech and birch became more sparse, disclosing the +great patches of moss-covered rock upon the slopes of Pelvoux. On +Taillefer the eternal snows appeared wonderfully near in the brilliance +of this early spring atmosphere, and here and there on the roadside +bunches of wild crocus and of snowdrops were already visible rearing +their delicate corollas up against a background of moss. + +The tiny village still far away lay in the peaceful hush of a Sunday +morning, only from the little chapel which holds the shrine of Notre +Dame came the sweet, insistent sound of the bell calling the dwellers of +these mountain fastnesses to prayer. + +The northeasterly wind was still keen, but the sun was gaining power as +it rose well above Pelvoux, and the sky over the dark forests and +snow-crowned heights was of a glorious and vivid blue. + + +II + +The words "Auberge du Grand Dauphin" looked remarkably inviting, written +in bold, shiny black characters on the white-washed wall of one of the +foremost houses in the village. The riders drew rein once more, this +time in front of the little inn, and as a young ostler in blue blouse +and sabots came hurriedly and officiously forward whilst mine host in +the same attire appeared in the doorway, the two men dismounted, +unstrapped their mantles from their saddle-bows and loudly called for +mulled wine. + +Mine host, typical of his calling and of his race, rubicund of cheek, +portly of figure and genial in manner, was over-anxious to please his +guests. It was not often that gentlemen of such distinguished appearance +called at the "Auberge du Grand Dauphin," seeing that Notre Dame de +Vaulx lies perdu on the outskirts of the forests of Pelvoux, that the +bridle path having reached the village leads nowhere save into the +mountains and that La Motte is close by with its medicinal springs and +its fine hostels. + +But these two highly-distinguished gentlemen evidently meant to make a +stay of it. They even spoke of a friend who would come and join them +later, when they would expect a substantial _dejeuner_ to be served with +the best wine mine host could put before them. Annette--mine host's +dark-eyed daughter--was all a-flutter at sight of these gallant +strangers, one of them with such fiery eyes and vivacious ways, and the +other so tall and so dignified, with fair skin well-bronzed by the sun +and large firm mouth that had such a pleasant smile on it; her eyes +sparkled at sight of them both and her glib tongue rattled away at truly +astonishing speed. + +Would a well-baked omelette and a bit of fricandeau suit the +gentlemen?--Admirably? Ah, well then, that could easily be done!--and +now? in the meanwhile?--Only good mulled wine? That would present no +difficulty either. Five minutes for it to get really hot, as Annette had +made some the previous day for her father who had been on a tiring +errand up to La Mure and had come home cold and starved--and it was +specially good--all the better for having been hotted up once or twice +and the cloves and nutmeg having soaked in for nearly four and twenty +hours. + +Where would the gentlemen have it--Outside in the sunshine? . . . Well! +it was very cold, and the wind biting . . . but the gentlemen had +mantles, and she, Annette, would see that the wine was piping hot. . . . +Five minutes and everything would be ready. . . . + +What? . . . the tall, fair-skinned gentleman wanted to wash? . . . what +a funny idea! . . . hadn't he washed this morning when he got up? . . . +He had? Well, then, why should he want to wash again? . . . She, +Annette, managed to keep herself quite clean all day, and didn't need +to wash more than once a day. . . . But there! strangers had funny ways +with them . . . she had guessed at once that Monsieur was a stranger, he +had such a fair skin and light brown hair. Well! so long as Monsieur +wasn't English--for the English, she detested! + +Why did she detest the English? . . . Because they made war against +France. Well! against the Emperor anyhow, and she, Annette, firmly +believed that if the English could get hold of the Emperor they would +kill him--oh, yes! they would put him on an island peopled by cannibals +and let him be eaten, bones, marrow and all. + +And Annette's dark eyes grew very round and very big as she gave forth +her opinion upon the barbarous hatred of the English for "l'Empereur!" +She prattled on very gaily and very volubly, while she dragged a couple +of chairs out into the open, and placed them well in the lee of the wind +and brought a couple of pewter mugs which she set on the table. + +She was very much interested in the tall gentleman who had availed +himself of her suggestion to use the pump at the back of the house, +since he was so bent on washing himself; and she asked many questions +about him from his friend. + +Ten minutes later the steaming wine was on the table in a huge china +bowl and the Englishman was ladling it out with a long-handled spoon and +filling the two mugs with the deliciously scented cordial. Annette had +disappeared into the house in response to a peremptory call from her +father. The chapel bell had ceased to ring long ago, and she would miss +hearing Mass altogether to-day; and M. le cure, who came on alternate +Sundays all the way from La Motte to celebrate divine service, would be +very angry indeed with her. + +Well! that couldn't be helped! Annette would have loved to go to Mass, +but the two distinguished gentlemen expected their friend to arrive at +noon, and the _dejeuner_ to be ready quite by then; so she comforted her +conscience with a few prayers said on her knees before the picture of +the Holy Virgin which hung above her bed, after which she went back to +her housewifely duty with a light heart; but not before she had decided +an important point in her mind--namely, which of those two handsome +gentlemen she liked the best: the dark one with the fiery eyes that +expressed such bold admiration of her young charms, or the tall one with +the earnest grey eyes who looked as if he could pick her up like a +feather and carry her running all the way to the summit of Taillefer. + +Annette had indeed made up her mind that the giant with the soft brown +hair and winning smile was, on the whole, the more attractive of the +two. + + +III + +The two friends, with mantles wrapped closely round them, sat outside +the "Grand Dauphin" all unconscious of the problem which had been +disturbing Annette's busy little brain. + +The steaming wine had put plenty of warmth into their bones, and though +both had been silent while they sipped their first mug-full, it was +obvious that each was busy with his own thoughts. + +Then suddenly the young Frenchman put his mug down and leaned with both +elbows upon the rough deal table, because he wanted to talk +confidentially with his friend, and there was never any knowing what +prying ears might be about. + +"I suppose," he said, even as a deep frown told of puzzling thoughts +within the mind, "I suppose that when England hears the news, she will +up and at him again, attacking him, snarling at him even before he has +had time to settle down upon his reconquered throne." + +"That throne is not reconquered yet, my friend," retorted the Englishman +drily, "nor has the news of this mad adventure reached England so far, +but . . ." + +"But when it does," broke in de Marmont sombrely, "your Castlereagh will +rave and your Wellington will gather up his armies to try and crush the +hero whom France loves and acclaims." + +"Will France acclaim the hero, there's the question?" + +"The army will--the people will----" + +Clyffurde shrugged his shoulders. + +"The army, yes," he said slowly, "but the people . . . what people?--the +peasantry of Provence and the Dauphine, perhaps--what about the town +folk?--your mayors and _prefets_?--your tradespeople? your shopkeepers +who have been ruined by the wars which your hero has made to further his +own ambition. . . ." + +"Don't say that, Clyffurde," once more broke in de Marmont, and this +time more vehemently than before. "When you speak like that I could +almost forget our friendship." + +"Whether I say it or not, my good de Marmont," rejoined Clyffurde with +his good-humoured smile, "you will anyhow--within the next few +months--days, perhaps--bury our friendship beneath the ashes of your +patriotism. No one, believe me," he added more earnestly, "has a greater +admiration for the genius of Napoleon than I have; his love of France is +sublime, his desire for her glory superb. But underlying his love of +country, there is the love of self, the mad desire to rule, to conquer, +to humiliate. It led him to Moscow and thence to Elba, it has brought +him back to France. It will lead him once again to the Capitol, no +doubt, but as surely too it will lead him on to the Tarpeian Rock whence +he will be hurled down this time, not only bruised, but shattered, a +fallen hero--and you will--a broken idol, for posterity to deal with in +after time as it lists." + +"And England would like to be the one to give the hero the final push," +said de Marmont, not without a sneer. + +"The people of England, my friend, hate and fear Bonaparte as they have +never hated and feared any one before in the whole course of their +history--and tell me, have we not cause enough to hate him? For fifteen +years has he not tried to ruin us, to bring us to our knees? tried to +throttle our commerce? break our might upon the sea? He wanted to make a +slave of Britain, and Britain proved unconquerable. Believe me, we hate +your hero less than he hates us." + +He had spoken with a good deal of earnestness, but now he added more +lightly, as if in answer to de Marmont's glowering look: + +"At the same time," he said, "I doubt if there is a single English +gentleman living at the present moment--let alone the army--who would +refuse ungrudging admiration to Napoleon himself and to his genius. But +as a nation England has her interests to safeguard. She has suffered +enough--and through him--in her commerce and her prosperity in the past +twenty years--she must have peace now at any cost." + +"Ah! I know," sighed the other, "a nation of shopkeepers. . . ." + +"Yes. We are that, I suppose. We are shopkeepers . . . most of us. +. . ." + +"I didn't mean to use the word in any derogatory sense," protested +Victor de Marmont with the ready politeness peculiar to his race. "Why, +even you . . ." + +"I don't see why you should say 'even you,'" broke in Clyffurde quietly. +"I am a shopkeeper--nothing more. . . . I buy goods and sell them again. +. . . I buy the gloves which our friend M. Dumoulin manufactures at +Grenoble and sell them to any London draper who chooses to buy them +. . . a very mean and ungentlemanly occupation, is it not?" + +He spoke French with perfect fluency, and only with the merest suspicion +of a drawl in the intonation of the vowels, which suggested rather than +proclaimed his nationality; and just now there was not the slightest +tone of bitterness apparent in his deep-toned and mellow voice. Once +more his friend would have protested, but he put up a restraining hand. + +"Oh!" he said with a smile, "I don't imagine for a moment that you have +the same prejudices as our mutual friend M. le Comte de Cambray, who +must have made a very violent sacrifice to his feelings when he admitted +me as a guest to his own table. I am sure he must often think that the +servants' hall is the proper place for me." + +"The Comte de Cambray," retorted de Marmont with a sneer, "is full up to +his eyes with the prejudices and arrogance of his caste. It is men of +his type--and not Marat or Robespierre--who made the revolution, who +goaded the people of France into becoming something worse than +man-devouring beasts. And, mind you, twenty years of exile did not sober +them, nor did contact with democratic thought in England and America +teach them the most elementary lessons of commonsense. If the Emperor +had not come back to-day, we should be once more working up for +revolution--more terrible this time, more bloody and vengeful, if +possible, than the last." + +Then as Clyffurde made no comment on this peroration, the younger man +resumed more lightly: + +"And--knowing the Comte de Cambray's prejudices as I do, imagine my +surprise--after I had met you in his house as an honoured guest and on +what appeared to be intimate terms of friendship--to learn that you +. . . in fact . . ." + +"That I was nothing more than a shopkeeper," broke in Clyffurde with a +short laugh, "nothing better than our mutual friend M. Dumoulin, +glovemaker, of Grenoble--a highly worthy man whom M. le Comte de Cambray +esteems somewhat lower than his butler. It certainly must have surprised +you very much." + +"Well, you know, old de Cambray has a horror of anything that pertains +to trade, and an avowed contempt for everything that he calls +'bourgeois.'" + +"There's no doubt about that," assented Clyffurde fervently. + +"Perhaps he does not know of your connection with . . ." + +"Gloves?" + +"With business people in Grenoble generally." + +"Oh, yes, he does!" replied the Englishman quietly. + +"Well, then?" queried de Marmont. + +Then as his friend sat there silent with that quiet, good-humoured smile +lingering round his lips, he added apologetically: + +"Perhaps I am indiscreet . . . but I never could understand it . . . and +you English are so reserved . . ." + +"That I never told you how M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Order du Lys, Hereditary +Grand Chamberlain of France, etc., etc., came to sit at the same table +as a vendor and buyer of gloves," said Clyffurde gaily. "There's no +secret about it. I owe the Comte's exalted condescension to certain +letters of recommendation which he could not very well disregard." + +"Oh! as to that . . ." quoth de Marmont with a shrug of the shoulders, +"people like the de Cambrays have their own codes of courtesy and of +friendship." + +"In this case, my good de Marmont, it was the code of ordinary gratitude +that imposed its dictum even upon the autocratic and aristocratic Comte +de Cambray." + +"Gratitude?" sneered de Marmont, "in a de Cambray?" + +"M. le Comte de Cambray," said Clyffurde with slow emphasis, "his +mother, his sister, his brother-in-law and two of their faithful +servants, were rescued from the very foot of the guillotine by a band of +heroes--known in those days as the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"I knew that!" said de Marmont quietly. + +"Then perhaps you also knew that their leader was Sir Percy Blakeney--a +prince among gallant English gentlemen and my dead father's friend. When +my business affairs sent me to Grenoble, Sir Percy warmly recommended me +to the man whose life he had saved. What could M. le Comte de Cambray do +but receive me as a friend? You see, my credentials were exceptional and +unimpeachable." + +"Of course," assented de Marmont, "now I understand. But you will admit +that I have had grounds for surprise. You--who were the friend of +Dumoulin, a tradesman, and avowed Bonapartist--two unpardonable crimes +in the eyes of M. le Comte de Cambray," he added with a return to his +former bitterness, "you to be seated at his table and to shake him by +the hand. Why, man! if he knew that I have remained faithful to the +Emperor . . ." + +He paused abruptly, and his somewhat full, sensitive lips were pressed +tightly together as if to suppress an insistent outburst of passion. + +But Clyffurde frowned, and when he turned away from de Marmont it was in +order to hide a harsh look of contempt. + +"Surely," he said, "you have never led the Comte to suppose that you are +a royalist!" + +"I have never led him to suppose anything. But he has taken my political +convictions for granted," rejoined de Marmont. + +Then suddenly a look of bitter resentment darkened his face, making it +appear hard and lined and considerably older. + +"My uncle, Marshal de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, was an abominable +traitor," he went on with ill-repressed vehemence. "He betrayed his +Emperor, his benefactor and his friend. It was the vilest treachery that +has ever disgraced an honourable name. Paris could have held out easily +for another four and twenty hours, and by that time the Emperor would +have been back. But de Marmont gave her over wilfully, scurvily to the +allies. But for his abominable act of cowardice the Emperor never would +have had to endure the shame of his temporary exile at Elba, and Louis +de Bourbon would never have had the chance of wallowing for twelve +months upon the throne of France. But that which is a source of +irreparable shame to me is a virtue in the eyes of all these royalists. +De Marmont's treachery against the Emperor has placed all his kindred in +the forefront of those who now lick the boots of that infamous Bourbon +dynasty, and it did not suit the plans of the Bonapartist party that +we--in the provinces--should proclaim our faith too openly until such +time as the Emperor returned." + +"And if the Comte de Cambray had known that you are just an ardent +Bonapartist? . . ." suggested Clyffurde calmly. + +"He would long before now have had me kicked out by his lacqueys," broke +in de Marmont with ever-increasing bitterness as he brought his clenched +fist crashing down upon the table, while his dark eyes glowed with a +fierce and passionate resentment. "For men like de Cambray there is only +one caste--the _noblesse_, one religion--the Catholic, one +creed--adherence to the Bourbons. All else is scum, trash, beneath +contempt, hardly human! Oh! if you knew how I loathe these people!" he +continued, speaking volubly and in a voice shaking with suppressed +excitement. "They have learnt nothing, these aristocrats, nothing, I +tell you! the terrible reprisals of the revolution which culminated in +that appalling Reign of Terror have taught them absolutely nothing! They +have not learnt the great lesson of the revolution, that the people will +no longer endure their arrogance and their pretensions, that the old +regime is dead--dead! the regime of oppression and pride and +intolerance! They have learnt nothing!" he reiterated with ever-growing +excitement, "nothing! 'humanity begins with the _noblesse_' is still +their watchword to-day as it was before the irate people sent hundreds +of them to perish miserably on the guillotine--the rest of mankind, to +them, is only cattle made to toil for the well-being of their class. Oh! +I loathe them, I tell you! I loathe them from the bottom of my soul!" + +"And yet you and your kind are rapidly becoming at one with them," said +Clyffurde, his quiet voice in strange contrast to the other man's +violent agitation. + +"No, we are not," protested de Marmont emphatically. "The men whom +Napoleon created marshals and peers of France have been openly snubbed +at the Court of Louis XVIII. Ney, who is prince of Moskowa and next to +Napoleon himself the greatest soldier of France, has seen his wife +treated little better than a chambermaid by the Duchesse d'Angouleme and +the ladies of the old _noblesse_. My uncle is marshal of France, and Duc +de Raguse and I am the heir to his millions, but the Comte de Cambray +will always consider it a mesalliance for his daughter to marry me." + +The note of bitter resentment, of wounded pride and smouldering hatred +became more and more marked while he spoke: his voice now sounded hoarse +and his throat seemed dry. Presently he raised his mug to his lips and +drank eagerly, but his hand was shaking visibly as he did this, and some +of the wine was spilled on the table. + +There was silence for a while outside the little inn, silence which +seemed full of portent, for through the pure mountain air there was +wafted the hot breath of men's passions--fierce, dominating, +challenging. Love, hatred, prejudices and contempt--all were portrayed +on de Marmont's mobile face: they glowed in his dark eyes and breathed +through his quivering nostrils. Now he rested his elbow on the table and +his chin in his hand, his nervy fingers played a tattoo against his +teeth, clenched together like those of some young feline creature which +sees its prey coming along and is snarling at the sight. + +Clyffurde, with those deep-set, earnest grey eyes of his, was silently +watching his friend. His hand did not shake, nor did the breath come any +quicker from his broad chest. Yet deep down behind the wide brow, behind +those same overshadowed eyes, a keen observer would of a surety have +detected the signs of a latent volcano of passions, all the more strong +and virile as they were kept in perfect control. It was he who presently +broke the silence, and his voice was quite steady when he spoke, though +perhaps a trifle more toneless, more dead, than usual. + +"And," he said, "what of Mlle. Crystal in all this?" + +"Crystal?" queried the other curtly, "what about her?" + +"She is an ardent royalist, more strong in her convictions and her +enthusiasms than women usually are." + +"And what of that?" rejoined de Marmont fiercely. "I love Crystal." + +"But when she learns that you . . ." + +"She shall not learn it," rejoined the other cynically. "We sign our +marriage contract to-night: the wedding is fixed for Tuesday. Until then +I can hold my peace." + +An exclamation of hot protest almost escaped the Englishman's lips: his +hand which rested on the table became so tightly clenched that the hard +knuckles looked as if they would burst through their fetters of sinew +and skin, and he made no pretence at concealing the look of burning +indignation which flashed from his eyes. + +"But man!" he exclaimed, "a deception such as you propose is cruel and +monstrous. . . . In view, too, of what has occurred in the past few days +. . . in view of what may happen if the news which we have heard is true +. . ." + +"In view of all that, my friend," retorted de Marmont firmly, "the old +regime has had its nine days of wonder and of splendour. The Emperor has +come back! we, who believe in him, who have remained true to him in his +humiliation and in his misfortunes may once more raise our heads and +loudly proclaim our loyalty. The return of the Emperor will once more +put his dukes and his marshals in their rightful place on a level with +the highest nobility of France. The Comte de Cambray will realise that +all his hopes of regaining his fortune through the favours of the +Bourbons have by force of circumstances come to naught. Like most of the +old _noblesse_ who emigrated he is without a sou. He may choose to look +on me with contempt, but he will no longer desire to kick me out of his +house, for he will be glad enough to see the Cambray 'scutcheon regilt +with de Marmont gold." + +"But Mademoiselle Crystal?" insisted Clyffurde, almost appealingly, for +his whole soul had revolted at the cynicism of the other man. + +"Crystal has listened to that ape, St. Genis," replied de Marmont drily, +"one of her own caste . . . a marquis with sixteen quarterings to his +family escutcheon and not a sou in his pockets. She is very young, and +very inexperienced. She has seen nothing of the world as yet--nothing. +She was born and brought up in exile--in England, in the midst of that +narrow society formed by impecunious _emigres_. . . ." + +"And shopkeeping Englishmen," murmured Clyffurde, under his breath. + +"She could never have married St. Genis," reiterated Victor de Marmont +with deliberate emphasis. "The man hasn't a sou. Even Crystal realised +from the first that nothing ever could have come of that boy and girl +dallying. The Comte never would have consented. . . ." + +"Perhaps not. But she--Mademoiselle Crystal--would she ever have +consented to marry you, if she had known what your convictions are?" + +"Crystal is only a child," said de Marmont with a light shrug of the +shoulders. "She will learn to love me presently when St. Genis has +disappeared out of her little world, and she will accept my convictions +as she has accepted me, submissive to my will as she was to that of her +father." + +Once more a hot protest of indignation rose to Clyffurde's lips, but +this too he smothered resolutely. What was the use of protesting? Could +he hope to change with a few arguments the whole cynical nature of a +man? And what right had he even to interfere? The Comte de Cambray and +Mademoiselle Crystal were nothing to him: in their minds they would +never look upon him even as an equal--let alone as a friend. So the +bitter words died upon his lips. + +"And you have been content to win a wife on such terms!" was all that he +said. + +"I have had to be content," was de Marmont's retort. "Crystal is the +only woman I have ever cared for. She will love me in time, I doubt not, +and her sense of duty will make her forget St. Genis quickly enough." + +Then as Clyffurde made no further comment silence fell once more between +the two men. Perhaps even de Marmont felt that somehow, during the past +few moments, the slender bond of friendship which similarity of tastes +and a certain similarity of political ideals had forged between him and +the stranger had been strained to snapping point, and this for a reason +which he could not very well understand. He drank another draught of +wine and gave a quick sigh of satisfaction with the world in general, +and also with himself, for he did not feel that he had done or said +anything which could offend the keenest susceptibilities of his friend. + +He looked with a sudden sense of astonishment at Clyffurde, as if he +were only seeing him now for the first time. His keen dark eyes took in +with a rapid glance the Englishman's powerful personality, the square +shoulders, the head well erect, the strong Anglo-Saxon chin firmly set, +the slender hands always in repose. In the whole attitude of the man +there was an air of will-power which had never struck de Marmont quite +so forcibly as it did now, and a virility which looked as ready to +challenge Fate as it was able to conquer her if she proved adverse. + +And just now there was a curious look in those deep-set eyes--a look of +contempt or of pity--de Marmont was not sure which, but somehow the look +worried him and he would have given much to read the thoughts which were +hidden behind the high, square brow. + +However, he asked no questions, and thus the silence remained unbroken +for some time save for the soughing of the northeast wind as it whistled +through the pines, whilst from the tiny chapel which held the shrine of +Notre Dame de Vaulx came the sound of a soft-toned bell, ringing the +midday Angelus. + +Just then round that same curve in the road, where the two riders had +paused an hour ago in sight of the little hamlet, a man on horseback +appeared, riding at a brisk trot up the rugged, stony path. + +Victor de Marmont woke from his reverie: + +"There's Emery," he cried. + +He jumped to his feet, then he picked up his hat from the table where he +had laid it down, tossed it up into the air as high as it would go, and +shouted with all his might: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + + +IV + +The man who now drew rein with abrupt clumsiness in front of the auberge +looked hot, tired and travel-stained. His face was covered with sweat +and his horse with lather, the lapel of his coat was torn, his breeches +and boots were covered with half-frozen mud. + +But having brought his horse to a halt, he swung himself out of the +saddle with the brisk air of a boy who has enjoyed his first ride across +country. Surgeon-Captain Emery was a man well over forty, but to-day his +eyes glowed with that concentrated fire which burns in the heart at +twenty, and he shook de Marmont by the hand with a vigour which made the +younger man wince with the pain of that iron grip. + +"My friend, Mr. Clyffurde, an English gentleman," said Victor de Marmont +hastily in response to a quick look of suspicious enquiry which flashed +out from under Emery's bushy eyebrows. "You can talk quite freely, +Emery; and for God's sake tell us your news!" + +But Emery could hardly speak. He had been riding hard for the past three +hours, his throat was parched, and through it his voice came up hoarse +and raucous: nevertheless he at once began talking in short, jerky +sentences. + +"He landed on Wednesday," he said. "I parted from him on Friday . . . at +Castellane . . . you had my message?" + +"This morning early--we came at once." + +"I thought we could talk better here--first--but I was spent last +night--I had to sleep at Corps . . . so I sent to you. . . . But now, in +Heaven's name, give me something to drink. . . ." + +While he drank eagerly and greedily of the cold spiced wine which +Clyffurde had served out to him, he still scrutinised the Englishman +closely from under his frowning and bushy eyebrows. + +Clyffurde's winning glance, however, seemed to have conquered his +mistrust, for presently, after he had put his mug down again, he +stretched out a cordial hand to him. + +"Now that our Emperor is back with us," he said as if in apology for his +former suspicions, "we, his friends, are bound to look askance at every +Englishman we meet." + +"Of course you are," said Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured +smile as he grasped Surgeon-Captain Emery's extended hand. + +"It is the hand of a friend I am grasping?" insisted Emery. + +"Of a personal friend, if you will call him so," replied Clyffurde. +"Politically, I hardly count, you see. I am just a looker-on at the +game." + +The surgeon-captain's keen eyes under their bushy brows shot a rapid +glance at the tall, well-knit figure of the Englishman. + +"You are not a fighting man?" he queried, much amazed. + +"No," replied Clyffurde drily. "I am only a tradesman." + +"Your news, Emery, your news!" here broke in Victor de Marmont, who +during the brief colloquy between his two friends had been hardly able +to keep his excitement in check. + +Emery turned away from the other man in silence. Clearly there was +something about that fine, noble-looking fellow--who proclaimed himself +a tradesman while that splendid physique of his should be at his +country's service--which still puzzled the worthy army surgeon. + +But he was primarily very thirsty and secondly as eager to impart his +news as de Marmont was to hear it, so now without wasting any further +words on less important matter he sat down close to the table and +stretched his short, thick legs out before him. + +"My news is of the best," he said with lusty fervour. "We left Porto +Ferrajo on Sunday last but only landed on Wednesday, as I told you, for +we were severely becalmed in the Mediterranean. We came on shore at +Antibes at midday of March 1st and bivouacked in an olive grove on the +way to Cannes. That was a sight good for sore eyes, my friends, to see +him sitting there by the camp fire, his feet firmly planted upon the +soil of France. What a man, Sir, what a man!" he continued, turning +directly to Clyffurde, "on board the _Inconstant_ he had composed and +dictated his proclamation to the army, to the soldiers of France! the +finest piece of prose, Sir, I have ever read in all my life. But you +shall judge of it, Sir, you shall judge. . . ." + +And with hands shaking with excitement he fumbled in the bulging pocket +of his coat and extracted therefrom a roll of loose papers roughly tied +together with a piece of tape. + +"You shall read it, Sir," he went on mumbling, while his trembling +fingers vainly tried to undo the knot in the tape, "you shall read it. +And then mayhap you'll tell me if your Pitt was ever half so eloquent. +Curse these knots!" he exclaimed angrily. + +"Will you allow me, Sir?" said Clyffurde quietly, and with steady hand +and firm fingers he undid the refractory knots and spread the papers out +upon the table. + +Already de Marmont had given a cry of loyalty and of triumph. + +"His proclamation!" he exclaimed, and a sigh of infinite satisfaction +born of enthusiasm and of hero-worship escaped his quivering lips. + +The papers bore the signature of that name which had once been +all-powerful in its magical charm, at sound of which Europe had trembled +and crowns had felt insecure, the name which men had breathed--nay! +still breathed--either with passionate loyalty or with bitter +hatred:--"Napoleon." + +They were copies of the proclamation wherewith the heroic +adventurer--confident in the power of his diction--meant to reconquer +the hearts of that army whom he had once led to such glorious victories. + +De Marmont read the long document through from end to end in a +half-audible voice. Now and again he gave a little cry--a cry of loyalty +at mention of those victories of Austerlitz and Jena, of Wagram and of +Eckmuehl, at mention of those imperial eagles which had led the armies of +France conquering and glorious throughout the length and breadth of +Europe--or a cry of shame and horror at mention of the traitor whose +name he bore and who had delivered France into the hands of strangers +and his Emperor into those of his enemies. + +And when the young enthusiast had read the proclamation through to the +end he raised the paper to his lips and fervently kissed the imprint of +the revered name: "Napoleon." + +"Now tell me more about him," he said finally, as he leaned both elbows +on the table and fastened his glowing eyes upon the equally heated face +of Surgeon-Captain Emery. + +"Well!" resumed the latter, "as I told you we bivouacked among the olive +trees on the way to Cannes. The Emperor had already sent Cambronne on +ahead with forty of his grenadiers to commandeer what horses and mules +he could, as we were not able to bring many across from Porto Ferrajo. +'Cambronne,' he said, 'you shall be in command of the vanguard in this +the finest campaign which I have ever undertaken. My orders are to you, +that you do not fire a single unnecessary shot. Remember that I mean to +reconquer my imperial crown without shedding one drop of French blood.' +Oh! he is in excellent health and in excellent spirits! Such a man! such +fire in his eyes! such determination in his actions! Younger, bolder +than ever! I tell you, friends," continued the worthy surgeon-captain as +he brought the palm of his hand flat down upon the table with an +emphatic bang, "that it is going to be a triumphal march from end to end +of France. The people are mad about him. At Roccavignon, just outside +Cannes, where we bivouacked on Thursday, men, women and children were +flocking round to see him, pressing close to his knees, bringing him +wine and flowers; and the people were crying 'Vive l'Empereur!' even in +the streets of Grasse." + +"But the army, man? the army?" cried de Marmont, "the garrisons of +Antibes and Cannes and Grasse? did the men go over to him at once?--and +the officers?" + +"We hadn't encountered the army yet when I parted from him on Friday," +retorted Emery with equal impatience, "we didn't go into Antibes and we +avoided Cannes. You must give him time. The people in the towns wouldn't +at first believe that he had come back. General Massena, who is in +command at Marseilles, thought fit to spread the news that a band of +Corsican pirates had landed on the littoral and were marching +inland--devastating villages as they marched. The peasants from the +mountains were the first to believe that the Emperor had really come, +and they wandered down in their hundreds to see him first and to spread +the news of his arrival ahead of him. By the time we reached Castellane +the mayor was not only ready to receive him but also to furnish him with +5,000 rations of meat and bread, with horses and with mules. Since then +he has been at Digue and at Sisteron. Be sure that the garrisons of +those cities have rallied round his eagles by now." + +Then whilst Emery paused for breath de Marmont queried eagerly: + +"And so . . . there has been no contretemps?" + +"Nothing serious so far," replied the other. "We had to abandon our guns +at Grasse, the Emperor felt that they would impede the rapidity of his +progress; and our second day's march was rather trying, the mountain +passes were covered in snow, the lancers had to lead their horses +sometimes along the edge of sheer precipices, they were hampered too by +their accoutrements, their long swords and their lances; others--who had +no mounts--had to carry their heavy saddles and bridles on those +slippery paths. But _he_ was walking too, stick in hand, losing his +footing now and then, just as they did, and once he nearly rolled down +one of those cursed precipices: but always smiling, always cheerful, +always full of hope. At Antibes young Casabianca got himself arrested +with twenty grenadiers--they had gone into the town to requisition a few +provisions. When the news reached us some of the younger men tried to +persuade the Emperor to march on the city and carry the place by force +of arms before Casabianca's misfortune got bruited abroad: 'No!' he +said, 'every minute is precious. All we can do is to get along faster +than the evil news can travel. If half my small army were captive at +Antibes, I would still move on. If every man were a prisoner in the +citadel, I would march on alone.' That's the man, my friends," cried +Emery with ever-growing enthusiasm, "that's our Emperor!" + +And he cast a defiant look on Clyffurde, as much as to say: "Bring on +your Wellington and your armies now! the Emperor has come back! the +whole of France will know how to guard him!" Then he turned to de +Marmont. + +"And now tell me about Grenoble," he said. + +"Grenoble had an inkling of the news already last night," said de +Marmont, whose enthusiasm was no whit cooler than that of Emery. +"Marchand has been secretly assembling his troops, he has sent to +Chambery for the 7th and 11th regiment of the line and to Vienne for the +4th Hussars. Inside Grenoble he has the 5th infantry regiment, the 4th +of artillery and 3rd of engineers, with a train squadron. This morning +he is holding a council of war, and I know that he has been in constant +communication with Massena. The news is gradually filtering through into +the town: people stand at the street corners and whisper among +themselves; the word 'l'Empereur' seemed wafted upon this morning's +breeze. . . ." + +"And by to-night we'll have the Emperor's proclamation to his people +pinned up on the walls of the Hotel de Ville!" exclaimed Emery, and with +hands still trembling with excitement he gathered the precious papers +once more together and slipped them back into his coat pocket. Then he +made a visible effort to speak more quietly: "And now," he said, "for +one very important matter which, by the way, was the chief reason for my +asking you, my good de Marmont, to meet me here before my getting to +Grenoble." + +"Yes? What is it?" queried de Marmont eagerly. + +Surgeon-Captain Emery leaned across the table; instinctively he dropped +his voice, and though his excitement had not abated one jot, though his +eyes still glowed and his hands still fidgeted nervously, he had forced +himself at last to a semblance of calm. + +"The matter is one of money," he said slowly. "The Emperor has some +funds at his disposal, but as you know, that scurvy government of the +Restoration never handed him over one single sou of the yearly revenue +which it had solemnly agreed and sworn to pay to him with regularity. +Now, of course," he continued still more emphatically, "we who believe +in our Emperor as we believe in God, we are absolutely convinced that +the army will rally round him to a man. The army loves him and has +never ceased to love him, the army will follow him to victory and to +death. But the most loyal army in the world cannot subsist without +money, and the Emperor has little or none. The news of his triumphant +march across France will reach Paris long before he does, it will enable +His Most Excellent and Most Corpulent Majesty King Louis to skip over to +England or to Ghent with everything in the treasury on which he can lay +his august hands. Now, de Marmont, do you perceive what the serious +matter is which caused me to meet you here--twenty-five kilometres from +Grenoble, where I ought to be at the present moment." + +"Yes! I do perceive very grave trouble there," said de Marmont with +characteristic insouciance, "but one which need not greatly worry the +Emperor. I am rich, thank God! and . . ." + +"And may God bless you, my dear de Marmont, for the thought," broke in +Emery earnestly, "but what may be called a large private fortune is as +nothing before the needs of an army. Soon, of course, the Emperor will +be in peaceful possession of his throne and will have all the resources +of France at his command, but before that happy time arrives there will +be much fighting, and many days--weeks perhaps--of anxiety to go +through. During those weeks the army must be paid and fed; and your +private fortune, my dear de Marmont, would--even if the Emperor were to +accept your sacrifice, which is not likely--be but as a drop in the +mighty ocean of the cost of a campaign. What are two or even three +millions, my poor, dear friend? It is forty, fifty millions that the +Emperor wants." + +De Marmont this time had nothing to say. He was staring moodily and +silently before him. + +"Now, that is what I have come to talk to you about," continued Emery +after a few seconds' pause, during which he had once more thrown a +quick, half-suspicious glance on the impassive, though obviously +interested face of the Englishman, "always supposing that Monsieur here +is on our side." + +"Neither on your side nor on the other, Captain," said Bobby Clyffurde +with a slight tone of impatience. "I am a mere tradesman, as I have had +the honour to tell you: a spectator at this game of political conflicts. +M. de Marmont knows this well, else he had not asked me to accompany him +to-day nor offered me a mount to enable me to do so. But if you prefer +it," he added lightly, "I can go for a stroll while you discuss these +graver matters." + +He would have risen from the table only that Emery immediately detained +him. + +"No offence, Sir," said the surgeon-captain bluntly. + +"None, I give you my word," assented the Englishman. "It is only natural +that you should wish to discuss such grave matters in private. Let me go +and see to our _dejeuner_ in the meanwhile. I feel sure that the +fricandeau is done to a turn by now. I'll have it dished up in ten +minutes. I pray you take no heed of me," he added in response to +murmured protestations from both de Marmont and Emery. "I would much +prefer to know nothing of these grave matters which you are about to +discuss." + +This time Emery did not detain him as he rose and turned to go within in +order to find mine host or Annette. The two Frenchmen took no further +heed of him: wrapped up in the all engrossing subject-matter they +remained seated at the table, leaning across it, their faces close to +one another, their eyes dancing with excitement, questions and +answers--as soon as the stranger's back was turned--already tumbling out +in confusion from their lips. + +Clyffurde turned to have a last look at them before he went into the +house, and while he did so his habitual, pleasant, gently-ironical smile +still hovered round his lips. But anon a quickly-suppressed sigh chased +the smile away, and over his face there crept a strange shadow--a look +of longing and of bitter regret. + +It was only for a moment, however, the next he had passed his hand +slowly across his forehead, as if to wipe away that shadow and smooth +out those lines of unspoken pain. + +Soon his cheerful voice was heard, echoing along the low rafters of the +little inn, loudly calling for Annette and for news of the baked +omelette and the fricandeau. + + +V + +"You really could have talked quite freely before Mr. Clyffurde, my good +Emery," said de Marmont as soon as Bobby had disappeared inside the inn. +"He really takes no part in politics. He is a friend alike of the Comte +de Cambray and of glovemaker Dumoulin. He has visited our Bonapartist +Club. Dumoulin has vouched for him. You see, he is not a fighting man." + +"I suppose that you are equally sure that he is not an English spy," +remarked Emery drily. + +"Of course I am sure," asserted de Marmont emphatically. "Dumoulin has +known him for years in business, though this is the first time that +Clyffurde has visited Grenoble. He is in the glove trade in England: his +interests are purely commercial. He came here with introductions to the +Comte de Cambray from a mutual friend in England who seems to be a +personage of vast importance in his own country and greatly esteemed by +the Comte--else you may be sure that that stiff-necked aristocrat would +never have received a tradesman as a guest in his house. But it was in +Dumoulin's house that I first met Bobby Clyffurde. We took a liking to +one another, and since then have ridden a great deal together. He is a +splendid horseman, and I was very glad to be able to offer him a mount +at different times. But our political conversations have never been +very heated or very serious. Clyffurde maintains a detached impersonal +attitude both to the Bonapartist and the royalist cause. I asked him to +accompany me this morning and he gladly consented, for he dearly loves a +horse. I assure you, you might have said anything before him." + +"_Eh bien!_ I'm sorry if I've been obstinate and ungracious," said the +surgeon-captain, but in a tone that obviously belied his words, "though, +frankly, I am very glad that we are alone for the moment." + +He paused, and with a wave of his thick, short-fingered hand he +dismissed this less important subject-matter and once more spoke with +his wonted eagerness on that which lay nearest his heart. + +"Now listen, my good de Marmont," he said, "do you recollect last April +when the Empress--poor wretched, misguided woman--fled so precipitately +from Paris, abandoning the capital, France and her crown at one and the +same time, and taking away with her all the Crown diamonds and money and +treasure belonging to the Emperor? She was terribly ill-advised, of +course, but . . ." + +"Yes, I remember all that perfectly well," broke in de Marmont +impatiently. + +"Well, then, you know that that abominable Talleyrand sent one of his +emissaries after the Empress and her suite . . . that this +emissary--Dudon was his name--reached Orleans just before Marie Louise +herself got there. . . ." + +"And that he ordered, in Talleyrand's name, the seizure of the Empress' +convoy as soon as it arrived in the city," broke in de Marmont again. +"Yes. I recollect that abominable outrage perfectly. Dudon, backed by +the officers of the gendarmerie, managed to rob the Empress of +everything she had, even to the last knife and fork, even to the last +pocket handkerchief belonging to the Emperor and marked with his +initials. Oh! it was monstrous! hellish! devilish! It makes my blood +boil whenever I think of it . . . whenever I think of those fatuous, +treacherous Bourbons gloating over those treasures at the Tuileries, +while our Empress went her way as effectually despoiled as if she had +been waylaid by so many brigands on a public highway." + +"Just so," resumed Emery quietly after de Marmont's violent storm of +wrath had subsided. "But I don't know if you also recollect that when +the various cases containing the Emperor's belongings were opened at the +Tuileries, there was just as much disappointment as gloating. Some of +those fatuous Bourbons--as you so rightly call them--expected to find +some forty or fifty millions of the Emperor's personal savings +there--bank-notes and drafts on the banks of France, of England and of +Amsterdam, which they were looking forward to distributing among +themselves and their friends. Your friend the Comte de Cambray would no +doubt have come in too for his share in this distribution. But M. de +Talleyrand is a very wise man! always far-seeing, he knows the +improvidence, the prodigality, the ostentation of these new masters whom +he is so ready to serve. Ere Dudon reached Paris with his booty, M. de +Talleyrand had very carefully eliminated therefrom some five and twenty +million francs in bank-notes and bankers' drafts, which he felt would +come in very usefully once for a rainy day." + +"But M. de Talleyrand is immensely rich himself," protested de Marmont. + +"Ah! he did not eliminate those five and twenty millions for his own +benefit," said Emery. "I would not so boldly accuse him of theft. The +money has been carefully put away by M. de Talleyrand for the use of His +Corpulent Majesty Louis de Bourbon, XVIIIth of that name." + +Then as Emery here made a dramatic pause and looked triumphantly across +at his companion, de Marmont rejoined somewhat bewildered: + +"But . . . I don't understand . . ." + +"Why I am telling you this?" retorted Emery, still with that triumphant +air. "You shall understand in a moment, my friend, when I tell you that +those five and twenty millions were never taken north to Paris, they +were conveyed in strict secrecy south to Grenoble!" + +"To Grenoble?" exclaimed de Marmont. + +"To Grenoble," reasserted Emery. + +"But why? . . . why such a long way?--why Grenoble?" queried the young +man in obvious puzzlement. + +"For several reasons," replied Emery. "Firstly both the prefet of the +department and the military commandant are hot royalists, whilst the +province of Dauphine is not. In case of any army corps being sent down +there to quell possible and probable revolt, the money would have been +there to hand: also, if you remember, there was talk at the time of the +King of Naples proving troublesome. There, too, in case of a campaign on +the frontier, the money lying ready to hand at Grenoble could prove very +useful. But of course I cannot possibly pretend to give you all the +reasons which actuated M. de Talleyrand when he caused five and twenty +millions of stolen money to be conveyed secretly to Grenoble rather than +to Paris. His ways are more tortuous than any mere army-surgeon can +possibly hope to gauge. Enough that he did it and that at this very +moment there are five and twenty millions which are the rightful +property of the Emperor locked up in the cellars of the Hotel de Ville +at Grenoble." + +"But . . ." murmured de Marmont, who still seemed very bewildered at all +that he had heard, "are you sure?" + +"Quite sure," affirmed Emery emphatically. "Dumoulin brought news of it +to the Emperor at Elba several months ago, and you know that he and his +Bonapartist Club always have plenty of spies in and around the +prefecture. The money is there," he reiterated with still greater +emphasis, "now the question is how are we going to get hold of it." + +"Easily," rejoined de Marmont with his habitual enthusiasm, "when the +Emperor marches into Grenoble and the whole of the garrison rallies +around him, he can go straight to the Hotel de Ville and take everything +that he wants." + +"Always supposing that M. le prefet does not anticipate the Emperor's +coming by conveying the money to Paris or elsewhere before we can get +hold of it," quoth Emery drily. + +"Oh! Fourier is not sufficiently astute for that." + +"Perhaps not. But we must not neglect possibilities. That money would be +a perfect godsend to the Emperor. It was originally his too, _par Dieu!_ +Anyhow, my good de Marmont, that is what I wanted to talk over quietly +with you before I get into Grenoble. Can you think of any means of +getting hold of that money in case Fourier has the notion of conveying +it to some other place of safety?" + +"I would like to think that over, Emery," said de Marmont thoughtfully. +"As you say, we of the Bonapartist Club at Grenoble have spies inside +the Hotel de Ville. We must try and find out what Fourier means to do as +soon as he realises that the Emperor is marching on Grenoble: and then +we must act accordingly and trust to luck and good fortune." + +"And to the Emperor's star," rejoined Emery earnestly; "it is once more +in the ascendant. But the matter of the money is a serious one, de +Marmont. You will deal with it seriously?" + +"Seriously!" ejaculated de Marmont. + +Once more the unquenchable fire of undying devotion to his hero glowed +in the young man's eyes. + +"Everything pertaining to the Emperor," he said fervently, "is serious +to me. For a whim of his I would lay down my life. I will think of all +you have told me, Emery, and here, beneath the blue dome of God's sky, +I swear that I will get the Emperor the money that he wants or lose mine +honour and my life in the attempt. + +"Amen to that," rejoined Emery with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You +are a brave man, de Marmont, would to heaven every Frenchman was like +you. And now," he added with sudden transition to a lighter mood, "let +Annette dish up the fricandeau. Here's our friend the tradesman, who was +born to be a soldier. M. Clyffurde," he added loudly, calling to the +Englishman who had just appeared in the doorway of the inn, "my grateful +thanks to you--not only for your courtesy, but for expediting that +delicious _dejeuner_ which tickles my appetite so pleasantly. I pray you +sit down without delay. I shall have to make an early start after the +meal, as I must be inside Grenoble before dark." + +Clyffurde, good-humoured, genial, quiet as usual, quickly responded to +the surgeon-captain's desire. He took his seat once more at the table +and spoke of the weather and the sunshine, the Alps and the snows the +while Annette spread a cloth and laid plates and knives and forks before +the distinguished gentlemen. + +"We all want to make an early start, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" ejaculated +de Marmont gaily. "We have serious business to transact this night with +M. le Comte de Cambray, and partake too of his gracious hospitality, +what?" + +Emery laughed. + +"Not I forsooth," he said. "M. le Comte would as soon have Satan or +Beelzebub inside his doors. And I marvel, my good de Marmont, that you +have succeeded in keeping on such friendly terms with that royalist +ogre." + +"I?" said de Marmont, whose inward exultation radiated from his entire +personality, "I, my dear Emery? Did you not know that I am that royalist +ogre's future son-in-law? _Par Dieu!_ but this is a glorious day for me +as well as a glorious day for France! Emery, dear friend, wish me joy +and happiness. On Tuesday I wed Mademoiselle Crystal de +Cambray--to-night we sign our marriage contract! Wish me joy, I say! +she's a bride well worth the winning! Napoleon sets forth to conquer a +throne--I to conquer love. And you, old sober-face, do not look so +glum!" he added, turning to Clyffurde. + +And his ringing laugh seemed to echo from end to end of the narrow +valley. + +After which a lighter atmosphere hung around the table outside the +"Auberge du Grand Dauphin." There was but little talk of the political +situation, still less of party hatred and caste prejudices. The hero's +name was still on the lips of the two men who worshipped him, and +Clyffurde, faithful to his attitude of detachment from political +conflicts, listened quite unmoved to the impassioned dithyrambs of his +friends. + +But so absorbed were these two in their conversation and their joy that +they failed to notice that Clyffurde hardly touched the excellent +_dejeuner_ set before him and left mine host's fine Burgundy almost +untasted. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE OLD REGIME + + +I + +On that same day and at about the same time when Victor de Marmont and +his English friend first turned their horses up the bridle path and +sighted Notre Dame de Vaulx (when, if you remember, the young Frenchman +drew rein and fell to apostrophising the hamlet, the day, the hour and +the glorious news which he was expecting to hear) at about that +self-same hour, I say, in the Chateau de Brestalou, situate on the right +bank of the Isere at a couple of kilometres from Grenoble, the big +folding doors of solid mahogany which lead from the suite of vast +reception rooms to the small boudoir beyond were thrown open and Hector +appeared to announce that M. le Comte de Cambray would be ready to +receive Mme. la Duchesse in the library in a quarter of an hour. + +Mme. la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen thereupon closed the gilt-edged, +much-bethumbed Missal which she was reading--since this was Sunday and +she had been unable to attend Mass owing to that severe twinge of +rheumatism in her right knee--and placed it upon the table close to her +elbow; then with delicate, bemittened hand she smoothed out one unruly +crease in her puce silk gown and finally looked up through her round, +bone-rimmed spectacles at the sober-visaged, majestic personage who +stood at attention in the doorway. + +"Tell M. le Comte, my good Hector," she said with slow deliberation, +"that I will be with him at the time which he has so graciously +appointed." + +Hector bowed himself out of the room with that perfect decorum which +proclaims the well-trained domestic of an aristocratic house. As soon as +the tall mahogany doors were closed behind him, Mme. la Duchesse took +her spectacles off from her high-bred nose and gave a little sniff, +which caused Mademoiselle Crystal to look up from her book and mutely to +question Madame with those wonderful blue eyes of hers. + +"Ah ca, my little Crystal," was Madame's tart response to that eloquent +enquiry, "does Monsieur my brother imagine himself to be a second +Bourbon king, throning it in the Tuileries and granting audiences to the +ladies of his court? or is it only for my edification that he plays this +magnificent game of etiquette and ceremonial and other stupid +paraphernalia which have set me wondering since last night? M. le Comte +will receive Mme. la Duchesse in a quarter of an hour forsooth," she +added, mimicking Hector's pompous manner; "_par Dieu!_ I should think +indeed that he would receive his own sister when and where it suited her +convenience--not his." + +Crystal was silent for a moment or two: and in those same expressive +eyes which she kept fixed on Madame's face, the look of mute enquiry had +become more insistent. It almost seemed as if she were trying to +penetrate the underlying thoughts of the older woman, as if she tried to +read all that there was in that kindly glance of hidden sarcasm, of +humour or tolerance, or of gentle contempt. Evidently what she read in +the wrinkled face and the twinkling eyes pleased and reassured her, for +now the suspicion of a smile found its way round the corners of her +sensitive mouth. + +There are some very old people living in Grenoble at the present day +whose mothers or fathers have told them that they remembered +Mademoiselle Crystal de Cambray quite well in the year that M. le Comte +returned from England and once more took possession of his ancestral +home on the bank of the Isere, which those awful Terrorists of '92 had +taken away from him. Louis XVIII., the Benevolent king, had promptly +restored the old chateau to its rightful owner, when he himself, after +years of exile, mounted the throne of his fathers, and the usurper +Bonaparte was driven out of France by the armies of Europe allied +against him, and sent to cool his ambitions in the island fastnesses of +Elba. + +Mademoiselle de Cambray was just nineteen in that year 1814 which was so +full of grace for the Bourbon dynasty and all its faithful adherents, +and in February of the following year she attained her twentieth +birthday. Of course you know that she was born in England, and that her +mother was English, for had not M. le Comte been obliged to fly before +the fury of the Terrorists, whose dreaded Committee of Public Safety had +already arrested him as a "suspect" and condemned him to the guillotine. +He had contrived to escape death by what was nothing short of a miracle, +and he had lived for twenty years in England, and there had married a +beautiful English girl from whom Mademoiselle Crystal had inherited the +deep blue eyes and brilliant skin which were the greatest charm of her +effulgent beauty. + +I like to think of her just as she was on that memorable day early in +March of the year 1815--just as she sat that morning on a low stool +close to Mme. la Duchesse's high-backed chair, and with her eyes fixed +so enquiringly upon Madame's kind old face. Her fair hair was done up in +the quaint loops and curls which characterised the mode of the moment: +she had on a white dress cut low at the neck and had wrapped a soft +cashmere shawl round her shoulders, for the weather was cold and there +was no fire in the stately open hearth. + +Having presumably arrived at the happy conclusion that Madame's wrath +was only on the surface, Crystal now said gently: + +"Father loves all this etiquette, _ma tante_; it brings back memories of +a very happy past. It is the only thing he has left now," she added with +a little sigh, "the only bit out of the past which that awful revolution +could not take away from him. You will try to be indulgent to him, aunt +darling, won't you?" + +"Indulgent?" retorted the old lady with a shrug of her shoulders, "of +course I'll be indulgent. It's no affair of mine and he does as he +pleases. But I should have thought that twenty years spent in England +would have taught him commonsense, and twenty years' experience in +earning a precarious livelihood as a teacher of languages in . . ." + +"Hush, aunt, for pity's sake," broke in Crystal hurriedly, and she put +up her hands almost as if she wished to stop the words in the old lady's +mouth. + +"All right! all right! I won't mention it again," said Mme. la Duchesse +good-humouredly. "I have only been in this house four and twenty hours, +my dear child, but I have already learned my lesson. I know that the +memory of the past twenty years must be blotted right out of our +minds--out of the minds of every one of us. . . ." + +"Not of mine, aunt, altogether," murmured Crystal softly. + +"No, my dear--not altogether," rejoined Mme. la Duchesse as she placed +one of her fine white hands on the fair head of her niece; "your +beautiful mother belongs to the unforgettable memories, of those twenty +years. . . ." + +"And not only my beautiful mother, aunt dear. There are men living in +England to-day whose names must remain for ever engraved upon my +father's heart, as well as on mine--if we should ever forget those +names and neglect for one single day our prayers of gratitude for their +welfare and their reward, we should be the meanest and blackest of +ingrates." + +"Ah!" said Madame, "I am glad that Monsieur my brother remembers all +that in the midst of his restored grandeur." + +"Have you been wronging him in your heart all this while, _ma tante_?" +asked Crystal, and there was a slight tone of reproach in her voices +"you used not to be so cynical once upon a time." + +"Cynical!" exclaimed the Duchesse, "bless the child's heart! Of course I +am cynical--at my age what can you expect?--and what can I expect? But +there, don't distress yourself, I am not wronging your father--far from +it--only this grandeur--the state dinner last night--his gracious +manner--all that upset me. I am not used to it, my dear, you see. Twenty +years in that diminutive house in Worcester have altered my tastes, I +see, more than they did your father's . . . and these last ten months +which he seems to have spent in reviving the old grandeur of his +ancestral home, I spent, remember, with the dear little Sisters of Mercy +at Boulogne, praying amidst very humble surroundings that the future may +not become more unendurable than the past." + +"But you are glad to be back at Brestalou again? and you _will_ remain +here with us--always?" queried Crystal, and with tender eagerness she +clasped the older woman's hands closely in her own. + +"Yes, dear," replied Madame gently. "I am glad to be back in the old +chateau--my dear old home--where I was very happy and very young +once--oh, so very long ago! And I will remain with your father and look +after him all the time that his young bird is absent from the nest." + +Again she stroked her niece's soft, wavy hair with a gesture which +apparently was habitual with her, and it seemed as if a note of sadness +had crept into her brisk, sharp voice. Over Crystal's cheeks a wave of +crimson had quickly swept at her aunt's last words: and the eyes which +she now raised to Madame's kindly face were full of tears. + +"It seems so terribly soon now, _ma tante_," she said wistfully. + +"Hm, yes!" quoth Mme. la Duchesse drily, "time has a knack now and then +of flying faster than we wish. Well, my dear, so long as this day brings +you happiness, the old folk who stay at home have no right to grumble." + +Then as Crystal made no reply and held her little head resolutely away, +Madame said more insistently: + +"You are happy, Crystal, are you not?" + +"Of course I am happy, _ma tante_," replied Crystal quickly, "why should +you ask?" + +But still she would not look straight into Madame's eyes, and the tone +of Madame's voice sounded anything but satisfied. + +"Well!" she said, "I ask, I suppose, because I want an answer . . . a +satisfactory answer." + +"You have had it, _ma tante_, have you not?" + +"Yes, my dear. If you are happy, I am satisfied. But last night it +seemed to me as if your ideas of your own happiness and those of your +father on the same subject were somewhat at variance, eh?" + +"Oh no, _ma tante_," rejoined Crystal quietly, "father and I are quite +of one mind on that subject." + +"But your heart is pulling a different way, is that it?" + +Then as Crystal once more relapsed into silence and two hot tears +dropped on the Duchesse's wrinkled hands, the old woman added softly: + +"St. Genis, who hasn't a sou, was out of the question, I suppose." + +Crystal shook her head in silence. + +"And that young de Marmont is very rich?" + +"He is his uncle's heir," murmured Crystal. + +"And you, child, are marrying a kinsman of that abominable Duc de Raguse +in order to regild our family escutcheon." + +"My father wished it so very earnestly," rejoined Crystal, who was +bravely swallowing her tears, "and I could not bear to run counter to +his desire. The Duc de Raguse has promised father that when I am a de +Marmont he will buy back all the forfeited Cambray estates and restore +them to us: Victor will be allowed to take up the name of Cambray and +. . . and . . . Oh!" she exclaimed passionately, "father has had such a +hard life, so much sorrow, so many disappointments, and now this poverty +is so horribly grinding. . . . I couldn't have the heart to disappoint +him in this!" + +"You are a good child, Crystal," said Madame gently, "and no doubt +Victor de Marmont will prove a good husband to you. But I wish he wasn't +a Marmont, that's all." + +But this remark, delivered in the old lady's most uncompromising manner, +brought forth a hot protest from Crystal: + +"Why, aunt," she said, "the Duc de Raguse is the most faithful servant +the king could possibly wish to have. It was he and no one else who +delivered Paris to the allies and thus brought about the downfall of +Bonaparte, and the restoration of our dear King Louis to the throne of +France." + +"Tush, child, I know that," said Madame with her habitual tartness of +speech, "I know it just as well as history will know it presently, and +methinks that history will pass on the Duc de Raguse just about the same +judgment as I passed on him in my heart last year. God knows I hate that +Bonaparte as much as anyone, and our Bourbon kings are almost as much a +part of my religion as is the hierarchy of saints, but a traitor like +de Marmont I cannot stomach. What was he before Bonaparte made him a +marshal of France and created him Duc de Raguse?--An out-at-elbows +ragamuffin in the ranks of the republican army. To Bonaparte he owed +everything, title, money, consideration, even the military talents which +gave him the power to turn on the hand that had fed him. Delivered Paris +to the allies indeed!" continued the Duchesse with ever-increasing +indignation and volubility, "betrayed Bonaparte, then licked the boots +of the Czar of Russia, of the Emperor, of King Louis, of all the deadly +enemies of the man to whom he owed his very existence. Pouah! I hate +Bonaparte, but men like Ney and Berthier and de Marmont sicken me! Thank +God that even in his life-time, de Marmont, Duc de Raguse, has already +an inkling of what posterity will say of him. Has not the French +language been enriched since the capitulation of Paris with a new word +that henceforth and for all times will always spell disloyalty: and +to-day when we wish to describe a particularly loathsome type of +treachery, do we not already speak of a 'ragusade'?" + +Crystal had listened in silence to her aunt's impassioned tirade. Now +when Madame paused--presumably for want of breath--she said gently: + +"That is all quite true, _ma tante_, but I am afraid that father would +not altogether see eye to eye with you in this. After all," she added +naively, "a pagan may become converted to Christianity without being +called a traitor to his false gods, and the Duc de Raguse may have +learnt to hate the idol whom he once worshipped, and for this profession +of faith we should honour him, I think." + +"Yes," grunted Madame, unconvinced, "but we need not marry into his +family." + +"But in any case," retorted Crystal, "poor Victor cannot help what his +uncle did." + +"No, he cannot," assented the Duchesse decisively, "and he is very rich +and he loves you, and as your husband he will own all the old Cambray +estates which his uncle of ragusade fame will buy up for him, and +presently your son, my darling, will be Comte de Cambray, just as if +that awful revolution and all that robbing and spoliation had never +been. And of course everything will be for the best in the best possible +world, if only," concluded the old lady with a sigh, "if only I thought +that you would be happy." + +Crystal took care not to meet Madame's kindly glance just then, for of a +surety the tears would have rushed in a stream to her eyes. But she +would not give way to any access of self-pity: she had chosen her part +in life and this she meant to play loyally, without regret and without +murmur. + +"But of course, _ma tante_, I shall be happy," she said after a while; +"as you say, M. de Marmont is very kind and good and I know that father +will be happy when Brestalou and Cambray and all the old lands are once +more united in his name. Then he will be able to do something really +great and good for the King and for France . . . and I too, perhaps. +. . ." + +"You, my poor darling!" exclaimed Madame, "what can you do, I should +like to know." + +A curious, dreamy look came into the girl's eyes, just as if a +foreknowledge of the drama in which she was so soon destined to play the +chief _role_ had suddenly appeared to her through the cloudy and distant +veils of futurity. + +"I don't know, _ma tante_," she said slowly, "but somehow I have always +felt that one day I might be called upon to do something for France. +There are times when that feeling becomes so strong that all thoughts of +myself and of my own happiness fade from my knowledge, and it seems as +if my duty to France and to the King were more insistent than my duty to +God." + +"Poor France!" sighed Madame. + +"Yes! that is just what I feel, _ma tante_. Poor France! She has +suffered so much more than we have, and she has regained so much less! +Enemies still lurk around her; the prowling wolf is still at her gate: +even the throne of her king is still insecure! Poor, poor France! our +country, _ma tante_! she should be our pride, our glory, and she is weak +and torn and beset by treachery! Oh, if only I could do something for +France and for the King I would count myself the happiest woman on God's +earth." + +Now she was a woman transformed. She seemed taller and stronger. Her +girlishness, too, had vanished. Her cheeks burned, her eyes glowed, her +breath came and went rapidly through her quivering nostrils. Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen looked down on her niece with naive admiration. + +"_He_ my little Joan of Arc!" she said merrily, "_par Dieu_, your +eloquence, _ma mignonne_, has warmed up my old heart too. But, please +God, our dear old country will not have need of heroism again." + +"I am not so sure of that, _ma tante_." + +"You are thinking of that ugly rumour which was current in Grenoble +yesterday." + +"Yes!" + +"If that Corsican brigand dares to set his foot again upon this land +. . ." began the old lady vehemently. + +"Let him come, _ma tante_," broke in Crystal exultantly, "we are ready +for him. Let him come, and this time when God has punished him again, it +won't be to Elba that he will be sent to expiate his villainies!" + +"Amen to that, my child," concluded Madame fervently. "And now, my dear, +don't let me forget the hour of my audience. Hector will be back in a +moment or two, and I must not lose any more time gossiping. But before I +go, little one, will you tell me one thing?" + +"Of course I will, _ma tante_." + +"Quite frankly?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Well then, I want to know . . . about that English friend of yours. +. . ." + +"Mr. Clyffurde, you mean?" asked Crystal. "What about him?" + +"I want to know, my dear, what I ought to make of this Mr. Clyffurde." + +Crystal laughed lightly, and looked up with astonished, inquiring, +wide-open eyes to her aunt. + +"What should you want to make of him, _ma tante_?" she asked, wholly +unperturbed under the scrutinising gaze of Madame. + +"Nothing," said the Duchesse abruptly. "I have had my answer, thank you, +dear." + +Evidently she had no intention of satisfying the girl's obvious +curiosity, for she suddenly rose from her chair, gathered her lace shawl +round her shoulders, and said with abrupt transition: + +"The hour for my audience is at hand. Not one minute must I keep my +august brother waiting. I can hear Hector's footsteps in the corridor, +and I will not have him see me in a fluster." + +Crystal looked as if she would have liked to question Madame a little +more closely about her former cryptic utterance, but there was something +in the sarcastic twinkle of those sharp eyes which caused the young girl +to refrain from too many questions, and--very wisely--she decided to +hold her peace. + +Madame la Duchesse threw a quick glance into the gilt-framed mirror +close by. She smoothed a stray wisp of hair which had escaped from under +her lace cap: she gave a tug to her fichu and a pat to her skirts. Then, +as the folding doors were once more thrown open, and Hector--stiff, +solemn and pompous--appeared under the lintel, Madame threw back her +head in the grand manner pertaining to the old days at Versailles. + +"Precede me, Hector," she said with consummate dignity, "to M. le +Comte's audience chamber." + +And with hands folded before her, her aristocratic head very erect, her +mouth and eyes composed to reposeful majesty, she sailed out through the +mahogany doors in a style which no one who had never curtsied to the +Bien-aime Monarque could possibly hope to imitate. + + +II + +For some little while after her aunt had sailed out of the room Crystal +remained where she was sitting on the low stool beside the high-backed +chair just vacated by the Duchess. + +Her eyes were still glowing with the enthusiasm which had excited the +admiration of the older woman a while ago, and the high colour in her +cheeks, the tremor of her nostrils showed that that same enthusiasm +still kept her nerves on the quiver and caused the young, hot blood to +course swiftly through her veins. + +But something of the lightness of her mood had vanished, something of +the exultant joy of the heroine had given place to the calmer +resignation of the potential martyr. Gradually the colour faded from her +cheeks, the light died slowly out of her eyes, and the young fair head +so lately tossed triumphantly in the ardour of patriotism sunk gradually +upon the still heaving breast. + +Crystal was alone, and she was not ashamed to let the tears well up to +her eyes. Despite her proud profession of faith the insistent longing +for happiness, which is the inalienable share of youth, knocked at the +portals of her heart. + +Not even to the devoted aunt who had brought her up, who had known her +every childish sorrow and gleaned her every childish tear, not even to +her would she show what it cost her to sink her individuality, her +longings, her hopes of happiness into that overwhelming sense of duty to +her father's wishes and to the demands of her name, her country and her +caste. + +She had repeated it to herself often and often that her father had +suffered so much for the sake of his convictions, had endured poverty +and exile where opportunism would have dictated submission to the +usurper Bonaparte and the acceptance of riches and honours at his hands, +he had remained loyal in his beliefs, steadfast to his King through +twenty years of misery, akin to squalor, the remembrance of which would +for ever darken the rest of his life, but he had endured all that +without bitterness, scarcely without a murmur. And now that twenty years +of self-abnegation were at last finding their reward, now that the King +had come into his own, and the King's faithful friends were being +compensated in accordance with the length of the King's purse, would it +not be arrant cowardice and disloyalty for her--an only child--to oppose +her father's will in the ordering of her own future, to refuse the rich +marriage which would help to restore dignity and grandeur to the ancient +name and to the old home? + +Crystal de Cambray was born in England: she had lived the whole of her +life in a small provincial town in this country. But she had been +brought up by her aunt, the Duchesse douairiere d'Agen, and through that +upbringing she had been made to imbibe from her earliest childhood all +the principles of the old regime. These principles consisted chiefly of +implicit obedience by the children to the parents' decrees anent +marriage, of blind worship of the dignity of station, and of duty to +name and caste, to king and country. + +The thought would never have entered Crystal's head that she could have +the right to order her own future, or to demand from life her own +special brand of happiness. + +Now her fate had been finally decided on by her father, and she was on +the point of taking--at his wish--the irrevocable step which would bind +her for ever to a man whom she could never love. But she did not think +of rebellion, she had no thought of grumbling at Fate or at her father: +Crystal de Cambray had English blood in her veins, the blood that makes +men and women accept the inevitable with set teeth and a determination +to do the right thing even if it hurts. Crystal, therefore, had no +thought of rebellion; she only felt an infinity of regret for something +sweet and intangible which she had hardly realised, hardly expected, +which had been too elusive to be called hope, too remote to be termed +happiness. She gave herself the luxury of this short outburst of +tears--since nobody was near and nobody could see: there was a fearful +pain in her heart while she rested her head against the cushion of the +stiff high-backed chair and cried till it seemed that she never could +cry again whatever sorrow life might still have in store for her. + +But when that outburst of grief had subsided she dried her eyes +resolutely, rose to her feet, arranged her hair in front of the mirror, +and feeling that her eyes were hot and her head heavy, she turned to the +tall French window, opened it and stepped out into the garden. + + +It had suffered from years of neglect, the shrubs grew rank and stalky, +the paths were covered with weeds, but there was a slight feeling of +spring in the air, the bare branches of the trees seemed swollen with +the rising sap, and upon the edge of the terrace balustrade a +red-breasted robin cocked its mischievous little eye upon her. + +At the bottom of the garden there was a fine row of ilex, with here and +there a stone seat, and in the centre an old stone fountain moss-covered +and overshadowed by the hanging boughs of the huge, melancholy trees. +Crystal was very fond of this avenue; she liked to sit and watch the +play of sunshine upon the stone of the fountain: the melancholy quietude +of the place suited her present mood. It was so strange to look on these +big evergreen trees and on the havoc caused by weeds and weather on the +fine carving of the fountain, and to think of their going on here year +after year for the past twenty years, while that hideous revolution had +devastated the whole country, while men had murdered each other, +slaughtered women and children and committed every crime and every +infamy which lust of hate and revenge can engender in the hearts of men. +The old trees and the stone fountain had remained peaceful and still the +while, unscathed and undefiled, grand, dignified and majestic, while the +owner of the fine chateau of the gardens and the fountain and of half +the province around earned a precarious livelihood in a foreign land, +half-starved in wretchedness and exile. + +She, Crystal, had never seen them until some ten months ago, when her +father came back into his own, and leading his daughter by the hand, had +taken her on a tour of inspection to show her the magnificence of her +ancestral home. She had loved at once the fine old chateau with its +lichen-covered walls, its fine portcullis and crenelated towers, she had +wept over the torn tapestries, the broken furniture, the family +portraits which a rough and impious rabble had wilfully damaged, she had +loved the wide sweep of the terrace walls, the views over the Isere and +across the mountain range to the peaks of the Grande Chartreuse, but +above all she had loved this sombre row of ilex trees, the broken +fountain, the hush and peace which always lay over this secluded portion +of the neglected garden. + +The earth was moist and soft under her feet, the cheeky robin, curious +after the manner of his kind, had followed her and was flying from seat +to seat ahead of her watching her every movement. + +"Crystal!" + +At first she thought that it was the wind sighing through the trees, so +softly had her name been spoken, so like a sigh did it seem as it +reached her ears. + +"Crystal!" + +This time she could not be mistaken, someone had called her name, +someone was walking up the avenue rapidly, behind her. She would not +turn round, for she knew who it was that had called and she would not +allow surprise to resuscitate the outward signs of regret. But she stood +quite still while those hasty footsteps drew nearer, and she made a +great and successful effort to keep back the tears which once more +threatened to fill her eyes. + +A minute later she felt herself gently drawn to the nearest stone seat, +and she sank down upon it, still trying very hard to remain calm and +above all not to cry. + +"Oh! why, why did you come, Maurice?" she said at last, when she felt +that she could look with some semblance of composure on the +half-sitting, half-kneeling figure of the young man beside her. Despite +her obstinate resistance he had taken her hand in his and was covering +it with kisses. + +"Why did you come," she reiterated pleadingly, "you must know that it is +no use. . . ." + +"I can't believe it. I won't believe it," he protested passionately. +"Crystal, if you really cared you would not send me away from you." + +"If I really cared?" she said dully. "Maurice, sometimes I think that if +_you_ really cared you would not make it so difficult for me. Can't you +see," she added more vehemently, "that every time you come you make me +more wretched, and my duty seem more hard? till sometimes I feel as if I +could not bear it any longer--as if in the struggle my poor heart would +suddenly break." + +"And because your father is so heartless . . ." he began vehemently. + +"My father is not heartless, Maurice," she broke in firmly, "but you +must try and see for yourself how impossible it was for him to give his +consent to our marriage even if he knew that my happiness was bounded by +your love. . . . Just think it over quietly--if you had a sister who was +all the world to you, would _you_ consent to such a marriage? . . ." + +"With a penniless, out-at-elbows, good-for-nothing, you mean?" he said, +with a kind of resentful bitterness. "No! I dare say I should not. +Money!" he cried impetuously as he jumped to his feet, and burying his +hands in the pockets of his breeches he began pacing the path up and +down in front of her. "Money! always money! Always talk of duty and of +obedience . . . always your father and his sorrows and his desires . . . +do I count for nothing, then? Have I not suffered as he has suffered? +did I not live in exile as he did? Have I not made sacrifices for my +king and for my ideals? Why should I suffer in the future as well as in +the past? Why, because my king is powerless or supine in giving me back +what was filched from my father, should that be taken from me which +alone gives me incentive to live . . . you, Crystal," he added as once +again he knelt beside her. He encircled her shoulders with his arms, +then he seized her two hands and covered them with kisses. "You are all +that I want in this world. After all, we can live in poverty . . . we +have been brought up in poverty, you and I . . . and even then it is +only a question of a few years . . . months, perhaps . . . the King must +give us back what that abominable Revolution took from us--from us who +remained loyal to him and because we were loyal. My father owned rich +lands in Burgundy . . . the King must give those back to me . . . he +must . . . he shall . . . he will . . . if only you will be patient, +Crystal . . . if only you will wait. . . ." + +The fiery blood of his race had rushed into Maurice de St. Genis' head. +He was talking volubly and at random, but he believed for the moment +everything that he said. Tears of passion and of fervour came to his +eyes and he buried his head in the folds of Crystal's white gown and +heavy sobs shook his bent shoulders. She, moved by that motherly +tenderness which is seldom absent from a good woman's love, stroked with +soothing fingers the matted hair from his hot forehead. For a while she +remained silent while the paroxysm of his passionate revolt spent itself +in tears, then she said quite softly: + +"I think, Maurice, that in your heart you do us all an injustice--to me, +to father, to yourself, even to the King. The King cannot give you that +which is not his; your property--like ours--was confiscated by that +awful revolutionary government because your father and mine followed +their king into exile. The rich lands were sold for the benefit of the +nation: the nation presumably has spent the money, but the people who +bought the lands in good faith cannot be dispossessed by our King +without creating bitter ill-feeling against himself, as you well know, +and once more endangering his throne. Those are the facts, Maurice, +against which no hot-blooded argument, no passionate outbursts can +prevail. The King gave my father back this dear old castle, because it +happened to have proved unsaleable, and was still on the nation's hands. +Our rich lands--like yours--can never be restored to us: that hard fact +has been driven into poor father's head for the past ten months, and now +it has gone home at last. These grey walls, this neglected garden, a few +sticks of broken furniture, a handful of money from an over-generous +king's treasury is all that Fate has rescued for him from out the ashes +of the past. My father is every whit as penniless as you are yourself, +Maurice, as penniless as ever he was in England, when he gave French and +drawing lessons to a lot of young ragamuffins in a middle-class school. +But Victor de Marmont is rich, and his money--once I am his wife--will +purchase back all the estates which have been in our family for +hundreds of years. For my father's sake, for the sake of the name which +I bear, I must give my hand to Victor de Marmont, and pray to God that +some semblance of peace, the sense of duty accomplished, will compensate +me for the happiness to which I shall bid good-bye to-day." + +"And you are willing to be sold to young de Marmont for the price of a +few acres of land!" retorted Maurice de St. Genis hotly. "Oh! it's +monstrous, Crystal, monstrous! All the more monstrous as you seem quite +unconscious of the iniquity of such a bargain." + +"Women of our caste, Maurice," she said in her turn with a touch of +bitterness, "have often before now been sacrificed for the honour of +their name. Men have been accustomed to look to them for help when their +own means of gilding their escutcheons have failed." + +"And you are willing, Crystal, to be sold like this?" he insisted. + +"My father wishes me to marry Victor de Marmont," she replied with calm +dignity, "and after all that he has suffered for the honour and dignity +of our name, I should deem myself craven and treacherous if I refused to +obey him in this." + +Maurice de St. Genis once more rose to his feet. All his vehemence, his +riotous outbreak of rebellion seemed to have been smothered beneath a +pall of dreary despair. His young, good-looking face appeared sombre and +sullen, his restless, dark eyes wandered obstinately from Crystal's fair +bent head to her stooping shoulders, to her hands, to her feet. It +seemed as if he was trying to engrave an image of her upon his turbulent +brain, or that he wished to force her to look on him again before she +spoke the last words of farewell. + +But she wouldn't look at him. She kept her head resolutely averted, +looking far out over the undulating lands of Dauphine and Savoie to +where in the far distant sky the stately Alps reared their snow-crowned +heads. At last, unable to bear her silence any longer, he said dully: + +"Then it is your last word, Crystal?" + +"You know that it must be, Maurice," she murmured in reply. "My marriage +contract will be signed to-night, and on Tuesday I go to the altar with +Victor de Marmont." + +"And you mean to tear your love for me out of your heart?" + +"Yes!" + +"Were its roots a little deeper, a little stronger, you could not do it, +Crystal. But they are not so deep as those of your love for your +father." + +She made no reply . . . perhaps something in her heart told her that +after all he might be right, that, unbeknown to herself even, there were +tendrils of affection in her that bound her, ivylike, and so closely--to +her father that even her girlish love for Maurice de St. Genis--the +first hint of passion that had stirred the smooth depths of her young +heart--could not tear her from that bulwark to which she clung. + +"This is the last time that I shall see you, Crystal," said Maurice with +a sigh, seeing that obviously she meant to allow his taunt to pass +unchallenged. + +"You are going away?" she asked. + +"How can I stay--here, under this roof, where anon--in a few +hours--Victor de Marmont will have claims upon you which, if he +exercised them before me would make me wish to kill him or myself. I +shall leave to-morrow--early . . ." he added more quietly. + +"Where will you go?" + +"To Paris--or abroad--or the devil, I don't know which," he replied +moodily. + +"Father will be sorry if you go?" she murmured under her breath, for +once again the tears were very insistent, and she felt an awful pain in +her heart, because of the misery which she had to inflict upon him. + +"Your father has been passing kind to me. He gave me a home when I was +homeless, but it is not fitting that I should trespass any longer upon +his hospitality." + +"Have you made any plans?" + +"Not yet. But the King will give me a commission. There will be some +fighting now . . . there was a rumour in Grenoble last night that +Bonaparte had landed at Antibes, and was marching on Paris." + +"A false rumour as usual, I suppose," she said indifferently. + +"Perhaps," he replied. + +There was silence between them for awhile after that, silence only +broken by the twitter of birds wakening to the call of spring. The word +"good-bye" remained unspoken: neither of them dared to say it lest it +broke the barrier of their resolve. + +"Will you not go now, Maurice?" said Crystal at last in pitiable +pleading, "we only make each other hopelessly wretched, by lingering +near one another after this." + +"Yes, I will go, Crystal," he replied, and this time he really forced +his voice to tones of gentleness, although his inward resentment still +bubbled out with every word he spoke, "I wish I could have left this +house altogether--now--at once--but your father would resent it--and he +has been so kind . . . I wish I could go to-day," he reiterated +obstinately, "I dread seeing Victor de Marmont in this house, where the +laws of chivalry forbid my striking him in the face." + +"Maurice!" she exclaimed reproachfully. + +"Nay! I'll not say it again: I have sufficient reason left in me, I +think, to show these parvenus how we, of the old regime, bear every blow +which fate chooses to deal to us. They have taken everything from us, +these new men--our lives, our lands, our very means of subsistence--now +they have taken to filching our sweethearts--curse them! but at least +let us keep our dignity!" + +But again she was silent. What was there to say that had not been +said?--save that unspoken word "good-bye." And he asked very softly: + +"May I kiss you for the last time, Crystal?" + +"No, Maurice," she replied, "never again." + +"You are still free," he urged. "You are not plighted to de Marmont +yet." + +"No--not actually--not till to-night. . . ." + +"Then . . . mayn't I?" + +"No, Maurice," she said decisively. + +"Your hand then?" + +"If you like." He knelt down close to her; she yielded her hand to him +and he with his usual impulsiveness covered it with kisses into which he +tried to infuse the fervour of a last farewell. + +Then without another word he rose to his feet and walked away with a +long and firm stride down the avenue. Crystal watched his retreating +figure until the overhanging branches of the ilex hid him from her view. + +She made no attempt now to restrain her tears, they flowed +uninterruptedly down her cheeks and dropped hot and searing upon her +hands. With Maurice's figure disappearing down the dark avenue, with the +echo of his footsteps dying away in the distance, the last chapter of +her first book of romance seemed to be closing with relentless finality. + +The afternoon sun was hidden behind a bank of grey clouds, the northeast +wind came whistling insistently through the trees:--even that feeling of +spring in the air had vanished. It was just a bleak grey winter's day +now. Crystal felt herself shivering with cold. She drew her shawl more +closely round her shoulders, then with eyes still wet with tears, but +small head held well erect, she rose to her feet and walked rapidly back +to the house. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse had in the meanwhile followed Hector along the +corridor and down the finely carved marble staircase. At a monumental +door on the ground floor the man paused, his hand upon the massive +ormolu handle, waiting for Madame la Duchesse to come up. + +He felt a little uncomfortable at her approach for here in the big +square hall the light was very clear, and he could see Madame's keen, +searching eyes looking him up and down and through and through. She even +put up her lorgnon and though she was not very tall, she contrived to +look Hector through them straight between the eyes. + +"Is M. le Comte in there?" Madame la Duchesse deigned to ask as she +pointed with her lorgnon to the door. + +"In the small library beyond, Madame la Duchesse," replied Hector +stiffly. + +"And . . ." she queried with sharp sarcasm, "is the antechamber very +full of courtiers and ladies just now?" + +A quick, almost imperceptible blush spread over Hector's impassive +countenance, and as quickly vanished again. + +"M. le Comte," he said imperturbably, "is disengaged at the present +moment. He seldom receives visitors at this hour." + +On Madame's mobile lips the sarcastic curl became more marked. "And I +suppose, my good Hector," she said, "that since M. le Comte has only +granted an audience to his sister to-day, you thought it was a good +opportunity for putting yourself at your ease and wearing your patched +and mended clothes, eh?" + +Once more that sudden wave of colour swept over Hector's solemn old +face. He was evidently at a loss how to take Mme. la Duchesse's +remark--whether as a rebuke or merely as one of those mild jokes of +which every one knew that Madame was inordinately fond. + +Something of his dignity of attitude seemed to fall away from him as he +vainly tried to solve this portentous problem. His mouth felt dry and +his head hot, and he did not know on which foot he could stand with the +least possible discomfort, and how he could contrive to hide from Madame +la Duchesse's piercing eyes that very obvious patch in the right knee of +his breeches. + +"Madame la Duchesse will forgive me, I hope," he stammered painfully. + +But already Madame's kind old face had shed its mask of raillery. + +"Never mind, Hector," she said gently, "you are a good fellow, and +there's no occasion to tell me lies about the rich liveries which are +put away somewhere, nor about the numerous retinue and countless number +of flunkeys, all of whom are having unaccountably long holidays just +now. It's no use trying to throw dust in my eyes, my poor friend, or put +on that pompous manner with me. I know that the carpets are not all +temporarily rolled up or the best of the furniture at a repairer's in +Grenoble--what's the use of pretending with me, old Hector? Those days +at Worcester are not so distant yet, are they? when all the family had +to make a meal off a pound of sausages, or your wife Jeanne, God bless +her! had to pawn her wedding-ring to buy M. le Comte de Cambray a +second-hand overcoat." + +"Madame la Duchesse, I humbly pray your Grace . . ." entreated Hector +whose wrinkled, parchment-like face had become the colour of a peony, +and who, torn between the respect which he had for the great lady and +his horror at what she said was ready to sink through the floor in his +confusion. + +"Eh what, man?" retorted the Duchesse lightly, "there is no one but +these bare walls to hear me; and my words, you'll find, will clear the +atmosphere round you--it was very stifling, my good Hector, when I +arrived. There now!" she added, "announce me to M. le Comte and then go +down to Jeanne and tell her that I for one have no intention of +forgetting Worcester, or the pawned ring, or the sausages, and that the +array of Grenoble louts dressed up for the occasion in moth-eaten +liveries dragged up out of some old chests do not please me half as much +round a dinner table as did her dear old, streaming face when she used +to bring us the omelette straight out of the kitchen." + +She dropped her lorgnon, and folding her aristocratic hands upon her +bosom, she once more assumed the grand manner pertaining to Versailles, +and Hector having swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, threw +open the huge, folding doors and announced in a stentorian voice: + +"Madame la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen!" + + +IV + +M. le Comte de Cambray was at this time close on sixty years of age, and +the hardships which he had endured for close upon a quarter of a century +had left their indelible impress upon his wrinkled, careworn face. + +But no one--least of all a younger man--could possibly rival him in +dignity of bearing and gracious condescension of manner. He wore his +clothes after the old-time fashion, and clung to the powdered peruque +which had been the mode at the Tuileries and Versailles before these +vulgar young republicans took to wearing their own hair in its natural +colour. + +Now as he advanced from the inner room to meet Mme. la Duchesse, he +seemed a perfect presentation or rather resuscitation of the courtly and +vanished epoch of the Roi Soleil. He held himself very erect and walked +with measured step, and a stereotyped smile upon his lips. He paused +just in front of Mme. la Duchesse, then stopped and lightly touched with +his lips the hand which she held out to him. + +"Tell me, Monsieur my brother," said Madame in her loudly-pitched voice, +"do you expect me to make before you my best Versailles curtsey, +for--with my rheumatic knee--I warn you that once I get down, you might +find it very difficult to get me up on my feet again." + +"Hush, Sophie," admonished M. le Comte impatiently, "you must try and +subdue your voice a little, we are no longer in Worcester remember--" + +But Madame only shrugged her thin shoulders. + +"Bah!" she retorted, "there's only good old Hector on the other side of +the door, and you don't imagine you are really throwing dust in _his_ +eyes do you? . . . good old Hector with his threadbare livery and his +ill-fed belly. . . ." + +"Sophie!" exclaimed M. le Comte who was really vexed this time, "I must +insist. . . ." + +"All right, all right my dear Andre. . . . I won't say anything more. +Take me to your audience chamber and I'll try to behave like a lady." + +A smile that was distinctly mischievous still hovered round Madame's +lips, but she forced her eyes to look grave: she held out the tips of +her fingers to her brother and allowed him to lead her in the correct +manner into the next room. + +Here M. le Comte invited her to sit in an upright chair which was placed +at a convenient angle close to his bureau while he himself sat upon a +stately throne-like armchair, one shapely knee bent, the other slightly +stretched forward, displaying the fine silk stocking and the set of his +well-cut, satin breeches. Mme. la Duchesse kept her hands folded in +front of her, and waited in silence for her brother to speak, but he +seemed at a loss how to begin, for her piercing gaze was making him +feel very uncomfortable: he could not help but detect in it the twinkle +of good-humoured sarcasm. + +Madame of course would not help him out. She enjoyed his obvious +embarrassment, which took him down somewhat from that high altitude of +dignity wherein he delighted to soar. + +"My dear Sophie," he began at last, speaking very deliberately and +carefully choosing his words, "before the step which Crystal is about to +take to-day becomes absolutely irrevocable, I desired to talk the matter +over with you, since it concerns the happiness of my only child." + +"Isn't it a little late, my good Andre," remarked Madame drily, "to talk +over a question which has been decided a month ago? The contract is to +be signed to-night. Our present conversation might have been held to +some purpose soon after the New Year. It is distinctly useless to-day." + +At Madame's sharp and uncompromising words a quick blush had spread over +the Comte's sunken cheeks. + +"I could not consult you before, Sophie," he said coldly, "you chose to +immure yourself in a convent, rather than come back straightaway to your +old home as we all did when our King was restored to his throne. The +post has been very disorganised and Boulogne is a far cry from +Brestalou, but I did write to you as soon as Victor de Marmont made his +formal request for Crystal's hand. To this letter I had no reply, and I +could not keep him waiting in indefinite uncertainty." + +"Your letter did not reach me until a month after it was written, as I +had the honour to tell you in my reply." + +"And that same reply only reached me a fortnight ago," retorted the +Comte, "when Crystal had been formally engaged to Victor de Marmont for +over a month and the date for the signature of the contract and the +wedding-day had both been fixed. I then sent a courier at great expense +and in great haste immediately to you," he added with a tone of +dignified reproach, "I could do no more." + +"Or less," she assented tartly. "And here I am, my dear brother, and I +am not blaming you for delays in the post. I merely remarked that it was +too late now to consult me upon a marriage which is to all intents and +purposes, an accomplished fact already." + +"That is so of course. But it would be a great personal satisfaction to +me, my good Sophie, to hear your views upon the matter. You have brought +Crystal up from babyhood: in a measure, you know her better than even +I--her father--do and therefore you are better able than I am to judge +whether Crystal's marriage with de Marmont will be conducive to her +permanent happiness." + +"As to that, my good Andre," quoth Madame, "you must remember that when +our father and mother decided that a marriage between me and M. le Duc +d'Agen was desirable, my personal feelings and character were never +consulted for a moment . . . and I suppose that--taking life as it is--I +was never particularly unhappy as his wife." + +"And what do you adduce from those reminiscences, my dear Sophie?" +queried the Comte de Cambray suavely. + +"That Victor de Marmont is not a bad fellow," replied Madame, "that he +is no worse than was M. le Duc d'Agen and that therefore there is no +reason to suppose that Crystal will be any more unhappy than I was in my +time." + +"But . . ." + +"There is no 'but' about it, my good Andre. Crystal is a sweet girl and +a devoted daughter. She will make the best, never you fear! of the +circumstances into which your blind worship of your own dignity and of +your rank have placed her." + +"My good Sophie," broke in the Count hotly, "you talk _par Dieu_, as if +I was forcing my only child into a distasteful marriage." + +"No, I do not talk as if you were forcing Crystal into a distasteful +marriage, but you know quite well that she only accepted Victor de +Marmont because it was your wish, and because his millions are going to +buy back the old Cambray estates, and she is so imbued with the sense of +her duty to you and to the family escutcheon, that she was willing to +sacrifice every personal feeling in the fulfilment of that duty." + +"By 'personal feeling' I suppose that you mean St. Genis." + +"Well, yes . . . I do," said Madame laconically. + +"Crystal was very much in love with him at one time." + +"She still is." + +"But even you, my dear sister, must admit that a marriage with St. Genis +was out of the question," retorted the Count in his turn with some +acerbity. "I am very fond of Maurice and his name is as old and great as +ours, but he hasn't a sou, and you know as well as I do by now that the +restoration of confiscated lands is out of the question . . . parliament +will never allow it and the King will never dare. . . ." + +"I know all that, my poor Andre," sighed Madame in a more conciliatory +spirit, "I know moreover that you yourself haven't a sou either, in +spite of your grandeur and your prejudices. . . . Money must be got +somehow, and our ancient family 'scutcheon must be regilt at any cost. I +know that we must keep up this state pertaining to the old regime, we +must have our lacqueys and our liveries, sycophants around us and gaping +yokels on our way when we sally out into the open. . . . We must blot +out from our lives those twenty years spent in a democratic and +enlightened country where no one is ashamed either of poverty or of +honest work--and above all things we must forget that there has ever +been a revolution which sent M. le Comte de Cambray, Commander of the +Order of the Holy Ghost, Grand Cross of the Ordre du Lys, Seigneur of +Montfleury and St. Eynard, hereditary Grand Chamberlain of France, to +teach French and drawing in an English Grammar School. . . ." + +"You wrong me there, Sophie, I wish to forget nothing of the past twenty +years." + +"I thought that you had given your memory a holiday." + +"I forget nothing," he reiterated with dignified emphasis, "neither the +squalid poverty which I endured, nor the bitter experiences which I +gleaned in exile." + +"Nor the devotion of those who saved your life." + +"And yours . . ." he interposed. + +"And mine, at risk of their own." + +"Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that not a day goes by but +Crystal and I speak of Sir Percy Blakeney, and of his gallant League of +the Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Well! we owe our lives to them," said Madame with deep-drawn sigh. "I +wonder if we shall ever see any of those fine fellows again!" + +"God only knows," sighed M. le Comte in response. "But," he continued +more lightly, "as you know the League itself has ceased to be. We saw +very little of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney latterly for we were too poor +ever to travel up to London. Crystal and I saw them, before we left +England, and I then had the opportunity of thanking Sir Percy Blakeney +for the last time, for the many valuable French lives which his plucky +little League had saved." + +"He is indeed a gallant gentleman," said Mme. la Duchesse gently, even +whilst her bright, shrewd eyes gazed straight out before her as if on +the great bare walls of her own ancestral home, the ghostly hand of +memory had conjured up pictures of long ago:--her own, her husband's and +her brother's arrest here in this very room, the weeping servants, the +rough, half-naked soldiery--then the agony of a nine days' imprisonment +in a dark, dank prison-cell filled to overflowing with poor wretches in +the same pitiable plight as herself--the hasty trial, the insults, the +mockery:--her husband's death in prison and her own thoughts of +approaching death! + +Then the gallant deed!--after all these years she could still see +herself, her brother and Jeanne, her faithful maid, and poor devoted +Hector all huddled up in a rickety tumbril, being dragged through the +streets of Paris on the road to death. On ahead she had seen the weird +outline of the guillotine silhouetted against the evening sky, whilst +all around her a howling, jeering mob sang that awful refrain: "Ca ira! +Ca ira! les aristos a la lanterne!" + +Then it was that she had felt unseen hands snatching her out of the +tumbril, she had felt herself being dragged through that yelling crowd +to a place where there was silence and darkness and where she knew that +she was safe: thence she was conveyed--she hardly realised how--to +England, where she and her brother and Jeanne and Hector, their faithful +servants, had found refuge for over twenty years. + +"It was a gallant deed!" whispered Mme. la Duchesse once again, "and one +which will always make me love every Englishman I meet, for the sake of +one who was called The Scarlet Pimpernel." + +"Then why should you attribute vulgar ingratitude to me?" retorted the +Comte reproachfully. "My feelings I imagine are as sensitive as your +own. Am I not trying my best to be kind to that Mr. Clyffurde, who is an +honoured guest in my house--just because it was Sir Percy Blakeney who +recommended him to me?" + +"It can't be very difficult to be kind to such an attractive young man," +was Mme. la Duchesse's dry comment. "Recommendation or no recommendation +I liked your Mr. Clyffurde and if it were not so late in the day and +there was still time to give my opinion, I should suggest that Mr. +Clyffurde's money could quite well regild our family 'scutcheon. He is +very rich too, I understand." + +"My good Sophie!" exclaimed the Comte in horror, "what can you be +thinking of?" + +"Crystal principally," replied the Duchesse. "I thought Clyffurde a far +nicer fellow than de Marmont." + +"My dear sister," said the Comte stiffly, "I really must ask you to +think sometimes before you speak. Of a truth you make suggestions and +comments at times which literally stagger one." + +"I don't see anything so very staggering in the idea of a penniless +aristocrat marrying a wealthy English gentleman. . . ." + +"A gentleman! my dear!" exclaimed the Comte. + +"Well! Mr. Clyffurde is a gentleman, isn't he?" + +"His family is irreproachable, I believe." + +"Well then?" + +"But . . . Mr. Clyffurde . . . you know, my dear. . . ." + +"No! I don't know," said Madame decisively. "What is the matter with Mr. +Clyffurde?" + +"Well! I didn't like to tell you, Sophie, immediately on your arrival +yesterday," said the Comte, who was making visible efforts to mitigate +the horror of what he was about to say: "but . . . as a matter of fact +. . . this Mr. Clyffurde whom you met in my house last night . . . who +sat next to you at my table . . . with whom you had that long and +animated conversation afterwards . . . is nothing better than a +shopkeeper!" + +No doubt M. le Comte de Cambray expected that at this awful +announcement, Mme. la Duchesse's indignation and anger would know no +bounds. He was quite ready even now with a string of apologies which he +would formulate directly she allowed him to speak. He certainly felt +very guilty towards her for the undesirable acquaintance which she had +made in her brother's own house. Great was his surprise therefore when +Madame's wrinkled face wreathed itself into a huge smile, which +presently broadened into a merry laugh, as she threw back her head, and +said still laughing: + +"A shopkeeper, my dear Comte? A shopkeeper at your aristocratic table? +and your meal did not choke you? Why! God forgive you, but I do believe +you are actually becoming human." + +"I ought to have told you sooner, of course," began the Comte stiffly. + +"Why bless your heart, I knew it soon enough." + +"You knew it?" + +"Of course I did. Mr. Clyffurde told me that interesting fact before he +had finished eating his soup." + +"Did he tell you that . . . that he traded in . . . in gloves?" + +"Well! and why not gloves?" she retorted. "Gloves are very nice things +and better manufactured at Grenoble than anywhere else in the world. The +English coquettes are very wise in getting their gloves from Grenoble +through the good offices of Mr. Clyffurde." + +"But, my dear Sophie . . . Mr. Clyffurde buys gloves here from Dumoulin +and sells them again to a shop in London . . . he buys and sells other +things too and he does it for profit. . . ." + +"Of course he does. . . . You don't suppose that any one would do that +sort of thing for pleasure, do you? Mr. Clyffurde," continued Madame +with sudden seriousness, "lost his father when he was six years old. His +mother and four sisters had next to nothing to live on after the bulk of +what they had went for the education of the boy. At eighteen he made up +his mind that he would provide his mother and sisters with all the +luxuries which they had lacked for so long and instead of going into the +army--which had been the burning ambition of his boyhood--he went into +business . . . and in less than ten years has made a fortune." + +"You seem to have learnt a great deal of the man's family history in so +short a time." + +"I liked him: and I made him talk to me about himself. It was not easy, +for these English men are stupidly reticent, but I dragged his story out +of him bit by bit--or at least as much of it as I could--and I can tell +you, my good Andre, that never have I admired a man so much as I do this +Mr. Clyffurde . . . for never have I met so unselfish a one. I declare +that if I were only a few years younger," she continued whimsically, +"and even so . . . heigh! but I am not so old after all. . . ." + +"My dear Sophie!" ejaculated the Comte. + +"Eh, what?" she retorted tartly, "you would object to a tradesman as a +brother-in-law, would you? What about a de Marmont for a son? Eh?" + +"Victor de Marmont is a soldier in the army of our legitimate King. His +uncle the Duc de Raguse. . . ." + +"That's just it," broke in Madame again, "I don't like de Marmont +because he is a de Marmont." + +"Is that the only reason for your not liking him?" + +"The only one," she replied. "But I must say that this Mr. Clyffurde +. . ." + +"You must not harp on that string, Sophie," said the Comte sternly. "It +is too ridiculous. To begin with Clyffurde never cared for Crystal, and, +secondly, Crystal was already engaged to de Marmont when Clyffurde +arrived here, and, thirdly, let me tell you that my daughter has far too +much pride in her ever to think of a shopkeeper in the light of a +husband even if he had ten times this Mr. Clyffurde's fortune." + +"Then everything is comfortably settled, Andre. And now that we have +returned to our sheep, and have both arrived at the conclusion that +nothing stands in the way of Crystal's marriage with Victor de Marmont, +I suppose that I may presume that my audience is at an end." + +"I only wished to hear your opinion, my good Sophie," rejoined M. le +Comte. And he rose stiffly from his chair. + +"Well! and you have heard it, Andre," concluded Madame as she too rose +and gathered her lace shawl round her shoulders. "You may thank God, my +dear brother, that you have in Crystal such an unselfish and obedient +child, and in me such a submissive sister. Frankly--since you have +chosen to ask my opinion at this eleventh hour--I don't like this de +Marmont marriage, though I have admitted that I see nothing against the +young man himself. If Crystal is not unhappy with him, I shall be +content: if she is, I will make myself exceedingly disagreeable, both to +him and to you, and that being my last word, I have the honour to wish +you a polite 'good-day.'" + +She swept her brother an imperceptibly ironical curtsey, but he detained +her once again, as she turned to go. + +"One word more, Sophie," he said solemnly. "You will be amiable with +Victor de Marmont this evening?" + +"Of course I will," she replied tartly. "Ah, ca, Monsieur my brother, do +you take me for a washerwoman?" + +"I am entertaining the prefet for the _souper du contrat_," continued +the Comte, quietly ignoring the old lady's irascibility of temper, "and +the general in command of the garrison. They are both converted +Bonapartists, remember." + +"Hm!" grunted Madame crossly, "whom else are you going to entertain?" + +"Mme. Fourier, the prefet's wife, and Mlle. Marchand, the general's +daughter, and of course the d'Embruns and the Genevois." + +"Is that all?" + +"Some half dozen or so notabilities of Grenoble. We shall sit down +twenty to supper, and afterwards I hold a reception in honour of the +coming marriage of Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou with M. Victor de +Marmont. One must do one's duty. . . ." + +"And pander to one's love of playing at being a little king in a limited +way. . . . All right! I won't say anything more. I promise that I won't +disgrace you, and that I'll put on a grand manner that will fill those +worthy notabilities and their wives with awe and reverence. And now, I'd +best go," she added whimsically, "ere my good resolutions break down +before your pomposity . . . I suppose the louts from the village will be +again braced up in those moth-eaten liveries, and the bottles of thin +Medoc purchased surreptitiously at a local grocer's will be duly +smothered in the dust of ages. . . . All right! all right! I'm going. +For gracious' sake don't conduct me to the door, or I'll really disgrace +you under Hector's uplifted nose. . . . Oh! shades of cold beef and +treacle pies of Worcester . . . and washing-day . . . do you remember? +. . . all right! all right, Monsieur my brother, I am dumb as a carp at +last." + +And with a final outburst of sarcastic laughter, Madame finally sailed +across the room, while Monsieur fell back into his throne-like chair +with a deep sigh of relief. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE RETURN OF THE EMPEROR + + +I + +But even as Madame la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen placed her aristocratic +hand upon the handle of the door, it was opened from without with what +might almost be called undue haste, and Hector appeared in the doorway. + +Hector in truth! but not the sober-faced, pompous, dignified Hector of +the household of M. le Comte de Cambray, but a red-visaged, excited, +fussy Hector, who for the moment seemed to have forgotten where he was, +as well as the etiquette which surrounded the august personality of his +master. He certainly contrived to murmur a humble if somewhat hasty +apology, when he found himself confronted at the door by Mme. la +Duchesse herself, but he did not stand aside to let her pass. + +She had stepped back into the room at sight of him, for obviously +something very much amiss must have occurred thus to ruffle Hector's +ingrained dignity, and even M. le Comte was involuntarily dragged out of +his aristocratic aloofness and almost--though not quite--jumped up from +his chair. + +"What is it, Hector?" he exclaimed, peremptorily. + +"M. le Comte," gasped Hector, who seemed to be out of breath from sheer +excitement, "the Corsican . . . he has come back . . . he is marching on +Grenoble . . . M. le prefet is here! . . ." + +But already M. le Comte had--with a wave of the hand as it were--swept +the unwelcome news aside. + +"What rubbish is this?" he said wrathfully. "You have been dreaming in +broad daylight, Hector . . . and this excitement is most unseemly. Show +Mme. la Duchesse to her apartments," he added with a great show of calm. + +Hector--thus reproved, coloured a yet more violent crimson to the very +roots of his hair. He made a great effort to recover his pomposity and +actually took up the correct attitude which a well-trained servant +assumes when he shows a great lady out of a room. But even then--despite +the well-merited reproof--he took it upon himself to insist: + +"M. le prefet is here, M. le Comte," he said, "and begs to be received +at once." + +"Well, then, you may show him up when Mme. la Duchesse has retired," +said the Comte with quiet dignity. + +"By your leave, my brother," quoth the Duchesse decisively, "I'll wait +and hear what M. le prefet has to say. The news--if news there be--is +too interesting to be kept waiting for me." + +And accustomed as she was to get her own way in everything, Mme. la +Duchesse calmly sailed back into the room, and once more sat down in the +chair beside her brother's bureau, whilst Hector with as much grandeur +of mien as he could assume under the circumstances was still waiting for +orders. + +M. le Comte would undoubtedly have preferred that his sister should +leave the room before the prefet was shown in: he did not approve of +women taking part in political conversations, and his manner now plainly +showed to Mme. la Duchesse that he would like to receive M. le prefet +alone. But he said nothing--probably because he knew that words would be +useless if Madame had made up her mind to remain, which she evidently +had, so, after a brief pause, he said curtly to Hector: + +"Show M. le prefet in." + +He took up his favourite position, in his throne-shaped chair--one leg +bent, the other stretched out, displaying to advantage the shapely calf +and well-shod foot. M. le prefet Fourier, mathematician of great renown, +and member of the Institut was one of those converted Bonapartists to +whom it behoved at all times to teach a lesson of decorum and dignity. + +And certainly when, presently Hector showed M. Fourier in, the two +men--the aristocrat of the old regime and the bureaucrat of the +new--presented a marked and curious contrast. M. le Comte de Cambray +calm, unperturbed, slightly supercilious, in a studied attitude and +moving with pompous deliberation to greet his guest, and Jacques +Fourier, man of science and prefet of the Isere department, short of +stature, scant of breath, flurried and florid! + +Both men were conscious of the contrast, and M. Fourier did his very +best to approach Mme. la Duchesse with a semblance of dignity, and to +kiss her hand in something of the approved courtly manner. When he had +finally sat down, and mopped his streaming forehead, M. le Comte said +with kindly condescension: + +"You are perturbed, my good M. Fourier!" + +"Alas, M. le Comte," replied the worthy prefet, still somewhat out of +breath, "how can I help being agitated . . . this awful news! . . ." + +"What news?" queried the Comte with a lifting of the brows, which was +meant to convey complete detachment and indifference to the subject +matter. + +"What news?" exclaimed the prefet who, on the other hand, was unable to +contain his agitation and had obviously given up the attempt, "haven't +you heard? . . ." + +"No," replied the Comte. + +And Madame also shook her head. + +"Town-gossip does not travel as far as the Castle of Brestalou," added +M. le Comte gravely. + +"Town gossip!" reiterated M. Fourier, who seemed to be calling Heaven +to witness this extraordinary levity, "town gossip, M. le Comte! . . . +But God in Heaven help us all. Bonaparte landed at Antibes five days +ago. He was at Sisteron this morning, and unless the earth opens and +swallows him up, he will be on us by Tuesday!" + +"Bah! you have had a nightmare, M. le prefet," rejoined the Comte drily. +"We have had news of the landing of Bonaparte at least once a month this +half-year past." + +"But it is authentic news this time, M. le Comte," retorted Fourier, +who, gradually, under the influence of de Cambray's calm demeanour, had +succeeded in keeping his agitation in check. "The prefet of the Var +department, M. le Comte de Bouthillier, sent an express courier on +Thursday last to the prefet of the Basses-Alpes, who sent that courier +straight on to me, telling me that he and General Loverdo, who is in +command of the troops in that district, promptly evacuated Digue because +they were not certain of the loyalty of the garrison. The Corsican it +seems only landed with about a thousand of his old guard, but since +then, the troops in every district which he has traversed, have deserted +in a body, and rallied round his standard. It has been, so I hear, a +triumphal march for him from the Littoral to Digne, and altogether the +news which the courier brought me this morning was of such alarming +nature, that I thought it my duty, M. le Comte, to apprise you of it +immediately." + +"That," said M. le Comte condescendingly, "was exceedingly thoughtful +and considerate, my good M. Fourier. And what is the alarming news?" + +"Firstly, that Bonaparte made something like a state entry into Digne +yesterday. The city was beflagged and decorated. The national guard +turned out and presented arms, drums were beating, the population +acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' The prefet and the +general in command had intended to resist his entry into the city, but +all the notabilities of the town forced them into submission. Duval, the +prefet, fled to a neighbouring village, taking the public funds with +him, while General Loverdo with a mere handful of loyal troops has +retreated on Sisteron." + +Though M. le Comte de Cambray had listened to the prefet's narrative +with all his habitual grandeur of mien, it soon became obvious that some +of his aristocratic sangfroid had already abandoned him. His furrowed +cheeks had become a shade paler than usual, and the slender hand which +toyed with an ivory paper-knife on his desk had not its wonted +steadiness. Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes +were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin +lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what +he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak. +It was she, therefore, who now remarked quietly: + +"And in your department, M. le prefet, in Grenoble itself, is the +garrison equally likely to go over to the Corsican brigand?" + +M. Fourier shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all sure. + +"After what has happened at Digne, Mme. la Duchesse," he said, "I would +not care to prophesy. General Marchand does not intend to trust entirely +to the garrison. He has sent to Vienne and to Chambery for +reinforcements . . . but . . ." + +The prefet was hesitating, evidently he had not a great deal of faith in +the loyalty of those reinforcements either. + +M. le Comte made a vigorous protest. "Surely, M. Fourier," he said, "you +don't mean to suggest that Grenoble is going to turn traitor to the +King?" + +But M. le prefet apparently had meant to suggest it. + +"Alas, M. le Comte!" he said, "we must always bear in mind that the +whole of the Dauphine has remained throughout a bed of Bonapartism." + +"But in that case . . ." ejaculated the Comte. + +"General Marchand is doing all he can to ensure effectual resistance, M. +le Comte. But we are in the hands of the army, and the army has never +been truly loyal to the King. At the bottom of every soldier's haversack +there is an old and worn tricolour cockade, which is there ready to be +fetched out at a moment's notice, and will be fetched out at the mere +sound of the Corsican's voice. We are in the hands of the army, M. le +Comte, and in the Dauphine; alas! the army is only too ready to cry: +'Vive l'Empereur!'" + +There was silence in the stately room now, silence only broken by the +tap-tap of the ivory paper-knife with which M. le Comte was still +nervously fidgeting. M. Fourier was wiping the perspiration from his +overheated brow. + +"For God's sake, Andre, stop that irritating noise," said Mme. Duchesse +after awhile, "that tapping has got on my nerves." + +"I beg your pardon, Sophie," said the Comte loftily. + +He was offended with her for drawing M. Fourier's attention to his own +nervous restlessness, yet grateful to be thus forcibly made aware of it +himself. His attitude was on the verge of incorrectness. Where was the +aristocratic sangfroid which should have made him proof even against so +much perturbing news? What had become of the lesson in decorum which +should have been taught to this vulgar little bureaucrat? + +M. le Comte pulled himself together with a jerk: he straightened out his +spare figure, put on that air of detachment which became him so well, +and finally turned once more to the prefet a perfectly calm and +unruffled countenance. + +Then he said with his accustomed urbanity: + +"And now, my good M. Fourier, since you have so admirably put the +situation before me, will you also tell me in what way I may be of +service to you in this--or to General Marchand?" + +"I am coming to that, M. le Comte," replied the prefet. "It will explain +the reason of my disturbing you at this hour, when I was coming anyhow +to partake of your gracious hospitality later on. But I do want your +assistance, M. le Comte, as the matter of which I wish to speak with you +concerns the King himself." + +"Everything that you have told me hitherto, my good M. Fourier, concerns +His Majesty and the security of his throne. I cannot help wondering how +much of this news has reached him by now." + +"All of it at this hour, I should say. For already on Friday the Prince +d'Essling sent a despatch to His Majesty--by courier as far as Lyons and +thence by aerial telegraph to Paris. The King--may God preserve him!" +added the ex-Bonapartist fervently, "knows as much of the Corsican's +movements at the present moment as we do; and God alone knows what he +will decide to do." + +"Whatever happens," interjected the Comte de Cambray solemnly, "Louis de +Bourbon, XVIIIth of his name, by the Grace of God, will act like a king +and a gentleman." + +"Amen to that," retorted the prefet. "And now let me come to my point, +M. le Comte, and the chief object of my visit to you." + +"I am at your service, my dear M. Fourier." + +"You will remember, M. le Comte, that directly you were installed at +Brestalou and I was confirmed in my position as prefet of this +department, I thought it was my duty to tell you of the secret funds +which are kept in the cellars of our Hotel de Ville by order of M. de +Talleyrand." + +"Yes, of course I remember that perfectly. French money, which the +unfortunate wife of that brigand Bonaparte was taking out of the +country." + +"Quite so," assented Fourier. "The funds are in a convenient and +portable form, being chiefly notes and bankers' drafts to bearer, but +the amount is considerable, namely, twenty-five millions of francs." + +"A comfortable sum," interposed Mme. la Duchesse drily. "I did not know +that Grenoble sheltered so vast a treasure." + +"The money was seized," said the Comte, "from Marie Louise when she was +fleeing the country. Talleyrand did it all, and it was his idea to keep +the money in this part of the country against likely emergencies." + +"But the emergency has arisen," exclaimed M. Fourier excitedly, "and the +money at Grenoble is useless to His Majesty in Paris. Nay! it is worse +than useless, it is in danger of spoliation," he added with unconscious +_naivete_. "If the Corsican marches into Grenoble, if the garrison and +the townspeople rally to him, he will of a truth occupy the Hotel de +Ville and the brigand will seize the King's treasure which lies now in +one of its cellars." + +"True," mused the Comte, "I hadn't thought of that." + +"Well!" exclaimed Madame with light sarcasm, "seeing that the money was +originally taken from his wife, the brigand will not be committing an +altogether unlikely act, I imagine, by taking what was originally his." + +"His, my good Sophie?" exclaimed the Comte, highly shocked. "Money +robbed by that usurper from France--his?" + +"We won't argue, Andre," said Madame sharply, "let us hear what M. le +prefet proposes." + +"Propose, Mme. la Duchesse," ejaculated the unfortunate prefet, "I have +nothing to propose! I am at my wits' end what to do! I came to M. le +Comte for advice." + +"And you were quite right, my dear M. Fourier," said the Comte affably. + +He paused for a few seconds in order to collect his thoughts, then +continued: "Now let us consider this question from every side, and then +see to what conclusion we can arrive that will be for the best. Firstly, +of course, there is the possibility of your following the example of the +prefet of the Basses-Alpes and taking yourself and the money to a +convenient place outside Grenoble." + +But at this suggestion M. Fourier was ready to burst into tears. + +"Impossible, M. le Comte," he cried pitiably, "I could not do it. . . . +Where could I go? . . . The existence of the money is known . . . known +to the Bonapartists, I am convinced. . . . There's Dumoulin, the +glovemaker, he knows everything that goes on in Grenoble . . . and his +friend Emery, who is an army surgeon in the pay of Bonaparte . . . both +these men have been to and from Elba incessantly these past few months +. . . then there's the Bonapartist club in Grenoble . . . with a +membership of over two thousand . . . the members have friends and spies +everywhere . . . even inside the Hotel de Ville . . . why! the other day +I had to dismiss a servant who . . ." + +"Easy, easy, M. le prefet," broke in M. le Comte impatiently, "the long +and the short of it is that you would not feel safe with the money +anywhere outside Grenoble." + +"Or inside it, M. le Comte." + +"Very well, then, the money must be deposited there, where it will be +safe. Now what do you think of Dupont's Bank?" + +"Oh, M. le Comte! an avowed Bonapartist! . . . M. de Talleyrand would +not trust him with the money last year." + +"That is so . . . but . . ." + +"It seems to me," here interposed Mme. la Duchesse abruptly, "that by +far the best plan--since this district seems to be a hot-bed of +disloyalty--would be to convey the money straightway to Paris, and then +the King or M. de Talleyrand can dispose of it as best they like." + +"Ah, Mme. la Duchesse," sighed M. Fourier ecstatically as he clasped his +podgy little hands together and looked on Madame with eyes full of +admiration for her wisdom, "how cleverly that was spoken! If only I +could be relieved from that awful responsibility . . . five and twenty +millions under my charge and that Corsican ogre at our gates! . . ." + +"That is all very well!" quoth the Comte with marked impatience, "but +how is it going to be done? 'Convey the money to Paris' is easily said. +But who is going to do it? M. le prefet here says that the Bonapartists +have spies everywhere round Grenoble, and . . ." + +"Ah, M. le Comte!" exclaimed the prefet eagerly. "I have already thought +of such a beautiful plan! If only you would consent . . ." + +M. le Comte's thin lips curled in a sarcastic smile. + +"Oh! you have thought it all out already, M. le prefet?" he said. "Well! +let me hear your plan, but I warn you that I will not have the money +brought here. I don't half trust the peasantry of the neighbourhood, and +I won't have a fight or an outrage committed in my house!" + +M. le prefet was ready with a protest: + +"No, no, M. le Comte!" he said, "I wouldn't suggest such a thing for the +world. If the Corsican brigand is successful in capturing Grenoble, no +place would be sacred to him. No! My idea was if you, M. le Comte--who +have oft before journeyed to Paris and back--would do it now . . . +before Bonaparte gets any nearer to Grenoble . . . and take the money +with you . . ." + +"I?" exclaimed the Comte. "But, man, if--as you say--Grenoble is full of +Bonapartist spies, my movements are no doubt just as closely watched as +your own." + +"No, no, M. le Comte, not quite so closely, I am sure." + +The insinuating manner of the worthy man, however, was apparently +getting on M. le Comte's nerves. + +"Ah, ca, M. le prefet," he ejaculated abruptly, "but meseems that the +splendid plan you thought on merely consists in transferring +responsibility from your shoulders to mine own." + +And M. le Comte cast such a wrathful look on poor M. Fourier that the +unfortunate man was stricken dumb with confusion. + +"Moreover," concluded the Comte, "I don't know that you, M. le prefet, +have the right to dispose of this money which was entrusted to you by M. +de Talleyrand in the King's behalf without consulting His Majesty's +wishes in the matter." + +"Bah, Andre," broke in the Duchesse in her incisive way, "you are +talking nonsense, and you know it. There is no time for red-tapeism now +with that ogre at our gates. How are you going to consult His Majesty's +wishes--who is in Paris--between now and Tuesday, I would like to know?" +she added with a shrug of the shoulders. + +Whereupon M. le Comte waxed politely sarcastic. + +"Perhaps," he said, "you would prefer us to consult yours." + +"You might do worse," she retorted imperturbably. "The question is one +which is very easily solved. Ought His Majesty the King to have that +money, or should M. le prefet here take the risk of its falling in +Bonaparte's hands? Answer me that," she said decisively, "and then I +will tell you how best to succeed in carrying out your own wishes." + +"What a question, my good Sophie!" said the Comte stiffly. "Of course we +desire His Majesty to have what is rightfully his." + +"You mean he ought to have the twenty-five millions which the Prince de +Benevant stole from Marie Louise. Very well then, obviously that money +ought to be taken to Paris before Bonaparte gets much nearer to +Grenoble--but it should not be taken by you, my good Andre, nor yet by +M. le prefet." + +"By whom then?" queried the Comte irritably. + +"By me," replied Mme. la Duchesse. + +"By you, Sophie! Impossible!" + +"And God alive, why impossible, I pray you?" she retorted. "The money, I +understand, is in a very portable form, notes and bankers' drafts, which +can be stowed away quite easily. Why shouldn't I be journeying back to +Paris after Crystal's wedding? Who would suspect me, I should like to +know, of carrying twenty-five millions under my petticoats? All I should +want would be a couple of sturdy fellows on the box to protect me +against footpads. Impossible?" she continued tartly. "Men are always so +ready with that word. Get a sensible woman, I say, and she will solve +your difficulties before you have finished exclaiming: 'Impossible!'" + +And she looked triumphantly from one man to the other. There was obvious +relief on the ruddy face of little M. Fourier, and even M. le Comte was +visibly taken with the idea. + +"Well!" he at last condescended to say, "it does sound feasible after +all." + +"Feasible? Of course it's feasible," said Madame with a shrug of +contempt. "Either the King is in want of the money, or he is not. Either +Bonaparte is likely to get it or he is not. If the King wants it, he +must have it at any cost and any risk. Twenty-five millions in +Bonaparte's hands at this juncture would help him to reconstitute his +army and make it very unpleasant for the King and for us all. M. le +prefet, who has been in charge of the money all along, and M. le Comte +de Cambray, who is the only true royalist in the district, are both +marked down by spies: ergo Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen is the only possible +agent for the business, and an inoffensive old woman without any +political standing is the least likely to be molested in her task. If I +fail, I fail," concluded Madame decisively, "if I am stopped on the way +and the money taken from me, well! I am stopped, that's all! and M. le +prefet or M. le Comte de Cambray or any male agent they may have sent +would have been stopped likewise. But I maintain that a woman travelling +alone is far safer at this business and more likely to succeed than a +man. So now, for God's sake, don't let's argue any more about it. +Crystal is to be married on Tuesday and I could start that same +afternoon. Can you bring the money over with you to-night?" + +She put her query directly to the prefet, who was obviously overjoyed, +and intensely relieved at the suggestion. + +M. le Comte too seemed to be won over by his sister's persuasive +rhetoric: her strength of mind and firmness of purpose always imposed +themselves on those over whom she chose to exert her will: and men of +somewhat weak character like the Comte de Cambray came very easily under +the sway of her dominating personality. + +But he thought it incumbent upon his dignity to make one more protest +before he finally yielded to his sister's arguments. + +"I don't like," he said, "the idea of your travelling alone through the +country without sufficient escort. The roads are none too safe and +. . ." + +"Bah!" broke in Madame impatiently. "I pray you, Monsieur my brother, to +strengthen your arguments, if you are really determined to oppose this +sensible scheme of mine. Travelling alone, forsooth! Did I not arrive +only yesterday, having travelled all the way from Boulogne and with no +escort save two louts on the box of a hired coach?" + +"You chose to travel alone, my dear sister, for reasons best known to +yourself," retorted the Comte, greatly angered that M. le prefet should +hear the fact that Mme. la Duchesse douairiere had travelled at any time +without an escort. + +"And who shall say me nay, if I choose to travel back alone again, I +should like to know? So now if you have exhausted your string of +objections, my dear brother, perhaps you will allow M. le prefet to +answer my question." + +Whereupon M. le prefet promptly satisfied Mme. la Duchesse on the point: +he certainly could and would bring the money over with him this evening. +And M. le Comte had no further objections to offer. + +In the archives of the Ministry of War in Paris, any one who looks may +read that in the subsequent trial of General Marchand for high +treason--after the Hundred Days and Napoleon's second abdication--prefet +Fourier during the course of his evidence gave a detailed account of +this same interview which he had with M. le Comte de Cambray and Mme. la +Duchesse douairiere d'Agen on Sunday, March the 5th. In his deposition +he naturally laid great stress upon his own zeal in the matter, +declaring that he it was who finally overcame by his eloquence M. le +Comte's objections to the scheme and decided him to give his +acquiescence thereto.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Deposition de Fourier. (Dossier de Marchant Arch. Guerre.)] + +Certain it is that there was but little argument after this between Mme. +la Duchesse and the two men, and that the details of the scheme were +presently discussed soberly and in all their bearings. + +"I shall have the honour presently," said Fourier, "of coming back here +to respond to M. le Comte's gracious invitation to dinner. Why +shouldn't I bring the money with me then?" + +"Indeed you must bring the money then," retorted the irascible old lady, +"and let there be no shirking or delay. Promptitude is our great chance +of success. I ought not to start later than Tuesday, and I could do so +soon after the wedding ceremony. I could arrange to sleep at Lyons that +night, at Dijon the next day, be in Paris by Thursday evening and in the +King's presence on Friday." + +"Provided you are not delayed," sighed the Comte. + +"If I am delayed, my good Andre, then anyhow the game is up. But we are +not going to anticipate misfortune and we are going to believe in our +lucky star." + +"Would to God I could bring myself to approve wholeheartedly of this +expedition! The whole thing seems to me chivalrous and romantic rather +than prudent, and Heaven knows how prudent we should be just now!" + +"You look back on history, my dear brother," remarked Madame drily, "and +you'll see that more great events have been brought about by chivalry +and romance than by prudence and circumspection. The romance of Joan of +Arc delivered France from foreign yoke, the chivalry of Francois I. +saved the honour of France after the disaster of Pavie, and it certainly +was not prudence which set Henry of Navarre upon the throne of France +and in the heart of his people. So for gracious' sake do not let us talk +of prudence any more. Rather let us allow M. le prefet to return quietly +to the Hotel de Ville, so that he and Mme. Fourier may proceed to dress +for to-night's ceremony, just as if nothing untoward had happened. In +the meanwhile I will complete my preparations for Tuesday. There are one +or two little details in connection with my journey--hostelries, +servants, horses and so on--which you, my dear Andre, will kindly decide +for me. And now, gentlemen," she added, rising from her chair, "I have +the honour to wish you both a very good afternoon." + +She did not wait long enough to allow M. le Comte time to ring for +Hector, and she appeared so busy with her lace shawl that she was unable +to do more than acknowledge with a slight inclination of the head M. le +prefet's respectful salute. But then Mme. la Duchesse douairiere +d'Agen--though a fervent royalist herself--had a wholesome contempt for +these opportunists. Fourier, celebrated mathematician, loaded with gifts +and honours by Napoleon, who had made him a member of the Institute of +Science and given him the prefecture of the Isere, had turned his coat +very readily at the Restoration, and the oaths of loyalty which he had +tendered to the Emperor seemed not to weigh overheavily upon his +conscience when he reiterated them to the King. + +Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen, therefore, did not willingly place her +aristocratic fingers in the hand of a renegade, who she felt might turn +renegade again if his personal interest so dictated it. Perhaps +something of what lay behind Madame's curt nod to him, struck the +prefet's sensibilities, for the high colour suddenly fled from his round +face, and he did not attempt to approach her for the ceremonial +hand-kissing. But he ran across the room as fast as his short legs would +carry him, and he opened the door for her and bowed to her as she sailed +past him with all the deference which in the olden days of the Empire he +had accorded to the Empress Marie Louise. + +"It is a mad scheme, my good M. Fourier," sighed the Comte when he found +himself once more alone with the prefet, "but such as it is I can think +of nothing better." + +"M. le Comte," exclaimed the prefet with delight, "no one could think of +anything better. Ah, the women of France!" he added ecstatically, "the +women! how often have they saved France in moments of crises? France +owes her grandeur to her women, M. le Comte!" + +"And also her reverses, my dear M. Fourier," remarked the Comte drily. + + +II + +When Bobby Clyffurde came back to Brestalou, after his long day's ride, +he found the stately rooms of the old castle already prepared for the +arrival of M. le Comte's guests. The large reception hall had been +thrown open, as--after supper--M. le Comte would be receiving some of +the notabilities of Grenoble in honour of a great occasion: the +signature of the _contrat de mariage_ between Mlle. Crystal de Cambray +de Brestalou and M. Victor de Marmont. There was an array of liveried +servants in the hall and along the corridor through which Bobby had to +pass on the way to his own room: their liveries of purple with canary +facings--the heraldic colours of the family of Cambray de +Brestalou--hardly showed, in the flickering light of wax candles, the +many ravages of moth and mildew which twenty years of neglect had +wrought upon the once fine and brilliant cloth. + +Downstairs the formal supper which was to precede the reception was laid +for twenty guests. The table was resplendent with the silver so kindly +lent by a benevolent and far-seeing king to those of his friends who had +not the means of replacing the ancient family treasures filched from +them by the revolutionary government. + +There were no flowers upon the table, and only very few wax candles +burned in the ormolu and crystal chandelier overhead. Flowers and wax +candles were luxuries which must be paid for with ready money--a +commodity which was exceedingly scarce in the grandiose Chateau de +Brestalou--but they also were a luxury which could easily be dispensed +with, for did not M. le Comte de Cambray set the fashions and give the +tone to the whole _departement_? and if he chose to have no flowers upon +his supper table and but few candles in his silver sconces, why then +society must take it for granted that such now was _bon ton_ and the +prevailing fashion at the Tuileries. + +Bobby, knowing his host's fastidious tastes in such matters, had made a +very careful toilet, all the while that his thoughts were busy with the +wonderful news which Emery had brought this day, and which was all over +Grenoble by now. He and his two companions had left Notre Dame de Vaulx +soon after their _dejeuner_, and together had entered the city at five +o'clock in the afternoon. On their way they had encountered the +travelling-coach of General Mouton-Duveret, who, accompanied by his +aide-de-camp, was on his way to Gap, where he intended to organise +strong resistance against Bonaparte. + +He parleyed some time with Emery, whom he knew by sight and suspected of +being an emissary of the Corsican. Emery, with true southern verve, gave +the worthy general a highly-coloured account of the triumphal progress +through Provence and the Dauphine of Napoleon, whom he boldly called +"the Emperor." Mouton--in no way belying his name--was very upset not +only by the news, but by his own helplessness with regard to Emery, who +he knew would presently be in Grenoble distributing the usurper's +proclamations all over the city, whilst he--Mouton--with his one +aide-de-camp and a couple of loutish servants on the box of his coach, +could do nothing to detain him. + +As soon as the three men had ridden away, however, he sent his +aide-de-camp back to Grenoble by a round-about way, ordering him to make +as great speed as possible, and to see General Marchand as soon as may +be, so that immediate measures might be taken to prevent that emissary +if not from entering the city, at least from posting up proclamations on +public buildings. + +But Mouton's aide-de-camp was no match against the enthusiasm and +ingenuity of Emery and de Marmont, and when he--in his turn--entered +Grenoble soon after five o'clock, he was confronted by the printed +proclamations signed by the familiar and dreaded name "Napoleon" affixed +to the gates of the city, to the Hotel de Ville, the mairie, the prison, +the barracks, and to every street corner in Grenoble. + +The three friends had parted at the porte de Bonne, Emery to go to his +friend Dumoulin, the glovemaker--de Marmont to his lodgings in the rue +Montorge, whilst Bobby Clyffurde rode straight back to Brestalou. + +A couple of hours later Victor de Marmont had also arrived at the +castle. He too had made an elaborate toilet, and then had driven over in +a hackney coach in advance of the other guests, seeing that he desired +to have a final interview with M. le Comte before he affixed his name to +his _contrat de mariage_ with Mlle. de Cambray. An air of solemnity sat +well upon his good-looking face, but it was obvious that he was +trying--somewhat in vain--to keep an inward excitement in check. + +M. le Comte de Cambray, believing that this excitement was entirely due +to the solemnity of the occasion, had smiled indulgently--a trifle +contemptuously too--at young de Marmont's very apparent eagerness. A +vulgar display of feelings, an inability to control one's words and +movements when under the stress of emotion was characteristic of the +parvenus of to-day, and de Marmont's unfettered agitation when coming to +sign his own marriage contract was only on a par with prefet Fourier's +nervousness this afternoon. + +The Comte received his future son-in-law with a gracious smile. The +thought of an alliance between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and a de +Marmont of Nowhere had been a bitter pill to swallow, but M. le Comte +was too proud to show how distasteful it had been. Chatting pleasantly +the two men repaired together to the library. + + +III + +Bobby Clyffurde--immaculately dressed in fine cloth coat and satin +breeches, with fine Mechlin lace at throat and wrist, and his light +brown hair tied at the nape of the neck with a big black bow--came down +presently to the reception room. He found the place silent and deserted. + +But the stately apartment looked more cosy and home-like than usual. A +cheerful fire was burning in the monumental hearth and the soft light of +the candles fixed in sconces round the walls tempered to a certain +degree that bare and severe look of past grandeur which usually hung +upon every corner of the old chateau. + +Clyffurde went up to the tall hearth. He rested his hand on the ledge of +the mantel and leaning his forehead against it he stared moodily into +the fire. + +Thoughts of all that he had learned in the past few hours, of the new +chapter in the book of the destinies of France, begun a few days ago in +the bay of Jouan, crowded in upon his mind. What difference would the +unfolding of that new chapter make to the destinies of the Comte de +Cambray and of Crystal? What had Fate in store for the bold adventurer +who was marching across France with a handful of men to reconquer a +throne and remake an empire? what had she in store for the stiff-necked +aristocrat of the old regime who still believed that God himself had +made special laws for the benefit of one class of humanity, and that He +had even created them differently to the rest of mankind? + +And what had Fate in store for the beautiful, delicate girl whose future +had been so arbitrarily settled by two men--father and lover--one the +buyer, the other the seller of her exquisite person, the shrine of her +pure and idealistic soul--and bargained for by father and lover as the +price of so many acres of land--a farm--a chateau--an ancestral estate? + +Father and lover were sitting together even now discussing values--the +purchase price--"You give me back my lands, I will give you my +daughter!" Blood money! soul money! Clyffurde called it as he ground his +teeth together in impotent rage. + +What folly it was to care! what folly to have allowed the tendrils of +his over-sensitive heart to twine themselves round this beautiful girl, +who was as far removed from his destiny as were the ambitions of his +boyhood, the hopes, the dreams which the hard circumstances of fate had +forced him to bury beneath the grave-mound of rigid and unswerving duty. + +But what a dream it had been, this love for Crystal de Cambray! It had +filled his entire soul from the moment when first he saw her--down in +the garden under an avenue of ilex trees which cast their mysterious +shadows over her; her father had called to her and she had come across +to where he--Clyffurde--stood silently watching this approaching vision +of loveliness which never would vanish from his mental gaze again. + +Even at that supreme moment, when her blue eyes, her sweet smile, the +exquisite grace of her took possession of his soul, even then he knew +already that his dream could have but one awakening. She was already +plighted to another, a happier man, but even if she were free, Crystal +would never have bestowed a thought upon the stranger--the commonplace +tradesman, whose only merit in her sight lay in his friendship with +another gallant English gentleman. + +And knowing this--when he saw her after that, day after day, hour after +hour--poor Bobby Clyffurde grew reconciled to the knowledge that the +gates of his Paradise would for ever be locked against him: he grew +contented just to peep through those gates; and the Angel who was on +guard there, holding the flaming sword of caste prejudice against him, +would relent at times and allow him to linger on the threshold and to +gaze into a semblance of happiness. + +Those thoughts, those dreams, those longings, he had been able to +endure; to-day reality had suddenly become more insistent and more +stern: the Angel's flaming sword would sear his soul after this, if he +lingered any longer by the enchanted gates: and thus had the semblance +of happiness yielded at last to dull regret. + +He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. + + +IV + +The sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the soft frou-frou of a +woman's skirt roused him from his gloomy reverie, and caused him to jump +to his feet. + +Mlle. Crystal was coming across the long reception room, walking with a +slow and weary step toward the hearth. She was obviously not yet aware +of Clyffurde's presence, and he had full leisure to watch her as she +approached, to note the pallor of her cheeks and lips and that pathetic +look of childlike self-pity and almost of appeal which veiled the +brilliance of her deep blue eyes. + +A moment later she saw him and came more quickly across the room, with +hand extended, and an air of gracious condescension in her whole +attitude. + +"Ah! M. Clyffurde," she said in perfect English, "I did not know you +were here . . . and all alone. My father," she added, "is occupied with +serious matters downstairs, else he would have been here to receive +you." + +"I know, Mademoiselle," he said after he had kissed the tips of three +cold little fingers which had been held out to him. "My friend de +Marmont is with him just now: he desired to speak with M. le Comte in +private . . . on a matter which closely concerns his happiness." + +"Ah! then you knew?" she asked coldly. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, I knew," he replied. + +She had settled herself down in a high-backed chair close to the hearth, +the ruddy light of the wood-fire played upon her white satin gown, upon +her bare arms, and the ends of her lace scarf, upon her satin shoes and +the bunch of snowdrops at her breast, but her face was in shadow and she +did not look up at Clyffurde, whilst he--poor fool!--stood before her, +absorbed in the contemplation of this dainty picture which mayhap after +to-night would never gladden his eyes again. + +"You are a great friend of M. de Marmont?" she asked after a while. + +"Oh, Mademoiselle--a friend?" he replied with a self-deprecatory shrug +of the shoulders, "friendship is too great a name to give to our chance +acquaintanceship. I met Victor de Marmont less than a fortnight ago, in +Grenoble. . . ." + +"Ah yes! I had forgotten--he told me that he had first met you at the +house of a M. Dumoulin . . ." + +"In the shop of M. Dumoulin, Mademoiselle," broke in Clyffurde with his +good-humoured smile. "M. Dumoulin, the glovemaker, with whom I was +transacting business at the moment when M. de Marmont walked in, in +order to buy himself a pair of gloves." + +"Of course," she added coldly, "I had forgotten. . . ." + +"You were not likely to remember such a trivial circumstance, +Mademoiselle. M. de Marmont saw me after that here as guest in your +father's house. He was greatly surprised at finding me--a mere +tradesman--in such an honoured position. Surprise laid the foundation of +pleasing intercourse between us, but you see, Mademoiselle, that M. de +Marmont has no cause to boast of his friendship with me." + +"Oh! M. de Marmont is not so prejudiced. . . ." + +"As you are, Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly, for she had paused and he +saw that she bit her lips with her tiny white teeth as if she meant to +check the words that would come tumbling out. + +Thus directly questioned she gave a little shrug of disdain. + +"My opinions in the matter are not in question, Sir," she said coldly. + +She smothered a little yawn which may have been due to ennui, but also +to the tingling of her nerves. Clyffurde saw that her hands were never +still for a moment; she was either fingering the snowdrops in her belt +or smoothing out the creases in her lace scarf; from time to time she +raised her head and a tense expression came into her face, as if she +were trying to listen to what was going on elsewhere in the +house--downstairs perhaps--in the library where she was being finally +bargained for and sold. + +Clyffurde felt an intense--an unreasoning pity for her, and because of +that pity--the gentle kinsman of fierce love--he found it in his heart +to forgive her all her prejudices, that almost arrogant pride of caste +which was in her blood, for which she was no more responsible than she +was for the colour of her hair or the vivid blue of her eyes; she seemed +so forlorn--such a child, in the midst of all this decadent grandeur. +She was being so ruthlessly sacrificed for ideals that were no longer +tenable, that had ceased to be tenable five and twenty years ago when +this chateau and these lands were overrun by a savage and vengeful mob, +who were loudly demanding the right to live in happiness, in comfort, +and in freedom. That right had been denied to them through the past +centuries by those who were of her own kith and kin, and it was +snatched with brutal force, with lust of hate and thirst for reprisals, +by the revolutionary crowd when it came into its own at last. + +Something of the pity which he felt for this beautiful and innocent +victim of rancour, oppression and prejudice, must have been manifest in +Clyffurde's earnest eyes, for when Crystal looked up to him and met his +glance she drew herself up with an air of haughty detachment. And with +that, she wished to convey still more tangibly to him the idea of that +barrier of caste which must for ever divide her from him. + +Obviously his look of pity had angered her, for now she said abruptly +and with marked coldness: + +"My father tells me, Sir, that you are thinking of leaving France +shortly." + +"Indeed, Mademoiselle," he replied, "I have trespassed too long as it is +on M. le Comte's gracious hospitality. My visit originally was only for +a fortnight. I thought of leaving for England to-morrow." + +A little lift of the eyebrows, an unnecessary smoothing of an invisible +crease in her gown and Crystal asked lightly: + +"Before the . . . my wedding, Sir?" + +"Before your wedding, Mademoiselle." + +She frowned--vaguely stirred to irritation by his ill-concealed +indifference. "I trust," she rejoined pointedly, "that you are satisfied +with your trade in Grenoble." + +The little shaft was meant to sting, but if Bobby felt any pain he +certainly appeared to bear it with perfect good-humour. + +"I am quite satisfied," he said. "I thank you, Mademoiselle." + +"It must be very pleasing to conclude such affairs satisfactorily," she +continued. + +"Very pleasing, Mademoiselle." + +"Of course--given the right temperament for such a career--it must be so +much more comfortable to spend one's life in making money--buying and +selling things and so on--rather than to risk it every day for the +barren honour of serving one's king and country." + +"As you say, Mademoiselle," he said quite imperturbably, "given the +right temperament, it certainly is much more comfortable." + +"And you, Sir, I take it, are the happy possessor of such a +temperament." + +"I suppose so, Mademoiselle." + +"You are content to buy and to sell and to make money? to rest at ease +and let the men who love their country and their king fight for you and +for their ideals?" + +Her voice had suddenly become trenchant and hard, her manner +contemptuous--at strange variance with the indifferent kindliness +wherewith she had hitherto seemed to regard her father's English guest. +Certainly her nerves--he thought--were very much on edge, and no doubt +his own always unruffled calm--the combined product of temperament, +nationality and education--had an irritating effect upon her. Had he not +been so intensely sorry for her, he would have resented this final taunt +of hers--an arrow shot this time with intent to wound. + +But as it was he merely said with a smile: + +"Surely, Mademoiselle, my contentment with my own lot, and any other +feelings of which I may be possessed, are of such very little +consequence--seeing that they are only the feelings of a very +commonplace tradesman--that they are not worthy of being discussed." + +Then as quickly her manner changed: the contemptuous look vanished from +her eyes, the sarcastic curl from her lips, and with one of those quick +transitions of mood which were perhaps the principal charm of Crystal de +Cambray's personality, she looked up at Bobby with a winning smile and +an appeal for forgiveness. + +"Your pardon, Sir," she said softly. "I was shrewish and ill-tempered, +and deserve a severe lesson in courtesy. I did not mean to be +disagreeable," she added with a little sigh, "but my nerves are all +a-quiver to-day and this awful news has weighed upon my spirit. . . ." + +"What awful news, Mademoiselle?" he asked. + +"Surely you have heard?" + +"You mean the news about Napoleon . . . ?" + +"I mean the awful certainty," she retorted with a sudden outburst of +vehemence, "that that brigand, that usurper, that scourge of mankind has +escaped from an all too lenient prison where he should never have been +confined, seeing how easy was escape from it. I mean that all the +horrors of the past twenty years will begin again now, misery, +starvation, exile probably. Oh, surely," she added with ever-increasing +passion, "surely God will not permit such an awful thing to happen; +surely he will strike the ogre dead, ere he devastates France once +again!" + +"I am afraid that you must not reckon quite so much on divine +interference, Mademoiselle. A nation--like every single individual--must +shape its own destiny, and must not look to God to help it in its +political aims." + +"And France must look once more to England, I suppose. It is humiliating +to be always in need of help," she said with an impatient little sigh. + +"Each nation in its turn has it in its power to help a sister. Sometimes +help may come from the weaker vessel. Do you remember the philosopher's +fable of the lion and the mouse? France may be the mouse just now--some +day it may be in her power to requite the lion." + +She shook her head reprovingly. "I don't know," she said, "that I +approve of your calling France--the mouse." + +"I only did so in order to drive my parable still further home." + +Then as she looked a little puzzled, he continued--speaking very slowly +this time and with an intensity of feeling which was quite different to +his usual pleasant, good-tempered, oft-times flippant manner: +"Mademoiselle Crystal--if you will allow me to speak of such an +insignificant person as I am--I am at present in the position of the +mouse with regard to your father and yourself--the lions of my parable. +You might so easily have devoured me, you see," he added with a quaint +touch of humour. "Well! the time may come when you may have need of a +friend, just as I had need of one when I came here--a stranger in a +strange land. Events will move with great rapidity in the next few days, +Mademoiselle Crystal, and the mouse might at any time be in a position +to render a service to the lion. Will you remember that?" + +"I will try, Monsieur," she replied. + +But already her pride was once more up in arms. She did not like his +tone, that air of protection which his attitude suggested. And indeed +she could not think of any eventuality which would place the Comte de +Cambray de Brestalou in serious need of a tradesman for his friend. + +Then as quickly again her mood softened and as she raised her eyes to +his he saw that they were full of tears. + +"Indeed! indeed!" she said gently, "I do deserve your contempt, Sir, for +my shrewishness and vixenish ways. How can I--how can any of us--afford +to turn our backs upon a loyal friend? To-day too, of all days, when +that awful enemy is once more at our gates! Oh!" she added, clasping her +hands together with a sudden gesture of passionate entreaty, "you are +English, Sir--a friend of all those gallant gentlemen who saved my dear +father and his family from those awful revolutionaries--you will be +loyal to us, will you not? The English hate Bonaparte as much as we do! +you hate him too, do you not? you will do all you can to help my poor +father through this awful crisis? You will, won't you?" she pleaded. + +"Have I not already offered you my humble services, Mademoiselle?" he +rejoined earnestly. + +Indeed this was a very serious ordeal for quiet, self-contained Bobby +Clyffurde--an Englishman, remember--with all an Englishman's shyness of +emotion, all an Englishman's contempt of any display of sentiment. Here +was this beautiful girl--whom he loved with all the passionate ardour of +his virile, manly temperament--sitting almost at his feet, he looking +down upon her fair head, with its wealth of golden curls, and into her +blue eyes which were full of tears. + +Who shall blame him if just then a desperate longing seized him to throw +all prudence, all dignity and honour to the winds and to clasp this +exquisite woman for one brief and happy moment in his arms--to forget +the world, her position and his--to risk disgrace and betray +hospitality, for the sake of one kiss upon her lips? The temptation was +so fierce--indeed for one short second it was all but irresistible--that +something of the battle which was raging within his soul became +outwardly visible, and in the girl's tear-dimmed eyes there crept a +quick look of alarm--so strange, so ununderstandable was his glance, the +rigidity of his attitude--as if every muscle had become taut and every +nerve strained to snapping point, while his face looked hard and lined, +almost as if he were fighting physical pain. + + +V + +Thus a few seconds went by in absolute silence--while the great gilt +clock upon its carved bracket ticked on with stolid relentlessness, +marking another minute--and yet another--of this hour which was so full +of portent for the destinies of France. Clyffurde would gladly have +bartered the future years of his life for the power to stay the hand of +Time just now--for the power to remain just like this, standing before +this beautiful woman whom he loved, feeling that at any moment he could +take her in his arms and kiss her eyes and her lips, even if she were +unwilling, even if she hated him for ever afterwards. + +The sense of power to do that which he might regret to the end of his +days was infinitely sweet, the power to fight against that +all-compelling passion was perhaps sweeter still. Then came the pride of +victory. The habits of a lifetime had come to his aid: self-respect and +self-control, hard and wilful taskmasters, fought against passion, until +it yielded inch by inch. + +The battle was fought and won in those few moments of silence: the +strain of the man's attitude relaxed, the set lines on his face +vanished, leaving it serene and quietly humorous, calm and +self-deprecatory. Only his voice was not quite so steady as usual, as he +said softly: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal, is there anything that I can do for you?--now at +once, I mean? If there is, I do entreat you most earnestly to let me +serve you." + +Had the pure soul of the woman been touched by the fringe of that +magnetic wave of passion even as it rose to its utmost height, nearly +sweeping the man off his feet, and in its final retreat leaving him with +quivering nerves and senses bruised and numb? Did something of the man's +suffering, of his love and of his despair appear--despite his +efforts--upon his face and in the depth of his glance?--and thus made +visible did they--even through their compelling intensity--cause that +invisible barrier of social prejudices to totter and to break? It were +difficult to say. Certain it is that Crystal's whole heart warmed to the +stranger as it had never warmed before. She felt that here was a _man_ +standing before her now, whose promises would never be mere idle words, +whose deeds would speak more loudly than his tongue. She felt that in +the midst of all the enmity which encompassed her and her father in +their newly regained home and land, here at any rate was a friend on +whom they could count to help, to counsel and to accomplish. And deep +down in the very bottom of her soul there was a curious unexplainable +longing that circumstances should compel her to ask one day for his +help, and a sweet knowledge that that help would be ably rendered and +pleasing to receive. + +But for the moment, of course, there was nothing that she could ask: she +would be married in a couple of days--alas! so soon!--and after that it +would be to her husband that she must look for devotion, for guidance +and for sympathy. + +A little sigh of regret escaped her lips, and she said gently: + +"I thank you, Sir, from the bottom of my heart, for the words of +friendship which you have spoken. I shall never forget them, never! and +if at any time in my life I am in trouble . . ." + +"Which God forbid!" he broke in fervently. + +"If any time I have need of a friend," she resumed, "I feel that I +should find one in you. Oh! if only I could think that you would extend +your devotion to my poor country, and to our King . . ." she exclaimed +with passionate earnestness. + +"You love your country very dearly, Mademoiselle," he rejoined. + +"I think that I love France more than anything else in the world," she +replied, "and I feel that there is no sacrifice which I would deem too +great to offer up for her." + +"And by France you mean the Bourbon dynasty," he said almost +involuntarily, and with an impatient little sigh. + +"I mean the King, by the grace of God!" she retorted proudly. + +She had thrown back her head with an air of challenge as she said this, +meeting his glance eye to eye: she looked strong and wilful all of a +sudden, no longer girlish and submissive. And to the man who loved her, +this trait of power and latent heroism added yet another to the many +charms which he saw in her. Loyal to her country and to her king she +would be loyal in all things--to husband, kindred and to friends. + +But he realised at the same time how impossible it would be for any man +to win her love if he were an enemy to her cause. St. Genis--royalist, +emigre, retrograde like herself--had obviously won his way to her heart +chiefly by the sympathy of his own convictions. But what of de Marmont, +to whom she was on the eve of plighting her troth? de Marmont the +hot-headed Bonapartist who owned but one god--Napoleon--and yet had +deliberately, and with cynical opportunism hidden his fanatical aims and +beliefs from the woman whom he had wooed and won? + +The thought of that deception--and of the awakening which would await +the girl-wife on the very morrow of her wedding-day mayhap, was terribly +repellent to Clyffurde's straightforward, loyal nature, and bitter was +the contention within his soul as he found himself at the cross-roads of +a divided duty. Every instinct of chivalry towards the woman loudly +demanded that he should warn her--now--at once--before it was too +late--before she had actually pledged her life and future to a man whom +her very soul--if she knew the truth--would proclaim a renegade and a +traitor; and every instinct of loyalty to the man--that male solidarity +of sex which will never permit one man--if he be a gentleman--to betray +another--prompted him to hold his peace. + +Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his ear. Vaguely only +did he hear what she said. She was still speaking of France, of all that +the country had suffered and all that was due to her from her sons and +daughters: she spoke of the King, God's own anointed as she called him, +endowed with rights divine, and all the while his thoughts were far +away, flying on the wings of memory to the little hamlet among the +mountains where two enthusiasts had exhausted every panegyric in praise +of their own hero, whom this girl called a usurper and a brigand. He +remembered every trait in de Marmont's face, every inflexion of his +voice as he said with almost cruel cynicism: "She will learn to love me +in time." + +That, Clyffurde knew now, Crystal de Cambray would never do. Indifferent +to de Marmont to-day, she would hate and loathe him the day that she +discovered how infamously he had deceived her: and to Clyffurde's +passionate temperament the thought of Crystal's future unhappiness was +absolutely intolerable. + +Here indeed was a battle far more strenuous and difficult of issue than +that of a man's will against his passions: here was a problem far more +difficult to solve than any that had assailed Bobby Clyffurde throughout +his life. + +His heart cried out "She must know the truth: she must. To-day! this +minute, while there was yet time! Anon she will be pledged irrevocably +to a man who has lied to her, whom she will curse as a renegade, a +traitor, false to his country, false to his king!" + +And the words hovered on his lips: "Mademoiselle Crystal! do not plight +your troth to de Marmont! he is no friend of yours, his people are not +your people! his God is not your God! and there is neither blessing nor +holiness in an union 'twixt you and him!" + +But the words remained unspoken, because the unwritten code--the bond +'twixt man and man--tried to still this natural cry of his heart and +reason argued that he must hold his peace. His heart rebelled, +contending that to remain silent was cowardly--that his first duty was +to the woman whom he loved better than his soul, whilst ingrained +principles, born and bred in the bone of him, threw themselves into the +conflict, warning him that if he spoke he would be no better than an +informer, meriting the contempt alike of those whom he wished to help +and of the man whom he would betray. + +It was one sound coming from below which settled the dispute 'twixt +heart and reason--the sound of de Marmont's voice which though he was +apparently speaking of indifferent matters had that same triumphant ring +in it which Clyffurde had heard at Notre Dame de Vaulx this morning. + +The sound had caused Crystal to give a quick gasp and to clasp her hands +against her breast, as she said with a nervous little laugh: + +"Imagine how happy we are to have M. de Marmont's support in this +terrible crisis! His influence in Grenoble and in the whole province is +very great: his word in the town itself may incline the whole balance of +public feeling on the side of the King, and who knows, it may even help +to strengthen the loyalty of the troops. Oh! that Corsican brigand +little guesses what kind of welcome we in the Dauphine are preparing for +him!" + +Her enthusiasm, her trust, her loyalty ended the conflict in Clyffurde's +mind far more effectually than any sober reasoning could have done. He +realised in a moment that neither abstract principles, nor his own +feelings in the matter, were of the slightest account at such a +juncture. + +What was obvious, certain, and not to be shirked, was duty to a woman +who was on the point of being shamefully deceived, also duty to the man +whose hospitality he had enjoyed. To remain silent would be cowardly--of +that he became absolutely certain, and once Bobby had made up his mind +what duty was no power on earth could make him swerve from its +fulfilment. + +"Mlle. Crystal," he began slowly and deliberately, "just now, when I was +bold enough to offer you my friendship, you deigned to accept it, did +you not?" + +"Indeed I did, Sir," she replied, a little astonished. "Why should you +ask?" + +"Because the time has come sooner than I expected for me to prove the +truth of that offer to you. There is something which I must say to you +which no one but a friend ought to do. May I?" + +But before she could frame the little "Yes!" which already trembled on +her lips, her father's voice and de Marmont's rang out from the further +end of the room itself. + +The folding doors had been thrown open: M. le Comte and his son-in-law +elect were on the point of entering and had paused for a moment just +under the lintel. De Marmont was talking in a loud voice and apparently +in response to something which M. le Comte had just told him. + +"Ah!" he said, "Mme. la Duchesse will be leaving Brestalou? I am sorry +to hear that. Why should she go so soon?" + +"An affair of business, my dear de Marmont," replied the Comte. "I will +tell you about it at an early opportunity." + +After which there was a hubbub of talk in the corridors outside, the +sound of greetings, the pleasing confusion of questions and answers +which marks the simultaneous arrival of several guests. + +Crystal rose and turned to Bobby with a smile. + +"You will have to tell me some other time," she said lightly. "Don't +forget!" + +The psychological moment had gone by and Clyffurde cursed himself for +having fought too long against the promptings of his heart and lost the +precious moments which might have changed the whole of Crystal's +future. He cursed himself for not having spoken sooner, now that he saw +de Marmont with glowing eyes and ill-concealed triumph approach his +beautiful fiancee and with the air of a conqueror raise her hand to his +lips. + +She looked very pale, and to the man who loved her so ardently and so +hopelessly it seemed as if she gave a curious little shiver and that for +one brief second her blue eyes flashed a pathetic look of appeal up to +his. + + +VI + +M. le Comte's guests followed closely on the triumphant bridegroom's +heels: M. le prefet, fussy and nervous, secretly delighted at the idea +of affixing his official signature to such an aristocratic _contrat de +mariage_ as was this between Mlle. de Cambray de Brestalou and M. Victor +de Marmont, own nephew to Marshal the duc de Raguse; Madame la prefete, +resplendent in the latest fashion from Paris, the Duc and Duchesse +d'Embrun, cousins of the bride, the Vicomte de Genevois and his mother, +who was Abbess of Pont Haut and godmother by proxy to Crystal de +Cambray; whilst General Marchand, in command of the troops of the +district, fresh from the Council of War which he had hastily convened, +was trying to hide behind a _debonnaire_ manner all the anxiety which +"the brigand's" march on Grenoble was causing him. + +The chief notabilities of the province had assembled to do honour to the +occasion, later on others would come, lesser lights by birth and +position than this select crowd who would partake of the _souper des +fiancailles_ before the _contrat_ was signed in their presence as +witnesses to the transaction. + +Everyone was talking volubly: the ogre's progress through France--no +longer to be denied--was the chief subject of conversation. Some spoke +of it with contempt, others with terror. The ex-Bonapartists Fourier +and Marchand were loudest in their curses against "the usurper." + +Clyffurde, silent and keeping somewhat aloof from the brilliant throng, +saw that de Marmont did not enter into any of these conversations. He +kept resolutely close to Crystal, and spoke to her from time to time in +a whisper, and always with that assured air of the conqueror, which +grated so unpleasantly on Clyffurde's irritable nerves. + +The Comte, affable and gracious, spoke a few words to each of his guests +in turn, whilst Mme. la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen was talking openly of +her forthcoming return journey to the North. + +"I came in great haste," she said loudly to the circle of ladies +gathered around her, "for my little Crystal's wedding. But I was in the +middle of a Lenten retreat at the Sacred Heart, and I only received +permission from my confessor to spend three days in all this gaiety." + +"When do you leave us again, Mme. la Duchesse?" queried Mlle. Marchand, +the General's daughter, in a honeyed voice. + +"On Tuesday, directly after the religious ceremony, Mademoiselle," +replied Madame, whilst M. le prefet tried to look unconcerned. He had +brought the money over as Mme. la Duchesse had directed. Twenty-five +millions of francs in notes and drafts had been transferred from the +cellar of the Hotel de Ville to his own pockets first and then into the +keeping of Madame. He had driven over from the Hotel de Ville in his +private coach, he himself in an agony of fear every time the road looked +lonely, or he heard the sound of horse's hoofs upon the road behind +him--for there might be mounted highwaymen about. Now he felt infinitely +relieved; he had shifted all responsibility of that vast sum of money on +to more exalted shoulders than his own, and inwardly he was marvelling +how coolly Mme. la Duchesse seemed to be taking such an awful +responsibility. + +Now Hector threw open the great doors and announced that M. le Comte was +served. Through the vast corridor beyond appeared a vista of liveried +servants in purple and canary, wearing powdered perruque, silk stockings +and buckled shoes. + +There was a general hubbub in the room, the men moved towards the ladies +who had been assigned to them for partners. M. le Comte in his grandest +manner approached Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun in order to conduct her down +to supper. An air of majestic grandeur, of solemnity and splendid +decorum pervaded the fine apartment; it sought out every corner of the +vast reception room, flickered round every wax candle; it spread itself +over the monumental hearth, the stiff brocade-covered chairs, the gilt +consoles and tall mirrors. It emanated alike from the graciousness of M. +le Comte de Cambray and the pompousness of his majordomo. Hector in fact +appeared at this moment as the high priest in a temple of good manners +and bon ton: the muscles of his face were rigid, his mouth was set as if +ready to pronounce sacrificial words; in his right hand he carried a +gold-headed wand, emblem of his high office. + +But suddenly there was a disturbance--an unseemly noise came from the +further end of the corridor, where rose the magnificent staircase. +Hector's face became a study in rapidly changing expressions: from +pompousness, to astonishment, then horror, and finally wrath when he +realised that an intruder in stained cloth clothes and booted and +spurred was actually making his way through the ranks of liveried and +gaping servants and loudly demanding to speak with M. le Comte. + +Such an unseemly disturbance had not occurred at the Chateau de +Brestalou since Hector had been installed there as majordomo nearly +twelve months ago, and he was on the point of literally throwing +himself upon the impious malapert who thus dared to thrust his ill-clad +person upon the brilliant company, when he paused--more aghast than +before. In this same impious malapert he had recognised M. le Marquis de +St. Genis! + +The young man looked to be labouring under terrible excitement: his face +was flushed and he was panting as if he had been running hard: + +"M. le Comte!" he cried breathlessly as soon as he caught sight of +Hector, "tell M. le Comte that I must speak with him at once." + +"But M. le Marquis . . . M. le Marquis . . ." + +This was all that poor, bewildered Hector could stammer: his +slowly-moving brain was torn between the duties of his position and his +respect for M. le Marquis, and in the struggle the worthy man was +enduring throes of anxiety. + +Fortunately M. le Comte himself put an end to Hector's dilemma. He had +recognised St. Genis' voice. Unlike his majordomo, he knew at once that +something terribly grave must have happened, else the young man would +never have committed such a serious breach of good manners. And M. le +Comte himself was never at a loss how to turn any situation to a +dignified and proper issue: he murmured a quick and courteous apology to +Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun and a comprehensive one to all his guests, +then he hastened to meet St. Genis at the door. + +Already St. Genis had entered. His rough clothes and muddy boots looked +strangely in contrast to the immaculate get-up of the Comte's guests, +but of this he hardly seemed to be aware. His face was flushed; with his +right hand he clutched a small riding cane, and his glowering dark eyes +swept a rapid glance over every one in the room. + +And to the Comte he said hoarsely: "I must offer you my humblest +apologies, my dear Comte, for obtruding my very untidy person upon you +at this hour. I have walked all the way from Grenoble, as I could not +get a hackney-coach, else I had been here earlier and spared you this +unpleasantness." + +"You are always welcome in this house, my good Maurice," said the Comte +in his loftiest manner, "and at any hour of the day." + +And he added with a certain tone of dignified reproach: "I did ask you +to be my guest to-night, if you remember." + +"And I," said St. Genis, "was churlish enough to refuse. I would not +have come now only that I felt I might be in time to avert the most +awful catastrophe that has yet fallen upon your house." + +Again his restless, dark eyes--sullen and wrathful and charged with a +look of rage and of hate--wandered over the assembled company. The look +frightened the ladies. They took to clinging to one another, standing in +compact little groups together, like frightened birds, watchful and +wide-eyed. They feared that the young man was mad. But the men exchanged +significant glances and significant smiles. They merely thought that St. +Genis had been drinking, or that jealousy had half-turned his brain. + +Only Clyffurde, who stood somewhat apart from the others, knew--by some +unexplainable intuition--what it was that had brought Maurice de St. +Genis to this house in this excited state and at this hour. He felt +excited too, and mightily thankful that the catastrophe would be brought +about by others--not by himself. + +But all his thoughts were for Crystal, and an instinctive desire to +stand by her and to shield her if necessary from some unknown or +unguessed evil, made him draw nearer to her. She stood on the fringe of +the little crowd--as isolated as Bobby was himself. + +De Marmont--whose face had become the colour of dead ashes--had left +her side: one step at a time and very slowly he was getting nearer and +nearer to St. Genis, as if the latter's wrath-filled eyes were drawing +him against his will. + +At the young man's ominous words, M. le Comte's sunken cheeks grew a +shade more pale. + +"What catastrophe, _mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, "could fall on my house +that would be worse than twenty years of exile?" + +"An alliance with a traitor, M. le Comte," said St. Genis firmly. + +A gasp went round the room, a sigh, a cry. The women looked in mute +horror from one man to the other, the men already had their right hand +on their swords. But Clyffurde's eyes were fixed upon Crystal, who pale, +silent, rigid as a marble statue, with lips parted and nostrils +quivering, stood not five paces away from him, her dilated eyes +wandering ceaselessly from the face of St. Genis to that of de Marmont +and thence to that of her father. But beyond that look of tense +excitement she revealed nothing of what she thought and felt. + +Already de Marmont--his hand upon his sword--had advanced menacingly +towards St. Genis. + +"M. le Marquis," he said between set teeth, "you will, by God! eat those +words, or----" + +"Eat my words, man?" retorted St. Genis with a harsh laugh. "By Heaven! +have I not come here on purpose to throw my words into your lying face?" + +There was a brief but violent skirmish, for de Marmont had made a +movement as if he meant to spring at his rival's throat, and General +Marchand and the Vicomte de Genevois, who happened to be near, had much +ado to seize and hold him: even so they could not stop the hoarse cries +which he uttered: + +"Liar! Liar! Liar! Let me go! Let me get to him! I must kill him! I must +kill him!" + +The Comte interposed his dignified person between the two men. + +"Maurice," he said, in tones of calm and dispassionate reproof, "your +conduct is absolutely unjustifiable. You seem to forget that you are in +the presence of ladies and of my guests. If you had a quarrel with M. de +Marmont. . . ." + +"A quarrel, my dear Comte?" exclaimed St. Genis, "nay, 'tis no quarrel I +have with him: and my conduct would have been a thousand times more vile +if I had not come to-night and stopped his hand from touching that of +Mlle. Crystal de Cambray--his hand which was engaged less than two hours +ago in affixing to the public buildings of Grenoble the infamous message +of the Corsican brigand to the army and the people of France." + +A hoarse murmur--a sure sign that men or women are afraid--came from +every corner of the room. + +"The message?--What message?" + +Some people turned instinctively to M. le prefet, others to General +Marchand. Every one knew that Bonaparte had landed on the Littoral, +every one had heard the rumour that he was marching in triumph through +Provence and the Dauphine--but no one had altogether believed this--as +for a message--a proclamation--a call to the army--and this in Grenoble +itself. No one had heard of that--every one had been at home, getting +dressed for this festive function, thinking of good suppers and of +wedding bells. It was as if after a clap of thunder and a flash of +lightning the house was found to be in flames. M. le prefet in answer to +these mute queries had shrugged his shoulders, and General Marchand +looked grim and silent. + +But St. Genis with arm uplifted and shaking hand pointed a finger at de +Marmont. + +"Ask him," he cried. "Ask him, my dear Comte, ask the miserable traitor +who with lies and damnable treachery has stolen his way into your +house, has stolen your regard, your hospitality, and was on the point of +stealing your most precious treasure--your daughter! Ask him! He knows +every word of that infamous message by heart! I doubt not but a copy of +it is inside his coat now. Ask him! General Mouton-Duveret met him +outside Grenoble in company with that cur Emery and I saw him with mine +own eyes distributing these hellish papers among our townspeople and +pinning them up at the street-corners of our city." + +While St. Genis was speaking--or rather screaming--for his voice, +pitched high, seemed to fill the entire room--every glance was fixed +upon de Marmont. Every one of course expected a contradiction as hot and +intemperate as was the accusation. It was unthinkable, impossible that +what St. Genis said could be true. They all knew de Marmont well. Nephew +of the Duc de Raguse who had borne the lion's share in surrendering +Paris to the allies and bringing about the downfall of the Corsican +usurper, he was one of the most trusted members of the royalist set in +Dauphine. They had talked quite freely before him, consulted with him +when local Bonapartism appeared uncomfortably rampant. De Marmont was +one of themselves. + +And yet he said nothing even now when St. Genis accused him and hurled +insult upon insult at him:--he said nothing to refute the awful +impeachment, to justify his conduct, to explain his companionship with +Emery. His face was still livid, but it was with rage--not indignation. +Marchand and Genevois still held him by the arms, else he and St. Genis +would have been at one another's throat before now. But his gestures as +he struggled to free himself, the imprecations which he uttered were +those of a man who was baffled and found out--not of one who is +innocent. + +But as St. Genis continued to speak and worked himself up every moment +into a still greater state of excitement, de Marmont gradually seemed to +calm down. He ceased to curse: he ceased to struggle, and on his +face--which still was livid--there gradually crept a look of +determination and of defiance. He dug his teeth into his under lip until +tiny drops of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and trickled +slowly down his chin. + +Marchand and Genevois relaxed the grip upon his arms, since he no longer +fought, and thus released he contrived to pull himself together. He +tossed back his head and looked his infuriated accuser boldly in the +face. + +By the time St. Genis paused in his impassioned denunciation, he had +himself completely under control: only his eyes appeared to glow with an +unnatural fire, and little beads of moisture appeared upon his brow and +matted the dark hair against his forehead. The Comte de Cambray at this +juncture would certainly have interposed with one of those temperate +speeches, full of dignity and brimming over with lofty sentiments, which +he knew so well how to deliver, but de Marmont gave him no time to +begin. When St. Genis paused for breath, he suddenly freed himself +completely with a quick movement, from Marchand's and Genevois' hold; +and then he turned to the Comte and to the rest of the company: + +"And what if I did pin the Emperor's proclamation on the walls of +Grenoble," he said proudly and with a tremor of enthusiasm in his voice, +"the Emperor, whom treachery more vile than any since the days of the +Iscariot sent into humiliation and exile! The Emperor has come back!" +cried the young devotee with that extraordinary fervour which Napoleon +alone--of all men that have ever walked upon this earth--was able to +suscitate: "his Imperial eagles once more soar over France carrying on +their wings her honour and glory to the outermost corners of Europe. His +proclamation is to his people who have always loved him, to his +soldiers who in their hearts have always been true to him. His +proclamation?" he added as with a kind of exultant war-cry he drew a +roll of paper from his pocket and held it out at arm's length above his +head, "his proclamation? Here it is! Vive l'Empereur! by the grace of +God!" + +Who shall attempt to describe the feelings of all those who were +assembled round this young enthusiast as he hurled his challenge right +in the face of those who called him a liar and a traitor? Surely it were +a hard task for the chronicler to search into the minds and hearts of +this score of men and women--who worshipped one God and reverenced one +King--at the moment when they saw that King threatened upon his throne, +their faith mocked and their God blasphemed: that the young man spoke +words of truth no one thought of denying. Napoleon's name had the power +to strike terror in the heart of every citizen who desired peace above +all things and of every royalist who wished to see King Louis in +possession of the throne of his fathers. But the army which had fought +under him, the army which he had led in triumph and to victory from one +end of the Continent of Europe to the other, that army still loved him +and had never been rightly loyal to King Louis. The horrors of war which +had lain so heavily over France and over Europe for the past twenty +years were painfully vivid still in everybody's mind, and all these +horrors were intimately associated with the name which stood out now in +bold characters on the paper which de Marmont was triumphantly waving. + +M. le Comte had become a shade or two paler than he had been before: he +looked very old, very careworn, all of a sudden, and his pale eyes had +that look in them which comes into the eyes of the old after years of +sorrow and of regret. + +But never for a moment did he depart from his attitude of dignity. When +de Marmont's exultant cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" had ceased to echo round +the majestic walls of this stately chateau, he straightened out his +spare figure and with one fine gesture begged for silence from his +guests. + +Then he said very quietly: "M. Marmont, this is neither the place nor +the opportunity which I should have chosen for confronting you with all +the lies which you have told in the past ten months ever since you +entered my house as an honoured guest. But M. de St. Genis has left me +no option. Burning with indignation at your treachery he came hot-foot +to unmask you, before my daughter's fair hand had affixed her own +honourable name beneath that of a cheat and a traitor. . . . Yes! M. de +Marmont," he reiterated with virile force, breaking in on the hot +protests which had risen to the young man's lips, "no one but a cheat +and a traitor could thus have wormed himself into the confidence of an +old man and of a young girl! No one but a villainous blackguard could +have contemplated the abominable deceptions which you have planned +against me and against my daughter." + +For a moment or two after the old man had finished speaking Victor de +Marmont remained silent. There were murmurs of indignation among the +guests, also of approval of the Comte's energetic words. De Marmont was +in the midst of a hostile crowd and he knew it. Here was no drawing-room +quarrel which could be settled at the point of a sword. Though--as Fate +and man so oft ordain it--a woman was the primary reason for the +quarrel, she was not its cause; and the hostility expressed against him +by every glance which de Marmont encountered was so general and so +great, that it overawed him even in the midst of his enthusiasm. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, and he made a great effort to appear +indifferent and unconcerned, "I wish for your daughter's sake that M. +de St. Genis had chosen some other time to make this fracas. We who have +learned chivalry at the Emperor's school would have hit our enemy when +he was in a position to defend himself. This, obviously, I cannot do at +this moment without trespassing still further upon your hospitality, and +causing Mlle. Crystal still more pain. I might even make a direct appeal +to her, since the decision in this matter rests, I imagine, primarily +with her, but with the Emperor at our gates, with the influence of his +power and of his pride dominating my every thought, I will with your +gracious permission relieve you of my unwelcome presence without taking +another leaf out of M. de St. Genis' book." + +"As you will, Monsieur," said the Comte stiffly. + +De Marmont bowed quite ceremoniously to him, and the Comte--courtly and +correct to the last--returned his salute with equal ceremony. Then the +young man turned to Crystal. + +For the first time, perhaps, since the terrible fracas had begun, he +realised what it all must mean to her. She did not try to evade his +look, or to turn away from him. On the contrary she looked him straight +in the face, and watched him while he approached her, without retreating +one single step. But she watched him just as one would watch an abject +and revolting cur, that was too vile and too mean even to merit a kick. + +Crystal's blue eyes were always expressive, but they had never been so +expressive as they were just then. De Marmont met her glance squarely, +and he read in it everything that she meant to convey--her contempt, her +loathing, her hatred--but above all her contempt. So overwhelming, so +complete was this contempt that it made him wince, as if he had been +struck in the face with a whip. + +He stood still, for he knew that she would never allow him to kiss her +hand in farewell, and he had had enough of insults--he knew that he +could not bear that final one. + +A red mist suddenly gathered before his eyes, a mad desire to strike, to +wound or to kill, and with it a wave of passion--he called it Love--for +this woman, such as he had never felt for her before. He gave her back +with a glance, hatred for hatred, but whereas her hatred for him was +smothered in contempt, his for her was leavened with a fierce and +dominant passion. + +All this had taken but a few seconds in accomplishment. M. le Comte had +not done more than give a sign to Hector to see M. de Marmont safely out +of the castle, and Maurice de St. Genis had only had time to think of +interposing, if de Marmont tried to take Crystal's hand. + +Only a few seconds, but a lifetime of emotion was crammed into them. +Then de Marmont, with Crystal's look of loathing still eating into his +soul, caught sight of Clyffurde who stood close by--Clyffurde whose one +thought throughout all this unhappy scene had been of Crystal, who +through it all had eyes and ears only for her. + +Some kind of instinct made the young girl look up to him just then: +probably only in response to a wave of memory which brought back to her +at that very moment, the words of devotion and offer of service which he +had spoken awhile ago; or it may have been that same sense which had +told her at the time that here was a man whom she could always trust, +that he would always prove a friend, as he had promised, and the look +which she gave him was one of simple confidence. + +But de Marmont just happened to intercept that look. He had never been +jealous of Clyffurde of course. Clyffurde--the foreigner, the bourgeois +tradesman--never could under any circumstances be a rival to reckon +with. At any other time he would have laughed at the idea of Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray bestowing the slightest favour upon the Englishman. +But within the last few seconds everything had become different. Victor +de Marmont, the triumphant and wealthy suitor of Mlle. de Cambray, had +become a pariah among all these ladies and gentlemen, and he had become +a man scorned by the woman whom he had wooed and thought to win so +easily. + +The fierce love engendered for Crystal in his turbulent heart by all the +hatred and all the scorn which she lavished upon him, brought an +unreasoning jealousy into being. He felt suddenly that he detested +Clyffurde. He remembered Clyffurde's nationality and its avowed hatred +of the hero whom he--de Marmont--worshipped. And he realised also that +that same hatred must of necessity be a bond between the Englishman and +Crystal de Cambray. + +Therefore--though this new untamed jealousy seized hold of him with +extraordinary power, though it brought that ominous red film before his +eyes, which makes a man strike out blindly and stupidly against his +rival, it also suggested to de Marmont a far simpler and far more +efficacious way of ridding himself once for all of any fear of rivalry +from Clyffurde. + +When he had bowed quite formally to Crystal he looked up at Bobby and +gave him a pleasant and friendly nod. + +"I suppose you will be coming with me, my good Clyffurde," he said +lightly, "we are rowing in the same boat, you and I. We were a very +happy party, were we not? you and Emery and I when General Mouton met us +outside Grenoble: for we had just heard the glorious news that the +Emperor is marching triumphantly through France." + +Then he turned once more to St. Genis: "Did not," he said, "the +General's aide-de-camp tell you that, M. de St. Genis?" + +St. Genis had--during these few seconds while de Marmont held the centre +of the stage--succeeded in controlling his excitement, at any rate +outwardly. He was so absolutely master of the situation and had put his +successful rival so completely to rout, that the sense of satisfaction +helped to soothe his nerves: and when de Marmont spoke directly to him, +he was able to reply with comparative calm. + +"Had you," he said to de Marmont, "attempted to deny the accusation +which I have brought against you, I was ready to confront you with the +report which General Mouton's aide-de-camp brought into the town." + +"I had no intention of denying my loyalty to the Emperor," rejoined de +Marmont, "but I would like to know what report General Mouton's +aide-de-camp brought into Grenoble. The worthy General did not belie his +name, I assure you, he looked mightily scared when he recognised Emery." + +"He was alone with his aide-de-camp and in his coach," retorted St. +Genis, "whilst that traitor Emery, you and your friend Mr. Clyffurde +were on horseback--you gave him the slip easily enough." + +"That's true, of course," said de Marmont simply. "Well, shall we go, my +dear Clyffurde?" + +He had accomplished the purpose of his jealousy even more effectually +than he could have wished. He looked round and saw that everyone had +thrown a casual glance of contempt upon Clyffurde and then turned away +to murmur with scornful indifference: "I always mistrusted that man." +Or: "The Comte ought never to have had the fellow in the house," while +the words: "English spy!" and "Informer" were on every lip. + +But Clyffurde had made no movement during this brief colloquy. He +saw--just as de Marmont did--that everyone was listening more with +indifference than with horror. He--the stranger--was of so little +consequence after all!--a tradesman and an Englishman--what mattered +what his political convictions were? De Marmont was an object of +hatred, but he--Clyffurde--was only one of contempt. + +He heard the muttered words: "English spy!" "Informer!" and others of +still more overwhelming disdain. But he cared little what these people +said. He knew that they would never trouble to hear any justification +from himself--they would not worry their heads about him a moment longer +once he had left the house in company with de Marmont. + +He was not quite sure either whether de Marmont's spite had been +directed against himself, personally, or that it was merely the outcome +of his present humiliating position. + +M. le Comte had not bestowed more than a glance upon him and that from +under haughtily raised brows and across half the width of the room: but +Crystal had looked up to him, and was still looking, and it was that +look which had driven all the blood from Clyffurde's face and caused his +lips to set closely as if with a sense of physical pain. + +The insults which her father's guests were overtly murmuring, she had in +her mind and her eyes were conveying them to him far more plainly than +her lips could have done: + +"English spy--traitor to friendship and to trust--liar, deceiver, +hypocrite." That and more did her scornful glance imply. But she said +nothing. He tried to plead with eyes as expressive as were her own, and +she merely turned away from him, just as if he no longer existed. She +drew her skirt closer round her and somehow with that gesture she seemed +to sweep him entirely out of her existence. + +Even Mme. la Duchesse had not one glance for him. To these passionate, +hot-headed, impulsive royalists, an adherent of the Corsican ogre was +lower than the scum of the earth. They loathed de Marmont because he had +been one of themselves: he was a traitor, and not one man there but +would have liked to see him put up against a wall and summarily shot. +But the stranger they wiped out of their lives. + +Was there any chance for Clyffurde, if he tried to defend himself? None +of a certainty. He could not call the accusation a lie, since he had +been in the company of Emery and of de Marmont most of the day, and mere +explanations would have fallen on deaf and unwilling ears. + +Clyffurde knew this, nor did he attempt any explanation. There is a +certain pride in the heart of every English gentleman which in moments +of acute crisis rises to its full power and height. That pride would not +allow Clyffurde to utter a single word in his own defence. The futility +of attempting it also influenced his decision. He scorned the idea of +speaking on his own behalf, words which were doomed to be disbelieved. + +In a moment he had found himself absolutely isolated in the centre of +the room, not far from the hearth where he had stood a little while ago +talking to Crystal, and close to the chair where she had sat with the +light of the fire playing upon her satin gown. The cushions still bore +the impress of her young figure as she had leaned up against them: the +sight of it was an additional pain which almost made Clyffurde wince. + +He bowed silently and very low to Crystal and to Mme. la Duchesse, and +then to all the ladies and gentlemen who cold-shouldered him with such +contemptuous ostentation. De Marmont with head erect and an air of +swagger was already waiting for him at the door. Clyffurde in taking +leave of M. le Comte made a violent effort to say at any rate the one +word which weighed upon his heart. + +"Will you at least permit me, M. le Comte," he said, "to thank you for +. . ." + +But already the Comte had interrupted him, even before the words were +clearly out of his mouth. + +"I will not permit you, Sir," he broke in firmly, "to speak a single +word other than a plain denial of M. de St. Genis' accusations against +you." + +Then as Clyffurde relapsed into silence, M. le Comte continued with +haughty peremptoriness: + +"A plain 'yes' or 'no' will suffice, Sir. Were you or were you not in +the company of those traitors Emery and de Marmont when General +Mouton-Duvernet came upon them outside Grenoble?" + +"I was," replied Clyffurde simply. + +With a stiff nod of the head the Comte turned his back abruptly upon +him; no one took any further notice of the "English spy." The accused +had been condemned without enquiry and without trial. In times like +these all one's friends must be above suspicion. Clyffurde knew that +there was nothing to be said. With a quickly suppressed sigh, he too +turned away and in his habitual, English, dogged way he resolutely set +his teeth, and with a firm soldierly step walked quietly out of the +room. + +"Hector, see that M. de Marmont's coach is ready for him," said M. le +Comte with well assumed indifference; "and that supper is no longer +delayed." + +He then once more offered his arm to Mme. la Duchesse d'Embrun. "Mme. la +Duchesse," he said in his most courtly manner, "I beg that you will +accept my apologies for this unforeseen interruption. May I have the +honour of conducting you to supper?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EMPRESS' MILLIONS + + +I + +De Marmont, having successfully shot his poisoned arrow and brought down +his enemy, had no longer any ill-feeling against Clyffurde. His jealousy +had been short-lived; it was set at rest by the brief episode which had +culminated in the Englishman's final exit from the Castle of Brestalou. + +Not a single detail of that moving little episode had escaped de +Marmont's keen eyes: he had seen Crystal's look of positive abhorrence +wherewith she had regarded Clyffurde, he had seen the gathering up of +her skirts away--as it were--from the contaminating propinquity of the +"English spy." + +And de Marmont was satisfied. + +He was perfectly ready to pick up the strained strands of friendship +with the Englishman and affected not to notice the latter's absorption +and moodiness. + +"Can I drive you into Grenoble, my good Clyffurde?" he asked airily as +he paused on the top of the perron steps, waiting for the hackney coach. + +"I thank you," replied Clyffurde; "I prefer to walk." + +"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night." + +"I know my way, I thank you." + +"Just as you like." + +He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde +started walking down the monumental steps. + +"Well, I'll say 'good-night,' de Marmont," he said coldly. "And +'good-bye,' too." + +"You are not going away?" queried the other. + +"As soon as I can get the means of going." + +"Troops will be on the move all over the country soon. Foreigners will +be interned. You will have some difficulty in getting away." + +"I know that. That's why I want to make arrangements as early as +possible." + +"Where will you stay in the meanwhile?" + +"Possibly at the 'Trois-Dauphins' if I can get a room." + +"I shall see you again then. The Emperor will stay there while he is in +Grenoble. Well, good-night, my dear friend," said de Marmont, as he +extended a cordial hand to Clyffurde, who, in the dark, evidently failed +to see it. "And don't take the insults of all these fools too much to +heart." And he gave an expressive nod in the direction of the stately +castle behind him. + +"They are dolts," he continued airily; "if they possessed a grain of +sense they would have kept on friendly terms with me. As that old fool's +son-in-law I could have saved him from all the reprisals which will +inevitably fall on all these royalist traitors, now that the Emperor has +come into his own again." + +Clyffurde was half-way down the stone steps when these words of de +Marmont struck upon his ear. Instinctively he retraced his steps. There +was a suggestion of impending danger to Crystal in what the young man +had said. + +"What do you mean by talking about reprisals?" he asked. + +"Oh! . . . only the inevitable," replied de Marmont. "The people of the +Dauphine never cared for these royalists, you know . . . and didn't +learn to like them any better in these past eleven months since the +Restoration. M. le Comte de Cambray has been very high and mighty since +his return from exile. He may yet come to wish that he had never quitted +the comfortable little provincial town in England where he gave drawing +lessons and French lessons to some very bourgeois boys. . . . But here's +that coach at last!" he continued with that jaunty air which he had +assumed since turning his back upon the reception halls of Brestalou. +"Are you sure that you would rather walk than drive with me?" + +"No," replied Clyffurde abruptly, "I am not sure. Thank you very much. I +think that if you don't object to my somewhat morose company I would +like a lift as far as Grenoble." + +He wanted to make de Marmont talk, to hear what the young man had to +say. From it he thought that he could learn more accurately what danger +would threaten Brestalou in the event of Napoleon's successful march to +Paris. + +That the great adventurer's triumph would be short-lived Clyffurde was +perfectly sure. He knew the temper of England and believed in the +military genius of Wellington. England would never tolerate for a moment +longer than she could help that the firebrand of Europe should once more +sit upon the throne of France, and unless the allies had greatly altered +their policy in the past ten months and refused England the necessary +support, Wellington would be more than a match for the decimated army of +Bonaparte. + +But a few weeks--months, perhaps, might elapse before Napoleon was once +again put entirely out of action--and this time more completely and more +effectually than with a small kingdom wherein to dream again of European +conquests; during those weeks and months Brestalou and its inhabitants +would be at the mercy of the man from Corsica--the island of unrest and +of never sleeping vendetta. + +De Marmont was ready enough to talk. He knew nothing, of course, of +Napoleon's plans and ideas save what Emery had told him. But what he +lacked in knowledge he more than made up in imagination. Excitement too +had made him voluble. He talked freely and incessantly: "The Emperor +would do this. . . . The Emperor will never tolerate that . . ." was all +the time on his lips. + +He bragged and he swaggered, launched into passionate eulogies of the +Emperor, and fiery denunciations of his enemies. Berthier, Clark, +Foucher, de Marmont, they all deserved death. Ney alone was to be +pardoned, for Ney was a fine soldier--always supposing that Ney would +repent. But men like the Comte de Cambray were a pest in any +country--mischief-making and intriguing. Bah! the Emperor will never +tolerate them. + +Suddenly Clyffurde--who had become half-drowsy, lulled to somnolence by +de Marmont's incessant chatter and the monotonous jog-trot of the +horses--woke to complete consciousness. He pricked his ears and in a +moment was all attention. + +"They think that they can deceive me," de Marmont was saying airily. +"They think that I am as great a fool as they are, with their talk of +Mme. la Duchesse's journey north, directly after the wedding! Bah! any +dolt can put two and two together: the Comte tells me in one breath that +he had a visit from Fourier in the afternoon, and that the Duchesse--who +only arrived in Brestalou yesterday--would leave again for Paris on the +day after to-morrow, and he tells it me with a mysterious air, and adds +a knowing wink, and a promise that he would explain himself more fully +later on. I could have laughed--if it were not all so miserably stupid." + +He paused for want of breath and tried to peer through the window of the +coach. + +"It is pitch-dark," he said, "but we can't be very far from the city +now." + +"I don't see," rejoined Clyffurde, ostentatiously smothering a yawn, +"what M. le prefet's visit to Brestalou had to do with the Duchesse's +journey to the north. You have got intrigues on the brain, my good de +Marmont." + +And with well-feigned indifference, he settled himself more cosily into +the dark corner of the carriage. + +De Marmont laughed. "What Fourier's afternoon visit has to do with Mme. +d'Agen's journey?" he retorted, "I'll tell you, my good Clyffurde. +Fourier went to see M. le Comte de Cambray this afternoon because he is +a poltroon. He is terrified at the thought that the unfortunate Empress' +money and treasure are still lying in the cellars of the Hotel de Ville +and he went out to Brestalou in order to consult with the Comte what had +best be done with the money." + +"I didn't know the ex-Empress' money was lying in the cellar of the +Hotel de Ville," remarked Clyffurde with well-assumed indifference. + +"Nor did I until Emery told me," rejoined de Marmont. "The money is +there though: stolen from the Empress Marie Louise by that +arch-intriguer Talleyrand. Twenty-five millions in notes and drafts! the +Emperor reckons on it for current expenses until he has reached Paris +and taken over the Treasury." + +"Even then I don't see what Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen has to do with it." + +"You don't," said de Marmont drily: "but I did in a moment. Fourier +wouldn't keep the money at the Hotel de Ville: the Comte de Cambray +would not allow it to be deposited in his house. They both want the +Bourbon to have it. So--in order to lull suspicion--they have decided +that Madame la Duchesse shall take the money to Paris." + +"Well!--perhaps!--" said Clyffurde with a yawn. "But are we not in +Grenoble yet?" + +Once more he lapsed into silence, closed his eyes and to all intents and +purposes fell asleep, for never another word did de Marmont get out of +him, until Grenoble was reached and the rue Montorge. + +Here de Marmont had his lodgings, three doors from the "Hotel des +Trois-Dauphins," where fortunately Clyffurde managed to secure a +comfortable room for himself. + +He parted quite amicably from de Marmont, promising to call in upon him +in the morning. It would be foolish to quarrel with that young wind-bag +now. He knew some things, and talked of a great many more. + + +II + +Preparations against the arrival of the Corsican ogre were proceeding +apace. General Marchand had been overconfident throughout the day--which +was the 5th of March: "The troops," he said, "were loyal to a man. They +were coming in fast from Chambery and Vienne; the garrison would and +could repulse that band of pirates, and take upon itself to fulfil the +promise which Ney had made to the King--namely to bring the ogre to His +Majesty bound and gagged in an iron cage." + +But the following day, which was the 6th, many things occurred to shake +the Commandant's confidence: Napoleon's proclamation was not only posted +up all over the town, but the citizens were distributing the printed +leaflets among themselves: one of the officers on the staff pointed out +to General Marchand that the 4th regiment of artillery quartered in +Grenoble was the one in which Bonaparte had served as a lieutenant +during the Revolution--the men, it was argued, would never turn their +arms against one whom they had never ceased to idolize: it would not be +safe to march out into the open with men whose loyalty was so very +doubtful. + +There was a rumour current in the town that when the men of the 5th +regiment of engineers and the 4th of artillery were told that Napoleon +had only eleven hundred men with him, they all murmured with one accord: +"And what about us?" + +Therefore General Marchand, taking all these facts into consideration, +made up his mind to await the ogre inside the walls of Grenoble. Here at +any rate defections and desertions would be less likely to occur than in +the field. He set to work to organise the city into a state of defence; +forty-seven guns were put in position upon the ramparts which dominate +the road to the south, and he sent a company of engineers and a +battalion of infantry to blow up the bridge of Ponthaut at La Mure. + +The royalists in the city, who were beginning to feel very anxious, had +assembled in force to cheer these troops as they marched out of the +city. But the attitude of the sapeurs created a very unpleasant +impression: they marched out in disorder, some of them tore the white +cockade from their shakos, and one or two cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" +were distinctly heard in their ranks. + +At La Mure, M. le Maire argued very strongly against the destruction of +the bridge of Ponthaut: "It would be absurd," he said, "to blow up a +valuable bridge, since not one kilometre away there was an excellent +ford across which Napoleon could march his troops with perfect ease." +The sapeurs murmured an assent, and their officer, Colonel Delessart, +feeling the temper of his men, did not dare insist. + +He quartered them at La Mure to await the arrival of the infantry, and +further orders from General Marchand. When the 5th regiment of infantry +was reported to have reached Laffray, Delessart had the sapeurs out and +marched out to meet them, although it was then close upon midnight. + +While Delessart and his troops encamped at Laffray, Cambronne--who was +in command of Napoleon's vanguard--himself occupied La Mure. This was on +the 7th. The Mayor--who had so strongly protested against the +destruction of the bridge of Ponthaut--gathered the population around +him, and in a body men, women and children marched out of the borough +along the Corps-Sisteron road in order to give "the Emperor" a rousing +welcome. + +It was still early morning. Napoleon at the head of his Old Guard +entered La Mure; a veritable ovation greeted him, everyone pressed round +him to see him or touch his horse, his coat, his stirrups; he spoke to +the people and held the Mayor and municipal officials in long +conversation. + +Just as practically everywhere else on his route, he had won over every +heart; but his small column which had been eleven hundred strong when he +landed at Jouan, was still only eleven hundred strong: he had only +rallied four recruits to his standard. True, he had met with no +opposition, true that the peasantry of the Dauphine had loudly acclaimed +him, had listened to his harangues and presented him with flowers, but +he had not had a single encounter with any garrison on his way, nor +could he boast of any defections in his favour; now he was nearing +Grenoble--Grenoble, which was strongly fortified and well +garrisoned--and Grenoble would be the winning or losing cast of this +great gamble for the sovereignty of France. + +It was close on eleven when the great adventurer set out upon this +momentous stage of his journey: the Polish Lancers leading, then the +chasseurs of his Old Guard with their time-worn grey coats and heavy +bear-skins; some of them were on foot, others packed closely together in +wagons and carts which the enthusiastic agriculturists of La Mure had +placed at the disposal of "the Emperor." + +Napoleon himself followed in his coach, his horse being led along. +Amidst thundering cries of "God speed" the small column started on its +way. + +As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history; every phase of it has +been put on record:--Delessart--worried in his mind that he had not been +able to obey General Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of +Ponthaut--his desire to communicate once more with the General; his +decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the +narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to +oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side. + +On the other, the advance of the Polish Lancers, of the carts and wagons +wherein are crowded the soldiers of the Old Guard, and Napoleon himself, +the great gambler, sitting in his coach gazing out through the open +windows at the fair land of France, the peaceful valley on his left, the +chain of ice-covered lakes and the turbulent Drac; on his right beyond +the hills frowning Taillefer, snow-capped and pine-clad, and far ahead +Grenoble still hidden from his view as the future too was still +hidden--the mysterious gate beyond which lay glory and an Empire or the +ignominy of irretrievable failure. + +History has made a record of it all, and it is not the purpose of this +true chronicle to do more than recall with utmost brevity the chief +incident of that memorable encounter, the Polish Lancers galloping back +with the report that the narrow pass was held against them in strong +force: the Old Guard climbing helter-skelter out of carts and wagons, +examining their arms, making ready: Napoleon stepping quickly out of his +coach and mounting his charger. + +On the other side Delessart holding hurried consultation with the +Vicomte de St. Genis whom General Marchand has despatched to him with +orders to shoot the brigand and his horde as he would a pack of wolves. + +Napoleon is easily recognisable in the distance, with his grey overcoat, +his white horse and his bicorne hat; presently he dismounts and walks up +and down across the narrow road, evidently in a state of great mental +agitation. + +Delessart's men are sullen and silent; a crowd of men and women from +Grenoble have followed them up thus far; they work their way in and out +among the infantrymen: they have printed leaflets in their hands which +they cram one by one into the hands or pockets of the soldiers--copies +of Napoleon's proclamation. + +Now an officer of the Old Guard is seen to ride up the pass. Delessart +recognises him. They were brothers in arms two years ago and served +together under the greatest military genius the world has ever known. +Napoleon has sent the man on as an emissary, but Delessart will not +allow him to speak. + +"I mean to do my duty," he declares. + +But in his voice too there has already crept that note of sullenness +which characterised the sapeurs from the first. + +Then Captain Raoul, own aide-de-camp to Napoleon, comes up at full +gallop: nor does he draw rein till he is up with the entire front of +Delessart's battalion. + +"Your Emperor is coming," he shouts to the soldiers, "if you fire, the +first shot will reach him: and France will make you answerable for this +outrage!" + +While he shouts and harangues the men are still sullen and silent. And +in the distance the lances of the Polish cavalry gleam in the sun, and +the shaggy bear-skins of the Old Guard are seen to move forward up the +pass. Delessart casts a rapid piercing glance over his men. Sullenness +had given place to obvious terror. + +"Right about turn! . . . Quick! . . . March!" he commands. + +Resistance obviously would be useless with these men, who are on the +verge of laying down their arms. He forces on a quick march, but the +Polish Lancers are already gaining ground: the sound of their horses' +hoofs stamping the frozen ground, the snorting, the clanging of arms is +distinctly heard. Delessart now has no option. He must make his men turn +once more and face the ogre and his battalion before they are attacked +in the rear. + +As soon as the order is given and the two little armies stand face to +face the Polish Lancers halt and the Old Guard stand still. + +And it almost seems for the moment as if Nature herself stood still and +listened, and looked on. The genial midday sun is slowly melting the +snow on pine trees and rocks; one by one the glistening tiny crystals +blink and vanish under the warmth of the kiss; the hard, white road +darkens under the thaw and slowly a thin covering of water spreads over +the icy crust of the lakes. + +Napoleon tells Colonel Mallet to order the men to lower their arms. +Mallet protests, but Napoleon reiterates the command, more peremptorily +this time, and Mallet must obey. Then at the head of his old chasseurs, +thus practically disarmed, the Emperor--and he is every inch an Emperor +now--walks straight up to Delessart's opposing troops. + +Hot-headed St. Genis cries: "Here he is!--Fire, in Heaven's name!" + +But the sapeurs--the old regiment in which Napoleon had served as a +young lieutenant in those glorious olden days--are now as pale as death, +their knees shake under them, their arms tremble in their hands. + +At ten paces away from the foremost ranks Napoleon halts: + +"Soldiers," he cries loudly. "Here I am! your Emperor, do you know me?" + +Again he advances and with a calm gesture throws open his well-worn grey +redingote. + +"Fire!" cries St. Genis in mad exasperation. + +"Fire!" commands Delessart in a voice rendered shaky with overmastering +emotion. + +Silence reigns supreme. Napoleon still advances, step by step, his +redingote thrown open, his broad chest challenging the first bullet +which would dare to end the bold, adventurous, daring life. + +"Is there one of you soldiers here who wants to shoot his Emperor? If +there is, here I am! Fire!" + +Which of these soldiers who have served under him at Jena and Austerlitz +could resist such a call. His voice has lost nothing yet of its charm, +his personality nothing of its magic. Ambitious, ruthless, selfish he +may be, but to the army, a friend, a comrade as well as a god. + +Suddenly the silence is broken. Shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" rend the +air, they echo down the narrow valley, re-echo from hill to hill and +reverberate upon the pine-clad heights of Taillefer. Broken are the +ranks, white cockades fly in every direction, tricolours appear in their +hundreds everywhere. Shakos are waved on the points of the bayonets, and +always, always that cry: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Sapeurs and infantrymen crowd around the little man in the worn grey +redingote, and he with that rough familiarity which bound all soldiers' +hearts to him, seizes an old sergeant by the ends of his long moustache: + +"So, you old dog," he says, "you were going to shoot your Emperor, were +you?" + +"Not me," replies the man with a growl. "Look at our guns. Not one of +them was loaded." + +Delessart, in despair yet shaken to the heart, his eyes swimming in +tears, offers his sword to Napoleon, whereupon the Emperor grasps his +hand in friendship and comforts him with a few inspiring words. + +Only St. Genis has looked on all this scene with horror and contempt. +His royalist opinions are well known, his urgent appeal to Delessart a +while ago to "shoot the brigand and his hordes" still rings in every +soldier's ear. He is half-crazy with rage and there is quite an element +of terror in the confused thoughts which crowd in upon his brain. + +Already the sapeurs and infantrymen have joined the ranks of the Old +Guard, and Napoleon, with that inimitable verve and inspiring eloquence +of which he was pastmaster, was haranguing his troops. Just then three +horsemen, dressed in the uniform of officers of the National Guard and +wearing enormous tricolour cockades as large as soup-plates on their +shakos, are seen to arrive at a break-neck gallop down the pass from +Grenoble. + +St. Genis recognised them at a glance: they were Victor de Marmont, +Surgeon-Captain Emery and their friend the glovemaker, Dumoulin. The +next moment these three men were at the feet of their beloved hero. + +"Sire," said Dumoulin the glovemaker, "in the name of the citizens of +Grenoble we hereby offer you our services and one hundred thousand +francs collected in the last twenty-four hours for your use." + +"I accept both," replied the Emperor, while he grasped vigorously the +hands of his three most devoted friends. + +St. Genis uttered a loud and comprehensive curse: then he pulled his +horse abruptly round and with such a jerk that it reared and plunged +madly forward ere it started galloping away with its frantic rider in +the direction of Grenoble. + + +III + +And Grenoble itself was in a turmoil. + +In the barracks the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" were incessant; General +Marchand was indefatigable in his efforts to still that cry, to rouse in +the hearts of the soldiers a sense of loyalty to the King. + +"Your country and your King," he shouted from barrack-room to +barrack-room. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" responded the soldiers with ever-growing +enthusiasm. + +The spirit of the army and of the people were Bonapartist to the core. +They had never trusted either Marchand or prefet Fourier, who had turned +their coats so readily at the Restoration: they hated the emigres--the +Comte de Cambray, the Vicomte de St. Genis, the Duc d'Embrun--with their +old-fashioned ideas of the semi-divine rights of the nobility second +only to the godlike ones of the King. They thought them arrogant and +untamed, over-ready to grab once more all the privileges which a bloody +Revolution had swept away. + +To them Napoleon, despite the brilliant days of the Empire, despite his +autocracy, his militarism and his arrogance, represented "the people," +the advanced spirit of the Revolution; his downfall had meant a return +to the old regime--the regime of feudal rights, of farmers general, of +heavy taxation and dear bread. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was cried in the barracks and "Vive l'Empereur!" at +the street corners. + +A squadron of Hussars had marched into Grenoble from Vienne just before +noon: the same squadron which a few months ago at a revue by the Comte +d'Artois in the presence of the King had shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" What +faith could be put in their loyalty now? + +But two infantry regiments came in at the same time from Chambery and on +these General Marchand hoped to be able to reckon. The Comte Charles de +la Bedoyere was in command of the 7th regiment, and though he had served +in Prussia under Napoleon he had tendered his oath loyally to Louis +XVIII. at the Restoration. He was a tried and able soldier and Marchand +believed in him. The General himself reviewed both infantry regiments on +the Place d'Armes on their arrival, and then posted them upon the +ramparts of the city, facing direct to the southeast and dominating the +road to La Mure. + +De la Bedoyere remained in command of the 7th. + +For two hours he paced the ramparts in a state of the greatest possible +agitation. The nearness of Napoleon, of the man who had been his comrade +in arms first and his leader afterwards, had a terribly disturbing +effect upon his spirit. From below in the city the people's mutterings, +their grumbling, their sullen excitement seemed to rise upwards like an +intoxicating incense. The attitude of the troops, of the gunners, as +well as of the garrison and of his own regiment, worked more potently +still upon the Colonel's already shaken loyalty. + +Then suddenly his mind is made up. He draws his sword and shouts: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +"Soldiers!" he calls. "Follow me! I will show you the way to duty! +Follow me! Vive l'Empereur!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferate the troops. + +"After me, my men! to the Bonne Gate! After me!" cries De la Bedoyere. + +And to the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" the 7th regiment of infantry +passes through the gate and marches along the streets of the suburb on +towards La Mure. + +General Marchand, hastily apprised of the wholesale defection, sends +Colonel Villiers in hot haste in the wake of De la Bedoyere. Villiers +comes up with the latter two kilometres outside Grenoble. He talks, he +persuades, he admonishes, he scolds, De la Bedoyere and his men are +firm. + +"Your country and your king!" shouts Villiers. + +"Our country and our Emperor!" respond the men. And they go to join the +Old Guard at Laffray while Villiers in despair rides back into Grenoble. + +In the town the desertion of the 7th has had a very serious effect. The +muttered cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" are open shouts now. General +Marchand is at his wits' ends. He has ordered the closing of every city +gate, and still the soldiers in batches of tens and twenties at a time +contrive to escape out of the town carrying their arms and in many cases +baggage with them. The royalist faction--the women as well as the +men--spend the whole day in and out of the barrack-rooms talking to the +men, trying to infuse into them loyalty to the King, and to cheer them +up by bringing them wine and provisions. + +In the afternoon the Vicomte de St. Genis, sick, exhausted, his horse +covered with lather, comes back with the story of the pass of Laffray, +and Napoleon's triumphant march toward Grenoble. Marchand seriously +contemplates evacuating the city in order to save the garrison and his +stores. + +Prefet Fourier congratulates himself on his foresight and on that he has +transferred the twenty-five million francs from the cellars of the Hotel +de Ville into the safe keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray. He and General +Marchand both hope and think that "the brigand and his horde" cannot +possibly be at the gates of Grenoble before the morrow, and that Mme. la +Duchesse d'Agen would be well on her way to Paris with the money by that +time. + +Marchand in the meanwhile has made up his mind to retire from the city +with his troops. It is only a strategical measure, he argues, to save +bloodshed and to save his stores, pending the arrival of the Comte +d'Artois at Lyons, with the army corps. He gives the order for the +general retreat to commence at two o'clock in the morning. + +Satisfied that he has done the right thing, he finally goes back to his +quarters in the Hotel du Dauphine close to the ramparts. The Comte de +Cambray is his guest at dinner, and toward seven o'clock the two men at +last sit down to a hurried meal, both their minds filled with +apprehension and not a little fear as to what the next few days will +bring. + +"It is, of course, only a question of time," says the Comte de Cambray +airily. "Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois will be at Lyons directly with +forty thousand men, and he will easily crush that marauding band of +pirates. But this time the Corsican after his defeat must be put more +effectually out of harm's way. I, personally, was never much in favour +of Elba." + +"The English have some islands out in the Atlantic or the Pacific," +responds General Marchand with firm decision. "It would be safest to +shoot the brigand, but failing that, let the English send him to one of +those islands, and undertake to guard him well." + +"Let us drink to that proposition, my dear Marchand," concludes M. le +Comte with a smile. + +Hardly had the two men concluded this toast, when a fearful din is +heard, "regular howls" proceeding from the suburb of Bonne. The windows +of the hotel give on the ramparts and the house itself dominates the +Bonne Gate and the military ground beyond it. Hastily Marchand jumps up +from the table and throws open the window. He and the Comte step out +upon the balcony. + +The din has become deafening: with a hand that slightly trembles now +General Marchand points to the extensive grounds that lie beyond the +city gate, and M. le Comte quickly smothers an exclamation of terror. + +A huge crowd of peasants armed with scythes and carrying torches which +flicker in the frosty air have invaded the slopes and flats of the +military zone. They are yelling "Vive l'Empereur!" at the top of their +voices, and from walls and bastions reverberates the answering cry "Vive +l'Empereur!" vociferated by infantrymen and gunners and sapeurs, and +echoed and re-echoed with passionate enthusiasm by the people of +Grenoble assembled in their thousands in the narrow streets which abut +upon the ramparts. + +And in the midst of the peasantry, surrounded by them as by a cordon, +Napoleon and his small army, just reinforced by the 7th regiment of +infantry, have halted--expectant. + +Napoleon's aide-de-camp, Capitaine Raoul, accompanied by half a dozen +lancers, comes up to the palisade which bars the immediate approach to +the city gates. + +"Open!" he cries loudly, so loudly that his young, firm voice rises +above the tumult around. "Open! in the name of the Emperor!" + +Marchand sees it all, he hears the commanding summons, hears the +thunderous and enthusiastic cheers which greet Captain Raoul's call to +surrender. He and the Comte de Cambray are still standing upon the +balcony of the hotel that faces the gate of Bonne and dominates from its +high ground the ramparts opposite. White-cheeked and silent the two men +have gazed before them and have understood. To attempt to stem this tide +of popular enthusiasm would inevitably be fatal. The troops inside +Grenoble were as ready to cross over to "the brigand's" standard as was +Colonel de la Bedoyere's regiment of infantry. + +The ramparts and the surrounding military zone were lit up by hundreds +of torches; by their flickering light the two men on the balcony could +see the faces of the people, and those of the soldiers who were even now +being ordered to fire upon Raoul and the Lancers. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command of the troops at the gate, sends a +hasty messenger to General Marchand: "The brigand demands that we open +the gate!" reports the messenger breathlessly. + +"Tell the Colonel to give the order to fire," is Marchand's peremptory +response. + +"Are you coming with me, M. le Comte?" he asks hurriedly. But he does +not wait for a reply. Wrapping his cloak around him, he goes in the wake +of the messenger. M. le Comte de Cambray is close on his heels. + +Five minutes later the General is up on the ramparts. He has thrown a +quick, piercing glance round him. There are two thousand men up here, +twenty guns, ammunition in plenty. Out there only peasants and a +heterogeneous band of some fifteen hundred men. One shot from a gun +perhaps would send all that crowd flying, the first fusillade might +scatter "the band of brigands," but Marchand cannot, dare not give the +positive order to fire; he knows that rank insubordination, positive +refusal to obey would follow. + +He talks to the men, he harangues, he begs them to defend their city +against this "horde of Corsican pirates." + +To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a +captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be +tried and loyal royalists. + +"If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the +officers at least fire the first shot?" + +"M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was +filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners +have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to +pieces with their own batteries." + +The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in +from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the +town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more +insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades +which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the +gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly +resisting axe or pick. + +"Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!" + +They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What +price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners. + +"Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no +danger of the Emperor getting any." + +The women sing the old couplet: + + "Bon! Bon! Napoleon + Va rentrer dans sa maison!" + +and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain: + + "Nous allons voir le grand Napoleon + Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!" + +"What can we do, M. le Comte?" says General Marchand at last. "We shall +have to give in." + +"I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame." + +Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of +an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the +tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de +Marmont and Colonel de la Bedoyere he advances as far as the gate which +still stands barred defiantly against him. + +"I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud. + +Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take +orders from the General himself." + +"He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon. + +"I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the +General." + +Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with +rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid +light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the +Emperor, who are being forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous +officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!" + +His shrill and frantic cries seem to precipitate the inevitable climax. +The tumult has become absolutely delirious. The soldiers on the ramparts +tumble over one another in a mad rush for the gate, which they try to +break open with the butt-end of their rifles; but they dare not actually +attack their own officers, and in any case they know that the keys of +the city are still in the hands of General Marchand, and General +Marchand has suddenly disappeared. + +Feeling the hopelessness and futility of further resistance, he has gone +back to his hotel, and is even now giving orders and making preparations +for leaving Grenoble. Prefet Fourier, hastily summoned, is with him, and +the Comte de Cambray is preparing to return immediately to Brestalou. + +"We shall all leave for Paris to-morrow, as early as possible," he says, +as he finally takes leave of the General and the prefet, "and take the +money with us, of course. If the King--which God forbid!--is obliged to +leave Paris, it will be most acceptable to him, until the day when the +allies are once more in the field and ready to crush, irretrievably this +time, this Corsican scourge of Europe." + +One or two of the royalist officers have succeeded in massing together +some two or three hundred men out of several regiments who appear to be +determined to remain loyal. + +St. Genis is not among these: his men had been among the first to cry +"Vive l'Empereur!" when ordered to fire on the brigand and his hordes. +They had even gone so far as to threaten their officers' lives. + +Now, covered with shame, and boiling with wrath at the defection, St. +Genis asks leave of the General to escort M. le Comte de Cambray and his +party to Paris. + +"We shall be better off for extra protection," urges M. le Comte de +Cambray in support of St. Genis' plea for leave. "I shall only have the +coachman and two postillions with me. M. de St. Genis would be of +immense assistance in case of footpads." + +"The road to Paris is quite safe, I believe," says General Marchand, +"and at Lyons you will meet the army of M. le Comte d'Artois. But +perhaps M. de St. Genis had better accompany you as far as there, at any +rate. He can then report himself at Lyons. Twenty-five millions is a +large sum, of course, but the purpose of your journey has remained a +secret, has it not?" + +"Of course," says M. le Comte unhesitatingly, for he has completely +erased Victor de Marmont from his mind. + +"Well then, all you need fear is an attack from footpads--and even that +is unlikely," concludes General Marchand, who by now is in a great hurry +to go. "But M. de St. Genis has my permission to escort you." + +The General entrusts the keys of the Bonne Gate to Colonel Roussille. He +has barely time to execute his hasty flight, having arranged to escape +out of Grenoble by the St. Laurent Gate on the north of the town. In the +meanwhile a carter from the suburb of St. Joseph outside the Bonne Gate +has harnessed a team of horses to one of his wagons and brought along a +huge joist: twenty pairs of willing and stout arms are already +manipulating this powerful engine for the breaking open of the resisting +gate. Already the doors are giving way, the hinges creak; and while +General Marchand and prefet Fourier with their small body of faithful +soldiers rush precipitately across the deserted streets of the town, +Colonel Roussille makes ready to open the Gate of Bonne to the Emperor +and to his soldiers. + +"My regiment was prepared to turn against me," he says to his men, "but +I shall not turn against them." + +Then he formally throws open the gate. + +Ecstatic delight, joyful enthusiasm, succeeds the frantic cries of a +while ago. Napoleon entering the city of Grenoble was nearly crushed to +death by the frenzy of the crowd. Cheered to the echoes, surrounded by +a delirious populace which hardly allowed him to move, it was hours +before he succeeded in reaching the Hotel des Trois-Dauphins, where he +was resolved to spend the night, since it was kept by an ex-soldier, one +of his own Old Guard of the Italian campaign. + +The enthusiasm was kept up all night. The town was illuminated. Until +dawn men and women paraded the streets singing the "Marseillaise" and +shouting "Vive l'Empereur!" + +In a small room, simply furnished but cosy and comfortable, the great +adventurer, who had conquered half the world and lost it and had now set +out to conquer it again, sat with half a dozen of his most faithful +friends: Cambronne and Raoul, Victor de Marmont and Emery. + +On the table spread out before him was an ordnance map of the province; +his clenched hand rested upon it; his eyes, those eagle-like, piercing +eyes which had so often called his soldiers to victory, gazed out +straight before him, as if through the bare, white-washed walls of this +humble hotel room he saw the vision of the brilliant halls of the +Tuileries, the imperial throne, the Empress beside him, all her +faithlessness and pusillanimity forgiven, his son whom he worshipped, +his marshals grouped around him; and with a gesture of proud defiance he +threw back his head and said loudly: + +"Until to-day I was only an adventurer. To-night I am a prince once +more." + + +IV + +It was the next morning in that same sparsely-furnished and uncarpeted +room of the Hotel des Trois-Dauphins that Napoleon spoke to Victor de +Marmont, to Emery and Dumoulin about the money which had been stolen +last year from the Empress and which he understood had been deposited +in the cellars of the Hotel de Ville. + +"I am not going," he said, "to levy a war tax on my good city of +Grenoble, but my good and faithful soldiers must be paid, and I must +provision my army in case I encounter stronger resistance at Lyons than +I can cope with, and am forced to make a detour. I want the money--the +Empress' money, which that infamous Talleyrand stole from her. So you, +de Marmont, had best go straight away to the Hotel de Ville and in my +name summon the prefet to appear before me. You can tell him at once +that it is on account of the money." + +"I will go at once, Sire," replied de Marmont with a regretful sigh, +"but I fear me that it is too late." + +"Too late?" snapped out the Emperor with a frown, "what do you mean by +too late?" + +"I mean that Fourier has left Grenoble in the trail of Marchand, and +that two days ago--unless I'm very much mistaken--he disposed of the +money." + +"Disposed of the money? You are mad, de Marmont." + +"Not altogether, Sire. When I say that Fourier disposed of the Empress' +money I only mean that he deposited it in what he would deem a safe +place." + +"The cur!" exclaimed Napoleon with a yet tighter clenching of his hand +and mighty fist, "turning against the hand that fed him and made him +what he is. Well!" he added impatiently, "where is the money now?" + +"In the keeping of M. le Comte de Cambray at Brestalou," replied de +Marmont without hesitation. + +"Very well," said the Emperor, "take a company of the 7th regiment with +you to Brestalou and requisition the money at once." + +"If--as I believe--the Comte no longer has the money by him?----" + +"Make him tell you where it is." + +"I mean, Sire, that it is my belief that M. le Comte's sister and +daughter will undertake to take the money to Paris, hoping by their sex +and general air of innocence to escape suspicion in connection with the +money." + +"Don't worry me with all these details, de Marmont," broke in Napoleon +with a frown of impatience. "I told you to take a company with you and +to get me the Empress' money. See to it that this is done and leave me +in peace." + +He hated arguing, hated opposition, the very suggestion of any +difficulty. His followers and intimates knew that; already de Marmont +had repented that he had allowed his tongue to ramble on quite so much. +Now he felt that silence must redeem his blunder--silence now and +success in his undertaking. + +He bent the knee, for this homage the great Corsican adventurer and +one-time dictator of civilised Europe loved to receive: he kissed the +hand which had once wielded the sceptre of a mighty Empire and was ready +now to grasp it again. Then he rose and gave the military salute. + +"It shall be done, Sire," was all that he said. + +His heart was full of enthusiasm, and the task allotted to him was a +congenial one: the baffling and discomfiture of those who had insulted +him. If--as he believed--Crystal would be accompanying her aunt on the +journey toward Paris, then indeed would his own longing for some sort of +revenge for the humiliation which he had endured on that memorable +Sunday evening be fully gratified. + +It was with a light and swinging step that he ran down the narrow stairs +of the hotel. In the little entrance hall below he met Clyffurde. + +In his usual impulsive way, without thought of what had gone before or +was likely to happen in the future, he went up to the Englishman with +outstretched hand. + +"My dear Clyffurde," he said with unaffected cordiality, "I am glad to +see you! I have been wondering what had become of you since we parted on +Sunday last. My dear friend," he added ecstatically, "what glorious +events, eh?" + +He did not wait for Clyffurde's reply, nor did he appear to notice the +latter's obvious coldness of manner, but went prattling on with great +volubility. + +"What a man!" he exclaimed, nodding significantly in the direction +whence he had just come. "A six days' march--mostly on foot and along +steep mountain paths! and to-day as fresh and vigorous as if he had just +spent a month's holiday at some pleasant watering place! What luck to be +serving such a man! And what luck to be able to render him really useful +service! The tables will be turned, eh, my dear Clyffurde?" he added, +giving his taciturn friend a jovial dig in the ribs, "and what lovely +discomfiture for our proud aristocrats, eh? They will be sorry to have +made an enemy of Victor de Marmont, what?" + +Whereupon Clyffurde made a violent effort to appear friendly and jovial +too. + +"Why," he said with a pleasant laugh, "what madcap ideas are floating +through your head now?" + +"Madcap schemes?" ejaculated de Marmont. "Nothing more or less, my dear +Clyffurde, than complete revenge for the humiliation those de Cambrays +put upon me last Sunday." + +"Revenge? That sounds exciting," said Clyffurde with a smile, even while +his palm itched to slap the young braggart's face. + +"Exciting, _par Dieu!_ Of course it will be exciting. They have no idea +that I guessed their little machinations. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +travelling to Paris forsooth! Aye! but with five and twenty millions +sewn somewhere inside her petticoats. Well! the Emperor happens to want +his own five and twenty millions, if you please. So Mme. la Duchesse or +M. le Comte will have to disgorge. And I shall have the pleasing task +of _making_ them disgorge. What say you to that, friend Clyffurde?" + +"That I am sorry for you," replied the other drily. + +"Sorry for me? Why?" + +"Because it is never a pleasing task to bully a defenceless woman--and +an old one at that." + +De Marmont laughed aloud. "Bully Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen?" he exclaimed. +"_Sacre tonnerre!_ what do you take me for. I shall not bully her. Fifty +soldiers don't bully a defenceless woman. We shall treat Mme. la +Duchesse with every consideration: we shall only remove five and twenty +millions of stolen money from her carriage, that is all." + +"You may be mistaken about the money, de Marmont. It may be anywhere +except in the keeping of Mme. la Duchesse." + +"It may be at the Chateau de Brestalou in the keeping of M. le Comte de +Cambray: and this I shall find out first of all. But I must not stand +gossiping any longer. I must see Colonel de la Bedoyere and get the men +I want. What are your plans, my dear Clyffurde?" + +"The same as before," replied Bobby quietly. "I shall leave Grenoble as +soon as I can." + +"Let the Emperor send you on a special mission to Lord Grenville, in +London, to urge England to remain neutral in the coming struggle." + +"I think not," said Clyffurde enigmatically. + +De Marmont did not wait to ask him to what this brief remark had +applied; he bade his friend a hasty farewell, then he turned on his +heel, and gaily whistling the refrain of the "Marseillaise," stalked out +of the hotel. + +Clyffurde remained standing in the narrow panelled hall, which just then +reeked strongly of stewed onions and of hot coffee; he never moved a +muscle, but remained absolutely quiet for the space of exactly two +minutes; then he consulted his watch--it was then close on midday--and +finally went back to his room. + + +V + +An hour after dawn that self-same morning the travelling coach of M. le +Comte de Cambray was at the perron of the Chateau de Brestalou. + +At the last moment, when M. le Comte, hopelessly discouraged by the +surrender of Grenoble to the usurper, came home at a late hour of the +night, he decided that he too would journey to Paris with his sister and +daughter, taking the money with him to His Majesty, who indeed would +soon be in sore need of funds. + +At that same late hour of the night M. le Comte discovered that with the +exception of faithful Hector and one or two scullions in the kitchen his +male servants both indoor and out had wandered in a body out to Grenoble +to witness "the Emperor's" entry into the city. They had marched out of +the chateau to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and outside the gates had +joined a number of villagers of Brestalou who were bent on the same +errand. + +Fortunately one of the coachmen and two of the older grooms from the +stables returned in the early dawn after the street demonstrations +outside the Emperor's windows had somewhat calmed down, and with the +routine of many years of domestic service had promptly and without +murmurings set to to obey the orders given to them the day before: to +have the travelling berline ready with four horses by seven o'clock. + +It was very cold: the coachman and postillions shivered under their +threadbare liveries. The coachman had wrapped a woollen comforter round +his neck and pulled his white beaver broad-brimmed hat well over his +brows, as the northeast wind was keen and would blow into his face all +the way to Lyons, where the party would halt for the night. He had +thick woollen gloves on and of his entire burly person only the tip of +his nose could be seen between his muffler and the brim of his hat. The +postillions, whip in hand, could not wrap themselves up quite so snugly: +they were trying to keep themselves warm by beating their arms against +their chest. + +M. le Comte, aided by Hector, was arranging for the disposal of leather +wallets underneath the cushions of the carriage. The wallets contained +the money--twenty-five millions in notes and drafts--a godsend to the +King if the usurper did succeed in driving him out of the Tuileries. + +Presently the ladies came down the perron steps with faithful Jeanne in +attendance, who carried small bags and dressing-cases. Both the ladies +were wrapped in long fur-lined cloaks and Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen had +drawn a hood closely round her face; but Crystal de Cambray stood +bareheaded in the cold frosty air, the hood of her cloak thrown back, +her own fair hair, dressed high, forming the only covering for her head. + +Her face looked grave and even anxious, but wonderfully serene. This +should have been her wedding morning, the bells of old Brestalou church +should even now have been ringing out their first joyous peal to +announce the great event. Often and often in the past few weeks, ever +since her father had formally betrothed her to Victor de Marmont, she +had thought of this coming morning, and steeled herself to be brave +against the fateful day. She had been resigned to the decree of the +father and to the necessities of family and name--resigned but terribly +heartsore. She was obeying of her own free will but not blindly. She +knew that her marriage to a man whom she did not love was a sacrifice on +her part of every hope of future happiness. Her girlish love for St. +Genis had opened her eyes to the possibilities of happiness; she knew +that Life could hold out a veritable cornucopia of delight and joy in a +union which was hallowed by Love, and her ready sacrifice was therefore +all the greater, all the more sublime, because it was not offered up in +ignorance. + +But all that now was changed. She was once more free to indulge in those +dreams which had gladdened the days and nights of her lonely girlhood +out in far-off England: dreams which somehow had not even found their +culmination when St. Genis first told her of his love for her. They had +always been golden dreams which had haunted her in those distant days, +dreams of future happiness and of love which are seldom absent from a +young girl's mind, especially if she is a little lonely, has few +pleasures and is surrounded with an atmosphere of sadness. + +Crystal de Cambray, standing on the perron of her stately home, felt but +little sorrow at leaving it to-day: she had hardly had the time in one +brief year to get very much attached to it: the sense of unreality which +had been born in her when her father led her through its vast halls and +stately parks had never entirely left her. The little home in England, +the tiny sitting-room with its bow window, and small front garden edged +with dusty evergreens, was far more real to her even now. She felt as if +the last year with its pomp and gloomy magnificence was all a dream and +that she was once more on the threshold of reality now, on the point of +waking, when she would find herself once more in her narrow iron bed and +see the patched and darned muslin curtains gently waving in the draught. + +But for the moment she was glad enough to give herself to the delight of +this sudden consciousness of freedom. She sniffed the sharp, frosty air +with dilated nostrils like a young Arab filly that scents the +illimitable vastness of meadowland around her. The excitement of the +coming adventure thrilled her: she watched with glowing eyes the +preparations for the journey, the bestowal under the cushions of the +carriage of the money which was to help King Louis to preserve his +throne. + +In a sense she was sorry that her father and her aunt were coming too. +She would have loved to fly across country as a trusted servant of her +King; but when the time came to make a start she took her place in the +big travelling coach with a light heart and a merry face. She was so +sure of the justice of the King's cause, so convinced of God's wrath +against the usurper, that she had no room in her thoughts for +apprehension or sadness. + +The Comte de Cambray on the other hand was grave and taciturn. He had +spent hours last evening on the ramparts of Grenoble. He had watched the +dissatisfaction of the troops grow into open rebellion and from that to +burning enthusiasm for the Corsican ogre. St. Genis had given him a +vivid account of the encounter at Laffray, and his ears were still +ringing with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which had filled the +streets and ramparts of Grenoble until he himself fled back to his own +chateau, sickened at all that he had seen and heard. + +He knew that the King's own brother, M. le Comte d'Artois, was at Lyons +even now with forty thousand men who were reputed to be loyal, but were +not the troops of Grenoble reputed to be loyal too? and was it likely +that the regiments at Lyons would behave so very differently to those at +Grenoble? + +Thus the wearisome journey northwards in the lumbering carriage +proceeded mostly in silence. None of the occupants seemed to have much +to say. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen and M. le Comte sat on the back seats +leaning against the cushions; Crystal de Cambray and ever-faithful +Jeanne sat in front, making themselves as comfortable as they could. + +There was a halt for _dejeuner_ and change of horses at Rives, and here +Maurice de St. Genis overtook the party. He proposed to continue the +journey as far as Lyons on horseback, riding close by the off side of +the carriage. Here as well as at the next halt, at St. Andre-le-Gaz, +Maurice tried to get speech with Crystal, but she seemed cold in manner +and unresponsive to his whispered words. He tried to approach her, but +she pleaded fatigue and anxiety, and he was glad then that he had made +arrangements not to travel beside her in the lumbering coach. His +position on horseback beside the carriage would, he felt, be a more +romantic one, and he half-hoped that some enterprising footpad would +give him a chance of displaying his pluck and his devotion. + +A start was made from St. Andre-le-Gaz at six o'clock in the afternoon. +Crystal was getting very cramped and tired, even the fine views over the +range of the Grande Chartreuse and the long white plateau of the Dent de +Crolles, with the wintry sunset behind it, failed to enchain her +attention. Her father and her aunt slept most of the time each in a +corner of the carriage, and after the start from St. Andre-le-Gaz, +comforted with hot coffee and fresh bread and the prospect of Lyons now +only some sixty kilometres away, Crystal settled herself against the +cushions and tried to get some sleep. + +The incessant shaking of the carriage, the rattle of harness and wheels, +the cracking of the postillions' whips, all contributed to making her +head ache, and to chase slumber away. But gradually her thoughts became +more confused, as the dim winter twilight gradually faded into night and +a veil of impenetrable blackness spread itself outside the windows of +the coach. + +The northeasterly wind had not abated: it whistled mournfully through +the cracks in the woodwork of the carriage and made the windows rattle +in their framework. On the box the coachman had much ado to see well +ahead of him, as the vapour which rose from the flanks and shoulders of +his steaming horses effectually blurred every outline on the road. The +carriage lanthorns threw a weird and feeble light upon the ever-growing +darkness. To right and left the bare and frozen common land stretched +its lonely vastness to some distant horizon unseen. + + +VI + +Suddenly the cumbrous vehicle gave a terrific lurch, which sent the +unsuspecting Jeanne flying into Mme. la Duchesse's lap and threw Crystal +with equal violence against her father's knees. There was much cracking +of whips, loud calls and louder oaths from coachman and postillions, +much creaking and groaning of wheels, another lurch--more feeble this +time--more groaning, more creaking, more oaths and finally the coach +with a final quivering as it were of all its parts settled down to an +ominous standstill. + +Whereafter the oaths sounded more muffled, while there was a scampering +down from the high altitude of the coachman's box and a confused murmur +of voices. + +It was then close on eight o'clock: Lyons was distant still some dozen +miles or so--and the night by now was darker than pitch. + +M. le Comte, roused from fitful slumbers and trying to gather his +wandering wits, put his head out of the window: "What is it, Pierre?" he +called out loudly. "What has happened?" + +"It's this confounded ditch, M. le Comte," came in a gruff voice from +out the darkness. "I didn't know the bridge had entirely broken down. +This sacre government will not look after the roads properly." + +"Are you there, Maurice?" called the Comte. + +But strangely enough there came no answer to his call. M. de St. Genis +must have fallen back some little distance in the rear, else he surely +would have heard something of the clatter, the shouts and the swearing +which were attending the present unfortunate contretemps. + +"Maurice! where are you?" called the Comte again. And still no answer. + +Pierre was continuing his audible mutterings. "Darkness as black +as----": then he shouted with a yet more forcible volley of oaths: +"Jean! you oaf! get hold of the off mare, can't you? And you, what's +your name, you fool? ease the near gelding. Heavens above, what dolts!" + +"Stop a moment," cried M. le Comte, "wait till the ladies can get out. +This pulling and lurching is unbearable." + +"Ease a moment," commanded Pierre stolidly. "Go to the near door, Jean, +and help the master out of the carriage." + +"Hark! what was that?" It was M. le Comte who spoke. There had been a +momentary lull in the creaking and groaning of the wheels, while the two +young postillions obeyed the coachman's orders to "ease a moment," and +one of them came round to help the ladies and his master out of the +lurching vehicle; only the horses' snorting, the champing of their bits +and pawing of the hard ground broke the silence of the night. + +M. le Comte had opened the near door and was half out of the carriage +when a sound caught his ear which was in no way connected with the +stranded vehicle and its team of snorting horses. Yet the sound came +from horses--horses which were on the move not very far away and which +even now seemed to be coming nearer. + +"Who goes there? Maurice, is that you?" called M. le Comte more loudly. + +"Stand and deliver!" came the peremptory response. + +"Stand yourself or I fire," retorted the Comte, who was already groping +for the pistol which he kept inside the carriage. + +"You murderous villain!" came with the inevitable string of oaths from +Pierre the coachman. "You . . ." + +The rest of this forceful expletive was broken and muffled. Evidently +Pierre had been summarily gagged. There was a short, sharp scuffle +somewhere on ahead; cries for help from the two postillions which were +equally sharply smothered. The horses began rearing and plunging. + +"One of you at the leaders' heads," came in a clear voice which in this +impenetrable darkness sounded weirdly familiar to the occupants of the +carriage, who awed, terrified by this unforeseen attack sat motionless, +clinging to one another inside the vehicle. + +Alone the Comte had not lost his presence of mind. Already he had jumped +out of the carriage, banging the door to behind him, despite feeble +protests from his sister; pistol in hand he tried with anxious eyes to +pierce the inky blackness around him. + +A muffled groan on his right caused him to turn in that direction. + +"Release my coachman," he called peremptorily, "or I fire." + +"Easy, M. le Comte," came as a sharp warning out of the night, in those +same weirdly familiar tones; "as like as not you would be shooting your +own men in this infernal darkness." + +"Who is it?" whispered Crystal hoarsely. "I seem to know that voice." + +"God protect us," murmured Jeanne. "It's the devil's voice, +Mademoiselle." + +Mme. la Duchesse said nothing. No doubt she was too frightened to speak. +Her thin, bony fingers were clasped tightly round her niece's hands. + +Suddenly there was another scuffle by the door, the sharp report of a +pistol and then that strangely familiar voice called out again: + +"Merely as a matter of form, M. le Comte!" + +"You will hang for this, you rogue," came in response from the Comte. + +But already Crystal had torn her hands out of Mme. la Duchesse's grasp +and now was struggling to free herself from Jeanne's terrified and +clinging embrace. + +"Father!" she cried wildly. "Maurice! Maurice! Help! Let me go, Jeanne! +They are hurting him!" + +She had succeeded in pushing Jeanne roughly away and already had her +hand on the door, when it was opened from the outside, and the +flickering light of a carriage lanthorn fell full on the interior of the +vehicle. Neither Crystal nor Mme. la Duchesse could effectually suppress +a sudden gasp of terror, whilst Jeanne threw her shawl right over her +head, for of a truth she thought that here was the devil himself. + +The light illumined the lanthorn-bearer only fitfully, but to the +terror-stricken women he appeared to be preternaturally tall and broad, +with wide caped coat pulled up to his ears and an old-fashioned tricorne +hat on his head; his face was entirely hidden by a black mask, and his +hands by black kid gloves. + +"I pray you ladies," he said quietly, and this time the voice was +obviously disguised and quite unrecognisable. "I pray you have no fear. +Neither I nor my men will do you or yours the slightest harm, if you +will allow me without any molestation on your part to make an +examination of the interior of your carriage." + +Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne remained silent: the one from fear, the +other from dignity. But it was not in Crystal's nature to submit quietly +to any unlawful coercion. + +"This is an infamy," she protested loudly, "and you, my man, will swing +on the nearest gallows for it." + +"No doubt I should if I were found out," said the man imperturbably, +"but the military patrols of M. le Comte d'Artois don't come out as far +as this: nevertheless I must ask you ladies not to detain me on my +business any longer. My men are at the door and it is over a quarter of +an hour ago since we placed M. de St. Genis temporarily yet effectually +hors de combat. I pray you, therefore, step out without delay so that I +may proceed to ascertain whether there is anything in this carriage +likely to suit my requirements." + +"You must be a madman as well as a thief," retorted Crystal loudly, "to +imagine that we would submit to such an outrage." + +"If you do not submit, Madame," said the man calmly, "I will order my +man to shoot M. le Comte in the right leg." + +"You would not dare. . . ." + +But the miscreant turned his head slowly round and called over his +shoulder into the night: + +"Attention, my men! M. le Comte de Cambray!--have you got him?" + +"Aye! aye, sir!" came from out the darkness. + +Crystal gave a wild scream, and with an agonised gesture of terror +clutched the highway robber by the coat. + +"No! no!" she cried. "Stop! stop! no! Father! Help!" + +"Mademoiselle," said the man, quietly releasing his coat from her +clinging hands, "remember that M. le Comte is perfectly safe if you will +deign to step out of the carriage without further delay." + +He held the lanthorn in one hand, the other was suddenly imprisoned by +Crystal's trembling fingers. + +"Sir," she pleaded in a voice broken by terror and anxiety, "we are +helpless travellers on our way to Paris, driven out of our home by the +advancing horde of Corsican brigands. Our little all we have with us. +You cannot take that all from us. Let us give you some money of our own +free will, then the shame of robbing women who have in the darkness of +the night been rendered helpless will not rest upon you. Oh! have pity +upon us. Your voice is so gentle you must be good and kind. You will let +us proceed on our way, will you not? and we'll take a solemn oath that +we'll not attempt to put any one on your track. You will, won't you? I +swear to you that you will be doing a far finer deed thereby than you +can possibly dream of." + +"I have some jewelry about my person," here interposed Madame's sharp +voice drily, "also some gold. I agree to what my niece says. We'll swear +to do nothing against you when we reach Lyons, if you will be content +with what we give you of our own free will and let us go in peace." + +The man allowed both ladies to speak without any interruption on his +part. He even allowed Crystal's dainty fingers to cling around his +gloved hand for as long as she chose: no doubt he found some pleasure in +this tearful appeal from such beautiful lips, for Crystal looked +divinely pretty just then, with the flickering light of the lanthorn +throwing her fair head into bold relief against the surrounding gloom. +Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears, her delicate mouth was +quivering with the piteousness of her appeal. + +But when Mme. la Duchesse had finished speaking and began to divest +herself of her rings he released his hand very gently and said in his +even, quiet voice: + +"Your pardon, Madame; but as it happens I have no use for ladies' +trinkets, while all that you have been good enough to tell me only makes +me the more eager to examine the contents of this carriage." + +"But there's nothing of value in it," asserted Madame unblushingly, +"except what we are offering you now." + +"That is as may be, Madame. I would wish to ascertain." + +"You impious malapert!" she cried out wrathfully, "would you dare lay +hands upon a woman?" + +"No, Madame, certainly not," he replied. "I will merely, as I have had +the honour to tell you, order my men to shoot M. le Comte de Cambray in +the right leg." + +"You vagabond! you thief! you wouldn't dare," expostulated Madame, who +seemed now on the verge of hysteria. + +"Attention, my men!" he called once more over his left shoulder. + +"It is no use, _ma tante_," here interposed Crystal with sudden calm. +"We must yield to brute force. Let us get out and allow this abominable +thief to wreak his impious will with us, else we lay ourselves open to +further outrage at his hands. Be sure that retribution, swift and +certain, will overtake him in the end." + +"Come! that's wisely spoken," said the man, who seemed in no way +perturbed by the scornful glances which Crystal and Madame now freely +darted upon him. He stood a little aside, holding the door open for them +to step out of the carriage. + +"Where is M. le Comte de Cambray?" queried Crystal as she brushed past +him. + +"Close by," he replied, "to your right now, Mademoiselle, and perfectly +safe, and M. le Marquis de St. Genis is not two hundred metres away, +equally secure and equally safe. Here, le Bossu," he added, calling out +into the night, "ease the gag round your prisoner's mouth a little so +that he may speak to the ladies." + +While Madame la Duchesse groped her way along in the direction whence +came sounds of stirring, groaning and not a little cursing which +proclaimed the presence of some men held captive by others, Crystal +remained beside the carriage door as if rooted to the spot. The feeble +light of the lanthorn had shown her at a glance that the masked +miscreant had taken every precaution for the success of his nefarious +purpose. How many men he had with him altogether, she could not of +course ascertain: half a dozen perhaps, seeing that her father, the +coachman and two postillions had been overpowered and were being closely +guarded, whilst she distinctly saw that two men at least were standing +behind their chief at this moment in order to ward off any possible +attack against him from the rear, while he himself was engaged in the +infamous task of robbing the coach of its contents. + +Crystal saw him start to work in a most methodical manner. He had stood +the lanthorn on the floor of the carriage and was turning over every +cushion and ransacking every pocket. The leather wallets which he found, +he examined with utmost coolness, seeing indeed that they were stuffed +full of banknotes and drafts. His huge caped coat appeared to have +immense pockets, into which those precious wallets disappeared one by +one. + +She knew of course that resistance was useless: the occasional glint of +the feeble lanthorn light upon the pistols held by the men close beside +her taught her the salutary lesson of silence and dignity. She clenched +her hands until her nails were almost driven into the flesh of her +palms, and her face now glowed with a fierce and passionate resentment. +This money which might have saved the King and France from the immediate +effects of the usurper's invasion was now the booty of a common thief! +Wild thoughts of vengeance coursed through her brain: she felt like a +tiger-cat that was being robbed of its young. Once--unable to control +herself--she made a wild dash forward, determined to fight for her +treasure, to scratch or to bite--to do anything in fact rather than +stand by and see this infamous spoliation. But immediately her hands +were seized, and an ominous word of command rang out weirdly through the +night. + +"Resistance here! Attention over there!" + +Her father's safety was a guarantee of her own acquiescence. Struggling, +fighting was useless! the abominable thief must be left to do his work +in peace. + +It did not take long. A minute or two later he too had stepped out of +the carriage. He ordered one of his followers to hold the lanthorn and +then quietly took up his stand beside the open door. + +"Now, ladies, an you desire it," he said calmly, "you may continue your +journey. Your coachman and your men are close here, on the road, +securely bound. M. de St. Genis is not far off--straight up the +road--you cannot miss him. We leave you free to loosen their bonds. To +horse, my men!" he added in a loud, commanding voice. "Le Bossu, hold my +horse a moment! and you ladies, I pray you accept my humble apologies +that I do not stop to see you safely installed." + +As in a dream Crystal heard the bustle incident on a number of men +getting to horse: in the gloom she saw vague forms moving about +hurriedly, she heard the champing of bits, the clatter of stirrup and +bridle. The masked man was the last to move. After he had given the +order to mount he stood for nearly a minute by the carriage door, +exactly facing Crystal, not five paces away. + +His companion had put the lanthorn down on the step, and by its light +she could see him distinctly: a mysterious, masked figure who, with +wanton infamy, had placed the satisfaction of his dishonesty and of his +greed athwart the destiny of the King of France. + +Crystal knew that through the peep-holes of his mask, the man's eyes +were fixed intently upon her and the knowledge caused a blush of +mortification and of shame to flood her cheeks and throat. At that +moment she would gladly have given her life for the power to turn the +tables upon that abominable rogue, to filch from him that precious +treasure which she had hoped to deposit at the feet of the King for the +ultimate success of his cause: and she would have given much for the +power to tear off that concealing mask, so that for the rest of her life +she might be able to visualise that face which she would always +execrate. + +Something of what she felt and thought must have been apparent in her +expressive eyes, for presently it seemed to her as if beneath the narrow +curtain that concealed the lower part of the man's face there hovered +the shadow of a smile. + +The next moment he had the audacity slightly to raise his hat and to +make her a bow before he finally turned to go. Crystal had taken one +step backward just then, whether because she was afraid that the man +would try and approach her, or because of a mere sense of dignity, she +could not herself have said. Certain it is that she did move back and +that in so doing her foot came in contact with an object lying on the +ground. The shape and size of it were unmistakable, it was the pistol +which the Comte must have dropped when first he stepped out of the +carriage, and was seized upon by this band of thieves. Guided by that +same strange and wonderful instinct which has so often caused women in +times of war to turn against the assailants of their men or devastation +of their homes, Crystal picked up the weapon without a moment's +hesitation; she knew that it was loaded, and she knew how to use it. +Even as the masked man moved away into the darkness, she fired in the +direction whence his firm footsteps still sent their repeated echo. + +The short, sharp report died out in the still, frosty air; Crystal +vainly strained her ears to catch the sound of a fall or a groan. But in +the confusion that ensued she could not distinguish any individual +sound. She knew that Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne had screamed, she heard +a few loud curses, the clatter of bits and bridles, the snorting of +horses and presently the noise of several horses galloping away, out in +the direction of Chambery. + +Then nothing more. + + +VII + +M. le Comte as well as the coachman and postillions were lying helpless +and bound somewhere in the darkness. It took the three women some time +to find them first and then to release them. + +Crystal with great presence of mind had run to the horses' heads, +directly after she had fired that random shot. The poor, frightened +animals had reared and plunged, and had thereby succeeded in dragging +the heavy carriage out of the ditch. After which they had stopped, rigid +for a moment and trembling as horses will sometimes when they are +terrified, before they start running away for dear life. That moment was +Crystal's opportunity and fortunately she took it at the right time and +in the right way. + +A hand on the leaders' bridles, a soothing voice, the absence of further +alarming noises tended at once to quieten the team--a set of good steady +Normandy draft-horses with none too much corn in their bellies to heat +their sluggish blood. + +While Crystal stood at her post, Mme. la Duchesse--cool and +practical--found her way firstly to M. le Comte, then to the coachman +and postillions, and ordering Jeanne to help her, she succeeded in +freeing the men from their bonds. + +Then calling to one of them to precede her with a lanthorn, she started +on the quest for Maurice de St. Genis. He was found--as that abominable +thief had said--some two hundred yards up the road, very securely bound +and with his own handkerchief tied round his mouth, but otherwise +comfortably laid on a dry bit of roadside grass. + +Mme. la Duchesse would not reply to his questions, but after he was +released and able to stand up she made him give her a brief account of +his adventure. It had all been so sudden and so quick--he had fallen +back a little behind the carriage as soon as the night had set in, as he +thought it safer to keep along the edge of the road. He was feeling +tired and drowsy, and allowing his horse to amble along in the slow +jog-trot peculiar to its race. No doubt his attention had for some time +been on the wander, when, all at once, in the darkness someone seized +hold of his horse by the bridle and forced it back upon its haunches. +The next moment Maurice felt himself grabbed by the leg, and dragged off +his horse: he shouted for help, but the carriage was on ahead and its +own rattle prevented the shouts from being heard. After which he was +bound and gagged and summarily left to lie by the roadside. He had had +no chance against the ruffians, as they were numerous, but they did not +attempt to ill-use him in any way. + +Slowly hobbling towards the carriage beside Mme. la Duchesse, for he was +cramped and stiff, Maurice told her all there was to tell. He had heard +the distant scuffle, the shouts and calls, also one pistol-shot at the +end, but he had been rendered helpless even before the carriage had come +to a halt in the ditch. + +It was M. le Comte who in his accustomed measured tones now gave Maurice +de St. Genis the details of this awful adventure: the ransacking of the +carriage by the mysterious miscreant--the loss of the twenty-five +millions, the complete shattering of all hope to help the King with this +money in the hour of his need, and finally Crystal's desperate act of +revenge, as she shot the pistol off into the darkness, hoping at least +to disable the impudent rogue who had done them and the King such a +fatal injury. + +St. Genis listened to it all with lips held tightly pressed together, +firm determination causing every muscle in his body to grow taut and +firm with the earnestness of his resolve. + +When M. le Comte had finished speaking, and with a sigh of +discouragement had suggested an immediate continuation of his journey, +Maurice said resolutely: + +"Do you go on straightway to Lyons with the ladies, my dear Comte, but I +shall not leave this neighbourhood till by some means or other I find +those miscreants and lay their infamous leader by the heel." + +"Well spoken, Maurice," said the Comte guardedly, "but how will you do +it?--it is late and the night darker than ever." + +"You must spare me one of your horses, my dear Comte," replied the young +man, "as mine apparently has been stolen by those abominable thieves, +and I'll ride back to the nearest village--you remember we passed it not +half an hour ago. I'll get lodgings there and get some information. In +the meanwhile perhaps you will see M. le Comte d'Artois immediately, +tell him all that has happened and beg him to send me as early in the +morning as possible a dozen cavalrymen or so, to help me scour the +country. I'll be on the look-out for them on this road by six o'clock, +and, please God! the day shall not go by before we have those infamous +marauders by the heels. Twenty-five millions, remember, are not dragged +about open country quite so easily as those thieves imagine. They are +bound to leave some trace of their whereabouts sometimes." + +He appeared so confident and so cheerful that some of his optimism +infected M. le Comte too. The latter promised to get an audience of M. +le Comte d'Artois that very evening, and of course the necessary cavalry +patrol would at once be forthcoming. + +"God grant you success, Maurice," he added fervently, and the young +man's energy and enthusiasm were also rewarded by a warm, glowing look +from Crystal. + +A quarter of an hour afterwards, M. le Comte's travelling coach was once +more ready for departure. Pierre had been given his orders to make due +haste for Lyons, and to drive a unicorn team of three horses instead of +a regulation four, whereupon he had muttered a string of oaths which +would have caused a Paris wine-shop loafer to blush. + +One of the horses thereupon was detached from the team for Maurice's use +and made ready with one of the postillions' saddles; the other +postillion had to climb up to the seat next to the coachman: all three +men were feeling not a little shamed at the sorry role which they had +just played, and they vowed revenge against the mysterious thieves who +had sprung upon them unawares and in the dark, or Mordieu! they would +have suffered severely for their impudence. + +In silence M. le Comte, Mme. la Duchesse and Crystal, followed by +faithful Jeanne, re-entered the carriage. No one had been hurt. M. le +Comte's arms felt a little stiff from the cords which had bound them +behind his back and Jeanne was inclined to be hysterical, but Crystal +felt a fierce resentment burning in her heart. Somehow she had no hope +that Maurice would succeed, even though she threw him at the last a +kindly and encouraging smile. Her one hope was that she had inflicted a +painful if not a deadly wound upon the shameless robber of the King's +money. + +Soon the party was once more comfortably settled and the cumbrous +vehicle, after another violent lurch, was once more on its way. + +"Farewell, Maurice! good luck!" called M. le Comte at the last. + +The young man waited until the heavy carriage swung more easily upon its +springs, then he mounted his horse, turned its head in the opposite +direction and rode slowly back up the road. + +Inside the vehicle all was silent for a while, then M. le Comte asked +quietly: + +"Did he find everything?" + +"Everything," replied Crystal. + +"I put in five wallets." + +"Yes. He took them all." + +"It is curious they should have fallen on us just by that broken +bridge." + +"They were lying in wait for us, of course." + +"Knowing that we had the money, do you think?" asked the Comte. + +"Of course," replied Crystal with still that note of bitter resentment +in her voice. + +"But who, besides ourselves and the prefet? . . ." began the Comte, who +clearly was very puzzled. + +"Victor de Marmont for one . . ." retorted the girl. + +"Surely you don't suppose that he would play the role of a highwayman +and . . ." + +"No, I don't," she broke in somewhat impatiently, "he wouldn't have the +pluck for one thing, and moreover the masked man was considerably taller +than Victor." + +"Well, then?" + +"It is only an idea, father, dear," she said more gently, "but somehow I +cannot believe that this was just ordinary highway robbery. This road is +supposed to be quite safe: travellers are not warned against armed +highwaymen, and marauders wouldn't be so well horsed and clothed. My +belief is that it was a paid gang stationed at the broken bridge on +purpose to rob us and no one else." + +"Maurice will soon be after them to-morrow, and I'll see M. le Comte +d'Artois directly we get to Lyons," said the Comte after a slight pause, +during which he was obviously pondering over his daughter's suggestion. + +"It won't be any use, father," Crystal said with a sigh. "The whole +thing has been organised, I feel sure, and the head that planned this +abominable robbery will know how to place his booty in safety." + +Whereupon the Comte sighed, for he was too well-bred to curse in the +presence of his daughter and his sister, Mme. la Duchesse had said +nothing all this while: nor did she offer any comment upon the +mysterious occurrence all the time that the next stage of the wearisome +journey proceeded. + + +VIII + +Less than an hour later the coach came to a halt once more. + +M. le Comte woke up with a start. + +"My God!" he exclaimed, "what is it now?" + +Crystal had not been asleep: her thoughts were too busy, her brain too +much tormented with trying to find some plausible answer to the riddle +which agitated her: "Who had planned this abominable robbery? Was it +indeed Victor de Marmont himself? or had a greater, a mightier mind than +his discovered the secret of this swift journey to Paris and ordered the +clever raid upon the treasure?" + +The rumble of the wheels had--though she was awake--prevented her from +hearing the rapid approach of a number of horses in the wake of the +coach, until a peremptory: "Halt! in the name of the Emperor!" suddenly +chased every other thought away; like her father she murmured: "My God! +what is it now?" + +This time there was no mystery, there would be no puzzlement as to the +meaning of this fresh attack. The air was full of those sounds that +denote the presence of many horses and of many men; there was, too, the +clinking of metal, the champing of steel bits, the brief words of +command which proclaimed the men to be soldiers. + +They appeared to be all round the coach, for the noise of their presence +came from everywhere at once. + +Already the Comte had put his head out of the window: "What is it now?" +he asked again, more peremptorily this time. + +"In the name of the Emperor!" was the loud reply. + +"We do not halt in the name of an usurper," said the Comte. "En avant, +Pierre!" + +"You urge those horses on at your peril, coachman," was the defiant +retort. + +A quick word of command was given, there was more clanking of metal, +snorting of horses, loud curses from Pierre on the box, and the +commanding voice spoke again: + +"M. le Comte de Cambray!" + +"That is my name!" replied the Comte. "And who is it, pray, who dares +impede peaceful travellers on their way?" + +"By order of the Emperor," was the curt reply. + +"I know of no such person in France!" + +"Vive l'Empereur!" was shouted defiantly in response. + +Whereupon M. le Comte de Cambray--proud, disdainful and determined to +show no fear or concern, withdrew from the window and threw himself back +against the cushions of the carriage. + +"What in the Virgin's name is the meaning of this?" murmured Mme. la +Duchesse. + +"God in heaven only knows," sighed the Comte. + +But obviously the coach had not been stopped by a troop of mounted +soldiers for the mere purpose of proclaiming the Emperor's name on the +high road in the dark. The same commanding voice which had answered the +Comte's challenge was giving rapid orders to dismount and to bring along +one of the carriage lanthorns. + +The next moment the door of the coach was opened from without, and the +light of the lanthorn held up by a man in uniform fell full on the +figure and on the profile of Victor de Marmont. + +"M. le Comte, I regret," he said coldly, "in the name of the Emperor I +must demand from you the restitution of his property." + +The Comte shrugged his shoulders and vouchsafed no reply. + +"M. le Comte," said de Marmont, more peremptorily this time, "I have +twenty-four men with me, who will seize by force if necessary that which +I herewith command you to give up voluntarily." + +Still no reply. M. le Comte de Cambray would think himself bemeaned were +he to parley with a traitor. + +"As you will, M. le Comte," was de Marmont's calm comment on the old +man's attitude. "Sergeant!" he commanded, "seize the four persons in +this coach. Three of them are women, so be as gentle as you can. Go +round to the other door first." + +"Father," now urged Crystal gently, "do you think that this is wise--or +dignified?" + +"Wisely spoken, Mlle. Crystal," rejoined de Marmont. "Have I not said +that I have two dozen soldiers with me--all trained to do their duty? +Why should M. le Comte allow them to lay hands upon you and on Mme. la +Duchesse?" + +"It is an outrage," broke in the Comte savagely. "You and your soldiers +are traitors, rebels and deserters." + +"But we are in superior numbers, M. le Comte," said de Marmont with a +sneer. "Would it not be wiser to yield with a good grace? Mme. la +Duchesse," he added with an attempt at geniality, "yours was always the +wise head, I am told, that guided the affairs of M. le Comte de Cambray +in the past. Will you not advise him now?" + +"I would, my good man," retorted the Duchesse, "but my wise counsels +would benefit no one now, seeing that you have been sent on a fool's +errand." + +De Marmont laughed. + +"Does Mme. la Duchesse mean to deny that twenty-five million francs +belonging to the Emperor are hidden at this moment inside this coach?" + +"I deny, Monsieur de Marmont, that any twenty-five million francs belong +to the son of an impecunious Corsican attorney--and I also deny that any +twenty-five million francs are in this coach at the present moment." + +"That is exactly what I desire to ascertain, Madame." + +"Ascertain by all means then," quoth Madame impatiently, "the other +thief ascertained the same thing an hour ago, and I must confess that he +did so more profitably than you are like to do." + +"The other thief?" exclaimed de Marmont, greatly puzzled. + +"It is as Mme. la Duchesse has deigned to tell you," here interposed the +Comte coolly. "I have no objection to your knowing that I had intended +to convey to His Majesty the King--its rightful owner--a sum of +money--originally stolen by the Corsican usurper from France--but that +an hour ago a party of armed thieves--just like yourself--attacked us, +bound and gagged me and my men, ransacked my coach and made off with the +booty." + +"And I thank God now," murmured Crystal involuntarily, "that the money +has fallen into the hands of a common highwayman rather than in those of +the scourge of mankind." + +"M. le Comte . . ." stammered de Marmont, who, still incredulous, yet +vaguely alarmed, was nevertheless determined not to accept this +extraordinary narrative with blind confidence. + +But M. le Comte de Cambray's dignity rose at last to the occasion: "You +choose to disbelieve me, Monsieur?" he asked quietly. + +De Marmont made no reply. + +"Will my word of honour not suffice?" + +"My orders, M. le Comte," said de Marmont gruffly, "are that I bring +back to my Emperor the money that is his. I will not leave one stone +unturned . . ." + +"Enough, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with calm dignity. "We will +alight now, if your soldiers will stand aside." + +And for the second time on this eventful night, Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen +and Mlle. Crystal de Cambray, together with faithful Jeanne, were forced +to alight from the coach and to stand by while the cushions of the +carriage were being turned over by the light of a flickering lanthorn +and every corner of the interior ransacked for the elusive treasure. + +"There is nothing here, mon Colonel," said a gruff voice out of the +darkness, after a while. + +A loud curse broke from de Marmont's lips. + +"You are satisfied?" asked the Comte coldly, "that I have told you the +truth?" + +"Search the luggage in the boot," cried de Marmont savagely, without +heeding him, "search the men on the box! bring more light here! That +money is somewhere in this coach, I'll swear. If I do not find it I'll +take every one here back a prisoner to Grenoble . . . or . . ." + +He paused, himself ashamed of what he had been about to say. + +"Or you will order your soldiers to lay hands upon our persons, is that +it, M. de Marmont?" broke in Crystal coldly. + +He made no reply, for of a truth that had been his thought: foiled in +his hope of rendering his beloved Emperor so signal a service, he had +lost all sense of chivalry in this overwhelming feeling of baffled rage. + +Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt +ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had +done. He hated the Comte . . . he hated all royalists and all enemies of +the Emperor . . . but he hated the Comte doubly because of the insults +which he (de Marmont) had had to endure that evening at Brestalou. He +had looked upon this expedition as a means of vengeance for those +insults, a means, too, of showing his power and his worth before Crystal +and of winning her through that power which the Emperor had given him, +and through that worth which the Emperor had recognised. + +But, though he hated the Comte he knew him to be absolutely incapable of +telling a deliberate lie, and absolutely incapable of bartering his word +of honour for the sake of his own safety. + +Crystal's words brought this knowledge back to his mind; and now the +desire seized him to prove himself as chivalrous as he was powerful. He +was one of those men who are so absolutely ignorant of a woman's nature +that they believe that a woman's love can be won by deeds as apart from +personality, and that a woman's dislike and contempt can be changed into +love. He loved Crystal more absolutely now than he had ever done in the +days when he was practically her accepted suitor: his unbridled and +capricious nature clung desperately to that which he could not hold, and +since he had felt--that evening at Brestalou--that his political +convictions had placed an insuperable barrier between himself and +Crystal de Cambray, he felt that no woman on earth could ever be quite +so desirable. + +His mistake lay in this: that he believed that it was his political +convictions alone which had turned Crystal away from him: he felt that +he could have won her love through her submission once she was his wife, +now he found that he would have to win her love first and her wifely +submission would only follow afterwards. + +Just now--though in the gloom he could only see the vague outline of her +graceful form, and only heard her voice as through a veil of +darkness--he had the longing to prove himself at once worthy of her +regard and deserving of her gratitude. + +Without replying to her direct challenge, he made a vigorous effort to +curb his rage, and to master his disappointment. Then he gave a few +brief commands to his sergeant, ordering him to repair the disorder +inside the coach, and to stop all further searching both of the vehicle +and of the men. + +Finally he said with calm dignity: "M. le Comte, I must offer you my +humble apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected. +I humbly beg Mme. la Duchesse and Mademoiselle Crystal to accept these +expressions of my profound regret. A soldier's life and a soldier's duty +must be my excuse for the part I was forced to take in this untoward +happening. Mme. la Duchesse, I pray you deign to re-enter your carriage. +M. le Comte, if there is aught I can do for you, I pray you command me. +. . ." + +Neither the Duchesse nor the Comte, however, deigned to take the +slightest notice of the abominable traitor and of his long tirade. +Madame was shivering with cold and yawning with fatigue, and in her +heart consigned the young brute to everlasting torments. + +The Comte would have thought it beneath his dignity to accept any +explanation from a follower of the Corsican usurper. Without a word he +was now helping his sister into the carriage. + +Jeanne, of course, hardly counted--she was dazed into semi-imbecility by +the renewed terrors she had just gone through: so for the moment Victor +felt that Crystal was isolated from the others. She stood a little to +one side--he could only just see her, as the sergeant was holding up the +lanthorn for Mme. la Duchesse to see her way into the coach. M. le Comte +went on to give a few directions to the coachman. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly. + +And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the +carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind +word for me?" + +"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an +outrage?" + +"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty." + +"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont--a soldier of the King. Now you +are only a deserter." + +"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to +victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back +into his own once more." + +"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from +different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to +discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt +in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me." + +"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he +urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on +the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks +to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness +under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have +not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon." + +"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all +that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage +door. + +Victor smothered a curse. These aristos were as arrogant as ever. What +lesson had the revolution and the guillotine taught them? None. This +girl who had spent her whole life in poverty and exile, and was +like--after a brief interregnum--to return to exile and poverty again, +was not a whit less proud than her kindred had been when they walked in +their hundreds up the steps of the guillotine with a smile of lofty +disdain upon their lips. + +Victor de Marmont was a son of the people--of those who had made the +revolution and had fought the whole of Europe in order to establish +their right to govern themselves as they thought best, and he hated all +these aristos--the men who had fled from their country and abandoned it +when she needed her sons' help more than she had ever done before. + +The aristocrat was for him synonymous with the emigre--with the man who +had raised a foreign army to fight against France, who had brought the +foreigner marching triumphantly into Paris. He hated the aristocrat, but +he loved Crystal, the one desirable product of that old regime system +which he abhorred. + +But with him a woman's love meant a woman's submission. He was more +determined than ever now to win her, but he wanted to win her through +her humiliation and his triumph--excitement had turned his brain? Well! +so be it, fear and oppression would turn her heart and crush her pride. + +He made no further attempt to detain her: he had asked for a kind word +and she had given him withering scorn. Excitement had turned his brain +. . . he was not even worthy of parley--not even worthy of a formal +refusal! + +To his credit be it said that the thought of immediate revenge did not +enter his mind then. He might have subjected her then and there to +deadly outrage--he might have had her personal effects searched, her +person touched by the rough hands of his soldiers. But though his +estimate of a woman's love was a low one, it was not so base as to +imagine that Crystal de Cambray would ever forgive so dastardly an +insult. + +As she walked past him to the door, however, he said under his breath: + +"Remember, Mademoiselle, that you and your family at this moment are +absolutely in my power, and that it is only because of my regard for you +that I let you all now depart from here in peace." + +Whether she heard or not, he could not say; certain it is that she made +no reply, nor did she turn toward him at all. The light of the lanthorn +lit up her delicate profile, pale and drawn, her tightly pressed lips, +the look of utter contempt in her eyes, which even the fitful shadow +cast by her hair over her brows could not altogether conceal. + +The Comte had given what instructions he wished to Pierre. He stood by +the carriage door waiting for his daughter: no doubt he had heard what +went on between her and de Marmont, and was content to leave her to deal +what scorn was necessary for the humiliation of the traitor. + +He helped Crystal into the carriage, and also the unfortunate Jeanne; +finally he too followed, and pulled the door to behind him. + +Victor did not wait to see the coach make a start. He gave the order to +remount. + +"How far are we from St. Priest?" he asked. + +"Not eight kilometres, mon Colonel," was the reply. + +"En avant then, ventre-a-terre!" he commanded, as he swung himself into +the saddle. + +The great high road between Grenoble and Lyons is very wide, and Pierre +had no need to draw his horses to one side, as de Marmont and his troop, +after much scrambling, champing of bits and clanking of metal, rode at a +sharp trot past the coach and him. + +For some few moments the sound of the horses' hoofs on the hard road +kept the echoes of the night busy with their resonance, but soon that +sound grew fainter and fainter still--after five minutes it died away +altogether. + +M. de Comte put his head out of the window. + +"Eh bien, Pierre," he called, "why don't we start?" + +The postillion cracked his whip; Pierre shouted to his horses; the heavy +coach groaned and creaked and was once more on its way. + +In the interior no one spoke. Jeanne's terror had melted in a silent +flow of tears. + + +Lyons was reached shortly before midnight. M. le Comte's carriage had +some difficulty in entering the town, as by orders of M. le Comte +d'Artois it had already been placed in a state of defence against the +possible advance of the "band of pirates from Corsica." The bridge of La +Guillotiere had been strongly barricaded and it took M. le Comte de +Cambray some little time to establish his identity before the officer in +command of the post allowed him to proceed on his way. + +The town was fairly full owing to the presence of M. le Comte d'Artois, +who had taken up his quarters at the archiepiscopal palace, and of his +staff, who were scattered in various houses about the town. Nevertheless +M. le Comte and his family were fortunate enough in obtaining +comfortable accommodation at the Hotel Bourbon. + +The party was very tired, and after a light supper retired to bed. + +But not before M. le Comte de Cambray had sent a special autographed +message to Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois explaining to him under what +tragic circumstances the sum of twenty-five million francs destined to +reach His Majesty the King had fallen into a common highwayman's hands +and begging that a posse of cavalry be sent out on the road after the +marauders and be placed under the orders of M. le Marquis de St. Genis, +who would be on the look-out for their arrival. He begged that the posse +should consist of not less than thirty men, seeing that some armed +followers of the Corsican brigand were also somewhere on the way. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE RIVALS + + +I + +The weather did not improve as the night wore on: soon a thin, cold +drizzle added to the dreariness and to Maurice de St. Genis' +ever-growing discomfort. + +He had started off gaily enough, cheered by Crystal's warm look of +encouragement and comforted by the feeling of certainty that he would +get even with that mysterious enemy who had so impudently thrown himself +athwart a plan which had service of the King for its sole object. + +Maurice had not exchanged confidences with Crystal since the adventure, +but his ideas--without his knowing it--absolutely coincided with hers. +He, too, was quite sure that no common footpad had engineered their +daring attack. Positive knowledge of the money and its destination had +been the fountain from which had sprung the comedy of the masked +highwayman and his little band of robbers. Maurice mentally reckoned +that there must have been at least half a dozen of these bravos--of the +sort that in these times were easily enough hired in any big city to +play any part, from that of armed escort to nervous travellers to that +of seeker of secret information for the benefit of either political +party--loafers that hung round the wine-shops in search of a means of +earning a few days' rations, discharged soldiers of the Empire some of +them, whose loyalty to the Restoration had been questioned from the +first. + +Maurice had no doubt that whatever motive had actuated the originator of +the bold plan to possess himself of twenty-five million francs, he had +deliberately set to work to employ men of that type to help him in his +task. + +It had all been very audacious and--Maurice was bound to admit--very +well carried out. As for the motive, he was never for a moment in doubt. +It was a Bonapartist plot, of that he felt sure, as well as of the fact +that Victor de Marmont was the originator of it all. He probably had not +taken any active part in the attack, but he had employed the +men--Maurice would have taken an oath on that! + +The Comte de Cambray must have let fall an unguarded hint in the course +of his last interview with de Marmont at Brestalou, and when Victor went +away disgraced and discomfited he, no doubt, thought to take his revenge +in the way most calculated to injure both the Comte and the royalist +cause. + +Satisfied with this mental explanation of past events, St. Genis had +ridden on in the darkness, his spirits kept up with hopes and thoughts +of a glaring counter revenge. But his limbs were still stiff and bruised +from the cramped position in which he had lain for so long, and +presently, when the cold drizzle began to penetrate to his bones, his +enthusiasm and confidence dwindled. The village seemed to recede further +and further into the distance. He thought when he had ridden through it +earlier in the evening that it was not very far from the scene of the +attack--a dozen kilometres perhaps--now it seemed more like thirty; he +thought too that it was a village of some considerable size--five +hundred souls or perhaps more--he had noticed as he rode through it a +well-illuminated, one-storied house, and the words "Debit de vins" and +"Chambres pour voyageurs" painted in bold characters above the front +door. But now he had ridden on and on along the dark road for what +seemed endless hours--unconscious of time save that it was dragging on +leaden-footed and wearisome . . . and still no light on ahead to betray +the presence of human habitations, no distant church bells to mark the +progress of the night. + +At last, in desperation, Maurice de St. Genis had thought of wrapping +himself in his cloak and getting what rest he could by the roadside, for +he was getting very tired and saddle-sore, when on his left he perceived +in the far distance, glimmering through the mist, two small lights like +bright eyes shining in the darkness. + +What kind of a way led up to those welcome lights, Maurice had, of +course, no idea; but they proclaimed at any rate the presence of human +beings, of a house, of the warmth of fire; and without hesitation the +young man turned his horse's head at right angles from the road. + +He had crossed a couple of ploughed fields and an intervening ditch, +when in the distance to his right and behind him he heard the sound of +horses at a brisk trot, going in the direction of Lyons. + +Maurice drew rein for a moment and listened until the sound came nearer. +There must have been at least a score of mounted men--a military patrol +sent out by M. le Comte d'Artois, no doubt, and now on its way back to +Lyons. Just for a second or two the young man had thoughts of joining up +with the party and asking their help or their escort: he even gave a +vigorous shout which, however, was lost in the clang and clatter of +horses' hoofs and of the accompanying jingle of metal. + +He turned his horse back the way he had come; but before he had +recrossed one of the ploughed fields, the troop of mounted men--whatever +they were--had passed by, and Maurice was left once more in solitude, +shouting and calling in vain. + +There was nothing for it then, but to turn back again, and to make his +way as best he could toward those inviting lights. In any case nothing +could have been done in this pitch-dark night against the highway +thieves, and St. Genis had no fear that M. le Comte d'Artois would fail +to send him help for his expedition against them on the morrow. + +The lights on ahead were getting perceptibly nearer, soon they detached +themselves still more clearly in the gloom--other lights appeared in the +immediate neighbourhood--too few for a village--thought Maurice, and +grouped closely together, suggesting a main building surrounded by other +smaller ones close by. + +Soon the whole outline of the house could be traced through the +enveloping darkness: two of the windows were lighted from within, and an +oil lamp, flickering feebly, was fixed in a recess just above the door. +The welcome words: "Chambres pour voyageurs. Aristide Briot, +proprietaire," greeted Maurice's wearied eyes as he drew rein. Good luck +was apparently attending him for, thus picking his way across fields, he +had evidently struck an out-of-the-way hostelry on some bridle path off +the main road, which was probably a short cut between Chambery and +Vienne. + +Be that as it may, he managed to dismount--stiff as he was--and having +tried the door and found it fastened, he hammered against it with his +boot. + +A few moments later, the bolts were drawn and an elderly man in blue +blouse and wide trousers, his sabots stuffed with straw, came shuffling +out of the door. + +"Who's there?" he called in a feeble, querulous voice. + +"A traveller--on horseback," replied Maurice. "Come, petit pere," he +added more impatiently, "will you take my horse or call to one of your +men?" + +"It is too late to take in travellers," muttered the old man. "It is +nearly midnight, and everyone is abed except me." + +"Too late, morbleu?" exclaimed the young man peremptorily. "You surely +are not thinking of refusing shelter to a traveller on a night like +this. Why, how far is it to the nearest village?" + +"It is very late," reiterated the old man plaintively, "and my house is +quite full." + +"There's a shake-down in the kitchen anyway, I'll warrant, and one for +my horse somewhere in an outhouse," retorted Maurice as without more ado +he suddenly threw the reins into the old man's hand and unceremoniously +pushed him into the house. + +The man appeared to hesitate for a moment or two. He grumbled and +muttered something which Maurice did not hear, and his shrewd eyes--the +knowing eyes of a peasant of the Dauphine--took a rapid survey of the +belated traveller's clothes, the expensive caped coat, the well-made +boots, the fashionable hat, which showed up clearly now by the light +from within. + +Satisfied that there could be no risk in taking in so well-dressed a +traveller, feeling moreover that a good horse was always a hostage for +the payment of the bill in the morning, the man now, without another +word or look at his guest, turned his back on the house and led the +horse away--somewhere out into the darkness--Maurice did not take the +trouble to ascertain where. + +He was under shelter. There was the remnant of a wood-fire in the hearth +at the corner, some benches along the walls. If he could not get a bed, +he could certainly get rest and warmth for the night. He put down his +hat, took off his coat, and kicked the smouldering log into a blaze; +then he drew a chair close to the fire and held his numbed feet and +hands to the pleasing warmth. + +Thoughts of food and wine presented themselves too, now that he felt a +little less cold and stiff, and he awaited the old man's return with +eagerness and impatience. + +The shuffling of wooden sabots outside the door was a pleasing sound: a +moment or two later the old man had come back and was busying himself +with once more bolting his front door. + +"Well now, pere Briot," said Maurice cheerily, "as I take it you are the +proprietor of this abode of bliss, what about supper?" + +"Bread and cheese if you like," muttered the man curtly. + +"And a bottle of wine, of course." + +"Yes. A bottle of wine." + +"Well! be quick about it, petit pere. I didn't know how hungry I was +till you talked of bread and cheese." + +"Would you like some cold meat?" queried the man indifferently. + +"Of course I should! Have I not said that I was hungry?" + +"You'll pay for it all right enough?" + +"I'll pay for the supper before I stick a fork into it," rejoined +Maurice impatiently, "but in Heaven's name hurry up, man! I am half dead +with sleep as well as with hunger." + +The old man--a real peasant of the Dauphine in his deliberate manner and +shrewd instincts of caution--once more shuffled out of the room, and St. +Genis lapsed into a kind of pleasant torpor as the warmth of the fire +gradually crept through his sinews and loosened all his limbs, while the +anticipation of wine and food sent his wearied thoughts into a happy +day-dream. + +Ten minutes later he was installed before a substantial supper, and +worthy Aristide Briot was equally satisfied with the two pieces of +silver which St. Genis had readily tendered him. + +"You said your house was full, petit pere," said Maurice after a while, +when the edge of his hunger had somewhat worn off. "I shouldn't have +thought there were many travellers in this out-of-the-way place." + +"The place is not out-of-the-way," retorted the old man gruffly. "The +road is a good one, and a short cut between Vienne and Chambery. We get +plenty of travellers this way!" + +"Well! I did not strike the road, unfortunately. I saw your lights in +the distance and cut across some fields. It was pretty rough in the +dark, I can tell you." + +"That's just what those other cavaliers said, when they turned up here +about an hour ago. A noisy crowd they were. I had no room for them in my +house, so they had to go." + +St. Genis at once put down his knife and fork. + +"A noisy crowd of travellers," he exclaimed, "who arrived here an hour +ago?" + +"Parbleu!" rejoined the other, "and all wanting beds too. I had no room. +I can only put up one or two travellers. I sent them on to Levasseur's, +further along the road. Only the wounded man I could not turn away. He +is up in our best bedroom." + +"A wounded man? You have a wounded man here, petit pere?" + +"Oh! it's not much of a wound," explained the old man with unconscious +irrelevance. "He himself calls it a mere scratch. But my old woman took +a fancy to him: he is young and well-looking, you understand. . . . She +is clever at bandages too, so she has looked after him as if he were her +own son." + +Mechanically, St. Genis had once more taken up his knife and fork, +though of a truth the last of his hunger had vanished. But these +Dauphine peasants were suspicious and queer-tempered, and already the +young man's surprise had matured into a plan which he would not be able +to carry through without the help of Aristide Briot. Noisy cavaliers--he +mused to himself--a wounded man! . . . wounded by the stray shot aimed +at him by Crystal de Cambray! Indeed, St. Genis had much ado to keep his +excitement in check, and to continue with a pretence at eating while +Briot watched him with stolid indifference. + +"Petit pere," said the young man at last with as much unconcern as he +could affect. "I have been thinking that you have--unwittingly--given me +an excellent piece of news. I do believe that the man in your best +bedroom upstairs is a friend of mine whom I was to have met at Lyons +to-day and whose absence from our place of tryst had made me very +anxious. I was imagining that all sorts of horrors had happened to him, +for he is in the secret service of the King and exposed to every kind of +danger. His being wounded in some skirmish either with highway robbers +or with a band of the Corsican's pirates would not surprise me in the +least, and the fact that he had some half-dozen mounted men with him +confirms me in my belief that indeed it is my friend who is lying +upstairs, as he often has to have an escort in the exercise of his +duties. At any rate, petit pere," he concluded as he rose from the +table, "by your leave, I'll go up and ascertain." + +While he rattled off these pretty proceeds of his own imagination, +Maurice de St. Genis kept a sharp watch on Aristide Briot's face, ready +to note the slightest sign of suspicion should it creep into the old +man's shrewd eyes. + +Briot, however, did not exhibit any violent interest in his guest's +story, and when the latter had finished speaking he merely said, +pointing to the remnants of food upon the table: + +"I thought you said that you were hungry." + +"So I was, petit pere," rejoined Maurice impatiently, "so I was: but my +hunger is not so great as it was, and before I eat another morsel I must +satisfy myself that it is my friend who is safe and well in your old +woman's care." + +"Oh! he is well enough," grunted Briot, "and you can see him in the +morning." + +"That I cannot, for I shall have to leave here soon after dawn. And I +could not get a wink of sleep whilst I am in such a state of uncertainty +about my friend." + +"But you can't go and wake him now. He is asleep for sure, and my old +woman wouldn't like him to be disturbed, after all the care she has +given him." + +St. Genis, fretting with impatience, could have cursed aloud or shaken +the obstinate old peasant roughly by the shoulders. + +"I shouldn't wake him," he retorted, irritated beyond measure at the +man's futile opposition. "I'll go up on tiptoe, candle in hand--you +shall show me the way to his room--and I'll just ascertain whether the +wounded man is my friend or not, then I'll come down again quietly and +finish my supper. + +"Come, petit pere, I insist," he added more peremptorily, seeing that +Briot--with the hesitancy peculiar to his kind--still made no movement +to obey, but stood close by scratching his scanty locks and looking +puzzled and anxious. + +Fortunately for him Maurice understood the temperament of these peasants +of the Dauphine, he knew that with their curious hesitancy and inherent +suspiciousness it was always the easiest to make up their minds for +them. + +So now--since he was absolutely determined to come to grips with that +abominable thief upstairs, before the night was many minutes older--he +ceased to parley with Briot. + +A candle stood close to his hand on the table, a bit of kindling wood +lay in a heap in one corner, with the help of the one he lighted the +other, then candle in hand he walked up to the door. + +"Show me the way, petit pere," he said. + +And Aristide Briot, with a shrug of the shoulders which implied that he +there and then put away from him any responsibility for what might or +might not occur after this, and without further comment, led the way +upstairs. + + +II + +On the upper landing at the top of the stairs Briot paused. He pointed +to a door at the end of the narrow corridor, and said curtly: + +"That's his room." + +"I thank you, petit pere," whispered St. Genis in response. "Don't wait +for me, I'll be back directly." + +"He is not yet in bed," was Briot's dry comment. + +A thin streak of light showed underneath the door. As St. Genis walked +rapidly toward it he wondered if the door would be locked. That +certainly was a contingency which had not occurred to him. His design +was to surprise a wounded and helpless thief in his sleep and to force +him then and there to give up the stolen money, before he had time to +call for help. + +But the miscreant was evidently on the watch, Briot still lingered on +the top of the stairs, there were other people sleeping in the house, +and St. Genis suddenly realised that his purpose would not be quite so +easy of execution as he had hot-headedly supposed. + +But the end in view was great, and St. Genis was not a man easily +deterred from a set purpose. There was the royalist cause to aid and +Crystal to be won if he were successful. + +He knocked resolutely at the door, then tried the latch. The door was +locked: but even as the young man hesitated for a moment wondering what +he would do next, a firm step resounded on the floor on the other side +of the partition and the next moment the door was opened from within, +and a peremptory voice issued the usual challenge: + +"Who goes there?" + +A tall figure appeared as a massive silhouette under the lintel. St. +Genis had the candle in his hand. He dropped it in his astonishment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde!" he exclaimed. + +At sight of St. Genis the Englishman, whose right arm was in a sling, +had made a quick instinctive movement back into the room, but equally +quickly Maurice had forestalled him by placing his foot across the +threshold. + +Then he turned back to Aristide Briot. + +"That's all right, petit pere," he called out airily, "it is indeed my +friend, just as I thought. I'm going to stay and have a little chat with +him. Don't wait up for me. When he is tired of my company I'll go back +to the parlour and make myself happy in front of the fire. Good-night!" + +As Clyffurde no longer stood in the doorway, St. Genis walked straight +into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving good old Aristide +to draw what conclusions he chose from the eccentric behaviour of his +nocturnal visitors. + +With a rapid and wrathful gaze, St. Genis at once took stock of +everything in the room. A sigh of satisfaction rose to his lips. At any +rate the rogue could not deny his guilt. There, hanging on a peg, was +the caped coat which he had worn, and there on the table were two +damning proofs of his villainy--a pair of pistols and a black mask. + +The whole situation puzzled him more than he could say. Certainly after +the first shock of surprise he had felt his wrath growing hotter and +hotter every moment, the other man's cool assurance helped further to +irritate his nerves, and to make him lose that self-control which would +have been of priceless value in this unlooked-for situation. + +Seeing that Maurice de St. Genis was absolutely speechless with surprise +as well as with anger, there crept into Clyffurde's deep-set grey eyes a +strange look of amusement, as if the humour of his present position was +more obvious than its shame. + +"And what," he asked pleasantly, "has procured me the honour at this +late hour of a visit from M. le Marquis de St. Genis?" + +His words broke the spell. There was no longer any mystery in the +situation. The condemnatory pieces of evidence were there, Clyffurde's +connection with de Marmont was well known--the plot had become obvious. +Here was an English adventurer--an alien spy--who had obviously been +paid to do this dirty work for the usurper, and--as Maurice now +concluded airily--he must be made to give up the money which he had +stolen before he be handed over to the military authorities at Lyons and +shot as a spy or a thief--Maurice didn't care which: the whole thing was +turning out far simpler and easier than he had dared to hope. + +"You know quite well why I am here," he now said, roughly. "Of a truth, +for the moment I was taken by surprise, for I had not thought that a man +who had been honoured by the friendship of M. le Comte de Cambray and of +his family was a thief, as well as a spy." + +"And now," said Clyffurde, still smiling and apparently quite +unperturbed, "that you have been enlightened on this subject to your own +satisfaction, may I ask what you intend to do?" + +"Force you to give up what you have stolen, you impudent thief," +retorted the other savagely. + +"And how are you proposing to do that, M. de St. Genis?" asked the +Englishman with perfect equanimity. + +"Like this," cried Maurice, whose exasperation and fury had increased +every moment, as the other man's assurance waxed more insolent and more +cool. + +"Like this!" he cried again, as he sprang at his enemy's throat. + +A past master in the art of self-defence, Clyffurde--despite his wounded +arm--was ready for the attack. With his left on guard he not only +received the brunt of the onslaught, but parried it most effectually +with a quick blow against his assailant's jaw. + +St. Genis--stunned by this forcible contact with a set of exceedingly +hard knuckles--fell back a step or two, his foot struck against some +object on the floor, he lost his balance and measured his length +backwards across the bed. + +"You abominable thief . . . you . . ." he cried, choking with rage and +with discomfiture as he tried to struggle to his feet. + +But this he at once found that he could not do, seeing that a pair of +firm and muscular knees were gripping and imprisoning his legs, even +while that same all-powerful left hand with the hard knuckles had an +unpleasant hold on his throat. + +"I should have tried some other method, M. de St. Genis, had I been in +your shoes," came in irritatingly sarcastic accents from his calm +antagonist. + +Indeed, the insolent rogue did not appear in the least overwhelmed by +the enormity of his crime or by the disgrace of being so ignominiously +found out. From his precarious position across the bed St. Genis had a +good view of the rascal's finely knit figure, of his earnest face, now +softened by a smile full of kindly humour and good-natured contempt. + +An impartial observer viewing the situation would certainly have thought +that here was an impudent villain vanquished and lying on his back, +whilst being admonished for his crimes by a just man who had might as +well as right on his side. + +"Let me go, you confounded thief," St. Genis cried, as soon as the +unpleasant grip on his throat had momentarily relaxed, "you accursed spy +. . . you . . ." + +"Easy, easy, my young friend," said the other calmly; "you have called +me a thief quite often enough to satisfy your rage: and further epithets +might upset my temper." + +"Let go my throat!" + +"I will in a moment or two, as soon as I have made up my mind what I am +going to do with you, my impetuous young friend--whether I shall truss +you like a fowl and put you in charge of our worthy host, as guilty of +assaulting one of his guests, or whether I shall do you some trifling +injury to punish you for trying to do me a grave one." + +"Right is on my side," said St. Genis doggedly. "I do not care what you +do to me." + +"Right is apparently on your side, my friend. I'll not deny it. +Therefore, I still hesitate." + +"Like a rogue and a vagabond at dead of night you attacked and robbed +those who have never shown you anything but kindness." + +"Until the hour when they turned me out of their house like a dishonest +lacquey, without allowing me a word of explanation." + +"Then this is your idea of vengeance, is it, Mr. Clyffurde?" + +"Yes, M. de St. Genis, it is. But not quite in the manner that you +suppose. I am going to set you free now in order to set your mind at +rest. But let me warn you that I shall be just as much on the alert +against another attack from you as ever I was before, and that I could +ward off two or even three assailants with my left arm and knee as +easily as I warded off one. It is a way we have in England." + +He relaxed his hold on Maurice's legs and throat, and the young +man--fretting and fuming, wild with impotent wrath and with +mortification--struggled to his feet. + +"Are you proposing to give me some explanation to mitigate your crime?" +he said roughly. "If so, let me tell you that I will accept none. +Putting the question aside of your abominable theft, you have committed +an outrage against people whom I honour, and against the woman whom I +love." + +"Nor do I propose to give you any explanation, M. de St. Genis," +retorted Clyffurde, who still spoke quite quietly and evenly. "But for +the sake of your own peace of mind, which you will I hope communicate to +the people whom you honour, I will tell you a few simple facts." + +Neither of the men sat down: they stood facing one another now across +the table whereon stood a couple of tallow candles which threw fitful, +yellow lights on their faces--so different, so strangely +contrasted--young and well-looking both--both strongly moved by passion, +yet one entirely self-controlled, while in the other's eyes that passion +glowed fierce and resentful. + +"I listen," said St. Genis curtly. + +And Clyffurde began after a slight pause: "At the time that you fell +upon me with such ill-considered vigour, M. de St. Genis," he said, "did +you know that but for my abominable outrage upon the persons whom you +honour, the money which they would gladly have guarded with their life +would have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte's agents?" + +"In theirs or yours, what matters?" retorted St. Genis savagely, "since +His Majesty is deprived of it now." + +"That is where you are mistaken, my young friend," said the other +quietly. "His Majesty is more sure of getting the money now than he was +when M. le Comte de Cambray with his family and yourself started on that +quixotic if ill-considered errand this morning." + +St. Genis frowned in puzzlement: + +"I don't understand you," he said curtly. + +"Isn't it simple enough? You and your friends credited me with +friendship for de Marmont: he is hot-headed and impetuous, and words +rush out of his mouth that he should keep to himself. I knew from +himself that Bonaparte had charged him to recover the twenty-five +millions which M. le prefet Fourier had placed in the Comte de Cambray's +charge." + +"Why did you not warn the Comte then?" queried St. Genis, who, still +mistrustful, glowered at his antagonist. + +"Would he have listened to me, think you?" asked the other with a quiet +smile. "Remember, he had turned me out of his house two nights before, +without a word of courtesy or regret--on the mere suspicion of my +intercourse with de Marmont. Were you too full with your own rage to +notice what happened then? Mlle. Crystal drew away her skirts from me as +if I were a leper. What credence would they have given my words? Would +the Comte even have admitted me into his presence?" + +"And so . . . you planned this robbery . . . you . . ." stammered St. +Genis, whose astonishment and puzzlement were rendering him as +speechless as his rage had done. "I'll not believe it," he continued +more firmly; "you are fooling me, now that I have found you out." + +"Why should I do that? You are in my hands, and not I in yours. +Bonaparte is victorious at Grenoble. I could take the money to him and +earn his gratitude, or use the money for mine own ends. What have I to +fear from you? What cause to fool you? Your opinion of me? M. le Comte's +contempt or goodwill? Bah! after to-night are we likely to meet again?" + +St. Genis said nothing in reply. Of a truth there was nothing that he +could say. The Englishman's whole attitude bore the impress of truth. +Even through that still seething wrath which refused to be appeased, St. +Genis felt that the other was speaking the truth. His mind now was in +turmoil of wonderment. This man who stood here before him had done +something which he--St. Genis--could not comprehend. Vaguely he realised +that beneath the man's actions there still lay a yet deeper foundation +of dignity and of heroism and one which perhaps would never be wholly +fathomed. + +It was Clyffurde who at last broke the silence between them: + +"You, M. de St. Genis," he said lightly, "would under like circumstances +have acted just as I did, I am sure. The whole idea was so easy of +execution. Half a dozen loafers to aid me, the part of highwayman to +play--an old man and two or three defenceless women--my part was not +heroic, I admit," he added with a smile, "but it has served its purpose. +The money is safe in my keeping now, within a few days His Majesty the +King of France shall have it, and all those who strive to serve him +loyally can rest satisfied." + +"I confess I don't understand you," said St. Genis, as he seemed to +shake himself free from some unexplainable spell that held him. "You +have rendered us and the legitimate cause of France a signal service! +Why did you do it?" + +"You forget, M. de St. Genis, that the legitimate cause of France is +England's cause as well." + +"Are you a servant of your country then? I thought you were a tradesman +engaged in buying gloves." + +Clyffurde smiled. "So I am," he said, "but even a tradesman may serve +his country, if he has the opportunity." + +"I hope that your country will be duly grateful," said Maurice, with a +sigh. "I know that every royalist in France would thank you if they +knew." + +"By your leave, M. de St. Genis, no one in France need know anything but +what you choose to tell them. . . ." + +"You mean . . ." + +"That except for reassuring M. le Comte de Cambray and . . . and Mlle. +Crystal, there is no reason why they should ever know what passed +between us in this room to-night." + +"But if the King is to have the money, he . . ." + +"He will never know from me, from whence it comes." + +"He will wish to know. . . ." + +"Come, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde, with a slight hint of +impatience, "is it for me to tell you that Great Britain has more than +one agent in France these days--that the money will reach His Majesty +the King ultimately through the hands of his foreign minister M. le +Comte de Jaucourt . . . and that my name will never appear in connection +with the matter? . . . I am a mere servant of Great Britain--doing my +duty where I can . . . nothing more." + +"You mean that you are in the British Secret Service? No?--Well! I don't +profess to understand you English people, and you seem to me more +incomprehensible than any I have known. Not that I ever believed that +you were a mere tradesman. But what shall I say to M. le Comte de +Cambray?" he added, after a slight pause, during which a new and strange +train of thought altered the expression of wonderment on his face, to +one that was undefinable, almost furtive, certainly undecided. + +"All you need say to M. le Comte," replied Clyffurde, with a slight tone +of impatience, "is that you are personally satisfied that the money will +reach His Majesty's hand safely, and in due course. At least, I presume +that you are satisfied, M. de St. Genis," he continued, vaguely +wondering what was going on in the young Frenchman's brain. + +"Yes, yes, of course I am satisfied," murmured the other, "but . . ." + +"But what?" + +"Mlle. Crystal would want to know something more than that. She will ask +me questions . . . she . . . she will insist . . . I had promised her to +get the money back myself . . . she will expect an explanation . . . +she . . ." + +He continued to murmur these short, jerky sentences almost inaudibly, +avoiding the while to meet the enquiring and puzzled gaze of the +Englishman. + +When he paused--still murmuring, but quite inaudibly now--Clyffurde made +no comment, and once more there fell a silence over the narrow room. The +candles flickered feebly, and Bobby picked up the metal snuffers from +the table and with a steady and deliberate hand set to work to trim the +wicks. + +So absorbed did he seem in this occupation that he took no notice of St. +Genis, who with arms crossed in front of him, was pacing up and down the +narrow room, a heavy frown between his deep-set eyes. + + +III + +Somewhere in the house down below, an old-fashioned clock had just +struck two. Clyffurde looked up from his absorbing task. + +"It is late," he remarked casually; "shall we say good-night, M. de St. +Genis?" + +The sound of the Englishman's voice seemed to startle Maurice out of his +reverie. He pulled himself together, walked firmly up to the table and +resting his hand upon it, he faced the other man with a sudden gaze made +up partly of suddenly conceived resolve and partly of lingering +shamefacedness. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," he began abruptly. + +"Yes?" + +"Have you any cause to hate me?" + +"Why no," replied Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile. "Why +should I have?" + +"Have you any cause to hate Mlle. Crystal de Cambray?" + +"Certainly not." + +"You have no desire," insisted Maurice, "to be revenged on her for the +slight which she put upon you the other night?" + +His voice had grown more steady and his look more determined as he put +these rapid questions to Clyffurde, whose expressive face showed no sign +of any feeling in response save that of complete and indifferent +puzzlement. + +"I have no desire with regard to Mlle. de Cambray," replied Bobby +quietly, "save that of serving her, if it be in my power." + +"You can serve her, Sir," retorted Maurice firmly, "and that right +nobly. You can render the whole of her future life happy beyond what she +herself has ever dared to hope." + +"How?" + +Maurice paused: once more, with a gesture habitual to him, he crossed +his arms over his chest and resumed his restless march up and down the +narrow room. + +Then again he stood still, and again faced the Englishman, his dark +enquiring eyes seeming to probe the latter's deepest thoughts. + +"Did you know, Mr. Clyffurde," he asked slowly, "that Mlle. Crystal de +Cambray honours me with her love?" + +"Yes. I knew that," replied the other quietly. + +"And I love her with my heart and soul," continued Maurice impetuously. +"Oh! I cannot tell you what we have suffered--she and I--when the +exigencies of her position and the will of her father parted +us--seemingly for ever. Her heart was broken and so was mine: and I +endured the tortures of hell when I realised at last that she was lost +to me for ever and that her exquisite person--her beautiful soul--were +destined for the delight of that low-born traitor Victor de Marmont." + +He drew breath, for he had half exhausted himself with the volubility +and vehemence of his diction. Also he seemed to be waiting for some +encouragement from Clyffurde, who, however, gave him none, but sat +unmoved and apparently supremely indifferent, while a suffering heart +was pouring out its wails of agony into his unresponsive ear. + +"The reason," resumed St. Genis somewhat more calmly, "why M. le Comte +de Cambray was opposed to our union, was purely a financial one. Our +families are of equal distinction and antiquity, but alas! our fortunes +are also of equal precariousness: we, Sir, of the old noblesse gave up +our all, in order to follow our King into exile. Victor de Marmont was +rich. His fortune could have repurchased the ancient Cambray estates and +restored to that honoured name all the brilliance which it had +sacrificed for its principles." + +Still Clyffurde remained irritatingly silent, and St. Genis asked him +somewhat tartly: + +"I trust I am making myself clear, Sir?" + +"Perfectly, so far," replied the other quietly, "but I am afraid I don't +quite see how you propose that I could serve Mlle. Crystal in all this." + +"You can with one word, one generous action, Sir, put me in a position +to claim Crystal as my wife, and give her that happiness which she +craves for, and which is rightly her due." + +A slight lifting of the eyebrows was Clyffurde's only comment. + +"Mr. Clyffurde," now said Maurice, with the obvious firm resolve to end +his own hesitancy at last, "you say yourself that by taking this money +to His Majesty, or rather to his minister, you, individually, will get +neither glory nor even gratitude--your name will not appear in the +transaction at all. I am quoting your own words, remember. That is so, +is it not?" + +"It is so--certainly." + +"But, Sir, if a Frenchman--a royalist--were able to render his King so +signal a service, he would not only gain gratitude, but recognition and +glory. . . . A man who was poor and obscure would at once become rich +and distinguished. . . ." + +"And in a position to marry the woman he loved," concluded Bobby, +smiling. + +Then as Maurice said nothing, but continued to regard him with glowing, +anxious eyes, he added, smiling not altogether kindly this time, + +"I think I understand, M. de St. Genis." + +"And . . . what do you say?" queried the other excitedly. + +"Let me make the situation clear first, as I understand it, Monsieur," +continued Bobby drily. "You are--and I mistake not--suggesting at the +present moment that I should hand over the twenty-five millions to you, +in order that you should take them yourself to the King in Paris, and by +this act obtain not only favours from him, but probably a goodly share +of the money, which you--presumably--will have forced some unknown +highwayman to give up to you. Is that it?" + +"It was not money for myself I thought of, Sir," murmured St. Genis +somewhat shamefacedly. + +"No, no, of course not," rejoined Clyffurde with a tone of sarcasm quite +foreign to his usual easy-going good-nature. "You were thinking of the +King's favours, and of a future of distinction and glory." + +"I was thinking chiefly of Crystal, Sir," said the other haughtily. + +"Quite so. You were thinking of winning Mlle. Crystal by a . . . a +subterfuge." + +"An innocent one, Sir, you will admit. I should not be robbing you in +any way. And remember that it is only Crystal's hand that is denied me: +her love I have already won." + +A look of pain--quickly suppressed and easily hidden from the other's +self-absorbed gaze--crossed the Englishman's earnest face. + +"I do remember that, Monsieur," he said, "else I certainly would never +lend a hand in the . . . subterfuge." + +"You will do it then?" queried the other eagerly. + +"I have not said so." + +"Ah! but you will," pleaded Maurice hotly. "Sir! the eternal gratitude +of two faithful hearts would be yours always--for Crystal will know it +all, once we are married, I promise you that she will. And in the midst +of her happiness she will find time to bless your generosity and your +selflessness . . . whilst I . . ." + +"Enough, I beg of you, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde now, with +angry impatience. "Believe me! I do not hug myself with any thought of +my own virtues, nor do I desire any gratitude from you: if I hand over +the money to you, it is sorely against my better judgment and distinctly +against my duty: but since that duty chiefly lies in being assured that +the King of France will receive the money safely, why then by handing it +over to you I have that assurance, and my conscience will rest at +comparative ease. You shall have the money, Sir, and you shall marry +Mlle. Crystal on the strength of the King's gratitude towards you. And +Mlle. Crystal will be happy--if you keep silence over this transaction. +But for God's sake let's say no more about it: for of a truth you and I +are playing but a sorry role this night." + +"A sorry role?" protested the other. + +"Yes, a sorry role. Are you not deceiving a woman? Am I not running +counter to my duty?" + +"I but deceive Crystal temporarily. I love her and only deceive in order +to win her. The end justifies the means: Nor do you, in my opinion, run +counter to your duty. . . ." + +But Clyffurde interrupted him roughly: "I pray you, Sir, make no comment +on mine actions. My own silent comments on these are hard enough to +bear: your eulogies would raise bounds to my patience." + +Whereupon he walked quickly up to the bed and from under the mattress +extricated five leather wallets which he threw one by one upon the +table. + +"Here is the King's money," he said curtly; "you could never have taken +it from me by force, but I give it over to you willingly now. If within +a week from now I hear that the King has not received it, I will +proclaim you a liar and a thief." + +"Sir . . . you dare . . ." + +"Nay! we'll not quarrel. I don't want to do you any hurt. You know from +experience that I could kill you or wring your neck as easily as you +could kill a child; but Mlle. Crystal's love is like a protecting shield +all round you, so I'll not touch you again. But don't ask me to measure +my words, for that is beyond my power. Take the money, M. de St. Genis, +and earn not only the King's gratitude but also Mlle. Crystal's, which +is far better worth having. And now, I pray you, leave me to rest. You +must be tired too. And our mutual company hath become irksome to us +both." + +He turned his back on St. Genis and sat down at the table, drawing +paper, pen and inkhorn toward him, and with clumsy, left hand began +laboriously to form written characters, as if St. Genis' presence or +departure no longer concerned him. + +An importunate beggar could not have been more humiliatingly dismissed. +St. Genis had flushed to the very roots of his hair. He would have given +much to be able to chastise the insolent Englishman then and there. But +the latter had not boasted when he said that he could wring Maurice's +neck as easily with his left hand as with his right, and Maurice within +his heart was bound to own that the boast was no idle one. He knew that +in a hand-to-hand fight he was no match for that heavy-framed, +hard-fisted product of a fog-ridden land. + +He would not trust himself to speak any more, lest another word cause +prudence to yield to exasperation. Another moment of hesitation, a shrug +of the shoulders--perhaps a muttered curse or two--and St. Genis picked +up one by one the wallets from the table. + +Clyffurde never looked up while he did so: he continued to form awkward, +illegible characters upon the paper before him, as if his very life +depended on being able to write with his left hand. + +The next moment St. Genis had walked rapidly out of the room. Bobby left +off writing, threw down his pen, and resting his elbow upon the table +and his head in his hand, he remained silent and motionless while St. +Genis' quick and firm footsteps echoed first along the corridor, then +down the creaking stairs and finally on the floor below. After which +there came the sound of the opening and shutting of a door, the dragging +of a chair across a wooden floor, and nothing more. + +All was still in the house at last. The old-fashioned clock downstairs +struck half-past two. + +With a smothered cry of angry contempt Clyffurde seized on the papers +that lay scattered on the table and crushed them up in his hand with a +gesture of passionate wrath. + +Then he strode up to the window, threw open the rickety casement and let +the pure cold air of night pour into the room and dissipate the +atmosphere of cowardice, of falsehood and of unworthy love that still +seemed to hang there where M. le Marquis de St. Genis had basely +bargained for his own ends, and outraged the very name of Love by +planning base deeds in its name. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CRIME + + +I + +Victor de Marmont had spent that same night in wearisome agitation. His +mortification and disappointment would not allow him to rest. + +He had brought his squad of cavalry up as far as St. Priest, which lies +a little off the main road, about half-way between Lyons and the scene +of de Marmont's late discomfiture. Here he and his men had spent the +night, only to make a fresh start early the next morning--back for +Grenoble--seeing that M. le Comte d'Artois with thirty or forty thousand +troops was even now at Lyons. + +When, an hour after leaving St. Priest, the little troop came upon a +solitary horseman, riding a heavy carriage horse with a postillion's +bridle, de Marmont at first had no other thought save that of malicious +pleasure at recognising the man, whom just now he hated more cordially +than any other man in the world. + +M. de St. Genis--for indeed it was he--was peremptorily challenged and +questioned, and his wrath and impotent attempts at arrogance greatly +delighted de Marmont. + +To make oneself actively unpleasant to a rival is apt to be a very +pleasurable sensation. Victor had an exceedingly disagreeable half-hour +to avenge and to declare St. Genis a prisoner of war, to order his +removal to Grenoble pending the Emperor's pleasure, to command him to +be silent when he desired to speak was so much soothing balsam spread +upon the wounds which his own pride had suffered at Brestalou last +Sunday eve. + +It was not until a casual remark from the sergeant under his command +caused him to notice the bulging pockets of St. Genis' coat, that Victor +thought to give the order to search the prisoner. + +The latter entered a vigorous protest: he fought and he threatened: he +promised de Marmont the hangman's rope and his men terrible reprisals, +but of course he was fighting a losing battle. He was alone against five +and twenty, his first attempt at getting hold of the pistols in his belt +was met with a threat of summary execution: he was dragged out of the +saddle, his arms were forced behind his back, while rough hands turned +out the precious contents of his coat-pockets! All that he could do was +to curse fate which had brought these pirates on his way, and his own +short-sightedness and impatience in not waiting for the armed patrol +which undoubtedly would have been sent out to him from Lyons in response +to M. le Comte de Cambray's request. + +Now he had the deadly chagrin and bitter disappointment of seeing the +money which he had wrested from Clyffurde last night at the price of so +much humiliation, transferred to the pockets of a real thief and +spoliator who would either keep it for himself or--what in the +enthusiastic royalist's eyes would be even worse--place it at the +service of the Corsican usurper. He could hardly believe in the reality +of his ill luck, so appalling was it. In one moment he saw all the hopes +of which he had dreamed last night fly beyond recall. He had lost +Crystal more effectually, more completely than he ever had done before. +If the Englishman ever spoke of what had occurred last night . . . if +Crystal ever knew that he had been fool enough to lose the treasure +which had been in his possession for a few hours--her contempt would +crush the love which she had for him: nor would the Comte de Cambray +ever relent. + +De Marmont's triumph too was hard to bear: his clumsy irony was terribly +galling. + +"Would M. le Marquis de St. Genis care to continue his journey to Lyons +now? would he prefer not to go to Grenoble?" + +St. Genis bit his tongue with the determination to remain silent. + +"M. de St. Genis is free to go whither he chooses." + +The permission was not even welcome. Maurice would as lief be taken +prisoner and dragged back to Grenoble as face Crystal with the story of +his failure. + +Quite mechanically he remounted, and pulled his horse to one side while +de Marmont ordered his little squad to form once more, and after the +brief word of command and a final sarcastic farewell, galloped off up +the road back toward Lyons at the head of his men, not waiting to see if +St. Genis came his way too or not. + +The latter with wearied, aching eyes gazed after the fast disappearing +troop, until they became a mere speck on the long, straight road, and +the distant morning mist finally swallowed them up. + +Then he too turned his horse's head in the same direction back toward +Lyons once more, and allowing the reins to hang loosely in his hand, and +letting his horse pick its own slow way along the road, he gave himself +over to the gloominess of his own thoughts. + + +II + +He too had some difficulty in entering the town. M. le Duc d'Orleans, +cousin of the King, had just arrived to support M. le Comte d'Artois, +and together these two royal princes had framed and posted up a +proclamation to the brave Lyonese of the National Guard. + +The whole city was in a turmoil, for M. le Duc d'Orleans--who was +nothing if not practical--had at once declared that there was not the +slightest chance of a successful defence of Lyons, and that by far the +best thing to do would be to withdraw the troops while they were still +loyal. + +M. le Comte d'Artois protested; at any rate he wouldn't do anything so +drastic till after the arrival of Marshal Macdonald, to whom he had sent +an urgent courier the day before, enjoining him to come to Lyons without +delay. In the meanwhile he and his royal cousin did all they could to +kindle or at any rate to keep up the loyalty of the troops, but +defection was already in the air: here and there the men had been seen +to throw their white cockades into the mud, and more than one cry of +"Vive l'Empereur!" had risen even while Monsieur himself was reviewing +the National Guard on the Place Bellecour. + +The bridge of La Guillotiere was stoutly barricaded, but as St. Genis +waited out in the open road while his name was being taken to the +officer in command he saw crowds of people standing or walking up and +down on the opposite bank of the river. + +They were waiting for the Emperor, the news of whose approach was +filling the townspeople with glee. + +Heartsick and wretched, St. Genis, after several hours of weary waiting, +did ultimately obtain permission to enter the city by the ferry on the +south side of the city. Once inside Lyons, he had no difficulty in +ascertaining where such a distinguished gentleman as M. le Comte de +Cambray had put up for the night, and he promptly made his way to the +Hotel Bourbon, his mind, at this stage, still a complete blank as to how +he would explain his discomfiture to the Comte and to Crystal. + +In the present state of M. le Comte d'Artois' difficulties the money +would have been thrice welcome, and St. Genis felt the load of failure +weighing thrice as heavily on his soul, and dreaded the +reproaches--mute or outspoken--which he knew awaited him. If only he +could have thought of something! something plausible and not too +inglorious! There was, of course, the possibility that he had failed to +come upon the track of the thieves at all--but then he had no business +to come back so soon--and he didn't want to come back, only that there +was always the likelihood of the Englishman speaking of what had +occurred--not necessarily with evil intent . . . but . . . some words of +his: "If within a week I hear that the King of France has not received +this money, I will proclaim you a liar and a thief!" rang unpleasantly +in St. Genis' ears. + +The young man's mind, I repeat, was at this point still a blank as to +what explanation he would give to the Comte de Cambray of his own +miserable failure. + +He was returning--after an ardent promise to overtake the thief and to +force him to give up the money--without apparently having made any +effort in that direction--or having made the effort, failing signally +and ignominiously--a foolish and unheroic position in either case. + +To tell the whole unvarnished truth, his interview with Clyffurde and +his thoughtlessness in wandering along the road all alone, laden with +twenty-five million francs, not waiting for the arrival of M. le Comte +d'Artois' patrol, was unthinkable. + +Then what? St. Genis, determined not to tell the truth, found it a +difficult task to concoct a story that would be plausible and at the +same time redound to his credit. His disappointment was so bitter now, +his hopes of winning Crystal and glory had been so bright, that he found +it quite impossible to go back to the hard facts of life--to his own +poverty and the unattainableness of Crystal de Cambray--without making a +great effort to win back what Victor de Marmont had just wrested from +him. + +Through the whirl of his thoughts, too, there was a vague sense of +resentment against Clyffurde--coupled with an equally vague sense of +fear. He, Maurice, might easily keep silent over the transaction of last +night, but Clyffurde might not feel inclined to do so. He would want to +know sooner or later what had become of the money . . . had he not +uttered a threat which made Maurice's cheeks even now flush with wrath +and shame? + +Certain words and gestures of the Englishman had stood out before +Maurice's mind in a way that had stirred up those latent jealousies +which always lurk in the heart of an unsuccessful wooer. Clyffurde had +been generous--blind to his own interests--ready to sacrifice what +recognition he had earned: he had spared his assailant and agreed to an +unworthy subterfuge, and St. Genis' tormented brain began to wonder why +he had done all this. + +Was it for love of Crystal de Cambray? + +St. Genis would not allow himself to answer that question, for he felt +that if he did he would hate that hard-fisted Englishman more thoroughly +than he had ever hated any man before--not excepting de Marmont. De +Marmont was an evil and vile traitor who never could cross Crystal's +path of life again. . . . But not so the Englishman, who had planned to +serve her and who would have succeeded so magnificently but for +his--Maurice's--interference! + +If this explanation of Clyffurde's strangely magnanimous conduct was the +true one, then indeed St. Genis felt that he would have everything to +fear from him. For indeed was it so very unlikely that the Englishman +was throughout acting in collusion with Victor de Marmont, who was known +to be his friend? + +Was it so very unlikely that--seeing himself unmasked--he had found a +sure and rapid way of allowing the money to pass through St. Genis' +hands into those of de Marmont, and at the same time hopelessly +humiliating and discrediting his rival in the affections of Mlle. de +Cambray? + +That the suggestion of handing the money over to him had come originally +from Maurice de St. Genis himself, the young man did not trouble himself +to remember. The more he thought this new explanation of past events +over, the more plausible did it seem and the more likely of acceptance +by M. le Comte de Cambray and by Crystal, and St. Genis at last saw his +way to appearing before them not only zealous but heroic--even if +unfortunate--and it was with a much lightened heart that he finally drew +rein outside the Hotel Bourbon. + + +III + +M. le Comte de Cambray, it seems, was staying at the Hotel for a few +days, so the proprietor informed M. de St. Genis. M. le Comte had gone +out, but Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen was upstairs with Mlle. de Cambray. + +With somewhat uncertain step St. Genis followed the obsequious +proprietor, who had insisted on conducting M. le Marquis to the ladies' +apartments himself. They occupied a suite of rooms on the first floor, +and after a timid knock at the door, it was opened by Jeanne from +within, and Maurice found himself in the presence of Crystal and of the +Duchesse and obliged at once to enter upon the explanation which, with +their first cry of surprise, they already asked of him. + +"Well!" exclaimed Crystal eagerly, "what news?" + +"Of the money?" murmured Maurice vaguely, who above all things was +anxious to gain time. + +"Yes! the King's money!" rejoined the girl with slight impatience. "Have +you tracked the thieves? Do you know where they are? Is there any hope +of catching them?" + +"None, I am afraid," he replied firmly. + +Crystal gave a cry of bitter disappointment and reproach. "Then, +Maurice," she exclaimed almost involuntarily, "why are you here?" + +And Mme. la Duchesse, folding her mittened hands before her, seemed +mutely to be asking the same question. + +"But did you come upon the thieves at all?" continued Crystal with eager +volubility. "Where did they go to for the night? You must have come on +some traces of their passage. Oh!" she added vehemently, "you ought not +to have deserted your post like this!" + +"What could I do," he murmured. "I was all alone . . . against so many. +. . ." + +"You said that you would get on the track of the thieves," she urged, +"and father told you that he would speak with M. le Comte d'Artois as +soon as possible. Monsieur has promised that an armed patrol would be +sent out to you, and would be on the lookout for you on the road." + +"An armed patrol would be no use. I came back on purpose to stop one +being sent." + +"But why, in Heaven's name?" exclaimed the Duchesse. + +"Because a troop of deserters with that traitor Victor de Marmont is +scouring the road, and . . ." + +"We know that," said Crystal, "we were stopped by them last night, after +you left us. They were after the money for the usurper, who had sent +them, and I thanked God that twenty-five millions had enriched a common +thief rather than the Corsican brigand." + +"Surely, Maurice," said the Duchesse with her usual tartness, "you were +not fool enough to allow the King's money to fall into that abominable +de Marmont's hands?" + +"How could I help it?" now exclaimed the young man, as if driven to the +extremity of despair. "The whole thing was a huge plot beyond one man's +power to cope with. I tracked the thieves," he continued with vehemence +as eager as Crystal's, "I tracked them to a lonely hostelry off the +beaten track--at dead of night--a den of cutthroats and conspirators. I +tracked the thief to his lair and forced him to give the money up to +me." + +"You forced him? . . . Oh! how splendid!" cried Crystal. "But then +. . ." + +"Ah, then! there was the hideousness of the plot. The thief, feeling +himself unmasked, gave up his stolen booty; I forced him to his knees, +and five wallets containing twenty-five million francs were safely in my +pockets at last." + +"You forced him--how splendid!" reiterated Crystal, whose glowing eyes +were fixed upon Maurice with all the admiration which she felt. + +"Yes! that money was in my pocket for the rest of the happy night, but +the abominable thief knew well that his friend Victor de Marmont was on +the road with five and twenty armed deserters in the pay of the Corsican +brigand. Hardly had I left the hostelry and found my way back to the +main road when I was surrounded, assailed, searched and robbed. I +repeat!" continued St. Genis, warming to his own narrative, "what could +I do alone against so many?--the thief and his hirelings I managed +successfully, but with the money once in my possession I could not risk +staying an hour longer than I could help in that den of cutthroats. But +they were in league with de Marmont, and, though I would have guarded +the King's money with my life, it was filched from me ere I could draw a +single weapon in its defence." + +He had sunk in a chair, half exhausted with the effort of his own +eloquence, and now, with elbows resting on his knees and head buried in +his hands, he looked the picture of heroic misery. + +Crystal said nothing for a while; there was a deep frown of puzzlement +between her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said resolutely at last, "you said just now that the +thief was in collusion with his friend de Marmont. What did you mean by +that?" + +"I would rather that you guessed what I meant, Crystal," replied Maurice +without looking up at her. + +"You mean . . . that . . ." she began slowly. + +"That it was Mr. Clyffurde, our English friend," broke in Madame tartly, +"who robbed us on the broad highway. I suspected it all along." + +"You suspected it, _ma tante_, and said nothing?" asked the girl, who +obviously had not taken in the full significance of Maurice's statement. + +"I said absolutely nothing," replied Madame decisively, "firstly, +because I did not think that I would be doing any good by putting my own +surmises into my brother's head, and, secondly, because I must confess +that I thought that nice young Englishman had acted pour le bon motif." + +"How could you think that, _ma tante_?" ejaculated Crystal hotly: "a +good motive? to rob us at dead of night--he, a friend of Victor de +Marmont--an adherent of the Corsican! . . ." + +"Englishmen are not adherents of the Corsican, my dear," retorted Madame +drily, "and until Maurice's appearance this morning, I was satisfied +that the money would ultimately reach His Majesty's own hands." + +"But we were taking the money to His Majesty ourselves." + +"And Victor de Marmont was after it. Mr. Clyffurde may have known that. +. . . Remember, my dear," continued Madame, "that these were my +impressions last night. Maurice's account of the den of cutthroats has +modified these entirely." + +Again Crystal was silent. The frown had darkened on her face: there was +a line of bitter resentment round her lips--a look of contempt, of hate, +of a desire to hurt, in her eyes. + +"Maurice," she said abruptly at last. + +"Yes?" + +"I did wound that thief, did I not?" + +"Yes. In the shoulder . . . it gave me a slight advantage . . ." he said +with affected modesty. + +"I am glad. And you . . . you were able to punish him too, I hope." + +"Yes. I punished him." + +He was watching her very closely, for inwardly he had been wondering how +she had taken his news. She was strangely agitated, so Maurice's +troubled, jealous heart told him; her face was flushed, her eyes were +wet and a tiny lace handkerchief which she twisted between her fingers +was nothing but a damp rag. + +"Oh! I hate him! I hate him!" she murmured as with an impatient gesture +she brushed the gathering tears from her eyes. "Father had been so kind +to him--so were we all. How could he? how could he?" + +"His duty, I suppose," said St. Genis magnanimously. + +"His duty?" she retorted scornfully. + +"To the cause which he served." + +"Duty to a usurper, a brigand, the enemy of his country. Was he, then, +paid to serve the Corsican?" + +"Probably." + +"His being in trade--buying gloves at Grenoble--was all a plant then?" + +"I am afraid so," said St. Genis, who much against his will now was +sinking ever deeper and deeper in the quagmire of lying and cowardice +into which he had allowed himself to drift. + +"And he was nothing better than a spy!" + +No one, not even Crystal herself, could have defined with what feelings +she said this. Was it solely contempt? or did a strange mixture of +regret and sorrow mingle with the scorn which she felt? Swiftly her +thoughts had flown back to that Sunday evening--a very few days +ago--when the course of her destiny was so suddenly changed once more, +when her marriage with a man whom she could never love was broken off, +when the possibilities once more rose upon the horizon of her life, of a +renewed existence of poverty and exile in the wake of a dispossessed +king. + +That same evening a man whom she had hardly noticed before--a man +neither of her own nationality nor of her own caste--this same +Englishman, Clyffurde, had entered into her life--not violently or +aggressively, but just with a few words of intense sympathy and with a +genuine offer of friendship; and she somehow, despite much kindness +which encompassed her always, had felt cheered and warmed by his words, +and a strange and sweet sense of security against hurt and sorrow had +entered her heart as she listened to them. + +And now she knew that all that was false--false his sympathy, false his +offers of friendship--his words were false, his hand-grasp false. +Treachery lurked behind that kindly look in his eyes, and falsehood +beneath his smile. + +"He was nothing better than a spy!" The sting of that thought hurt her +more than she could have thought possible. She had so few real friends +and this one had proved a sham. Had she been alone she would have given +way to tears, but before Maurice or even her aunt she was ashamed of her +grief, ashamed of her feelings and of her thoughts. There was a great +deal yet that she wished to know, but somehow the words choked her when +she wanted to ask further questions. Fortunately Mme. la Duchesse was +taking Maurice thoroughly to task. She asked innumerable questions, and +would not spare him the relation of a single detail. + +"Tell us all about it from the beginning, Maurice," she said. "Where did +you first meet the rogue?" + +And Maurice--weary and ashamed--was forced to embark on a minute account +of adventures that were lies from beginning to end: he had stumbled +across the wayside hostelry on a lonely by-path: he had found it full of +cut-throats: he had stalked and waylaid their chief in his own room, +and forced him to give up the money by the weight of his fists. + +It was paltry and pitiable: nevertheless, St. Genis, as he warmed to his +tale, lost the shame of it; only wrath remained with him: anger that he +should be forced into this despicable role through the intrigues of a +rival. + +In his heart he was already beginning to find innumerable excuses for +his cowardice: and his rage and hatred grew against Clyffurde as +Madame's more and more persistent questions taxed his imagination almost +to exhaustion. + +When, after half an hour of this wearying cross-examination, Madame at +last granted him a respite, he made a pretext of urgent business at M. +le Comte d'Artois' headquarters and took his leave of the ladies. He +waited in vain hope that the Duchesse's tact would induce her to leave +him alone for a moment with Crystal. Madame stuck obstinately to her +chair and was blind and deaf to every hint of appeal from him, whilst +Crystal, who was singularly absorbed and had lent but a very indifferent +ear to his narrative, made no attempt to detain him. + +She gave him her hand to kiss, just as Madame had done; it lay hot and +moist in his grasp. + +"Crystal," he continued to murmur as his lips touched her fingers, "I +love you . . . I worked for you . . . it is not my fault that I failed." + +She looked at him kindly and sympathetically through her tears, and gave +his hand a gentle little pressure. + +"I am sure it was not your fault," she replied gently, "poor Maurice. +. . ." + +It was not more than any kind friend would say under like circumstances, +but to a lover every little word from the beloved has a significance of +its own, every look from her has its hidden meaning. Somewhat satisfied +and cheered Maurice now took his final leave: + +"Does M. le Comte propose to continue his journey to Paris?" he asked at +the last. + +"Oh, yes!" Crystal replied, "he could not stay away while he feels that +His Majesty may have need of him. Oh, Maurice!" she added suddenly, +forgetting her absorption, her wrath against Clyffurde, her own +disappointment--everything--in face of the awful possible calamity, and +turning anxious, appealing eyes upon the young man, "you don't think, do +you, that that abominable usurper will succeed in ousting the King once +more from his throne?" + +And St. Genis--remembering Laffray and Grenoble, remembering what was +going on in Lyons at this moment, the silent grumblings of the troops, +the defaced white cockades, the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which he +himself had heard as he rode through the town--St. Genis, remembering +all this, could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders in miserable +doubt. + +When he had gone at last, Crystal's thoughts veered back once more to +Clyffurde and to his treachery. + +"What abominable deceit, _ma tante_!" she cried, and quite against her +will tears of wrath and of disappointment rose to her eyes. "What +villainy! what odious, execrable treachery!" + +Madame shrugged her shoulders and took up her knitting. + +"These days, my dear," she said with unwonted placidity, "the world is +so full of treachery that men and women absorb it by every pore." + +"But I shall not leave it at that," rejoined Crystal resolutely. "I'll +find a means of punishing that vile traitor . . . I'll make him feel the +hatred which he has so richly deserved--I shall not rest till I have +made him suffer as he makes me suffer now. . . ." + +"My dear--my dear--" protested Mme. la Duchesse, not a little shocked at +the girl's vehemence. + +Indeed, Crystal's otherwise sweet, gentle, yielding personality seemed +completely transformed: for the moment she was just a sensitive woman +who has been hit and hurt, and whose desire for retaliation is keener, +more relentless than that of a man. All the soft look in her blue eyes +had gone--they looked dark and hard--her fair curls were matted against +her damp forehead; indeed, Madame thought that for the moment all +Crystal's beauty had gone--the sweet, submissive beauty of the girl, the +grace of movement, the shy, appealing gentleness of her ways. She now +looked all determination, resentment, and, above all, revenge. + +"The dear child," sighed the Duchesse over her knitting, "it is the +English blood in her. Those people never know how to accept the +inevitable: they are always wanting to fight someone for something and +never know when they are beaten." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ASCENT OF THE CAPITOL + + +I + +And the triumphal march from the gulf of Jouan continued uninterrupted +to Paris. + +After Laffray and Grenoble, Lyons, where the silk-weavers of La +Guillotiere assembled in their thousands to demolish the barricades +which had been built up on their bridge against the arrival of the +Emperor, and watched his entry into their city waving kerchiefs and hats +in his honour, and tricolour flags and cockades fished out of cupboards, +where they had lain hidden but not forgotten for one whole year. + +After Lyons, Villefranche, where sixty thousand peasants and workmen +awaited his arrival at the foot of the tree of Liberty, on the top of +which a brass eagle, the relic of some old standard, glistened like gold +as it caught the rays of the setting sun. + +And Nevers, where the townsfolk urged the regiments as they march +through the city to tear the white cockades from their hats! And +Chalon-sur-Saone, where the workpeople commandeer a convoy of artillery +destined for the army of M. le Comte d'Artois! + +The prefets of the various departements, the bureaucracy of provinces +and cities, are not only amazed but struck with terror: + +"This is a new Revolution!" they cry in dismay. + +Yes! it is a new Revolution! the revolt of the peasantry of the poor, +the humble, the oppressed! The hatred which they felt against that old +regime which had come back to them with its old arrogance and its former +tyrannies had joined issue with the cult of the army for the Emperor who +had led it to glory, to fortune and to fame. + +The people and the army were roused by the same enthusiasm, and marched +shoulder to shoulder to join the standard of Napoleon--the little man in +the shabby hat and the grey redingote, who for them personified the +spirit of the great revolution, the great struggle for liberty and its +final victory. + +The army of the Comte d'Artois--that portion of it which remained +loyal--was powerless against the overwhelming tide of popular +enthusiasm, powerless against dissatisfaction, mutterings and constant +defections in its ranks. The army would have done well in Provence--for +Provence was loyal and royalist, man, woman and child: but Napoleon took +the route of the Alps, and avoided Provence; by the time he reached +Lyons he had an army of his own and M. le Comte d'Artois--fearing more +defections and worse defeats--had thought it prudent to retire. + +It has often been said that if a single shot had been fired against his +original little band Napoleon's march on Paris would have been stopped. +Who shall tell? There are such "ifs" in the world, which no human mind +can challenge. Certain it is that that shot was not fired. At Laffray, +Randon gave the order, but he did not raise his musket himself; on the +walls of Grenoble St. Genis, in command of the artillery and urged by +the Comte de Cambray, did not dare to give the order or to fire a gun +himself. "The men declare," he had said gloomily, "that they would blow +their officers from their own guns." + +And at Lyons there was not militiaman, a royalist, volunteer or a pariah +out of the streets who was willing to fire that first and "single shot": +and though Marshal Macdonald swore ultimately that he would do it +himself, his determination failed him at the last when surrounded by his +wavering troops he found himself face to face with the conqueror of +Austerlitz and Jena and Rivoli and a thousand other glorious fights, +with the man in the grey redingote who had created him Marshal of France +and Duke of Tarente on the battlefields of Lombardy, his comrade-in-arms +who had shared his own scanty army rations with him, slept beside him +round the bivouac fires, and round whom now there rose a cry from end to +end of Lyons: "Vive l'Empereur!" + + +II + +Victor de Marmont did not wait for the arrival of the Emperor at Lyons: +nor did he attempt to enter the city. He knew that there was still some +money in the imperial treasury brought over from Elba, and his +mind--always in search of the dramatic--had dwelt with pleasure on +thoughts of the day when the Emperor, having entered Fontainebleau, or +perhaps even Paris and the Tuileries, would there be met by his faithful +de Marmont, who on bended knees in the midst of a brilliant and admiring +throng would present to him the twenty-five million francs originally +the property of the Empress herself and now happily wrested from the +cupidity of royalist traitors. + +The picture pleased de Marmont's fancy: he dwelt on it with delight, he +knew that no one requited a service more amply and more generously than +Napoleon: he knew that after this service rendered there was nothing to +which he--de Marmont--young as he was, could not aspire--title, riches, +honours, anything he wanted would speedily become his, and with these to +his credit he could claim Crystal de Cambray once more. + +Oh! she would be humbled again by then, she and her father too, the +proud aristocrats, doomed once more to penury and exile, unless he--de +Marmont--came forth like the fairy prince to the beggarmaid with hands +laden with riches, ready to lay these at the feet of the woman he loved. + +Yes! Crystal de Cambray would be humbled! De Marmont, though he felt +that he loved her more and better than any man had ever loved any woman +before, nevertheless had a decided wish that she should be humbled and +suffer bitterly thereby. He felt that her pride was his only enemy: her +pride and royalist prejudices. Of the latter he thought but little: +confident of his Emperor's success, he thought that all those hot-headed +royalists would soon realise the hopelessness of their cause--rendered +all the more hopeless through its short-lived triumph of the past +year--and abandon it gradually and surely, accepting the inevitable and +rejoicing over the renewed glory which would come over France. + +As for her pride! well! that was going to be humbled, along with the +pride of the Bourbon princes, of that fatuous old king, of all those +arrogant aristocrats who had come back after years of exile, as +arrogant, as tyrannical as ever before. + +These were pleasing thoughts which kept Victor de Marmont company on his +way between Lyons and Fontainebleau. Once past Villefranche he sent the +bulk of his escort back to Lyons, where the Emperor should have arrived +by this time: he had written out a superficial report of his expedition, +which the sergeant in charge of the little troop was to convey to the +Emperor's own hands. He only kept two men with him, put himself and them +into plain, travelling clothes which he purchased at Villefranche, and +continued his journey to the north without much haste; the roads were +safe enough from footpads, he and his two men were well armed, and what +stragglers from the main royalist army he came across would be far too +busy with their own retreat and their own disappointment to pay much +heed to a civilian and seemingly harmless traveller. + +De Marmont loved to linger on the way in the towns and hamlets where the +news of the Emperor's approach had already been wafted from Grenoble, or +Lyons, or Villefranche on the wings of wind or birds, who shall say? +Enough that it had come, that the peasants, assembled in masses in their +villages, were whispering together that he was coming--the little man in +the grey redingote--l'Empereur! + +And de Marmont would halt in those villages and stop to whisper with the +peasants too: Yes! he was coming! and the whole of France was giving him +a rousing welcome! There was Laffray and Grenoble and Lyons! the army +rallied to his standard as one man! + +And de Marmont would then pass on to another village, to another town, +no longer whispering after a while, but loudly proclaiming the arrival +of the Emperor who had come into his own again. + +After Nevers he was only twenty-four hours ahead of Napoleon and his +progress became a triumphant one: newspapers, despatches had filtrated +through from Paris--news became authentic, though some of it sounded a +little wild. Wherever de Marmont arrived he was received with +acclamations as the man who had seen the Emperor, who had assisted at +the Emperor's magnificent entry into Grenoble, who could assure citizens +and peasantry that it was all true, that the Emperor would be in Paris +again very shortly and that once more there would be an end to tyranny +and oppression, to the rule of the aristocrats and a number of +incompetent and fatuous princes. + +He did not halt at Fontainebleau, for now he knew that the Court of the +Tuileries was in a panic, that neither the Comte d'Artois, nor the Duc +de Berry, nor any of the royal princes had succeeded in keeping the army +together: that defections had been rife for the past week, even before +Napoleon had shown himself, and that Marshal Ney, the bravest soldier +in France, had joined his Emperor at Auxerre. + +No! de Marmont would not halt at Fontainebleau. It was Paris that he +wanted to see! Paris, which to-day would witness the hasty flight of the +gouty and unpopular King whom it had never learned to love! Paris +decking herself out like a bride for the arrival of her bridegroom! +Paris waiting and watching, while once again on the Tuileries and the +Hotel de Ville, on the Louvre and the Luxembourg, on church towers and +government buildings the old tricolour flag waved gaily in the wind. + +He slept that night at a small hotel in the Louvre quarter, but the +whole evening he spent on the Place du Carrousel with the crowd outside +the Tuileries, watching the departure from the palace of the infirm King +of France and of his Court. The crowd was silent and obviously deeply +moved. The spectacle before it of an old, ailing monarch, driven forth +out of the home of his ancestors, and forced after an exile of three and +twenty years and a brief reign of less than one, to go back once more to +misery and exile, was pitiable in the extreme. + +Many forgot all that the brief reign had meant in disappointments and +bitter regrets, and only saw in the pathetic figure that waddled +painfully from portico to carriage door a monarch who was unhappy, +abandoned and defenceless: a monarch, too, who, in his unheroic, +sometimes grotesque person, was nevertheless the representative of all +the privileges and all the rights, of all the dignity and majesty +pertaining to the most ancient ruling dynasty in Europe, as well as of +all the humiliations and misfortunes which that same dynasty had +endured. + + +III + +It is late in the evening of March 20th. A thin mist is spreading from +the river right over Paris, and from the Place du Carrousel the lighted +windows of the Tuileries palace appear only like tiny, dimly-flickering +stars. + +Here an immense crowd is assembled. It has waited patiently hour after +hour, ever since in the earlier part of the afternoon a courier has come +over from Fontainebleau with the news that the Emperor is already there +and would be in Paris this night. + +It is the same crowd which twenty-four hours ago shed a tear or two in +sympathy for the departing monarch: now it stands here--waiting, +excited, ready to cheer the return of a popular hero--half-forgotten, +wildly acclaimed, madly welcomed, to be cursed again, and again +forgotten so soon. It was a heterogeneous crowd forsooth! made up in +great part of the curious, the idle, the indifferent, and in great part, +too, of the Bonapartist enthusiasts and malcontents who had groaned +under the reactionary tyranny of the Restoration--of malcontents, too, +of no enthusiasm, who were ready to welcome any change which might bring +them to prominence or to fortune. With here and there a sprinkling of +hot-headed revolutionaries, cursing the return of the Emperor as +heartily as they had cursed that of the Bourbon king: and here and there +a few heart-sick royalists, come to watch the final annihilation of +their hopes. + +Victor de Marmont, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood among the crowd for a +while. He knew that the Emperor would probably not be in Paris before +night, and he loved to be in the very midst of the wave of enthusiasm +which was surging higher and ever higher in the crowd, and hear the +excited whispers, and to feel all round him, wrapping him closely like a +magic mantle of warmth and delight, the exaltation of this mass of men +and women assembled here to acclaim the hero whom he himself adored. +Closely buttoned inside his coat he had scraps of paper worth the ransom +of any king. + +Among the crowd, too, Bobby Clyffurde moved and stood. He was one of +those who watched this enthusiasm with a heart filled with forebodings. +He knew well how short this enthusiasm would be: he knew that within a +few weeks--days perhaps--the bold and reckless adventurer who had so +easily reconquered France would realise that the Imperial crown would +never be allowed to sit firmly upon his head. None in this crowd knew +better that the present pageant and glory would be short-lived, than did +this tall, quiet Englishman who listened with half an ear and a smile of +good-natured contempt to the loud cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose +spontaneously whenever the sound of horses' hoofs or rattles of wheels +from the direction of Fontainebleau suggested the approach of the hero +of the day. None knew better than he that already in far-off England +another great hero, named Wellington, was organising the forces which +presently would crush--for ever this time--the might and ambitions of +the man whom England had never acknowledged as anything but a usurper +and a foe. + +And closely buttoned inside his coat Clyffurde had a letter which he had +received at his lodgings in the Alma quarter only a few moments before +he sallied forth into the streets. That letter was an answer to a +confidential enquiry of his own sent to the Chief of the British Secret +Intelligence Department resident in Paris, desiring to know if the +Department had any knowledge of a vast sum of money having come +unexpectedly into the hands of His Majesty the King of France, before +his flight from the capital. + +The answer was an emphatic "No!" The Intelligence Department knew of no +such windfall. But its secret agents reported that Victor de Marmont, +captain of the usurper's body-guard, had waylaid M. le Marquis de St. +Genis on the high road not far from Lyons. The escort which had +accompanied Victor de Marmont on that occasion had been dismissed by him +at Villefranche, and the information which the British Secret +Intelligence Department had obtained came through the indiscretion of +the sergeant in charge of the escort, who had boasted in a tavern at +Lyons that he had actually searched M. de St. Genis and found a large +sum of money upon him, of which M. de Marmont promptly took possession. + +When Bobby Clyffurde received this letter and first mastered its +contents, the language which he used would have done honour to a Toulon +coal-heaver. He cursed St. Genis' stupidity in allowing himself to be +caught; but above all he cursed himself for his soft-heartedness which +had prompted him to part with the money. + +The letter which brought him the bad news seemed to scorch his hand, and +brand it with the mark of folly. He had thought to serve the woman he +loved, first, by taking the money from her, since he knew that Victor de +Marmont with an escort of cavalry was after it, and, secondly, by +allowing the man whom she loved to have the honour and glory of laying +the money at his sovereign's feet. The whole had ended in a miserable +fiasco, and Clyffurde felt sore and wrathful against himself. + +And also among the crowd--among those who came, heartsick, hopeless, +forlorn, to watch the triumph of the enemy as they had watched the +humiliation of their feeble King--was M. le Comte de Cambray with his +daughter Crystal on his arm. + +They had come, as so many royalists had done, with a vague hope that in +the attitude of the crowd they would discern indifference rather than +exultation, and that the active agents of their party, as well as those +of England and of Prussia, would succeed presently in stirring up a +counter demonstration, that a few cries of "Vive le roi!" would prove to +the army at least and to the people of Paris that acclamations for the +usurper were at any rate not unanimous. + +But the crowd was not indifferent--it was excited: when first the Comte +de Cambray and Crystal arrived on the Place du Carrousel, a number of +white cockades could be picked out in the throng, either worn on a hat +or fixed to a buttonhole, but as the afternoon wore on there were fewer +and fewer of these small white stars to be seen: the temper of the crowd +did not brook this mute reproach upon its enthusiasm. One or two +cockades had been roughly torn and thrown into the mud, and the wearer +unpleasantly ill-used if he persisted in any royalistic demonstration. +Crystal, when she saw these incidents, was not the least frightened. She +wore her white cockade openly pinned to her cloak; she was far too +loyal, far too enthusiastic and fearless, far too much a woman to yield +her convictions to the popular feeling of the moment; and she looked so +young and so pretty, clinging to the arm of her father, who looked a +picturesque and harmless representative of the fallen regime, that with +the exception of a few rough words, a threat here and there, they had so +far escaped active molestation. + +And the crowd presently had so much to see that it ceased to look out +for white cockades, or to bait the sad-eyed royalists. A procession of +carriages, sparse at first and simple in appearance, had begun to make +its way from different parts of the town across the Place du Carrousel +toward the Tuileries. They arrived very quietly at first, with as little +clatter as possible, and drew up before the gates of the Pavillon de +Flore with as little show as may be: the carriage doors were opened +unostentatiously, and dark, furtive figures stepped out from them and +almost ran to the door of the palace, so eager were they to escape +observation, their big cloaks wrapped closely round them to hide the +court dress or uniform below. + +Ministers, dignitaries of the Court, Councillors of State; majordomos, +stewards, butlers, body-servants; they all came one by one or in groups +of twos or threes. As the afternoon wore on these arrivals grew less and +less furtive; the carriages arrived with greater clatter and to-do, with +finer liveries and more gorgeous harness. Those who stepped out of the +carriage doors were no longer quick and stealthy in their movements: +they lingered near the step to give an order or to chat to a friend; the +big cloak no longer concealed the gorgeous uniform below, it was allowed +to fall away from the shoulder, so as to display the row of medals and +stars, the gold embroidery, the magnificence of the Court attire. + +The Emperor had left Fontainebleau! Within an hour he would be in Paris! +Everyone knew it, and the excitement in the crowd that watched grew more +and more intense. Last night these same men and women had looked with +mute if superficial sympathy on the departure of Louis XVIII. through +these same palace gates: many eyes then became moist at the sight, as +memory flew back twenty years to the murdered king--his flight to +Varennes, his ignominious return, his weary Calvary from prison to court +house and thence to the scaffold. And here was his brother--come back +after twenty-three years of exile, acclaimed by the populace, cheered by +foreign soldiers--Russians, Austrians, English--anything but French--and +driven forth once more to exile after the brief glory that lasted not +quite a year. + +But this the crowd of to-day has already forgotten with the completeness +peculiar to crowds: men, women, and children too, they are no longer +mute, they talk and they chatter; they scream with astonishment and +delight whenever now from more and more carriages, more and more +gorgeously dressed folk descend. The ladies are beginning to arrive: the +wives of the great Court dignitaries, the ladies of the Court and +household of the still-absent Empress: they do not attempt to hide their +brilliant toilettes, their bare shoulders and arms gleam through the +fastenings of their cloaks, and diamonds sparkle in their hair. + +The crowd has recognised some of the great marshals, the men who in the +Emperor's wake led the French troops to victory in Italy, in Prussia, in +Austria: Maret Duc de Bassano is there and the crowd cheers him, the Duc +de Rovigo, Marshal Davout, Prince d'Eckmuehl, General Excelmans, one of +Napoleon's oldest companions at arms, the Duke of Gaeta, the Duke of +Padua, a crowd of generals and superior officers. It seems like the +world of the Sleeping Beauty and of the Enchanted Castle--which a kiss +has awakened from its eleven months' sleep. The Empire had only been +asleep, it had dreamed a bad dream, wherein its hero was a prisoner and +an exile: now it is slowly wakening back to life and to reality. + +The night wears on: darkness and fog envelop Paris more and more. +Excitement becomes akin to anxiety. If the Emperor did leave +Fontainebleau when the last courier said that he did, he should +certainly be here by now. There are strange whispers, strange waves of +evil reports that spread through the waiting crowd: "A royalist fanatic +had shot at the Emperor! the Emperor was wounded! he was dead!" + +Oh! the excitement of that interminable wait! + +At last, just as from every church tower the bells strike the hour of +nine, there comes the muffled sound of a distant cavalcade: the sound of +horses galloping and only half drowning that of the rumbling of coach +wheels. + +It comes from the direction of the embankment, and from far away now is +heard the first cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" The noise gets louder and more +clear, the cries are repeated again and again till they merge into one +great, uproarious clamour. Like the ocean when lashed by the wind, the +crowd surges, moves, rises on tiptoe, subsides, falls back to crush +forward again and once more to retreat as a heavy coach, surrounded by +a thousand or so of mounted men, dashes over the cobbles of the Place du +Carrousel, whilst the clamour of the crowd becomes positively deafening. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" + +The officers in the courtyard of the palace rush to the coach as it +draws up at the Pavillon de Flore: one of them succeeds in opening the +carriage door. The Emperor is literally torn out of the carriage, +carried to the vestibule, where more officers seize him, raise him from +the crowd, bear him along, hoisted upon their shoulders, up the +monumental staircase. + +Their enthusiasm is akin to delirium: they nearly tear their hero to +pieces in their wild, mad, frantic welcome. + +"In Heaven's name, protect his person," exclaims the Duc de Vicence +anxiously; and he and Lavalette manage to get hold of the banisters and +by dint of fighting and pushing succeed in walking backwards step by +step in front of the Emperor, thus making a way for him. + +Lavalette can hardly believe his eyes, and the Duc de Vicence keeps +murmuring: "It is the Emperor! It is the Emperor!" + +And he--the little stout man in green cloth coat and white +breeches--walks up the steps of his reconquered palace like a man in a +dream: his eyes are fixed apparently on nothing, he makes no movement to +keep his too enthusiastic friends away: the smile upon his lips is +meaningless and fixed. + +"Vive l'Empereur!" vociferates the crowd. + +Vive l'Empereur for one hundred days: a few weeks of joy, a few weeks of +anxiety, a few weeks of indecision, of wavering and of doubt. Then +defeat more irrevocable than before! exile more distant! despair more +complete. + +Vive l'Empereur while we shout with excitement, while we remember the +disappointments of the past year, while we hope for better things from +a hand that has lost its cunning, a mind that has lost its power. + +Vive l'Empereur! Let him live for an hundred days, while we forget our +enthusiasm and Europe prepares its final crushing blow. Let him live +until we remember once again the horrors of war, the misery, the famine, +the devastated homes! until once more we see the maimed and crippled +crawling back wearily from the fields of glory, until our ears ring with +the wails of widows and the cries of the fatherless. + +Then let him no longer live, for he it is who has brought this misery on +us through his will and through his ambition, and France has suffered so +much from the aftermath of glory, that all she wants now is rest. + + +IV + +Gradually--but it took some hours--the tumult and excitement in and +round the Tuileries subsided. The Emperor managed to shut himself up in +his study and to eat some supper in peace, while gradually outside his +windows the crowd--who had nothing more to see and was getting tired of +staring up at glittering panes of glass--went back more or less quietly +to their homes. + +Only in the courtyard of the Tuileries, the troopers of the cavalry +which had formed the Emperor's escort from Fontainebleau tethered their +horses to the railings, rolled themselves in their mantles and slept on +the pavements, giving to this portion of the palace the appearance of a +bivouac in a place which has been taken by storm. + +One of the last to leave the Place du Carrousel was Bobby Clyffurde. The +crowd was thin by this time, but it was the tired and the +indifferent--the merely curious--who had been the first to go. Those who +remained to the last were either the very enthusiastic who wanted to set +up a final shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" after their idol had entirely +disappeared from their view, or the malcontents who would not lose a +moment to discuss their grievances, to murmur covert threats, or suggest +revolt in some shape or form or kind. + +Bobby slipped quickly past several of these isolated groups, indifferent +to the dark and glowering looks of suspicion that were cast at his tall, +muscular figure with the firm step and the defiant walk that was vaguely +reminiscent of the British troops that had been in Paris last year at +the time of the foreign occupation. He had skirted the Tuileries gardens +and was walking along the embankment which now was dark and solitary +save for some rowdy enthusiasts on ahead who, arm in arm in two long +rows that reached from the garden railings to the parapet, were +obstructing the roadway and shouting themselves hoarse with "Vive +l'Empereur!" + +Clyffurde, who was walking faster than they did, was just deliberating +in his mind whether he would turn back and go home some other way or +charge this unpleasant obstruction from the rear and risk the +consequences, when he noticed two figures still further on ahead walking +in the same direction as he himself and the rowdy crowd. + +One of these two figures--thus viewed in the distance, through the mist +and from the back--looked nevertheless like that of a woman, which fact +at once decided Bobby as to what he would do next. He sprinted toward +the crowd as fast as he could, but unfortunately he did not come up with +them in time to prevent the two unfortunate pedestrians being surrounded +by the turbulent throng which, still arm in arm and to the accompaniment +of wild shouts, had formed a ring around them and were now vociferating +at the top of raucous voices: + +"A bas la cocarde blanche! A bas! Vive l'Empereur!" + +A flickering street lamp feebly lit up this unpleasant scene. Bobby saw +the vague outline of a man and of a woman, standing boldly in the midst +of the hostile crowd while two white cockades gleamed defiantly against +the dark background of their cloaks. To an Englishman, who was a +pastmaster in the noble art of using fists and knees to advantage, the +situation was neither uncommon nor very perilous. The crowd was noisy it +is true, and was no doubt ready enough for mischief, but Clyffurde's +swift and scientific onslaught from the rear staggered and disconcerted +the most bold. There was a good deal more shouting, plenty of cursing; +the Englishman's arms and legs seemed to be flying in every direction +like the arms of a windmill; a good many thuds and bumps, a few groans, +a renewal of the attack, more thuds and groans, and the discomfited +group of roisterers fled in every direction. + +Bobby with a smile turned to the two motionless figures whom he had so +opportunely rescued from an unpleasant plight. + +"Just a few turbulent blackguards," he said lightly, as he made a quick +attempt at readjusting the set of his coat and the position of his satin +stock. "There was not much fight in them really, and . . ." + +He had, of course, lost his hat in the brief if somewhat stormy +encounter and now--as he turned--the thin streak of light from the +street-lamp fell full upon his face with its twinkling, deep-set eyes, +and the half-humorous, self-deprecatory curl of the firm mouth. + +A simultaneous exclamation came from his two proteges and stopped the +easy flow of his light-hearted words. He peered closely into the gloom +and it was his turn now to exclaim, half doubting, wholly astonished: + +"Mademoiselle Crystal . . . M. le Comte. . . ." + +"Indeed, Sir," broke in the Comte slowly, and with a voice that seemed +to be trembling with emotion, "it is to my daughter and to myself that +you have just rendered a signal and generous service. For this I tender +you my thanks, yet believe me, I pray you when I say that both she and +I would rather have suffered any humiliation or ill-usage from that +rough crowd than owe our safety and comfort to you." + +There was so much contempt, hatred even, in the tone of voice of this +old man whose manner habitually was a pattern of moderation and of +dignity that for the moment Clyffurde was completely taken aback. +Puzzlement fought with resentment and with the maddening sense that he +was anyhow impotent to avenge even so bitter an insult as had just been +hurled upon him--against a man of the Comte's years and status. + +"M. le Comte," he said at last, "will you let me remind you that the +other day when you turned me out of your house like a dishonest servant, +you would not allow me to say a single word in my own justification? The +man on whose word you condemned me then without a hearing, is a +scatter-brained braggart who you yourself must know is not a man to be +trusted and . . ." + +"Pardon me, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with perfect sangfroid, "even +if I acted on that evening with undue haste and ill-considered judgment, +many things have happened since which you yourself surely would not wish +to discuss with me, just when you have rendered me a signal service." + +"Your pardon, M. le Comte," retorted Clyffurde with equal coolness, "I +know of nothing which could possibly justify the charges which, not +later than last Sunday, you laid at my door." + +"The charge which I laid at your door then, Mr. Clyffurde, has not been +lifted from its threshold yet. I charged you with deliberately +conspiring against my King and my country all the while that you were +eating bread and salt at my table. I charged you with striving to render +assistance to that Corsican usurper whom may the great God punish, and +you yourself practically owned to this before you left my house." + +"This I did not, M. le Comte," broke in Clyffurde hotly. "As a man of +honour I give you my word, that except for my being in de Marmont's +company on the day that he posted up the Emperor's proclamation in +Grenoble, I had no hand in any political scheme." + +"And you would have me believe you," exclaimed the Comte, with +ever-growing vehemence, "when you talk of that Corsican brigand as 'the +Emperor.' Those words, Sir, are an insult, and had you not saved my +daughter and me just now from violence I would--old as I am--strike you +in the face for them." + +With an impatient sigh at the old man's hot-headed obstinacy, Clyffurde +turned with a look of appeal to Crystal, who up to now had taken no part +in the discussion: "Mademoiselle," he said gently, "will you not at +least do me justice? Cannot you see that I am clumsy at defending mine +own honour, seeing that I have never had to do it before?" + +"I only see, Monsieur," she retorted coldly, "that you are making vain +and pitiable efforts to regain my father's regard--no doubt for purposes +of your own. But why should you trouble? You have nothing more to gain +from us. Your clever comedy of a highwayman on the road has succeeded +beyond your expectations. The Corsican who now sits in the armchair +lately vacated by an infirm monarch whom you and yours helped to +dethrone, will no doubt reward you for your pains. As for me I can only +echo my father's feelings: I would ten thousand times sooner have been +torn to pieces by a rough crowd of ignorant folk than owe my safety to +your interference." + +She took her father's arm and made a movement to go: instinctively +Clyffurde tried to stop her: at her words he had flushed with anger to +the very roots of his hair. The injustice of her accusation maddened +him, but the bitter resentment in the tone of her voice, the look of +passionate hatred with which she regarded him as she spoke, positively +appalled him. + +"M. le Comte," he said firmly, "I cannot let you go like this, whilst +such horrible thoughts of me exist in your mind. England gave you +shelter for three and twenty years; in the name of my country's kindness +and hospitality toward you, I--as one of her sons--demand that you tell +me frankly and clearly exactly what I am supposed to have done to +justify this extraordinary hatred and contempt which you and +Mademoiselle Crystal seem now to have for me." + +"One of England's sons, Monsieur!" retorted the Comte equally firmly. +"Nay! you are not even that. England stands for right and for justice, +for our legitimate King and the punishment of the usurper." + +"Great God!" he exclaimed, more and more bewildered now, "are you +accusing me of treachery against mine own country? This will I allow no +man to do, not even . . ." + +"Then, Sir, I pray you," rejoined Crystal proudly, "go and seek a +quarrel with the man who has unmasked you; who caught you red-handed +with the money in your possession which you had stolen from us, who +forced you to give up what you had stolen, and whom then you and your +friend Victor de Marmont waylaid and robbed once more. Go then, Mr. +Clyffurde, and seek a quarrel with the Marquis de St. Genis, who has +already struck you in the face once and no doubt will be ready to do so +again." + +And what of Clyffurde's thoughts while the woman whom he loved with all +the strength of his lonely heart poured forth these hideous insults upon +him? Amazement, then wrath, bewilderment, then final hopelessness, all +these sensations ran riot through his brain. + +St. Genis had behaved like an abominable blackguard! this he gathered +from what she said: he had lied like a mean skunk and betrayed the man +who had rendered him an infinitely great service. Of him Clyffurde +wouldn't even think! Such despicable, crawling worms did exist on God's +earth: he knew that! but he possessed the happy faculty, the sunny +disposition that is able to pass a worm by and ignore its existence +while keeping his eyes fixed upon all that is beautiful in earth and in +the sky. Of St. Genis, therefore, he would not think; some day, perhaps, +he might be able to punish him--but not now--not while this poor, +forlorn, heartsick girl pinned her implicit faith upon that wretched +worm and bestowed on him the priceless guerdon of her love. An infinity +of pity rose in his kindly heart for her and obscured every other +emotion. That same pity he had felt for her before, a sweet, protecting +pity--gentle sister to fiercer, madder love which had perhaps never been +so strong as it was at this hour when, for the second time, he was about +to make a supreme sacrifice for her. + +That the sacrifice must be made, he already knew: knew it even when +first St. Genis' name escaped her lips. She loved St. Genis and she +believed in him, and he, Clyffurde, who loved her with every fibre of +his being, with all the passionate ardour of his lonely heart, could +serve her no better than by accepting this awful humiliation which she +put upon him. If he could have justified himself now, he would not have +done it, not while she loved St. Genis, and he--Clyffurde--was less than +nothing to her. + +What did it matter after all what she thought of him? He would have +given his life for her love, but short of that everything else was +anyhow intolerable--her contempt, her hatred? what mattered? since +to-night anyhow he would pass out of her life for ever. + +He was ready for the sacrifice--sacrifice of pride, of honour, of peace +of mind--but he did want to know that that sacrifice would be really +needed and that when made it would not be in vain: and in order to gain +this end he put a final question to her: + +"One moment, Mademoiselle," he said, "before you go will you tell me one +thing at least; was it M. de St. Genis himself who accused me of +treachery?" + +"There is no reason why I should deny it, Sir," she replied coldly. "It +was M. de St. Genis himself who gave to my father and to me a full +account of the interview which he had with you at a lonely inn, some few +kilometres from Lyons, and less than two hours after we had been +shamefully robbed on the highroad of money that belonged to the King." + +"And did M. de St. Genis tell you, Mademoiselle, that I purposed to use +that money for mine own ends?" + +"Or for those of the Corsican," she retorted impatiently. "I care not +which. Yes! Sir, M. de St. Genis told me that with his own lips and when +I had heard the whole miserable story of your duplicity and your +treachery, I--a helpless, deceived and feeble woman--did then and there +register a vow that I too would do you some grievous wrong one day--a +wrong as great as you had done not only to the King of France but to me +and to my father who trusted you as we would a friend. What you did +to-night has of course altered the irrevocableness of my vow. I owe, +perhaps, my father's life to your timely intervention and for this I +must be grateful, but . . ." + +Her voice broke in a kind of passionate sob, and it took her a moment or +two to recover herself, even while Clyffurde stood by, mute and with +well-nigh broken heart, his very soul so filled with sorrow for her that +there was no room in it even for resentment. + +"Father let us go now," Crystal said after a while with brusque +transition and in a steady voice; "no purpose can be served by further +recriminations." + +"None, my dear," said the Comte in his usual polished manner. +"Personally I have felt all along that explanations could but aggravate +the unpleasantness of the present position. Mr. Clyffurde understands +perfectly, I am sure. He had his axe to grind--whether personal or +political we really do not care to know--we are not likely ever to meet +again. All we can do now is to thank him for his timely intervention on +our behalf and . . ." + +"And brand him a liar," broke in Clyffurde almost involuntarily and with +bitter vehemence. + +"Your pardon, Monsieur," retorted the Comte coldly, "neither my daughter +nor I have done that. It is your deeds that condemn you, your own +admissions and the word of M. de St. Genis. Would you perchance suggest +that he lied?" + +"Oh, no," rejoined Clyffurde with perfect calm, "it is I who lied, of +course." + +He had said this very slowly and as if speaking with mature +deliberation: not raising his voice, nor yet allowing it to quiver from +any stress of latent emotion. And yet there was something in the tone of +it, something in the man's attitude, that suggested such a depth of +passion that, quite instinctively, the Comte remained silent and awed. +For the moment, however, Clyffurde seemed to have forgotten the older +man's presence; wounded in every fibre of his being by the woman whom he +loved so tenderly and so devotedly, he had spoken only to her, +compelling her attention and stirring--even by this simple admission of +a despicable crime--an emotion in her which she could not--would not +define. + +She turned large inquiring eyes on him, into which she tried to throw +all that she felt of hatred and contempt for him. She had meant to wound +him and it seemed indeed as if she had succeeded beyond her dearest +wish. By the dim, flickering light of the street-lamp his face looked +haggard and old. The traitor was suffering almost as much as he +deserved, almost as much--Crystal said obstinately to herself--as she +had wished him to do. And yet, at sight of him now, Crystal felt a +strong, unconquerable pity for him: the womanly instinct no doubt to +heal rather than to hurt. + +But this pity she was not prepared to show him: she wanted to pass right +out of his life, to forget once and for all that sense of warmth of the +soul, of comfort and of peace which she had felt in his presence on that +memorable evening at Brestalou. Above all, she never wanted to touch his +hand again, the hand which seemed to have such power to protect and to +shield her, when on that same evening she had placed her own in it. + +Therefore, now she took her father's arm once more: she turned +resolutely to go. One more curt nod of the head, one last look of +undying enmity, and then she would pass finally out of his life for +ever. + + +V + +How Clyffurde got back to his lodgings that night he never knew. +Crystal, after his final admission, had turned without another word from +him, and he had stood there in the lonely, silent street watching her +retreating form--on her father's arm--until the mist and gloom swallowed +her up as in an elvish grave. Then mechanically he hunted for his hat +and he, too, walked away. + +That was the end of his life's romance, of course. The woman whom he +loved with his very soul, who held his heart, his mind, his imagination +captive, whose every look on him was joy, whose every smile was a +delight, had gone out of his life for ever! She had turned away from him +as she would from a venomous snake! she hated him so cruelly that she +would gladly hurt him--do him some grievous wrong if she could. And +Clyffurde was left in utter loneliness with only a vague, foolish +longing in his heart--the longing that one day she might have her wish, +and might have the power to wound him to death--bodily just as she had +wounded him to the depth of his soul to-night. + +For the rest there was nothing more for him to do in France. King Louis +was not like to remain at Lille very long: within twenty-four hours +probably he would continue his journey--his flight--to Ghent--where once +more he would hold his court in exile, with all the fugitive royalists +rallied around his tottering throne. + +Clyffurde had already received orders from his chief at the Intelligence +Department to report himself first at Lille, then--if the King and court +had already left--at Ghent. If, however, there were plenty of men to do +the work of the Department it was his intention to give up his share in +it and to cross over to England as soon as possible, so as to take up +the first commission in the new army that he could get. England would be +wanting soldiers more urgently than she had ever done before: mother and +sisters would be well looked after: he--Bobby--had earned a fortune for +them, and they no longer needed a bread-winner now: whilst England +wanted all her sons, for she would surely fight. + +Clyffurde, who had seen the English papers that morning--as they were +brought over by an Intelligence courier--had realised that the debates +in Parliament could only end one way. + +England would not tolerate Bonaparte; she would not even tolerate his +abdication in favour of his own son. Austria had already declared her +intention of renewing the conflict and so had Prussia. England's +decision would, of course, turn the scale, and Bobby in his own mind had +no doubt which way that decision would go. + +The man whom the people of France loved, and whom his army idolised, was +the disturber of the peace of Europe. No one would believe his +protestations of pacific intentions now: he had caused too much +devastation, too much misery in the past--who would believe in him for +the future? + +For the sake of that past, and for dread of the future, he must go--go +from whence he could not again return, and Bobby Clyffurde--remembering +Grenoble, remembering Lyons, Villefranche and Nevers--could not +altogether suppress a sigh of regret for the brave man, the fine genius, +the reckless adventurer who had so boldly scaled for the second time the +heights of the Capitol, oblivious of the fact that the Tarpeian Rock was +so dangerously near. + + +VI + +At this same hour when Bobby Clyffurde finally bade adieu to all the +vague hopes of happiness which his love for Crystal de Cambray had +engendered in his heart, his whilom companion in the long ago--rival and +enemy now--Victor de Marmont, was laying a tribute of twenty-five +million francs at the feet of his beloved Emperor, and receiving the +thanks of the man to serve whom he would gladly have given his life. + +"What reward shall we give you for this service?" the Emperor had +deigned to ask. + +"The means to subdue a woman's pride, Sire, and make her thankful to +marry me," replied de Marmont promptly. + +"A title, what?" queried the Emperor. "You have everything else, you +rogue, to please a woman's fancy and make her thankful to marry you." + +"A title, Sire, would be a welcome addition," said de Marmont lightly, +"and the freedom to go and woo her, until France and my Emperor need me +again." + +"Then go and do your wooing, man, and come back here to me in three +months, for I doubt not by then the flames of war will have been kindled +against me again." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SOUND OF REVELRY BY NIGHT + + +I + +But the hand had lost its cunning, the mighty brain its indomitable +will-power. Genius was still there, but it was cramped now by +indecision--the indecision born of a sense of enmity around, suspicion +where there should have been nothing but enthusiasm, and the blind +devotion of the past. + +The man who, all alone, by the force of his personality and of his +prestige had reconquered France, who had been acclaimed from the Gulf of +Jouan to the gates of the Tuileries as the saviour of France, the +people's Emperor, the beloved of the nation returned from exile, the man +who on the 20th of March had said with his old vigour and his old pride: +"Failure is the nightmare of the feeble! impotence, the refuge of the +poltroon!" the man who had marched as in a dream from end to end of +France to find himself face to face with the whole of Europe in league +against him, with a million men being hastily armed to hurl him from his +throne again, now found the south of France in open revolt, the west +ready to rise against him, the north in accord with his enemies. + +He has not enough men to oppose to those millions, his arsenals are +depleted, his treasury empty. And after he has worked sixteen hours out +of the twenty-four at reorganising his army, his finances, his machinery +of war, he has to meet a set of apathetic or openly hostile ministers, +constitutional representatives, men who are ready to thwart him at every +turn, jealous only of curtailing his power, of obscuring his ascendency, +of clipping the eagle's wings, ere it soars to giddy heights again. And +to them he must give in, from them he must beg, entreat: give up, give +up all the time one hoped-for privilege after another, one power after +another. + +He yields the military dictatorship to other--far less competent--hands; +he grants liberty to the press, liberty of debate, liberty of election, +liberty to all and sundry: but suspicion lurks around him; they suspect +his sincerity, his goodwill, they doubt his promises, they mistrust that +dormant Olympian ambition which has precipitated France into humiliation +and brought the strangers' armies within her gates. + +The same man was there--the same genius who even now could have mastered +all the enemies of France and saved her from her present subjection and +European insignificance, but the men round him were not the same. He, +the guiding hand, was still there, but the machinery no longer worked as +it had done in the past before disaster had blunted and stiffened the +temper of its steel. + +The men around the Emperor were not now as they were in the days of Jena +and Austerlitz and Wagram. Their characters and temperaments had +undergone a change. Disaster had brought on slackness, the past year of +constant failures had engendered a sense of discouragement and +demoralisation, a desire to argue, to foresee difficulties, to foretell +further disasters. + +He saw it all well enough--he the man with the far-seeing mind and the +eagle-eyes that missed nothing--neither a look of indecision, nor an +indication of revolt. He saw it all but he could do nothing, for he too +felt overwhelmed by that wave of indecision and of discouragement. Faith +in himself, energy in action, had gone. He envisaged the possibility of +a vanquished and dismembered France. + +Above all he had lost belief in his Star: the star of his destiny which, +rising over the small island of Corsica, shining above a humble +middle-class home, had guided him step by step, from triumph to triumph, +to the highest pinnacle of glory to which man's ambition has ever +reached. + +That star had been dimmed once, its radiance was no longer unquenchable: +"Destiny has turned against me," he said, "and in her I have lost my +most valuable helpmate." + +And now the whole of Europe had declared war against him, and in a final +impassioned speech he turns to his ministers and to the representatives +of his people: "Help me to save France!" he begs, "afterwards we'll +settle our quarrels." + +One hundred days after he began his dream-march, from the gulf of Jouan +in the wake of his eagle, he started from Paris with the Army which he +loved and which alone he trusted, to meet Europe and his fate on the +plains of Belgium. + + +II + +And in Brussels they danced, danced late into the night. No one was to +know that within the next three days the destinies of the whole world +would be changed by the hand of God. + +And how to hide from timid eyes the sense of this oncoming destiny? how +to stop for a few brief hours the flow of women's tears? + +The ball should have been postponed--Her Grace of Richmond was willing +that it should be so. How could men and women dance, flirt and make +merry while Death was already reckoning the heavy toll of brave young +lives which she would demand on the morrow? But who knows England who +has not seen her at the hour of danger? + +Put off the ball? why! perish the thought! The timid townsfolk of +Brussels or the ladies of the French royalist party who were in great +numbers in the city might think there was something amiss. What was +amiss? some gallant young men would go on the morrow and conquer or die +for England's honour! there's nothing amiss in that! Why put off the +ball? The girls would be disappointed--they who like to dance--why +should they be deprived of partners, just because some of them would lie +dead on the battlefield to-morrow? + +Open your salons, Madame la Duchesse! The soldiers of Britain will come +to your ball. They will laugh and dance and flirt to-night as bravely as +they will die to-morrow. + +The sands of life are running low for them: in a few hours perhaps a +bullet, a bayonet, who knows? will cut short that merry laugh, still the +gallant heart that even now takes a last and fond farewell from a +blushing partner, after a waltz, in a sweet-scented alcove with sounds +of soft and distinct music around that stills the coming cannon's roar. + +Gordon and Lancey, Crawford and Ponsonby and Halkett, aye! and +Wellington too! What immortal names are spoken by the flunkeys to-night +as they usher in these brave men into the hostess' presence. The +ballroom is brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of wax candles, the +women have put on their pretty dresses, displaying bare arms and +dazzling shoulders; the men are in showy uniforms, glittering with stars +and decorations: Orange, Brunswick, Nassau, English, Belgian, Scottish, +French, all are there gay with gold and silver braid. + +The confusion of tongues is greater surely than round the tower of +Babel. German and French and English, Scots accent and Irish brogue, +pedantic Hanoverian and lusty Brunswick tones, all and more of these +varied sounds mingle with one another, and half-drown by their clamour +the sweet strains of the Viennese orchestra that discoursed dreamy +waltzes from behind a bower of crimson roses; whilst ponderous Flemish +wives of city burgomasters gaze open-mouthed at the elegant ladies of +the old French noblesse, and shy Belgian misses peep enviously at their +more self-reliant English friends. + +And the hostess smiles equally graciously to all: she is ready with a +bright word of welcome for everybody now, just as she will be anon with +a mute look of farewell, when--at ten o'clock--by Wellington's commands, +one by one, one officer after another will slip out of this hospitable +house, out into the rainy night, for a hurried visit to lodgings or +barracks to collect a few necessaries, and then to work--to horse or +march--to form into the ranks of battle as they had formed for the +quadrille--squares to face the enemy--advance, deploy as they had done +in the mazes of the dance! to fight as they had danced! to give their +life as they had given a kiss. + +Bobby Clyffurde only saw Crystal de Cambray from afar. He had his +commission in Colin Halkett's brigade; his orders were the same as those +of many others to-night: to put in an appearance at Her Grace's ball, to +dispel any fears that might be confided to him through a fair partner's +lips: to show confidence, courage and gaiety, and at ten o'clock to +report for duty. + +But the crowd in the ball-room was great, and Crystal de Cambray was the +centre of a very close and exclusive little crowd, as indeed were all +the ladies of the old French noblesse, who were here in their numbers. +They had left their country in the wake of their dethroned king and +despite the anxieties and sorrows of the past three months, while the +star of the Corsican adventurer seemed to shine with renewed splendour, +and that of the unfortunate King of France to be more and more on the +wane, they had somehow filled the sleepy towns of Belgium--Ghent, +Brussels, Charleroi--with the atmosphere of their own elegance and their +unimpeachable good taste. + +Clyffurde knew that the Comte de Cambray had settled in Brussels with +his daughter and sister, pending the new turn in the fortunes of his +cause: the English colony there provided the royalist fugitives with +many friends, and Ghent was already overfull with the immediate +entourage of the King. But Bobby had never met either the Comte or +Crystal again. + +He had crossed over to England almost directly after that final and +fateful interview with them: he had obtained his commission and was back +again in Belgium--as a fighting man, ready for the work which was +expected from Britain's sons by the whole of Europe now. + +And to-night he saw her again. His instinct, intuition, prescience, what +you will, had told him that he would meet her here--and to his weary +eyes, when first he caught sight of her across the crowded room, she had +never seemed more exquisite, nor more desirable. She was dressed all in +white, with arms and shoulders bare, her fair hair dressed in the quaint +mode of the moment with a high comb and a multiplicity of curls. She had +a bunch of white roses in her belt and carried a shawl of gossamer lace +that encircled her shoulders, like a diaphanous cobweb, through which +gleamed the shimmering whiteness of her skin. + +She did not see him of course: he was only one of so many in a crowd of +English officers who were about to fight and to die for her country and +her cause as much as for their own. But to him she was the only living, +breathing person in the room--all the others were phantoms or puppets +that had no tangible existence for him save as a setting, a background +for her. + +And poor Bobby would so gladly have thrown all pride to the winds for +the right to run straight to her across the width of the room, to fall +at her feet, to encircle her knees, and to wring from her a word of +comfort or of trust. So strong was this impulse, that for one moment it +seemed absolutely irresistible; but the next she had turned to Maurice +de St. Genis, who was never absent from her side, and who seemed to +hover over her with an air of proprietorship and of triumphant mastery +which caused poor Bobby to grind his heel into the oak floor, and to +smother a bitter curse which had risen insistent to his lips. + + +III + +Madame la Duchesse d'Agen spoke to him once, while he stood by watching +Crystal's dainty form walking through the mazes of a quadrille with her +hand in that of St. Genis. + +"They look well matched, do they not, Mr. Clyffurde?" Madame said in +broken English and with something of her usual tartness; "and you? are +you not going to recognise old friends, may I ask?" + +He turned abruptly, whilst the hot blood rushed up to his cheek, so +sudden had been the wave of memory which flooded his brain, at the sound +of Madame's sharp voice. Now he stooped and kissed the slender little +hand which was being so cordially held out to him. + +"Old friends, Madame la Duchesse?" he queried with a quick sigh of +bitterness. "Nay! you forget that it was as a traitor and a liar that +you knew me last." + +"It was as a young fool that I knew you all the time," she retorted +tartly, even though a kindly look and a kindly smile tempered the +gruffness of her sally. "The male creature, my dear Mr. Clyffurde," she +added, "was intended by God and by nature to be a selfish beast. When he +ceases to think of himself, he loses his bearings, flounders in a +quagmire of unprofitable heroism which benefits no one, and generally +behaves like a fool." + +"Did I do all that?" asked Clyffurde with a smile. + +"All of it and more. And look at the muddle you have made of things. +Crystal has never got over that miserably aborted engagement of hers to +de Marmont, and is no happier now with Maurice de St. Genis than she +would have been with . . . well! with anybody else who had had the good +sense to woo and win her in a straightforward, proper and selfish +masculine way." + +"Mademoiselle de Cambray, I understand," rejoined Clyffurde stiffly, "is +formally affianced now to M. de St. Genis." + +"She is not formally affianced, as you so pedantically and affectedly +put it, my friend," replied Madame with her accustomed acerbity. "But +she probably will marry him, if he comes out of this abominable war +alive, and if the King of France . . . whom may God protect--comes into +his own again. For His Majesty has taken those two young jackanapes +under his most gracious protection, and has promised Maurice a lucrative +appointment at his court--if he ever has a court again." + +"Then Mademoiselle de Cambray must be very happy, for which--if I dare +say so--I am heartily rejoiced." + +"So am I," said the Duchesse drily, "but let me at the same time tell +you this: I have always known that Englishmen were peculiarly idiotic in +certain important matters of life, but I must say that I had no idea +idiocy could reach the boundless proportions which it has done in your +case. Well!" she added with sudden gentleness, "farewell for the +present, mon preux chevalier: it is not too late, remember, to bear in +mind certain old axioms both of chivalry and of commonsense--the most +obvious of which is that nothing is gained by sitting open-mouthed, +whilst some one else gets the largest helpings at supper. And if it is +any comfort to you to know that I never believed St. Genis' story of +lonely inns, of murderous banditti and whatnots, well then, I give you +that information for what you may choose to make of it." + +And with a final friendly nod and a gentle pressure of her aristocratic +hand on his, which warmed and comforted Bobby's sore heart, she turned +away from him and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. + + +IV + +In spite of rain and blustering wind outside the fine ballroom--as the +evening progressed--became unpleasantly hot. Dancing was in full swing +and the orchestra had just struck up the first strains of that +inspiriting new dance--the latest importation from Vienna--a dreamy +waltz of which dowagers strongly disapproved, deeming it licentious, +indecent, and certainly ungraceful, but which the young folk delighted +in, and persisted in dancing, defying the mammas and all the +proprieties. + +Maurice de St. Genis after the last quadrille had led Crystal away from +the ballroom to a small boudoir adjoining it, where the cool air from +outside fanned the curtains and hangings and stirred the leaves and +petals of a bank of roses that formed a background to a couple of +seats--obviously arranged for the convenience of two persons who desired +quiet conversation well away from prying eyes and ears. + +Here Crystal had been sitting with Maurice for the past quarter of an +hour, while from the ballroom close by came as in a dream to her the +gentle lilt of the waltz, and from behind her, a cluster of +sweet-scented crimson roses filled the air with their fragrance. Crystal +didn't feel that she wanted to talk, only to sit here quietly with the +sound of the music in her ears and the scent of roses in her nostrils. +Maurice sat beside her, but he did not hold her hand. He was leaning +forward with his elbows on his knees and he talked much and earnestly, +the while she listened half absently, like one in a dream. + +She had often heard, in the olden days in England, her aunt speak of the +strange doings of that Doctor Mesmer in Paris who had even involved +proud Marie Antoinette in an unpleasant scandal with his weird +incantations and wizard-like acts, whereby people--sensible women and +men--were sent at his will into a curious torpor, which was neither +sleep nor yet wakefulness, and which produced a yet more strange sense +of unreality and dreaminess, and visions of things unsubstantial and +unearthly. + +And sitting here surrounded with roses and with that languorous lilt in +her ear, Crystal felt as if she too were under the influence of some +unseen Mesmer, who had lulled the activity of her brain into a kind of +wakeful sleep even while her senses remained keenly, vitally on the +alert. She knew, for instance, that Maurice spoke of the coming +struggle, the final fight for King and country. He had been enrolled in +a Nassau regiment, under the command of the Prince of Orange: he +expected to be in the thick of a fight to-morrow. "Bonaparte never +waits," Crystal heard him say quite distinctly, "he is always ready to +attack. Audacity and a bold use of his artillery were always his most +effectual weapons." + +And he went on to tell her of his own plans, his future, his hopes: he +spoke of the possibility of death and of this being a last farewell. +Crystal tried to follow him, tried to respond when he spoke of his love +for her--a love, the strength of which--he said--she would never be able +to gauge. + +"If it were not for the strength of my love for you, Crystal," he said +almost fiercely, "I could not bear to face possible death to-morrow +. . . not without telling you . . . not without making reparation for my +sin." + +And still in that curious trance-like sense of aloofness, Crystal +murmured vaguely: + +"Sin, Maurice? What sin do you mean?" + +But he did not seem to give her a direct reply: he spoke once more only +of his love. "Love atones for all sins!" he reiterated once or twice +with passionate earnestness. "Even God puts Love above everything on +earth. Love is an excuse for everything. Love justifies everything. +Such love as I have for you, Crystal, makes everything else--even sin, +even cowardice--seem insignificant and meaningless." + +She agreed with what he said, for indeed she felt too tired to argue the +point, or even to get his sophistry into her head. Strangely enough she +felt out of tune with him to-night--with him--Maurice--the lover of her +girlhood, the man from whom she had parted with such desperate heartache +three months ago, in the avenue at Brestalou. Then it had seemed as if +the world could never hold any happiness for her again, once Maurice had +gone out of her life. Now he had come back into it. Chance and the +favour of the King had once more made a future happy union with him +possible. She ought to have been supremely happy, yet she was out of +tune. His passionate words of love found only a cold response in her +heart. + +For the past three months she had constantly been at war with her own +self for this: she hated and despised herself for that numbness of the +heart which had so unaccountably taken all the zest and the joy out of +her life. Does one love one day and become indifferent the next? What +had become of the girlish love that had invested Maurice de St. Genis +with the attributes of a hero? What had he done that the pedestal on +which her ideality had hoisted him should have proved of such brittle +clay? + +He was still the gallant, high-born, well-bred gentleman whom she had +always known; he was on the eve of fighting for his King and country, +ready to give his life for the same cause which she loved so ardently; +he was even now speaking tender words of love and of farewell. Yet she +was out of tune with him. His words of Love almost irritated her, for +they dragged her out of that delicious dream-like torpor which +momentarily peopled the world for her with gold-headed, white-winged +mysterious angels, and filled the air with soft murmurings and sweet +sounds, and a divine fragrance that was not of this earth. + +It must have been that she grew very sleepy--probably the heat weighed +her eyelids down--certainly she found it impossible to keep her eyes +open, and Maurice apparently thought that she felt faint. Always in the +same vague way she heard him making suggestions for her comfort: "Could +he get her some wine?" or "Should he try and find Madame la Duchesse?" + +Then she realised how she longed for a little rest, for perfect +solitude, for perfect freedom to give herself over to the sweet torpor +which paralysed her brain and limbs--tired, sleepy, or under the subtle +influence of some mysterious agency--she did not know which she was; but +she did know that she would have given everything she could at this +moment for a few minutes' complete solitude. + +So she contrived to smile and to look up almost gaily into Maurice's +anxious face: "I think really, Maurice," she said, "I am just a little +bit sleepy. If I could remain alone for five minutes, I would go +honestly to sleep and not be ashamed of myself. Could you . . . could +you just leave me for five or ten minutes? . . . and . . . and, Maurice, +will you draw that screen a little nearer? . . ." she added, affecting a +little yawn; "nobody can see me then . . . and really, really I shall be +all right . . . if I could have a few minutes' quiet sleep." + +"You shall, Crystal, of course you shall," said Maurice, eager and +anxious to do all that she wanted. He arranged a cushion behind her +head, put a footstool to her feet and pulled the screen forward so that +now--where she sat--no one could see her from the ballroom, and as in +response to repeated encores from the dancers, the orchestra had +embarked upon a new waltz, she was not likely to be disturbed. + +"I'll try and find Mme. la Duchesse," he said after he had assured +himself that she was quite comfortable, "and tell her that you are quite +well, but must not be disturbed." + +She caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze. + +"You are kind, Maurice," she murmured. + +She felt exactly like a tired child, now that she had been made so +comfortable, and she liked Maurice so much, oh! so much! no brother +could have been dearer. + +"You won't go way without waking me, Maurice," she said as he bent down +to kiss her. + +"No, no, of course not," he replied; "it still wants a quarter before +ten." + +The screen shut off all the glare from the candles. The sense of +isolation was complete and delicious: the roses smelt very sweet, the +soft strains of the waltz sounded like elfin music. + + +V + +Like elfin music--tender, fitful, dreamy!--an exquisite languor stole +into Crystal's limbs. She was not asleep, yet she was in dreamland--all +alone in semi-darkness, that was restful and soothing, and with the +fragrance of crimson roses in her nostrils and their velvety petals +brushing against her cheek. + +Like elfin music!--sweet strains of infinite sadness--the tune of the +Infinite mingling with the semblance of reality! + +Like elfin music--or like the voice of a human being in pain--the note +of sadness became the only real note now! + +What really happened after this Crystal never rightly knew. Whenever in +the future her memory went back to this hour, she could not be sure +whether in truth she had been waking or dreaming, or at what precise +moment she became fully conscious of a presence close beside her--just +behind the bank of roses--and of a voice--low, earnest, quivering with +passionate emotion--that reached her ear as if through the tender +melodies played by the orchestra. + +It almost seemed to her--when she thought over all the circumstances in +her mind--that she must have been subtly conscious of the presence all +along--all the while that Maurice was still with her and she felt so +curiously languid, longing only for darkness and solitude. + +Something encompassed her now that she could not define: the warmth of +Love, the sense of protection and security--almost as if unseen arms, +that were strong and devoted and selfless, held her closely, shielding +her from evil and from the taint of selfish human passions. + +And presently she heard her name--whispered low and with a note of +tender appeal. + +Her eyes were closed and she paid no heed: but the appeal was once more +whispered--this time more insistently, and almost against her will she +murmured: + +"Who calls?" + +"An unfortunate whom you hate and despise, and who would have given his +life to serve you." + +"Who is it?" she reiterated. + +"A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep away from your side, and +longed for one more sound of your voice even though it uttered words +more cruel than man can stand." + +"What would you like to hear?" + +"One word of comfort to ease that terrible sting of hate which has +burned into my very soul, till every minute of life has become +unendurable agony." + +"How could I know," she asked, and now her eyes were wide open, gazing +out into nothingness, not turned yet in the direction whence that +dream-voice came: "how could I know that my hatred made you suffer or +that you cared for comfort from me?" + +"How could you know, Crystal?" the voice replied. "You could know that, +my dear, just as surely as you know that in a stormy night the sky is +dark, just as you know that when heavy clouds obscure the blue ether +above, no ray of sunshine warms the shivering earth. Just as you know +that you are beautiful and exquisite, so you knew, Crystal, that I loved +you from the deepest depths of my soul." + +"How could I guess?" + +"By that subtle sense which every human being has. And you did guess it, +Crystal, else you would not have hated me as you did." + +"I hated you because I thought you a traitor." + +"Is it too late to swear to you that my only thought was to serve you? +. . ." + +"By working against my King and country?" she retorted with just this +one brief flash of her old vehemence. + +"By working for my country and for yours. This I swear by your sweet +eyes--by your dear mouth that hurt me so cruelly that evening--I swear +it by the damnable agony which you made me endure . . . by the abject +cowardice which dragged me to your side now like a whining wretch that +craves for a crumb of comfort . . . by all that you have made me suffer. +. . . Crystal, I swear to you that I was never false . . . false, great +God! when with every drop of my blood, with every fibre of my heart, +with every nerve, every sinew, every thought I love you." + +The voice was so low, never above a whisper, and all around her Crystal +felt again that delicious sense of warmth--the breath of Love that +brings man's heart so near to God--the sense of security in a man's +all-encompassing Love which women prize above everything else on earth. + +The music was just an accompaniment to that low, earnest whispering; the +soft strains of the violins made it still seem like a voice that comes +through a veil of dreams. Instinctively Crystal began to hum the +waltz-tune and her little head with its quaint coronet of fair curls +beat time to the languid lilt. + +"Will you dance with me, Crystal?" + +"No! no!" she protested. + +"Just once--to-night. To-morrow we fight--let us dance to-night." + +And before she could protest further, her will seemed to fall away from +her: she knew that her father, her aunt would be angry, that--as like as +not--Maurice would make a scene. She knew that Maurice--to whom she had +plighted her troth--had branded this man as a liar and a traitor: her +father believed him to be a traitor, and she . . . Well! what had he +done to disprove Maurice's accusations? A few words of passionate +protestations! . . . Did they count? . . . He wore his King's +uniform--many careless adventurers did that these strenuous times! . . . + +And he wanted her to dance . . . ! how could she--Crystal de Cambray, +the future wife of the Marquis de St. Genis, the cynosure of a great +many eyes to-night--how could she show herself in public on his arm, in +a crowded ballroom? + +Yet she could not refuse. She could not. Surely it was all a dream, and +in a dream man is but the slave of circumstance and has no will of his +own. + +She was very young and loved to dance: and she had heard that Englishmen +danced well. Besides, it was all a dream. She would wake in a moment or +two and find herself sitting quietly among the roses with Maurice beside +her, telling her of his love, and of their happy future together. + + +VI + +But in the meanwhile the dream was lasting. Her partner was a perfect +dancer, and this new, delicious waltz--inspiriting yet languorous, +rhythmical and half barbaric--sent a keen feeling of joy and of zest +into Crystal's whole being. + +She was not conscious of the many stares that were levelled at her as +she suddenly appeared among the crowd in the ballroom, her face flushed +with excitement, her perfect figure moving with exquisite grace to the +measure of the dance. + +The last dance together! + +A few moments before, Clyffurde had made his way to the small boudoir in +search of fresh air, and had withdrawn to a window embrasure away from a +throng that maddened him in his misery of loneliness: then he realised +that Crystal was sitting quite close to him, that St. Genis, who had +been in constant attendance on her, presently left her to herself and +that without even moving from where he was he could whisper into her ear +that which had lain so heavily on his heart that at times he had felt +that it must break under the intolerable load. + +Then as the soft strains of the music from the orchestra struck upon his +ear, the insistent whim seized him to make her dance with him, just +once--to-night. To-morrow the cannon would roar once more--to-morrow +Europe would make yet another stand against the bold adventurer whom +seemingly nothing could crush. + +To-morrow a bullet--a bayonet--a sword-thrust--but to-night a last dance +together. + +Those whims come at times to those who are doomed to die. Clyffurde's +one hope of peace lay in death upon the battlefield. Life was empty now. +He had fought against the burden of loneliness left upon him when +Crystal passed finally out of his life. But the burden had proved +unconquerable. Only death could ease him of the load: for life like this +was stupid and intolerable. + +Men would die within the next few days in their hundreds and in their +thousands: men who were happy, who had wives and children, men on whose +lives Love shed its happy radiance. Then why not he? who was more lonely +than any man on earth--left lonely because the one woman who filled all +the world for him, hated him and was gone from him for ever. + +But a last dance with her to-night! The right to hold her in his arms! +this he had never done, though his muscles had often ached with the +longing to hold her. But dancing with her he could feel her against him, +clasp her closely, feel her breath against his cheek. + +She was not very tall and her head--had she chosen--could just have +rested in the hollow of his shoulder. The thought of it sent the blood +rushing hotly to his head and with his two strong hands he would at that +moment have bent a bar of iron, or smashed something to atoms, in order +to crush that longing to curse against Fate, against his destiny that +had so wantonly dangled happiness before him, only to thrust him into +utter loneliness again. + +Then he spoke to her--and finally asked for the dance. + +And now he held her, and guided her through the throng, her tiny feet +moving in unison with his. And all the world had vanished: he had her to +himself, for these few happy moments he could hold her and refuse to let +her go. He did not care--nor did she--that many curious and some angry +glances followed their every movement. Till the last bar was played, +till the final chord was struck she was absolutely his--for she had +given up her will to him. + +The last dance together! He sent his heart to her, all his heart--and +the music helped him, and the rhythm; the very atmosphere of the +room--rose-scented--helped him to make her understand. He could have +kissed her hair, so close were the heaped-up fair curls to his mouth; he +could have whispered to her, and nobody would hear: he could have told +her something at any rate, of that love which had filled his heart since +all time, not months or years since he had known her, but since all time +filling every minute of his life. He could have taught her what love +meant, thrilled her heart with thoughts of might-have-been; he could +have roused sweet pity in her soul, love's gentle mother that has the +power to give birth to Love. + +But he did not kiss her, nor did he speak: because though he was quite +sure that she would understand, he was equally sure that she could not +respond. She was not his--not his in the world of realities, at any +rate. Her heart belonged to the friend of her childhood, the only man +whom she would ever love--the man by whom he--poor Bobby!--had been +content to be defamed and vilified in order that she should remain happy +in her ideals and in her choice. So he was content only to hold her, his +arm round her waist, one hand holding hers imprisoned--she herself +becoming more and more the creature of his dreams, the angel that +haunted him in wakefulness and in sleep: immortally his bride, yet never +to be wholly his again as she was now in this heavenly moment where they +stood together within the pale of eternity. + +In this, their last dance together! + + +VII + +Far into the night, into the small hours of the morning, Crystal de +Cambray sat by the open window of her tiny bedroom in the small +apartment which her father had taken for himself and his family in the +rue du Marais. + +She sat, with one elbow resting on the window-sill, her right hand +fingering, with nervy, febrile movements, a letter which she held. +Jeanne had handed it to her when she came home from the ball: M. de St. +Genis, Jeanne explained, had given it to her earlier in the evening +. . . soon after ten o'clock it must have been . . . M. le Marquis +seemed in a great hurry, but he made Jeanne swear most solemnly that +Mademoiselle Crystal should have the letter as soon as she came home +. . . also M. le Marquis had insisted that the letter should be given to +Mademoiselle when she was alone. + +Not a little puzzled--for had she not taken fond leave of Maurice +shortly before ten o'clock, when he had told her that his orders were +to quit the ball then and report himself at once at headquarters. He had +seemed very despondent, Crystal thought, and the words which he spoke +when finally he kissed her, had in them all the sadness of a last +farewell. Crystal even had felt a tinge of remorse--when she saw how sad +he was--that she had not responded more warmly to his kiss. It almost +seemed as if her heart rebelled against it, and when he pressed her with +his accustomed passionate ardour to his breast, she had felt a curious +shrinking within herself, a desire to push him away, even though her +whole heart went out to him with pity and with sorrow. + +And now here was this letter. Crystal was a long time before she made up +her mind to open it: the paper--damp with the rain--seemed to hold a +certain fatefulness within its folds. At last she read the letter, and +long after she had read it she sat at the open window, listening to the +dreary, monotonous patter of the rain, and to the distant sounds of +moving horses and men, the rattle of wheels, the bugle calls, the +departure of the allied troops to meet the armies of the great +adventurer on the billowing plains of Belgium. + +This is what Maurice had written to her a few moments before he left; +and it must have taken him some time to pen the lengthy epistle. + + "MY BEAUTIFUL CRYSTAL, + + "I may never come back. Something tells me that my life, + such as it is--empty and worthless enough, God knows--has + nearly run its full course. But if I do come back to claim + the happiness which your love holds out for me,--I will not + face you again with so deep a stain upon mine honour. I did + not tell you before because I was too great a coward. I + could not bear to think that you would despise me--I could + not encounter the look of contempt in your eyes: so I + remained silent to the call of honour. And now I speak + because the next few hours will atone for everything. If I + come back you will forgive. If I fall you will mourn. In + either case I shall be happy that you know. Crystal! in all + my life I spoke only one lie, and that was three months + ago, when I set out to reclaim the King's money, which had + been filched from you on the high road, and returned + empty-handed. I found the money and I found the thief. No + thief he, Crystal, but just a quixotic man, who desired to + serve his country, our cause and you. That man was your + friend Mr. Clyffurde. I don't think that I was ever jealous + of him. I am not jealous of him now. Our love, Crystal, is + too great and too strong to fear rivalry from anyone. He + had taken the money from you because he knew that Victor de + Marmont, with a strong body of men to help him, would have + filched it from you for the benefit of the Corsican. He + took the money from you because he knew that neither you + nor the Comte would have listened to any warnings from him. + He took the money from you with the sole purpose of + conveying it to the King. Then I found him and taunted him, + until the temptation came to me to act the part of a coward + and a traitor. And this I did, Crystal, only because I + loved you--because I knew that I could never win you while + I was poor and in humble circumstances. I soon found out + that Clyffurde was a friend. I begged him to let me have + the money so that I might take it to the King and earn + consideration and a reward thereby. That was my sin, + Crystal, and also that I lied to you to disguise the sorry + role which I had played. Clyffurde gave me the money + because I told him how we loved one another--you and I--and + that happiness could only come to you through our mutual + love. He acted well, though in truth I meant to do him no + wrong. Later Victor de Marmont came upon me, and wrested + the money from me, and I was helpless to guard that for + which I had played the part of a coward. + + "I have eased my soul by telling you this, Crystal, and I + know that no hard thoughts of me will dwell in your mind + whilst I do all that a man can do for honour, King and + country. + + "Remember that the next few hours, perhaps, will atone for + everything, and that Love excuses all things. + + "Yours in love and sorrow, + + "MAURICE." + +The letter, crumpled and damp, remained in Crystal's hand all the while +that she sat by the open window, and the sound of moving horses and men +in the distance conjured up before her eyes mental visions of all that +to-morrow might mean. The letter was damp with her tears now, they had +fallen incessantly on the paper while she re-read it a second time and +then re-read it again. + +A quixotic man! Maurice said airily. How little he understood! How well +she--Crystal--knew what had been the motive of that quixotic action. She +had learned so much to-night in the mazes of a waltz. Now, when she +closed her eyes, she could still feel the dreamy motion with that strong +arm round her, and she could hear the sweet, languid lilt of the music, +and all the delicious elvish whisperings that reached her ear through +the monotonous cadence of the dance. Of what her heart had felt then, +she need now no longer be ashamed: all that should shame her now were +her thoughts in the past, the belief that the hand which had held hers +on that evening--long ago--in Brestalou could possibly have been the +hand of a traitor: that the low-toned voice that spoke to her so +earnestly of friendship then could ever be raised for the utterance of a +lie. + +Of such thoughts indeed she could be ashamed, and of her cruelty that +other night in Paris, when she had made him suffer so abominably through +her injustice and her contempt. + +"The next few hours, perhaps, will atone for everything," Maurice had +added. Ah, well! perhaps! But they could not erase the past; they could +not control the more distant future. Maurice would come back--Crystal +prayed earnestly that he should--but Clyffurde was gone out of her life +for ever. God alone knew how this renewed war would end! How could she +hope ever to meet a friend who had gone away determined never to see her +again? + +A last dance together! Well! they had had it! and that was the end. The +end of a sweet romance that had had no beginning. He had gone now, as +Maurice had gone, as all the men had gone who had listened to their +country's call, and she, Crystal, could not convey to him even by a +message, by a word, that she understood all that he had done for her, +all that his actions had meant of devotion, of self-effacement, of pure +and tender Love. + +A last dance together, and that had been the end. Even thoughts of him +would be forbidden her after this: for her thoughts were no longer free +of him, her heart was no longer free; her promise belonged to Maurice, +but her heart, her thoughts were no longer hers to give. + +It was all too late! too late! the next few hours might atone for the +past but they could not call it back. + +Weary and heart-sick Crystal crawled into bed when the grey light of +dawn peeped cold and shy into her room. She could not sleep, but she lay +quite still while one by one those distant sounds died away in the misty +morning. In this semi-dreamlike state it seemed to her as if she must be +able to distinguish the sound of _his_ horse's hoofs from among a +thousand others: it seemed as if something in herself must tell her +quite plainly where he was, what he did, when he got to horse, which way +he went. And presently she closed her eyes against the grey, monotonous +light, and during one brief moment she felt deliciously conscious of a +sweet, protecting presence somewhere near her, of soft whisperings of +fondness and of friendship: the sound of a dream-voice reached her ear +and once again as in the sweet-scented alcove she felt herself +murmuring: "Who calls?" and once more she heard the tender wailing as of +a stricken soul in pain: "A poor heart-broken wretch who could not keep +away from your side." + +And memory-echoes lingered round her, bringing back every sound of his +mellow voice, every look in his eyes, the touch of his hand--oh! that +exquisite touch!--and his last words before he asked her to dance: +"With every drop of my blood, with every nerve, every sinew, every +thought I love you." + +And her heart with a long-drawn-out moan of unconquerable sorrow sent +out into the still morning air its agonised call in reply: + +"Come back, my love, come back! I cannot live without you! You have +taught me what Love is--pure, selfless and protecting--you cannot go +from me now--you cannot. In the name of that Love which your tender +voice has brought into being, come back to me. Do not leave me +desolate!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TARPEIAN ROCK + + +I + +Rain, rain! all the morning! God's little tool--innocent-looking little +tool enough--for the remodelling of the destinies of this world. + +God chose to soak the earth on that day--and the formidable artillery +that had swept the plateau of Austerlitz, the vales of Marengo, the +cemetery of Eylau, was rendered useless for the time being because up in +the inscrutable kingdom of the sky a cloud had chosen to burst--or had +burst by the will of God--and water soaked the soft, spongy soil of +Belgium and the wheels of artillery wagons sank axle-deep in the mud. + +If only the ground had been dry! if only the great gambler--the genius, +the hero, call him what you will, but the gambler for all that--if only +he had staked his crown, his honour and that of Imperial France on some +other stake than his artillery! If only . . . ! But who shall tell? + +Is it indeed a cloud-burst that changed the whole destinies of Europe? +Ye materialists, ye philosophers! answer that. + +Is it to the rain that fell in such torrents until close on midday of +that stupendous 18th of June, that must be ascribed this wonderful and +all-embracing change that came over the destinies of myriads of people, +of entire nations, kingdoms and empires? Rather is it not because God +just on that day of all days chose to show this world of pigmies--great +men, valiant heroes, controlling genius and all-powerful +conquerors--the entire extent of His might--so far and no further--and +in order to show it, He selected that simple, seemingly futile means +. . . just a heavy shower of rain. + +At half-past eleven the cannon began to roar on the plains of Mont Saint +Jean,[2] but not before. Before that it had rained: rained heavily, and +the ground was soaked through, and the all-powerful artillery of the +most powerful military genius of all times was momentarily powerless. + +[Footnote 2: _i.e._ Waterloo.] + +Had it not rained so persistently and so long that same compelling +artillery would have begun its devastating work earlier in the day--at +six mayhap, or mayhap at dawn, another five, six, seven hours to add to +the length of that awful day: another five, six, seven hours wherein to +tax the tenacity, the heroic persistence of the British troops: another +five, six, seven hours of dogged resistance on the one side, of +impetuous charges on the other, before the arrival of Bluecher and his +Prussians and the turning of the scales of blind Justice against the +daring gambler who had staked his all. + +But it was only at half-past eleven that the cannon began to roar, and +the undulating plain carried the echo like a thunder-roll from heaving +billow to heaving billow till it broke against the silent majesty of the +forest of Soigne. + +Here with the forest as a background is the highest point of Mont +Saint Jean: and here beneath an overhanging elm--all day on +horseback--anxious, frigid and heroic, is Wellington--with a rain of +bullets all round him, watching, ceaselessly watching that horizon far +away, wrapped now in fog, anon in smoke and soon in gathering darkness: +watching for the promised Prussian army that was to ease the terrible +burden of that desperate stand which the British troops were bearing and +had borne all day with such unflinching courage and dogged tenacity. + +It is in vain that his aides-de-camp beg him to move away from that +perilous position. + +"My lord," cries Lord Hill at last in desperation, "if you are killed, +what are we to do?" + +"The same as I do now," replies Wellington unmoved, "hold this place to +the last man." + +Then with a sudden outburst of vehemence, that seems to pierce almost +involuntarily the rigid armour of British phlegm and British +self-control, he calls to his old comrades of Salamanca and Vittoria: + +"Boys, which of us now can think of retreating? What would England think +of us, if we do?" + +Heroic, unflinching and cool the British army has held its ground +against the overwhelming power of Napoleon's magnificent cavalry. Raw +recruits some of them, against the veterans of Jena and of Wagram! But +they have been ordered to hold the place to the last man, and in close +and serried squares they have held their ground ever since half-past +eleven this morning, while one after another the flower of Napoleon's +world-famed cavalry had been hurled against them. + +Cuirassiers, chasseurs, lancers, up they come to the charge, like +whirlwinds up the declivities of the plateau. Like a whirlwind they rush +upon those stolid, immovable, impenetrable squares, attacking from every +side, making violent, obstinate, desperate onsets upon the stubborn +angles, the straight, unshakable walls of red coats; slashing at the +bayonets with their swords, at crimson breasts with their lances, firing +their pistols right between those glowing eyes, right into those firm +jaws and set teeth. + +The sound of bullets on breastplates and helmets and epaulettes is like +a shower of hailstones upon a sheet of metal. + +Twice, thrice, nay more--a dozen times--they return to the charge, and +the plateau gleams with brandished steel like a thousand flashes of +simultaneous fork-lightning on the vast canopy of a stormy sky. + +From midday till after four, a kind of mysterious haze covers this field +of noble deeds. Fog after the rain wraps the gently-billowing Flemish +ground in a white semi-transparent veil--covers with impartial coolness +all the mighty actions, the heroic charges and still more heroic stands, +all the silent uncomplaining sufferings, the glorious deaths, all the +courage and all the endurance. + +Through the grey mists we see a medley of moving colours--blue and grey +and scarlet and black--of shakos and sabretaches, of English and French +and Hanoverian and Scotch, of epaulettes and bare knees; we hear the +sound of carbine and artillery fire, the clank of swords and bayonets, +the call of bugle and trumpet and the wail of the melancholy pibroch: +tunics and gold tassels and kilts--a medley of sounds and of visions! + +We see the attack on Hougoumont--the appearance of Buelow on the heights +of Saint Lambert--the charge of the Inniskillings and the Scots +Greys--the death of valiant Ponsonby. We see Marshal Ney Prince of +Moskowa--the bravest soldier in France--we see him everywhere where the +melee is thickest, everywhere where danger is most nigh. His magnificent +uniform torn to shreds, his gold lace tarnished, his hair and whiskers +singed, his face blackened by powder, indomitable, unconquered, superb, +we hear him cry: "Where are those British bullets? Is there not one left +for me?" + +He knows--none better!--that the plains of Mont Saint Jean are the great +gambling tables on which the supreme gambler--Napoleon, once Emperor of +the French and master of half the world--had staked his all. "If we come +out of this alive and conquered," he cries to Heymes, his aide-de-camp, +"there will only be the hangman's rope left for us all." + +And we see the gambler himself--Napoleon, Emperor still and still +certain of victory--on horseback all day, riding from end to end of his +lines; he is gayer than he has ever been before. At Marengo he was +despondent, at Austerlitz he was troubled: but at Waterloo he has no +doubts. The star of his destiny has risen more brilliant than ever +before. + +"The day of France's glory has only just dawned," he calls, and his mind +is full of projects--the triumphant march back into Paris--the Germans +driven back to the Rhine--the English to the sea. + +His only anxiety--and it is a slight one still--is that Grouchy with his +fresh troops is so late in arriving. + +Still, the Prussians are late too, and the British cannot hold the place +for ever. + + +II + +At three o'clock the fog lifts--the veil that has wrapped so many +sounds, such awful and wonderful visions, in a kind of mystery, is +lifted now, and it reveals . . . what? Hougoumont invested--Brave Baring +there with a handful of men--English, German, Brunswickians--making a +last stand with ten rounds of ammunition left to them per man, and the +French engineers already battering in the gates of the enclosing wall +that surrounds the chateau and chapel of Goumont: the farm of La Haye +Sainte taken--Ney there with his regiment of cuirassiers and five +battalions of the Old Guard: and the English lines on the heights of +Mont Saint Jean apparently giving way. + +We see too a vast hecatomb: glory and might must claim their many +thousand victims: the dead and dying lie scattered like pawns upon an +abandoned chessboard, the humble pawns in this huge and final gamble for +supremacy and power, for national existence and for liberty. Hougoumont, +La Haye Sainte, Papelotte are sown with illustrious dead--but on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the British still hold their ground. + +Wellington is still there on the heights, with the majestic trees of +Soigne behind him, the stately canopy of the elm above his head--more +frigid than before, more heroic, but also more desperately anxious. + +"Bluecher or nightfall," he sighs as a fresh cavalry charge is hurled +against those indomitable British squares. The thirteenth assault, and +still they stand or kneel on one knee, those gallant British boys; +bayonet in hand or carbine, they fire, fall out and re-form again: +shaken, hustled, encroached on they may be, but still they stand and +fire with coolness and precision . . . the ranks are not broken yet. + +Officers ride up to the field-marshal to tell him that the situation has +become desperate, their regiments decimated, their men exhausted. They +ask for fresh orders: but he has only one answer for them: + +"There are no fresh orders, save to hold out to the last man." + +And down in the valley at La Belle Alliance is the great gambler--the +man who to-day will either be Emperor again--a greater, mightier monarch +than even he has ever been--or who will sink to a status which perhaps +the meanest of his erstwhile subjects would never envy. + +But just now--at four o'clock--when the fog has lifted--he is flushed +with excitement, exultant in the belief in victory. + +The English centre on Mont Saint Jean is giving way at last, he is told. + +"The beginning of retreat!" he cries. + +And he, who had been anxious at Austerlitz, despondent at Marengo, is +gay and happy and brimming full of hope. + +"De Marmont," he calls to his faithful friend, "De Marmont, go ride to +Paris now; tell them that victory is ours! No, no," he adds excitedly, +"don't go all the way--ride to Genappe and send a messenger to Paris +from there--then come back to be with us in the hour of victory." + +And Victor de Marmont rides off in order to proclaim to the world at +large the great victory which the Emperor has won this day over all the +armies of Europe banded and coalesced against him. + + +From far away on the road of Ohain has come the first rumour that +Bluecher and his body of Prussians are nigh--still several hours' march +from Waterloo but advancing--advancing. For hours Wellington has been +watching for them, until wearily he has sighed: "Bluecher or nightfall +alone can save us from annihilation now." + +The rumour--oh! it was merely the whispering of the wind, but still a +rumour nevertheless--means fresh courage to tired, half-spent troops. +Even deeds of unparalleled heroism need the stimulus of renewed hope +sometimes. + +The rumour has also come to the ears of the Emperor, of Ney and of all +the officers of the staff. They all know that those magnificent British +troops whom they have fought all day must be nigh to their final +desperate effort at last--with naught left to them but their stubborn +courage and that tenacity which has been ever since the wonder of the +world. + +They know, these brave soldiers of Napoleon--who have fought and admired +the brave foe--that the 1st and 2nd Life Guards are decimated by now; +that entire British and German regiments are cut up; that Picton is +dead, the Scots Greys almost annihilated. They know what havoc their +huge cavalry charges have made in the magnificent squares of British +infantry; they know that heroism and tenacity and determination must +give way at last before superior numbers, before fresh troops, before +persistent, ever-renewed attacks. + +Only a few fresh troops and Ney declares that he can conquer the final +dogged endurance of the British troops, before they in their turn +receive the support of Bluecher and his Prussians, or before nightfall +gives them a chance of rest. + +So he sends Colonel Heymes to his Emperor with the urgent message: "More +troops, I entreat, more troops and I can break the English centre before +the Prussians come!" + +None knew better than he that this was the great hazard on which the +life and honour of his Emperor had been staked, that Imperial France was +fighting hand to hand with Great Britain, each for her national +existence, each for supremacy and might and the honour of her flag. + +Imperial France--bold, daring, impetuous! + +Great Britain--tenacious, firm and impassive! + +Wellington under the elm-tree, calmly scanning the horizon while bullets +whiz past around his head, and ordering his troops to hold on to the +last man! + +The Emperor on horseback under a hailstorm of shot and shell and bullets +riding from end to end of his lines! + +Ney and his division of cuirassiers and grenadiers of the Old Guard had +just obeyed the Emperor's last orders which had been to take La Haye +Sainte at all costs: and the intrepid Marechal now, flushed with +victory, had sent his urgent message to Napoleon: + +"More troops! and I can yet break through the English centre before the +arrival of the Prussians." + +"More troops?" cried the Emperor in despair, "where am I to get them +from? Am I a creator of men?" + +And from far away the rumour: "Bluecher and the Prussians are nigh!" + +"Stop that rumour from spreading to the ears of our men! In God's name +don't let them know it," adjures Napoleon in a message to Ney. + +And he himself sends his own staff officers to every point of the field +of battle to shout and proclaim the news that it is Grouchy who is +nigh, Grouchy with reinforcements, Grouchy with the victorious troops +from Ligny, fresh from conquered laurels! + +And the news gives fresh heart to the Imperial troops: + +"Vive l'Empereur!" they shout, more certain than ever of victory. + + +III + +The grey day has yielded at last to the kiss of the sun. Far away at +Braine l'Alleud a vivid streak of gold has rent the bank of heavy +clouds. It is now close on seven o'clock--there are two more hours to +nightfall and Bluecher is not yet here. + +Some of the Prussians have certainly debouched on Plancenoit, but +Napoleon's Old Guard have turned them out again, and from Limale now +comes the sound of heavy cannonade as if Grouchy had come upon Bluecher +after all and all hopes of reinforcements for the British troops were +finally at an end. + +Napoleon--Emperor still and still flushed with victory--looks through +his glasses on the British lines: to him it seems that these are shaken, +that Wellington is fighting with the last of his men. This is the hour +then when victory waits--attentive, ready to bestow her crown on him who +can hold out and fight the longest--on him who at the last can deliver +the irresistible attack. + +And Napoleon gives the order for the final attack, which must be more +formidable, more overpowering than any that have gone before. The +plateau of Mont Saint Jean, he commands, must be carried at all costs! + +Cuirassiers, lancers and grenadiers, then, once more to the charge! +strew once more the plains of Waterloo with your dying and your dead! +Up, Milhaud, with your guards! Poret with your grenadiers! Michel with +your chasseurs! Up, ye heroes of a dozen campaigns, of a hundred +victories! Up, ye old growlers with the fur bonnets--Napoleon's +invincible Old Guard! With Ney himself to lead you! a hero among heroes! +the bravest where all are brave! + +Have you ever seen a tidal wave of steel rising and surging under the +lash of the gale? So they come now, those cuirassiers and lancers and +chasseurs, their helmets, their swords, their lances gleaming in the +golden light of the sinking sun; in closed ranks, stirrup to stirrup +they swoop down into the valley, and rise again scaling the muddy +heights. Superb as on parade, with their finest generals at their head: +Milhaud, Hanrion, Michel, Mallet! and Ney between them all. + +Splendid they are and certain of victory: they gallop past as if at a +revue on the Place du Carrousel opposite the windows of the Tuileries; +all to the repeated cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And as they gallop past the wounded and the dying lift themselves up +from the blood-stained earth, and raise their feeble voices to join in +that triumphant call: "Vive l'Empereur!" There's an old veteran there, +who fought at Austerlitz and at Jena; he has three stripes upon his +sleeve, but both his legs are shattered and he lies on the roadside +propped up against a hedge, and as the superb cavalry ride proudly by he +shouts lustily: "Forward, comrades! a last victorious charge! Long live +the Emperor!" + + +After that who was to blame? Was human agency to blame? Did Ney--the +finest cavalry leader in Napoleon's magnificent army, the veteran of an +hundred glorious victories--did he make the one blunder of his military +career by dividing his troops into too many separate columns rather than +concentrating them for the one all-powerful attack upon the British +centres? Did he indeed mistake the way and lead his splendid cavalry by +round-about crossways to the plateau instead of by the straight Brussels +road? + +Or did the obscure traitor--over whom history has thrown a veil of +mystery--betray this fresh advance against the British centre to +Wellington? + +Was any man to blame? Was it not rather the hand of God that had already +fallen with almighty and divine weight upon the ambitious and reckless +adventurer?--was it not the voice of God that spoke to him through the +cannon's roar of Waterloo: "So far but no farther shalt thou go! Enough +of thy will and thy power and thy ambition!--Enough of this scourge of +bloodshed and of misery which I have allowed thee to wield for so +long!--Enough of devastated homes, of starvation and of poverty! enough +of the fatherless and of the widow!" + +And up above on the plateau the British troops hear the thunder of +thousands of horses' hoofs, galloping--galloping to this last charge +which must be irresistible. And sturdy, wearied hands, black with powder +and stained with blood, grasp more firmly still the bayonet, the rifle +or the carbine, and they wait--those exhausted, intrepid, valiant men! +they wait for that thundering charge, with wide-open eyes fixed upon the +crest of the hill--they wait for the charge--they are ready for +death--but they are not prepared to yield. + +Along the edge of the plateau in a huge semicircle that extends from +Hougoumont to the Brussels road the British gunners wait for the order +to fire. + +Behind them Wellington--eagle-eyed and calm, warned by God--or by a +traitor but still by God--of the coming assault on his positions--scours +the British lines from end to end: valiant Maitland is there with his +brigade of guards, and Adam with his artillery: there are Vandeleur's +and Vivian's cavalry and Colin Halkett's guards! heroes all! ready to +die and hearing the approach of Death in that distant roar of +thunder--the onrush of Napoleon's invincible cavalry. + +Here, too, further out toward the east and the west, extending the +British lines as far as Nivelles on one side and Brussels on the other, +are William Halkett's Hanoverians, Duplat's German brigade, the Dutch +and the Belgians, the Brunswickers, and Ompteda's decimated corps. The +French royalists are here too, scattered among the foreign +troops--brother prepared to fight brother to the death! St. Genis is +among the Brunswickers. But Bobby Clyffurde is with Maitland's guards. + +And now the wave of steel is surging up the incline: the gleam of +shining metal pierces the distant haze, casques and lances glitter in +the slowly sinking sun, whilst from billow to billow the echo brings to +straining ears the triumphant cry "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Five minutes later the British artillery ranged along the crest has made +a huge breach in that solid, moving mass of horses and of steel. Quickly +the breach is repaired: the ranks close up again! This is a parade! a +review! The eyes of France are upon her sons! and "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Still they come! + +Volley after volley from the British guns makes deadly havoc among those +glistering ranks! + +But nevertheless they come! + +No halt save for the quick closing up into serried, orderly columns. And +then on with the advance!--like the surging up of a tidal wave against +the cliffs--on with the advance! up the slopes toward the crest where +those who are in the front ranks are mowed down by the British +guns--their places taken by others from the rear--those others mowed +down again, and again replaced--falling in their hundreds as they reach +the crest, like the surf that shivers and dies as it strikes against the +cliffs. + +Ney's horse is killed under him--the fifth to-day--but he quickly +extricates himself from saddle and stirrups and continues on his way--on +foot, sword in hand--the sword that conquered at Austerlitz, at Eylau +and at Moskowa. Round him the grenadiers of the Old Guard--they with +the fur bonnets and the grizzled moustaches--tighten up their ranks. + +They advance behind the cavalry! and after every volley from the British +guns they shout loudly: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +And anon the tidal wave--despite the ebb, despite the constant breaking +of its surf--has by sheer force of weight hurled itself upon the crest +of the plateau. + +The Brunswickers on the left are scattered. Cleeves and Lloyd have been +forced to abandon their guns: the British artillery is silenced and the +chasseurs of Michel hold the extreme edge of the upland, and turn a +deadly fusillade upon Colin Halkett's brigade already attacked by +Milhaud and his guards and now severely shaken. + +"See the English General!" cries Duchaud to his cuirassiers, "he is +between two fires. He cannot escape." + +No! he cannot but he seizes the colours of the 33rd whose young +lieutenant has just fallen, and who threaten to yield under the +devastating cross-fire: he brandishes the tattered colours, high up +above his head--as high as he can hold them--he calls to his men to +rally, and then falls grievously wounded. + +But his guards have rallied. They stand firm now, and Duchaud, chewing +his grey moustache, murmurs his appreciation of so gallant a foe. + +"That side will win," he mutters, "who can best keep on killing." + + +IV + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +Maitland's brigade of guards had been crouching in the +corn--crouching--waiting for the order to charge--red-coated lions in +the ripening corn--ready to spring at the word. + +And Death the harvester in chief stands by with his scythe ready for the +mowing. + +"Up, guards, and at them!" + +It is Maitland and his gallant brigade of guards--out of the corn they +rise and front the three battalions of Michel's chasseurs who were the +first to reach the highest point of the hill. They fire and Death with +his scythe has laid three hundred low. The tricolour flag is riddled +with grapeshot and General Michel has fallen. + +Then indeed the mighty wave of steel can advance no longer: for it is +confronted with an impenetrable wall--a wall of living, palpitating, +heroic men--men who for hours have stood their ground and fought for the +honour of Britain and of her flag--men who with set teeth and grim +determination were ready to sell their lives dearly if lives were to be +sold--men in fact who have had their orders to hold out to the last man +and who are going to obey those orders now. + +"Up, guards, and at them," and surprised, bewildered, staggered, the +chasseurs pause: three hundred of their comrades lie dead or dying on +the ground. They pause: their ranks are broken: with his last dying sigh +brave General Michel tries to rally them. But he breathes his last ere +he succeeds: his second in command loses his head. He should have +ordered a bayonet charge--sudden, swift and sure--against that red wall +that rushes at them with such staggering power: but he too tries to +rally his men, to reform their ranks--how can they re-form as for parade +under the deadly fire of the British guards? + +Confusion begins its deathly sway: the chasseurs--under conflicting +orders--stand for full ten minutes almost motionless under that +devastating fire. + +And far away on the heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian +bayonets are seen silhouetted against the sunset sky. + +Wellington has seen it. Bluecher has come at last! One final effort, one +more mighty gigantic, superhuman struggle and the glorious end would be +in sight. He gives the order for a general charge. + +"Forward, boys," cries Colonel Saltoun to his brigade. "Now is the +time!" + +Heads down the British charge. The chasseurs are already scattered, but +behind the chasseurs, fronting Maitland's brigade, fronting Adam and his +artillery, fronting Saltoun and Colborne the Fire-Eater, the Old Guard +is seen to advance, the Old Guard who through twelve campaigns and an +hundred victories have shown the world how to conquer and how to die. + +When Michel's chasseurs were scattered, when their General fell; when +the English lines, exhausted and shaken for a moment, rallied at +Wellington's call: "Up, guards, and at them!" when from far away on the +heights of Frischemont the first line of Prussian bayonets were +silhouetted against the sunset sky, then did Napoleon's old growlers +with their fur bonnets and their grizzled moustaches enter the line of +action to face the English guards. They were facing Death and knew it +but still they cried: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Heads down the British charge, whilst from Ohain comes the roar of +Bluecher's guns, and up from the east, Zieten with the Prussians rushes +up to join in the assault. + +Then the carnage begins: for the Old Guard is still advancing--in solid +squares--solemn, unmoved, magnificent: the bronze eagles on their +bonnets catch the golden rays of the setting sun. Thus they advance in +face of deadly fire: they fall like corn before the scythe. A sublime +suicide to the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" and not one of the brigade is +missing except those who are dead. + +They know--none better--that this is the beginning of the end. Perhaps +they do not care to live if their Emperor is to be Emperor no longer, +if he is to be sent back to exile--to the prison of Elba or worse: and +so they advance in serried squares, while Maitland's artillery has +attacked them in the rear. Great gaps are made in those ranks, but they +are quickly filled up again: the squares become less solid, smaller, but +they remain compact. Still they advance. + +But now close behind them Bluecher's guns begin to thunder and Zieten's +columns are rapidly gaining ground: all round their fur bonnets a +hailstorm of grape-shot is raging whilst Adam's artillery is in action +within fifty paces at their flank. But the old growlers who had suffered +death with silent fortitude in the snows of Russia, who had been as +grand in their defeat at Moscow and at Leipzic as they had been in the +triumphs of Auerstadt or of Friedland--they neither staggered nor paused +in their advance. On they went--carrying their muskets on their +shoulders--a cloud of tirailleurs in front of them, right into the +cross-fire of the British guns: their loud cry of "Vive l'Empereur" +drowning that other awesome, terrible cry which someone had raised a +while ago and which now went from mouth to mouth: "We are betrayed! +_Sauve qui peut!_" + +The Prussians were in their rear; the British were charging their front, +and panic had seized the most brilliant cavalry the world had ever seen. + +"Sauve qui peut" is echoed now and re-echoed all along the crest of the +plateau. And the echo rolls down the slope into the valley where +Reille's infantry and a regiment of cuirassiers, and three more +battalions of chasseurs, are making ready to second the assault on Mont +Saint Jean. Reille and his infantry pause and listen: the cuirassiers +halt in their upward movement, whilst up on the ridge of the plateau +where Donzelot's grenadiers have attacked the brigade of Kempt and +Lambert and Pack, the whisper goes from mouth to mouth: + +"We are betrayed! _Sauve qui peut!_" + +Panic seizes the younger men: they turn their horses' heads back toward +the slopes. The stampede has commenced: very soon it grows. The British +in front, the Prussians in the rear: "Sauve qui peut!" + +Ney amongst them is almost unrecognisable. His face is coal-black with +powder: he has no hat, no epaulettes and only half a sword: rage, +anguish, bitterness are in his husky voice as he adjures, entreats, +calls to the demoralised army--and insults it, execrates it in turn. But +nothing but Death will stop that army now in its headlong flight. + +"At least stop and see how a Marshal of France dies on the field of +honour," he calls. + +But the voice which led these same men to victory at Moskowa has lost +its potency and its magic. The men cry "Vive Ney!" but they do not +stand. The stampede has become general. In the valley below the infantry +has started to run up the slope of La Belle Alliance: after it the +cavalry with reins hanging loose, stirrups lost, casques, sabretaches, +muskets--anything that impedes--thrown into the fields to right and +left. La Haye Sainte is evacuated, Hougoumont is abandoned; Papelotte, +Plancenoit, the woods, the plains are only filled with running men and +the thunder of galloping chargers. + + +Alone the Old Guard has remained unshaken. Whilst all around them what +was once the Grand Army is shattered, destroyed, melted like ice before +a devastating fire, they have continued to advance, sublime in their +fortitude, in their endurance, their contempt for death. One by one +their columns are shattered and there are none now to replace those that +fall. And as the gloom of night settles on this vast hecatomb on the +plateau of Mont Saint Jean the conquerors of Jena and Austerlitz and +Friedland make their last stand round the bronze eagle--all that is left +to them of the glories of the past. + +And when from far away the cry of "Sauve qui peut" has become only an +echo, and the bronze eagle shattered by a bullet lies prone upon the +ground shielded against capture in its fall by a circling mountain of +dead, when finally Night wraps all the heroism, the glory, the sorrow +and the horrors of this awful day in the sable folds of her +all-embracing mantle, Napoleon's Old Guard has ceased to be. + + +And out in the western sky a streak of vivid crimson like human blood +has broken the bosom of the clouds: the glow of the sinking sun rests on +this huge dissolution of what was once so glorious and unconquered and +great. Then it is that Wellington rides to the very edge of the plateau +and fronts the gallant British troops at this supreme hour of oncoming +victory, and lifting his hat high above his head he waves it three times +in the air. + +And from right and left they come, British, Hanoverians, Belgians and +Brunswickers to deliver the final blow to this retreating army, wounded +already unto death. + +They charge now: they charge all of them, cavalry, infantry, gunners, +forty thousand men who have forgotten exhaustion, forgotten what they +have suffered, forgotten what they had endured. On they come with a rush +like a torrent let loose; the confusion of sounds and sights becomes a +pandemonium of hideousness, bugles and drums and trumpets and bagpipes +all mingle, merge and die away in the fast gathering twilight. + +And the tidal wave of steel recedes down the slopes of Mont Saint Jean, +into the valley and thence up again on Belle Alliance, with a melee of +sounds like the breaking of a gigantic line of surf against the +irresistible cliffs, or the last drawn-out sigh of agony of dying giants +in primeval times. + + +V + +On the road to Genappe in the mystery of the moonlit night a solitary +rider turned into a field and dismounted. + +Carried along for a time by the stream of the panic, he found himself +for a moment comparatively alone--left as it were high and dry by the +same stream which here had divided and flowed on to right and left of +him. He wore a grey redingote and a shabby bicorne hat. + +Having dismounted he slipped the bridle over his arm and started to walk +beside his horse back toward Waterloo. + +A sleep-walker in pursuit of his dream! + +Heavy banks of grey clouds chased one another with mad fury across the +midsummer sky, now obscuring the cold face of the moon, now allowing her +pale, silvery rays to light up this gigantic panorama of desolation and +terror and misery. To right and left along the roads and lanes, across +grassland and cornfields, canals, ditches and fences the last of the +Grand Army was flying headlong, closely pursued by the Prussians. And at +the farm of La Belle Alliance Wellington and Bluecher had met and shaken +hands, and had thanked God for the great and glorious victory. + +But the sleep-walker went on in pursuit of his dream--he walked with +measured steps beside his weary horse, his eyes fixed on the horizon far +away, where the dull crimson glow of smouldering fires threw its last +weird light upon this vast abode of the dead and the dying. He walked +on--slowly and mechanically back to the scene of the overwhelming +cataclysm where all his hopes lay irretrievably buried. He walked +on--majestic as he had never been before, in the brilliant throne-room +of the Tuileries or the mystic vastness of Notre Dame when the Imperial +crown sat so ill upon his plebeian head. . . . He walked on--silent, +exalted and great--great through the magnitude of his downfall. + +And to right and left of him, like the surf that recedes on a pebbly +beach, the last of his once invincible army was flying back to +France--back in the wake of those who had been lucky enough to fly +before--bodies of men who had been the last to realise that an heroic +stand round a fallen eagle could no longer win back that which was lost, +and that if life be precious it could only be had in flight--bits of +human wreckage too, forgotten by the tide--they all rolled and rushed +and swept past the silent wayfarer . . . quite close at times: so close +that every man could see him quite distinctly, could easily distinguish +by the light of the moon the grey redingote and the battered hat which +they all knew so well--which they had been wont to see in the forefront +of an hundred victorious charges. + +Now half-blinded by despair and by panic they gazed with uncomprehending +eyes on the man and on the horse and merely shouted to him as they +rushed galloping or running by, "The Prussians are on us! _Sauve qui +peut!_" + +And the dreamer still looked on that distant crimson glow and in the +bosom of those wind-swept clouds he saw the pictures of Austerlitz and +Jena and Wagram, pictures of glory and might and victory, and the shouts +which he heard were the ringing cheers round the bivouac fires of long +ago. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LAST THROW + + +I + +It was close on half-past nine and the moon full up on the stormy sky +when a couple of riders detached themselves out of the surging mass of +horses and men that were flying pell-mell towards Genappe, and slightly +checking their horses, put them to a slower gallop and finally to a +trot. + +On their right a small cottage gleamed snow-white in the cold, searching +light of the moon. A low wall ran to right and left of it and enclosed a +small yard at the back of the cottage; the wall had a gate in it which +gave on the fields beyond. At the moment that the two riders trotting +slowly down the road reached the first angle of the wall, the gate was +open and a man leading a white horse and wearing a grey redingote turned +into the yard. + +"My God! the Emperor!" exclaimed one of the riders as he drew rein. + +They both turned their horses into the field, skirting the low, +enclosing wall until they reached the gate. The white horse was now +tethered to a post and the man in the grey redingote was standing in the +doorway at the rear of the cottage. The two men dismounted and in their +turn led their horses into the yard: at sight of them the man in the +grey redingote seemed to wake from his sleep. + +"Berthier," he said slowly, "is that you?" + +"Yes, Sire,--and Colonel Bertrand is here too." + +"What do you want?" + +"We earnestly beg you, Sire, to come with us to Genappe. There is not +the slightest hope of rallying any portion of your army now. The +Prussians are on us. You might fall into their hands." + +Berthier--conqueror and Prince of Wagram--spoke very earnestly and with +head uncovered, but more abruptly and harshly than he had been wont to +do of yore in the salons of the Tuileries or on the glory-crowned +battlefields at the close of a victorious day. + +"I am coming! I am coming!" said the Emperor with a quick sigh of +impatience. "I only wanted to be alone a moment--to think things out--to +. . ." + +"There is nothing quite so urgent, Sire, as your safety," retorted the +Prince of Wagram drily. + +The Emperor did not--or did not choose to--heed his great Marshal's +marked want of deference. Perhaps he was accustomed to the moods of +these men whom his bounty had fed and loaded with wealth and dignities +and titles in the days of his glory, and who had proved only too ready, +alas!--even last year, even now--to desert him when disaster was in +sight. + +Without another word he turned on his heel and pushing open the cottage +door he disappeared into the darkness of the tiny room beyond. With an +impatient shrug of the shoulders Berthier prepared to follow him. +Colonel Bertrand busied himself with tethering the horses, then he too +followed Berthier into the building. + +It was deserted, of course, as all isolated cottages and houses had been +in the vicinity of Quatre Bras or Mont Saint Jean. Bertrand struck a +tinder and lighted a tallow candle that stood forlorn on a deal table in +the centre of the room. The flickering light revealed a tiny cottage +kitchen--hastily abandoned but scrupulously clean--white-washed walls, a +red-tiled floor, the iron hearth, the painted dresser decorated with +white crockery, shiny tin pans hung in rows against the walls and two +or three rush chairs. Napoleon sat down. + +"I again entreat you, Sire--" began Berthier more earnestly than before. + +But the Emperor was staring straight out before him, with eyes that +apparently saw something beyond that rough white wall opposite, on which +the flickering candle-light threw such weird gargantuan shadows. The +precious minutes sped on: minutes wherein death or capture strode with +giant steps across the fields of Flanders to this lonely cottage where +the once mightiest ruler in Europe sat dreaming of what might have been. +The silence of the night was broken by the thunder of flying horses' +hoofs, by the cries of "Sauve qui peut!" and distant volleys of +artillery proclaiming from far away that Death had not finished all his +work yet. + +Bertrand and Berthier stood by, with heads uncovered: silent, moody and +anxious. + +Suddenly the dreamer roused himself for a moment and spoke abruptly and +with his usual peremptory impatience: "De Marmont," he said. "Has either +of you seen him?" + +"Not lately, Sire," replied Colonel Bertrand, "not since five o'clock at +any rate." + +"What was he doing then?" + +"He was riding furiously in the direction of Nivelles. I shouted to him. +He told me that he was making for Brussels by a circuitous way." + +"Ah! that is right! Well done, my brave de Marmont! Braver than your +treacherous kinsman ever was! So you saw him, did you, Bertrand? Did he +tell you that he had just come from Genappe?" + +"Yes, Sire, he did," replied Bertrand moodily. "He told me that by your +orders he had sent a messenger from there to Paris with news of your +victory: and that by to-morrow morning the capital would be ringing +with enthusiasm and with cheers." + +"And by the time de Marmont came back from Genappe," interposed the +Prince of Wagram with a sneer, "the plains of Waterloo were ringing with +the Grand Army's '_Sauve qui peut!_'" + +"An episode, Prince, only an episode!" said Napoleon with an angry frown +of impatience. "To hear you now one would imagine that Essling had never +been. We have been beaten back, of course, but for the moment the world +does not know that. Paris to-morrow will be be-flagged and the bells of +Notre Dame will send forth their joyous peals to cheer the hearts of my +people. And in Brussels this afternoon thousands of our +enemies--Belgians, Dutch, Hanoverians, Brunswickers--were rushing +helter-skelter into the town--demoralised and disorganised after that +brilliant charge of our cuirassiers against the Allied left." + +"Would to God the British had been among them too," murmured old Colonel +Bertrand. "But for their stand . . ." + +"And a splendid stand it was. Ah! but for that. . . . To think that if +Grouchy had kept the Prussians away, in only another hour we . . ." + +The dreamer paused in his dream of the might have been: then he +continued more calmly: + +"But I was not thinking of that just now. I was thinking of those who +fled to Brussels this afternoon with the news of our victory and of +Wellington's defeat." + +"Even then the truth is known in Brussels by now," protested Berthier. + +"Yes! but not before de Marmont has had the time and the pluck to save +us and our Empire! . . . Berthier," he continued more vehemently, "don't +stand there so gloomy, man . . . and you, too, my old Bertrand. . . . +Surely, surely you have realised that at this terrible juncture we must +utilise every circumstance which is in our favour. . . . That early +news of our victory . . . we can make use of that. . . . A big throw in +this mighty game, but we can do it . . . Berthier, do you see how we can +do it . . . ?" + +"No, Sire, I confess that I do not," replied the Marshal gloomily. + +"You do not see?" retorted the Emperor with a frown of angry impatience. +"De Marmont did--at once--but he is young--and enthusiastic, whereas +you. . . . But don't you see that the news of Wellington's defeat must +have enormous consequences on the money markets of the world--if only +for a few hours? . . . It must send the prices on the foreign Bourses +tumbling about people's ears and create an absolute panic on the London +Stock Exchange. Only for a few hours of course . . . but do you not see +that if any man is wise enough to buy stock in London during that panic +he can make a fortune by re-selling the moment the truth is known?" + +"Even then, Sire," stammered Berthier, a little confused by this +avalanche of seemingly irrelevant facts hurled at him at a moment when +the whole map of Europe was being changed by destiny and her future +trembled in the hands of God. + +"Ah, de Marmont saw it all . . . at once . . ." continued the Emperor +earnestly, "he saw eye to eye with me. He knows that money--a great deal +of money--is just what I want now . . . money to reorganise my army, to +re-equip and reform it. The Chamber and my Ministers will never give me +what I want. . . . My God! they are such cowards! and some of them would +rather see the foreign troops again in Paris than Napoleon Emperor at +the Tuileries. You should know that, Marechal, and you, too, my good +Bertrand. De Marmont knows it . . . that is why he rode to Brussels at +the hour when I alone knew that all was lost at Waterloo, but when half +Europe still thought that the Corsican ogre had conquered again. . . . +De Marmont is in Brussels now . . . to-night he crosses over to +England--to-morrow morning he and his broker will be in the Stock +Exchange in London--calm, silent, watchful. An operation on the Bourse, +what? like hundreds that have been done before . . . but in this case +the object will be to turn one million into fifty so that with it I +might rebuild my Empire again." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, and with indomitable fervour, sitting +here quietly, he--the architect of the mightiest empire of modern +days--just as he used to do in the camps at Austerlitz and Jena and +Wagram and Friedland--with one clenched hand resting upon the rough deal +table, the flickering light of the tallow candle illuminating the wide +brow, the heavy jaw, those piercing eyes that still gazed--in this hour +of supreme catastrophe--into a glorious future destined never to +be--scheming, planning, scheming still, even while his Grand Army was +melting into nothingness all around him, and distant volleys of musketry +were busy consummating the final annihilation of the Empire which he had +created and still hoped to rebuild. + +Berthier gave a quick sign of impatience. + +Rebuild an Empire, ye gods!--an Empire!--when the flower of its manhood +lies pale and stark like the windrows of corn after the harvester has +done his work. Thoughts of a dreamer! Schemes of a visionary! How will +the quaking lips which throughout the length and breadth of this vast +hecatomb now cry, "Sauve qui peut!" how will they ever intone again the +old "Vive l'Empereur!" + +The conqueror of Wagram gave a bitter sigh and faithful Bertrand hung +his head gloomily; but de Marmont had neither sighed nor doubted: but +then de Marmont was young--he too was a dreamer, and an enthusiast and a +visionary. His idol in his eyes had never had feet of clay. For him the +stricken man was his Emperor still--the architect, the creator, the +invincible conqueror--checked for a moment in his glorious work, but +able at his will to rebuild the Empire of France again on the very ruins +that smouldered now on the fields of Waterloo. + +"I can do it, Sire," he had cried exultantly, when his Emperor first +expounded his great, new scheme to him. "I can be in Brussels in an +hour, and catch the midnight packet for England at Ostend. At dawn I +shall be in London, and by ten o'clock at my post. I know a financier--a +Jew, and a mightily clever one--he will operate for me. I have a million +or two francs invested in England, we'll use these for our operations! +Money, Sire! You shall have millions! Our differences on the Stock +Exchange will equip the finest army that even you have ever had! Fifty +millions? I'll bring you a hundred! God has not yet decreed the downfall +of the Empire of France!" + +So de Marmont had spoken this afternoon in the enthusiasm of his youth +and of his hero-worship: and since then the great dreamer had continued +to weave his dreams! Nothing was lost, nothing could be lost whilst +enthusiasm such as that survived in the hearts of the young. + +And still wrapped in his dream he sat on, while danger and death and +disgrace threatened him on every side. Berthier and Bertrand entreated +in vain, in vain tried to drag him away from this solitary place, where +any moment a party of Prussians might find and capture him. + +Unceremoniously the Prince of Wagram had blown out the flickering light +that might have attracted the attention of the pursuers. It was a very +elementary precaution, the only one he or Bertrand was able to take. The +horses were out in the yard for anyone to see, and the greatest spoil of +victory might at any moment fall into the hands of the meanest Prussian +soldier out for loot. + +But the dreamer still sat on in the gloom, with the pale light of the +moon streaming in through the narrow casement window and illumining that +marble-like face, rigid and set, that seemed only to live by the +glowing eyes--the eyes that looked into the future and the past and +heeded not the awful present. + +Close on a quarter of an hour went by until at last he jumped to his +feet, with the sudden cry of "To Genappe!" + +Berthier heaved a sigh of relief and Bertrand hurried out to unfasten +the horses. + +"You are impatient, Prince," said the Emperor almost gaily, as he strode +with a firm step to the door. "You are afraid those cursed Prussians +will put the Corsican ogre into a cage and send him at once to His +Victorious Bourbon Majesty King Louis XVIII. Not so, my good Berthier, +not so. The Star of my Destiny has not yet declined. I've done all the +thinking I wanted to do. Now we'll to Genappe, where we'll rally the +remnants of our army and then quietly await de Marmont's return with the +millions which we want. After that we'll boldly on to Paris and defy my +enemies there . . . En avant, Marechal! the Corsican ogre is not in the +iron cage yet!" + +Outside Bertrand was holding his stirrup for him. He swung himself +lightly in the saddle and turned out of the farmyard gate into the open, +throwing back his head and sniffing the storm-laden air as if he was +about to lead his army to one of his victorious charges. Not waiting to +see how close the other two men followed him, he put his horse at once +at a gallop. + +He rode on--never pausing--never looking round even on that gigantic +desolation which the cold light of the moon weirdly and fitfully +revealed--his mind was fixed upon a fresh throw on the gaming table of +the world. + +Overhead the storm-driven clouds chased one another with unflagging fury +across the moonlit sky, now obscuring, now revealing that gigantic +dissolution of the Grand Army, so like the melting of ice and frost +under the fierce kiss of the sun. + +More than men in an attack, less than women in a retreat, the finest +cavalry Europe had ever seen was flying like sand before the wind: but +the somnambulist rode on in his sleep, forgetting that on these vast and +billowing fields twenty-six thousand gallant French heroes had died for +the sake of his dreams. + +Bertrand and the Prince of Wagram followed--gloomy and silent--they knew +that all suggestions would be useless, all saner advice remain unheeded. +Besides, de Marmont had gone, and after all, what did it all matter? +What did anything matter, now that Empire, glory, hope, everything were +irretrievably lost? + +And in faithful Bertrand's deep-set eyes there came a strange, far-off +look, almost of premonition, as if in his mind he could already see that +lonely island rock in the Atlantic, and the great gambler there, eating +out his heart with vain and bitter regrets. + + +II + +But de Marmont had never had any doubts, never any forebodings: he only +had boundless faith in his hero and boundless enthusiasm for his cause. +Accustomed to handle money since early manhood, owner of a vast fortune +which he had administered himself with no mean skill, he had no doubt +that the Emperor's scheme for manufacturing a few millions in a wild +gamble on the Stock Exchange was not only feasible but certain of +success. + +Undoubtedly the false news of Wellington's defeat would reach London +to-morrow, as it had already reached Paris and Brussels. The panic in +the money market was a foregone conclusion: the quick rise in prices +when the truth became known was equally certain. It only meant +forestalling the arrival of Wellington's despatches in London by four +and twenty hours, and one million would make fifty during that time. + +As de Marmont had told his Emperor, he had several hundred thousand +pounds invested in England, on which he could lay his hands: operations +on the Bourse were nothing new to him: and already while he was still +listening with respect and enthusiasm to his Emperor's instructions, he +was longing to get away. He knew the country well between here and +Brussels, and he was wildly longing to be at work, to be flying across +the low-lying land, on to Brussels and then across to England in the +wake of the awful news of complete disaster. + +He would steal the uniform of some poor dead wretch--a Belgium or a +Hanoverian or a black Brunswicker, he didn't care which--it wouldn't +take long to strip the dead, and the greatness of the work at stake +would justify the sacrilege. In the uniform of one of the Allied army he +could safely continue his journey to Brussels, and with luck could reach +the city long before sunset. + +In Brussels he would at once obtain civilian clothes and then catch the +evening packet for England at Ostend. Oh, no! it was not likely that +Wellington could send a messenger over to London quite so soon! + +At this hour--it was just past five--he was still on Mont Saint Jean +making another desperate stand against the Imperial cavalry with troops +half worn out with discouragement and whose endurance must even now be +giving way. + +At this hour the Prussians had appeared at Braine L'Alleud, they had +engaged Reille at Plancenoit, but Wellington and the British had still +to hold their ground or the news which de Marmont intended to accompany +to London might prove true after all. + +Ye gods, if only that were possible! How gladly would Victor then have +lost the hundred thousands which he meant to risk to-morrow! Wellington +really vanquished before Bluecher could come to his rescue! Napoleon +once more victorious, as he had always been, and a mightier monarch +than before! Then he, Victor de Marmont, the faithful young enthusiast +who had never ceased to believe when others wavered, who at this last +hour--when the whole world seemed to crumble away from under the feet of +the man who had once been its master--was still ready to serve his +Emperor, never doubting, always hoping, he would reap such a reward as +must at last dazzle the one woman who could make that reward for him +doubly precious. + +Victor de Marmont had effected the gruesome exchange. He was now dressed +in the black uniform of a Brunswick regiment wherein so many French +royalists were serving. By a wide detour he had reached the approach to +Brussels. Indeed it seemed as if the news which he had sent flying to +Paris was true after all. Behind the forest of Soigne where he now was, +the fields and roads were full of running men and galloping horses. The +dull green of Belgian uniforms, the yellow facings of the Dutch, the +black of Brunswickers, all mingled together in a moving kaleidoscopic +mass of colour: men were flying unpursued yet panic-stricken towards +Brussels, carrying tidings of an awful disaster to the allied armies in +their haggard faces, their quivering lips, their blood-stained tunics. + +De Marmont joined in with them: though his heart was full of hope, he +too contrived to look pale and spent and panic-stricken at will--he +heard the shouts of terror, the hastily murmured "All is lost! even the +British can no longer stand!" as horses maddened with fright bore their +half-senseless riders by. He set his teeth and rode on. His dark eyes +glowed with satisfaction; there was no fear that the great gambler would +stake his last in vain: the news would travel quick enough--as news of +disaster always will. Brussels even now must be full of weeping women +and children, as it soon would be of terror-driven men, of wounded and +of maimed crawling into the shelter of the town to die in peace. + +And as he rode, de Marmont thought more and more of Crystal. The last +three months had only enhanced his passionate love for her and his +maddening desire to win her yet at all costs. St. Genis would of course +be fighting to-day. Perchance a convenient shot would put him +effectively out of the way. De Marmont had vainly tried in this wild +gallopade to distinguish his rival's face among this mass of foreigners. + +As for the Englishman! Well! no doubt he had disappeared long ago out of +Crystal de Cambray's life. De Marmont had never feared him greatly. That +one look of understanding between Crystal and Clyffurde, and the +latter's strange conduct about the money at the inn, were alone +responsible for the few twinges of jealousy which de Marmont had +experienced in that quarter. + +Indeed, the Englishman was a negligible quantity. De Marmont did not +fear him. There was only St. Genis, and with the royalist cause rendered +absolutely hopeless--as it would be, as it _must_ be--St. Genis and the +Comte de Cambray and all those stiff-necked aristocrats of the old +regime who had thought fit to turn their proud backs on him at Brestalou +three months ago, would be irretrievably ruined and discredited and +would have to fly the country once more . . . and Crystal, faced with +the alternative of penury in England or a brilliant existence at the +Tuileries as the wife of the Emperor's most faithful friend, would make +her choice as he--de Marmont--never doubted that any woman would. + +Hope for him had already become reality. Brussels was the half-way halt +to the uttermost heights of his ambition. Fortune, the Emperor's +gratitude, the woman he loved, all waited for him there. He reached the +city just as that distant horizon in the west was lit up by a streak of +brilliant crimson from the fast sinking sun: just when--had he but +known it!--on the crest of Mont Saint Jean, Wellington had waved his hat +over his head and given the heroic British army--exhausted, but +undaunted--the order for a general charge; just when the Grand Army, +finally checked in its advance, had first set up the ominous call that +was like the passing-bell of its dying glory: "Sauve qui peut!" + + +III + +"Sauve qui peut!" + +Bobby Clyffurde heard the cry too through the fast gathering shadows of +unconsciousness that closed in round his wearied senses, and, as a film +that was so like the kindly veil of approaching Death spread over his +eyes, he raised them up just once to that vivid crimson glow far out in +the west, and on the winged chariot of the setting sun he sent up his +last sigh of gratitude to God. All day he had called for Death--all day +he had wooed her there where bullets and grape-shot were thickest--where +her huge scythe had been most busily at work. + +Sons of fond mothers, husbands, sweethearts that were dearly loved, +brothers that would be endlessly mourned, lives that were more precious +than any earthly treasures--the ghostly harvester claimed them all with +impartial cruelty. And he--desolate and lonely--with no one greatly to +care if he came back or no--with not a single golden thread of hope to +which he might cling, without a dream to brighten the coming days of +dreariness--with a life in the future that could hold nothing but vain +regrets, Bobby had sought Death twenty times to-day and Death had +resolutely passed him by. + +But now he was grateful for that: he was thankful that he had lived just +long enough to see the sunset, just long enough to take part in that +last glorious charge in obedience to Wellington's inspiring command: +"Up, guards, and at them!" he was glad to have lived just long enough +to hear the "Sauve qui peut!" to know that the Grand Army was in full +retreat, that Bluecher had come up in time, that British pluck and +British endurance had won the greatest victory of all times for +Britain's flag and her national existence. + +Now with a rough bandage hastily tied round his head where grape-shot +had lacerated cheek and ear, with a bayonet thrust in the thigh and +another in the arm, Bobby had remained lying there with many thousands +round him as silent, as uncomplaining, as he--in the down-trodden +corn--and with the tramp of thousands of galloping, fleeing horses, the +clash of steel and fusillade of tirailleurs and artillery reaching his +dimmed senses like a distant echo from the land of ghosts. And before +his eyes--half veiled in unconsciousness, there flitted the tender, +delicate vision of Crystal de Cambray: of her blue eyes and soft fair +hair, done up in a quaint mass of tiny curls; of the scarf of filmy lace +which she always liked to wrap round her shoulders, and through the lace +the pearly sheen of her skin, of her arms, and of her throat. The air +around him had become pure and rarified: that horrible stench of powder +and smoke and blood no longer struck his nostrils--it was roses, roses +all around him--crimson roses--sweet and caressing and fragrant--with +soft, velvety petals that brushed against his cheek--and from somewhere +close by came a dreamy melody, the half-sad, half-gay lilt of an +intoxicating dance. + +It was delicious! and Bobby, wearied, sore and aching in body, felt his +soul lifted to some exquisite heights which were not yet heaven, of +course, but which must of a truth form the very threshold of Paradise. + +He saw Crystal more and more clearly every moment: now he was looking +straight into her blue eyes, and her little hand, cool and white as +snow, rested upon his burning forehead. She smiled on him--as on a +friend--there was no contempt, no harshness in her look--only a great, +consoling pity and something that seemed like an appeal! + +Yes! the longer he himself looked into those blue eyes of hers, the more +sure he was that there was an appeal in them. It almost seemed as if she +needed him, in a way that she had never needed him before. Apparently +she could not speak: she could not tell him what it was she wanted: but +her little hands seemed to draw him up, out of the trodden, trampled +corn, and having soothed his aches and pains they seemed to impel him to +do something--that was important . . . and imperative . . . something +that she wanted done. + +He begged her to let him lie here in peace, for he was now comforted and +happy. He was quite sure now that he was dead, that her sweet face had +been the last tangible vision which he had seen on earth, ere he closed +his eyes in the last long sleep. + + +He had seen her and she had gone. All of a sudden she had vanished, and +darkness was closing in around him: the scent of roses faded into the +air, which was now filled again with horrid sounds--the deafening roar +of cannon, the sharp and incessant retort of rifle-fire, the awesome +melee of cries and groans and bugle-calls and sighs of agony, and one +deafening cry--so like the last wail of departing souls--which came from +somewhere--not very far away: "Vive l'Empereur!" + +Bobby raised himself to a sitting posture. His head ached terribly--he +was stiff in every limb: a burning, almost intolerable pain gnawed at +his thigh and at his left arm. But consciousness had returned and with +it all the knowledge of what this day had meant: all round him there was +the broken corn, stained with blood and mud, all round him lay the dead +and the dying in their thousands. Far away in the west a crimson glow +like fire lit up this vast hecatomb of brave lives sacrificed, this +final agony of the vast Empire, the might and grandeur of one man laid +low this day by the mightier hand of God. + +It lit up with the weird light of the dying day the pallid, clean-shaven +faces of gallant British boys, the rugged faces of the Scot, the olive +skin of the child of Provence, the bronzed cheeks of old veterans: it +threw its lurid glow on red coats and black coats, white facings and +gilt epaulettes; it drew sparks as of still-living fire from +breastplates and broken swords, discarded casques and bayonets, +sabretaches and kilts and bugles and drums, and dead horses and arms and +accoutrements and dead and dying men, all lying pell-mell in a huge +litter with the glow of midsummer sunset upon them--poor little +chessmen--pawns and knights--castles of strength and kings of some +lonely mourning hearts--all swept together by the Almighty hand of the +Great Master of this terrestrial game. + +But with returning consciousness Bobby's gaze took in a wider range of +vision. He visualised exactly where he was--on the south slope of Mont +Saint Jean with La Haye Sainte on ahead a little to his left, and the +whitewashed walls of La Belle Alliance still further away gleaming +golden in the light of the setting sun. + +He saw that on the wide road which leads to Genappe and Charleroi the +once invincible cavalry of the mighty Emperor was fleeing helter-skelter +from the scene of its disaster: he saw that the British--what was left +of them--were in hot pursuit! He saw from far Plancenoit the +scintillating casques of Bluecher's Prussians. + +And on the left a detachment of allied troops--Dutch, Belgian, +Brunswickers--had just started down the slope of the plateau to join in +this death-dealing pell-mell, where amongst the litter of dead and +dying, in the confusion of pursuer and pursued, comrade fought at times +against comrade, brother fired on brother--Prussian against British. + +Down below behind the farm buildings of La Haye Sainte two battalions of +chasseurs of the Old Guard had made a stand around a tattered bit of +tricolour and the bronze eagle--symbol of so much decadent grandeur and +of such undying glory. "A moi chasseurs," brave General Pelet had cried. +"Let us save the eagle or die beneath its wing." + +And those who heard this last call of despair stopped in their headlong +flight; they forged a way for themselves through the mass of running +horses and men, they rallied to their flag, and with their +tirailleurs--kneeling on one knee--ranged in a circle round them, they +now formed a living bulwark for their eagle, of dauntless breasts and +bristling bayonets. + +And upon this mass of desperate men, the small body of raw Dutch and +Belgian and German troops now hurled themselves with wild huzzas and +blind impetuousness. Against this mass of heroes and of conquerors in a +dozen victorious campaigns--men who had no longer anything to lose but +life, and to whom life meant less than nothing now--against them a +handful of half-trained recruits, drunk with the cry of "Victory" which +drowned the roar of the cannon and the clash of sabres, drunk with the +vision of glory which awaited them if that defiant eagle were brought to +earth by them! + +And as Bobby staggered to his feet he already saw the impending +catastrophe--one of the many on this day of cumulative disasters. He saw +the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers rush wildly to the +charge--young men--enthusiasts--brave--but men whose ranks had twice +been broken to-day--who twice had rallied to their colours and then had +broken again--men who were exhausted--men who were none too ably +led--men in fact--and there were many French royalists among their +officers--who had not the physical power of endurance which had enabled +the British to astonish the world to-day. + +Bobby could see amongst them the Brunswickers and their black coats--he +would have known them amongst millions of men. The full brilliance of +the evening glow was upon them--on their black coats and the silver +galoons and tassels; two of their officers had made a brave show in +Brussels three days--or was it a hundred years?--ago at the Duchess of +Richmond's ball. Bobby remembered them so well, for one of these two +officers was Maurice de St. Genis. + +Oh! how Crystal would love to see him now--even though her dear heart +would be torn with anxiety for him--for he was fighting bravely, bravely +and desperately as every one had fought to-day, as these chasseurs of +the Old Guard--just the few of them that remained--were fighting still +even at this hour round that tattered flag and that bronze eagle, and +with the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" dying upon their lips. + +Despair indeed on both sides--even at this hour when the merest incident +might yet turn the issue of this world-conflict one way or the other. +Bobby, as he steadied himself on his feet, had seen that the attack was +already turning into a rout. Not only had Pelet's chasseurs held the +Dutch and Brunswickers at bay, not only had their tirailleurs made +deadly havoc among their assailants, but the latter now were threatened +with absolute annihilation even whilst all around them their +allies--British and Prussian--were crying "Victory!" + +Bobby could see them quite clearly--for he saw with that subtle and +delicate sense which only a great and pure passion can give!--he saw the +danger at the very moment when it was born--at the precise instant when +it threatened that handful of black-coated men, one of whose officers +was named St. Genis. He saw the first sign of wavering, of stupefaction, +that followed the impetuous charge: he saw the gaps in the ranks after +that initial deadly volley from the tirailleurs. It almost seemed as if +he could hear those shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" and the rallying cry of +commanding officers--it was all so near--not more than three hundred +yards away, and the clear, stormy atmosphere carried sights and sounds +upon its wing. + +Another volley from the tirailleurs and the Dutch and Brunswickers +turned to fly: in vain did their officers call, they wanted to get away! +They tried to fly--to run, for now the chasseurs were at them with +bayonets--they tried to run, but the ground was littered with their own +wounded and dead--with the wounded and the dead of a long day of +carnage: they stumbled at every step--fell over the dying and the +wounded--over dead and wounded horses--over piles of guns and swords and +bayonets, and sabretaches, over forsaken guns and broken carriages, +litter that impeded them in front even as they were driven with the +bayonet from the rear. + +Bobby saw it all, for they were coming now--pursued and pursuers--as +fast as ever they could; they were coming, these flying, black-coated +men, casting away their gay trappings as well as their arms, trying to +run--to get away--but stumbling, falling all the time--picking +themselves up, falling and running again. + +And in that one short moment while the whole brief tragedy was enacted +before his eyes, Bobby also saw, in a vision that was equally swift and +fleeting, the blue eyes of Crystal drowned in tears. He saw her with +fair head drooping like a lily, he saw the quiver of her lips, heard the +moan of pain that would come to her lips when the man she loved was +brought home to her--dead. And in that same second--so full of +portent--Bobby understood why it was that her sweet image had called to +him for help just now. Again she called, again she beckoned--her blue +eyes looked on him with an appeal that was all-compelling: her two dear +hands were clasped and she begged of him that he should be her friend. + +Such visions come from God! no man sees them save he whose soul is great +and whose heart is pure. Poor Bobby Clyffurde--lonely, heart-broken, +desolate--saw the exquisite face that he would have loved to kiss--he +saw it with the golden glow of evening upon the delicate cheeks, and +with the lurid light of fire and battle upon the soft, fair hair. + +And the greatness of his love helped him to understand what life still +held for him--the happiness of supreme sacrifice. + +All around him was death, but there was some life too: one or two poor, +abandoned riderless horses were quietly picking bits of corn from +between the piles of dead and dying men, or were standing, sniffing the +air with dilated nostrils, and snorting with terror at the deafening +noise. Bobby had steadied himself, neither his head nor his limbs were +aching now--at any rate he had forgotten them--all that he remembered +was what he saw, those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly and +could not and who were being slaughtered like insects even as they +stumbled and fled. + +And Bobby caught the bridle of one of these poor, terror-stricken beasts +that stood snorting and sniffing not far away: he crawled up into the +saddle, for his thigh was numb and one of his arms helpless. But once on +horseback he could get along--over trampled corn and over the dead--on +toward that hideous corner behind the farm of La Haye Sainte where +desperate men were butchering others that were more desperate than +they--in among that seething crowd of black coats and fur bonnets, of +silver tassels and of brass eagles, into a whirlpool of swords and +bayonets and gun-fire from the tirailleurs--for there he had seen the +man whom Crystal loved--for whose sake she would eat out her heart with +mourning and regret. + +In the deafening noise of shrieking and sighs and whizzing bullets and +cries of agony he heard Crystal's voice telling him what to do. Already +he had seen St. Genis struggling on his knees not fifty metres away from +the first line of tirailleurs, not a hundred from the advancing steel +wall of fixed bayonets. Maurice had thrown back his head, in the +hopelessness of his despair; the evening sun fell full upon his haggard, +blood-stained face, upon his wide-open eyes filled with the terror of +death. The next moment Bobby Clyffurde was by his side; all around him +bullets were whizzing--all around him men sighed their last sigh of +agony. He stooped over his saddle: "Can you pull yourself up?" he +called. And with his one sound arm he caught Maurice by the elbow and +helped him to struggle to his feet. The horse, dazed with terror, +snorted at the smell of blood, but he did not move. Maurice, equally +dazed, scrambled into the saddle--almost inert--a dead weight--a thing +that impeded progress and movement; but the thing that Crystal loved +above all things on earth and which Bobby knew he must wrest out of +these devouring jaws of Death and lay--safe and sound--within the +shelter of her arms. + + +IV + +After that it meant a struggle--not for his own life, for indeed he +cared little enough for that--but for the sake of the burden which he +was carrying--a burden of infinite preciousness since Crystal's heart +and happiness were bound up with it. + +Maurice de St. Genis clung half inert to him with one hand gripping the +saddle-bow, the other clutching Bobby's belt with convulsive tenacity. +Bobby himself was only half conscious, dazed with the pain of wounds, +the exertion of hoisting that dead weight across his saddle, the +deafening noise of whizzing bullets round him, the boring of the +frightened horse against its bridle, as it tried to pick its way through +the tangled heaps upon the ground. + +But every moment lessened the danger from stray bullets, and the chance +of the bayonet charge from behind. The cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" round +that still standing eagle were drowned in the medley and confusion of +hundreds of other sounds. Bobby was just able to guide his horse away +from the spots where the fighting was most hot and fierce, where +Vivian's hussars attacked those two battalions of cuirassiers, where +Adam's brigade of artillery turned the flank of the chasseurs and laid +the proud bronze eagle low, where Ney and the Old Guard were showing to +the rest of the Grand Army how grizzled veterans fought and died. + +He rode straight up the plateau, however, but well to the right now, +picking his way carefully with that blind instinct which the tracked +beast possesses and which the hunted man sometimes receives from God. + +The dead and the dying were less thick here upon the ground. It was here +that earlier in the day the Dutch and the Belgians and the Brunswickers +had supported the British left, during those terrific cavalry charges +which British endurance and tenacity had alone been able to withstand. +It was here that Hacke's Cumberland Hussars had broken their ranks and +fled, taking to Brussels and thence to Ghent the news of terrific +disaster. Bobby's lips were tight set and he snorted like a war-horse +when he thought of that--when he thought of the misery and sorrow that +must be reigning in Brussels now--and of the consternation at Ghent +where the poor old Bourbon King was probably mourning his dead hopes and +his vanished throne. + +In Brussels women would be weeping; and Crystal--forlorn and +desolate--would perhaps be sitting at her window watching the stream of +fugitives that came in--wounded and exhausted--from the field of battle, +recounting tales of a catastrophe which had no parallel in modern times: +and Crystal, seeing and hearing this, would think of the man she loved, +and believing him to be dead would break her heart with sorrow. + +And when Bobby thought of that he was spurred to fresh effort, and he +pulled himself together with a desperate tension of every nerve and +sinew, fighting exhaustion, ignoring pain, conjuring up the vision of +Crystal's blue eyes and her pleading look as she begged him to save her +from lifelong sorrow and the anguish of future loneliness. Then he no +longer heard the weird and incessant cannonade, he no longer saw the +desolation of this utter confusion around him, he no longer felt +exhausted, or the weight of that lifeless, impeding burden upon his +saddle-bow. + +Stray bands of fugitives with pursuers hot on their heels passed him by, +stray bullets flew to right and left of him, whizzing by with their +eerie, whistling sound; he was now on the outskirts of the great +pursuit--anon he reached the crest of Mont Saint Jean at last, and +almost blindly struck back eastward in the direction of the forest of +Soigne. + +It was blind instinct--and nothing more--that kept him on his horse: he +clung to his saddle with half-paralysed knees, just as a drowning man +will clutch a floating bit of wreckage that helps him to keep his head +above the water. The stately trees of Soigne were not far ahead now: +through the forest any track that bore to the left would strike the +Brussels road; only a little more strength--another effort or two--the +cool solitude of the wood would ease the weight of the burden and the +throbbing of nerves and brain. The setting sun shone full upon the leafy +edge of the wood; hazelnut and beech and oak and clumps of briar rose +quivered under the rough kiss of the wind that blew straight across the +lowland from the southwest, bringing with it still the confusion of +sounds--the weird cannonades and dismal bugle-calls--in such strange +contrast to the rustle of the leaves and the crackling of tiny twigs in +the tangled coppice. + +How cool and delicious it must be under those trees--and there was a +narrow track which must lead straight to the Brussels road--the ground +looked soft and mossy and damp after the rain--oh! for the strength to +reach those leafy shadows, to plunge under that thicket and brush with +burning forehead against those soft green leaves heavy with moisture! +Oh! for the power to annihilate this distance of a few hundred yards +that lie between this immense graveyard open to wind and scorching sun, +and the green, cool moss and carpet of twigs and leaves and soft, +sweet-smelling earth, on which a weary body and desolate soul might find +eternal rest! . . . + + +V + +On! on! through the forest of Soigne! There was no question as yet of +rest. + +Maurice had not yet wakened from his trance. Bobby vaguely wondered if +he were not already dead. There was no stain of blood upon his fine +uniform, but it was just possible that in stumbling, running and falling +he had hit his head or received a blow which had deprived him of +consciousness directly after he had scrambled into the saddle. + +Bobby remembered how pale and haggard he had looked and how his hand had +by the merest instinct clutched at the saddle-bow, and then had dropped +away from it--helpless and inert. Now he lay quite still with his head +resting against Bobby's shoulder. + +Under the trees it was cool and the air was sweet and soothing: Bobby +with his left hand contrived to tear a handful of leaves from the +coppice as he passed: they were full of moisture and he pressed them +against Maurice's lips and against his own. + +The forest was full of sounds: of running men and horses, the rattle of +wheels, and the calls of terror and of pain, with still and always that +awesome background of persistent cannonade. But Bobby heard nothing, saw +nothing save the narrow track in front of him, along which the horse now +ambled leisurely, and from time to time--when he looked down--the pale, +haggard face of the man whom Crystal loved. + +At one moment Maurice opened his eyes and murmured feebly: "Where am I?" + +"On the way to Brussels," Bobby contrived to reply. + +A little later on horse and rider emerged out of the wood and the +Brussels road stretched out its long straight ribbon before Bobby +Clyffurde's dull, uncomprehending gaze. + +Close by at his feet the milestone marked the last six kilometres to +Brussels. Only another half-dozen kilometres--only another hour's ride +at most! . . . Only!!! . . . when even now he felt that the next few +minutes must see him tumbling head-foremost from the saddle. + +Far away beyond the milestone on his right--in a meadow, the boundary of +which touched the edge of the wood--women were busy tossing hay after +the rain, all unconscious of the simple little tragedy that was being +enacted so close to them: their cotton dresses and the kerchiefs round +their heads stood out as trenchant, vivid notes of colour against the +dull grey landscape beyond. A couple of haycarts were standing by: +beside them two men were lighting their pipes. The wind was playing with +the hay as the women tossed it, and their shrill laughter came echoing +across the meadow. + +And even now the ground was shaken with the repercussion of distant +volleys of artillery, and along the road a stream of men were running +toward Brussels, horses galloped by frightened and riderless, or +dragging broken gun-carriages behind them in the mud. The whole of that +stream was carrying the news of Wellington's disaster to Brussels and to +Ghent: not knowing that behind them had already sounded the passing bell +for the Empire of France. + +Bobby had drawn rein on the edge of the wood to give his horse a rest, +and for a while he watched that running stream, longing to shout to them +to turn back--there was no occasion to run--to see what had been done, +to take a share in that glorious, final charge for victory. But his +throat was too parched for a shout, and as he watched, he saw in among a +knot of mounted men--fugitives like the others, pale of face, anxious of +mien and with that intent look which men have when life is precious and +has got to be saved--he saw a man in the same uniform that St. Genis +wore--a Brunswicker in black coat and silver galoons--who stared at him, +persistently and strangely, as he rode by. + +The face though much altered by three days' growth of beard, and by the +set of the shako worn right down to the brows, was nevertheless a +familiar one. Bobby--stupefied, deprived for the moment of thinking +powers, through sheer exhaustion and burning pain--taxed his weary brain +in vain to understand the look of recognition which the man in the black +uniform cast upon him as he passed. + +Until a lightly spoken: "Hullo, my dear Clyffurde!" uttered gaily as the +rider drew near to the edge of the road, brought the name of "Victor de +Marmont!" to Bobby's quivering lips. + +And just for the space of sixty seconds Fate rubbed her gaunt hands +complacently together, seeing that she had brought these three men +together--here on this spot--three men who loved the same woman, each +with the utmost ardour and passion at his command--each even at this +very moment striving to win her and to work for her happiness. + +Behind them in the plains of Waterloo the cannon still was roaring: de +Marmont was on his way to redeem the fallen fortunes of the hero whom he +worshipped and to win imperial regard, imperial favours, fortune and +glory wherewith to conquer a girl's obstinacy. St. Genis--pale and +unconscious--seemed even in his unconsciousness to defy the power of any +rival by the might of early love, of old associations, of similarity of +caste and of political ideals. He had fought for the cause which she and +he had both equally at heart and by his very helplessness now he seemed +to prove that he could do no more than he had done and that he had the +right to claim the solace and comfort which her girlish lips and her +girlish love had promised him long ago. + +Whilst Bobby had nothing to promise and nothing to give save +devotion--his hope, his desire and his love were bounded by her +happiness. And since her happiness lay in the life of the man whom he +had dragged out of the jaws of Death, what greater proof could he give +of his love than to lay down his life for him and for her? + +De Marmont's keen eyes took in the situation at a glance: he threw a +quick look of savage hatred on St. Genis and cast one of contemptuous +pity on Clyffurde. Then with a shrug of the shoulders and a light, +triumphant laugh, he set spurs to his horse and rode swiftly away. + +Bobby's lack-lustre eyes followed horse and rider down the road till +they grew smaller and smaller still and finally disappeared in the +distance. For a moment he felt puzzled. What was de Marmont doing in +this stream of senseless, panic-stricken men? What was he doing in the +uniform of one of the Allied nations? Why had he laughed so gaily and +appeared so triumphant in his mien? + +Did he not know then that his hero had fallen along with his mighty +eagle? that the brief adventure begun in the gulf of Jouan had ended in +a hopeless tragedy on the field of Waterloo? But why that uniform? Poor +Bobby's head ached too much to allow him to think, and time was getting +on. + +The road now was deserted. The last of the fugitives formed but a cloud +of black specks on the line of the horizon far off toward Brussels. From +the hayfield there came the merry sound of women's laughter, while far +away cannon and musketry still roared. And over the long, straight +road--bordered with straight poplar trees--the setting sun threw +ever-lengthening shadows. + +Maurice opened his eyes. + +"Where am I?" he asked again. + +"Close to Brussels now," replied Bobby. + +"To Brussels?" murmured St. Genis feebly. "Crystal!" + +"Yes," assented Bobby. "Crystal! God bless her!" Then as St. Genis was +trying to move, he added: "Can you shift a little?" + +"I think so," replied the other. + +"If you could ease the pressure on my leg . . . steady, now! steady! +. . . Can you sit up in the saddle? . . . Are you hurt? . . ." + +"Not much. My head aches terribly. I must have hit it against something. +But that is all. I am only dizzy and sick." + +"Could you ride on to Brussels alone, think you?" + +"Perhaps." + +"It is not far. The horse is very quiet. He will amble along if you give +him his head." + +"But you?" + +"I'd like to rest. I'll find shelter in a cottage perhaps . . . or in +the wood." + +St. Genis said nothing more for the moment. He was intent on sliding +down from the saddle without too much assistance from Bobby. When he had +reached the ground, it took him a little while to collect himself, for +his head was swimming: he closed his eyes and put out a hand to steady +himself against a tree. + +When Maurice opened his eyes again, Bobby was sitting on the ground by +the roadside: the horse was nibbling a clump of fresh, green grass. + +For the first time since that awful moment when stumbling and falling +against a pile of dead, with Death behind and all around him, he had +heard the welcome call: "Can you pull yourself up?" and felt the +steadying grip upon his elbow--Maurice de St. Genis looked upon the man +to whom he owed his life. + +With that stained bandage round his head, dulled and bloodshot eyes, +face blackened with powder and smoke and features drawn and haggard, +Bobby Clyffurde was indeed almost unrecognisable. But Maurice knew him +on the instant. Hitherto, he had not thought of how he had come out of +that terrible hell-fire behind La Haye Sainte--indeed, he had quickly +lost consciousness and never regained it till now: and now he knew that +the same man who in the narrow hotel room near Lyons had ungrudgingly +rendered him a signal service--had risked his life to-day for +his--Maurice's sake. + +No one could have entered that awful melee and faced the bayonet charge +of Pelet's cuirassiers and the hail of bullets from their tirailleurs +without taking imminent risk of death. Yet Clyffurde had done it. Why? +Maurice--wide-eyed and sullen--could only find one answer to that +insistent question. + +That same deadly pang of jealousy which had assailed his heart after the +midnight interview at the inn now held him in its cruel grip again. He +felt that he hated the man to whom he owed his life, and that he hated +himself for this mean and base ingratitude. He would not trust himself +to speak or to look on Bobby at all, lest the ugly thoughts which were +floating through his mind set their stamp upon his face. + +"Will you ride on to Brussels?" he said at last. "I can wait here . . . +and perhaps you could send a conveyance for me later on. M. le Comte de +Cambray would . . ." + +"M. le Comte de Cambray and Mademoiselle Crystal are even now devoured +with anxiety about you," broke in Clyffurde as firmly as he could. "And +I could not ride to Brussels--even though some one were waiting for me +there--I really am not able to ride further. I would prefer to sit here +and rest." + +"I don't like to leave you . . . after . . . after what you have done +for me . . . I would like to . . ." + +"I would like you to scramble into that saddle and go," retorted Bobby +with a momentary return to his usual good-natured irony, "and to leave +me in peace." + +"I'll send out a conveyance for you," rejoined St. Genis. "I know M. le +Comte de Cambray would wish . . ." + +"Mention my name to M. le Comte at your peril . . ." began Clyffurde. + +"But . . ." + +"By the Lord, man," now exclaimed Bobby with a sudden burst of energy, +"if you do not go, I vow that sick as I am, and sick though you may be, +I'll yet manage to punch your aching head." + +Then as the other--still reluctantly--turned to take hold of the horse's +bridle, he added more gently: "Can you mount?" + +"Oh, yes! I am better now." + +"You won't turn giddy, and fall off your horse?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Talk about the halt leading the blind!" murmured Clyffurde as he +stretched himself out once more upon the soft ground, whilst Maurice +contrived to hoist himself up into the saddle. "Are you safe now?" he +added as the young man collected the reins in his hand, and planted his +feet firmly into the stirrups. + +"Yes! I am safe enough," replied St. Genis. "It is only my head that +aches: and Brussels is not far." + +Then he paused a moment ere he started to go--with lips set tight and +looking down on Bobby, whose pale face had taken on an ashen hue: + +"How you must despise me," he said bitterly. + +But Bobby made no reply: he was just longing to be left alone, whilst +the other still seemed inclined to linger. + +"Would to God," Maurice said with a sigh, "that M. le Comte heard the +evil news from other lips than mine." + +"Evil news?" And Bobby, whom semi-consciousness was already taking off +once more to the land of visions and of dreams--was brought back to +reality--as if with a sudden jerk--with those two preposterous little +words. + +"What evil news?" he asked. + +"The allied armies have retreated all along the line . . . the Corsican +adventurer is victorious . . . our poor King . . ." + +"Hold your tongue, you young fool," cried Bobby hoarsely. "The Lord help +you but I do believe you are about to blaspheme . . ." + +"But . . ." + +"The Allied Armies--the British Army, God bless it!--have covered +themselves with glory--Napoleon and his Empire have ceased to be. The +Grand Army is in full retreat . . . the Prussians are in pursuit. . . . +The British have won the day by their pluck and their endurance. . . . +Thank God I lived just long enough to see it all, ere I fell . . ." + +"But when we charged the cuirassiers . . ." began St. Genis, not knowing +really if Bobby was raving in delirium, or speaking of what he knew. He +wanted to ask further questions, to hear something more before he +started for Brussels . . . the only thing which he remembered with +absolute certainty was that awful charge of his regiment against the +cuirassiers, then the panic and the rout: and he judged the whole issue +of the battle by what had happened to a detachment of Brunswickers. + +And yet, of course--before the charge--he had seen and known all that +Bobby told him now. That rush of the Brunswickers and the Dutch down the +hillside was only a part of the huge and glorious charge of the whole of +the Allied troops against the routed Grand Army of Napoleon. He had +neither the physical strength nor the desire to think out all that it +would mean to him personally if what Bobby now told him was indeed +absolutely true. + +He was longing to make the wounded man rouse himself just once more and +reiterate the glad news which meant so much to him--Maurice--and to +Crystal. But it was useless to think of that now. Bobby was either +unconscious or asleep. For a moment a twinge of real pity made St. +Genis' heart ache for the man who seemed to be left so lonely and so +desolate: jealousy itself gave way before that more gentle feeling. +After all, Crystal could only be true to the love of her childhood; her +heart belonged to the companion, the lover, the ideal of her girlish +dreams. This stranger here loved her--that was obvious--but Crystal had +never looked on him with anything but indifference. Even that dance last +night . . . but of this Maurice would not think lest pity die out of his +heart again . . . and jealousy and hate walk hand in hand with base +ingratitude. + +He turned his horse's head round to the road, pressed his knees into its +sides, and then as the poor, weary beast started to amble leisurely down +the road, Maurice looked back for the last time on the prostrate, +pathetic figure of the lonely man who had given his all for him: he +looked at every landmark which would enable him to find that man +again--the angle of the forest where it touched the meadow,--the +milestone, the trees by the roadside--oh! he meant to do his duty, to do +it well and quickly, to send the conveyance, to neglect nothing; then, +with a sigh--half of bitterness, yet full of satisfaction--he finally +turned away and looked straight out before him into the distance where +Brussels lay, and where the happiness of Crystal's love called to him, +and he would find rest and peace in the warm affection of her faithful +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE LOSING HANDS + + +I + +An hour later Maurice de St. Genis was in Brussels. Though his head +still ached his mind was clear, and thoughts of Crystal--of happiness +with her now at last within sight--had chased every other thought away. + +His home had been with the de Cambrays ever since those old, sad days in +England; he had a home to go to now:--a home where the kindly friendship +of the Comte as well as the love of Crystal was ready to welcome him. +The warmth of anticipated happiness and well-being warmed his heart and +gave strength to his body. The horrors of the past few hours seemed all +to have melted away behind him on the Brussels road as did the +remembrance of a man--wounded himself and spent--risking his life for +the sake of a friend. Not that St. Genis meant to be ungrateful--nor did +he forget that wounded man--lying alone and sick on the fringe of the +wood by the roadside. + +As soon as he had taken his horse round to the barracks in the rue des +Comediens, and before even he had a wash or had his uniform cleaned of +stains and mud, he rushed to the headquarters of the Army Service to see +how soon a conveyance could be sent out to his friend--and when he was +unable to obtain what he wanted there, he rushed from hospital to +hospital, thence to two or three doctors whom he knew of to see what +could be done. But the hospitals were already over-full and over-busy: +their ambulances were all already on the way: as for the doctors, they +were all from home--all at work where their skill was most needed--an +army of doctors, of ambulances and drivers would not suffice at this +hour to bring all the wounded in from the spot where that awful battle +was raging. + +And Maurice saw time slipping by: he had already spent an hour in a +fruitless quest. He longed to see Crystal and waxed impatient at the +delay. Anon at the English hospital a kindly person--who listened +sympathetically to his tale--promised him that the ambulance which was +just setting out in the direction of Mont Saint Jean would be on the +look-out for his wounded friend by the roadside; and Maurice with a sigh +of relief felt that he had indeed done his duty and done his best. + +At the English hospital Clyffurde would be splendidly looked +after--nowhere else could he find such sympathetic treatment! And +Maurice with a light heart went back to the barracks in the rue des +Comediens, where he had a wash and had his uniform cleaned. Somewhat +refreshed, though still very tired, he hurried round to the rue du +Marais, where the Comte de Cambray had his lodgings. The first sight of +Brussels had already told him the whole pitiable tale of panic and of +desolation which had filled the city in the wake of the fugitive troops. +The streets were encumbered with vehicles of every kind--carts, +barouches, barrows--with horses loosely tethered, with the wounded who +lay about on litters of straw along the edges of the pavement, in +doorways, under archways in the centre of open places, with crowds of +weeping women and crying children wandering aimlessly from place to +place trying to find the loved one who might be lying here, hurt or +mayhap dying. + +And everywhere men in tattered uniforms, with grimy hands and faces, and +boots knee-deep in stains of mud, stood about or sat in the empty +carts, talking, gesticulating, giving sundry, confused and contradictory +accounts of the great battle--describing Napoleon's decisive +victory--Wellington's rout--the prolonged absence of Bluecher and the +Prussians, cause of the terrible disaster. + +M. le Comte d'Artois had rushed precipitately from Brussels up to Ghent +to warn His Majesty the King of France that all hope of saving his +throne was now at an end, and that the wisest course to pursue was to +return to England and resign himself once more to obscurity and exile. + +M. le Prince de Conde too had gone off to Antwerp in a huge barouche, +having under his care the treasure and jewels of the crown hastily +collected three months ago at the Tuileries. + +In every open space a number of prisoners were being guarded by mixed +patrols of Dutch, Belgian or German soldiers, and their cry of "Vive +l'Empereur!" which they reiterated with unshakable obstinacy roused the +ire of their captors, and provoked many a savage blow, and many a broken +head. + +But St. Genis did not pause to look on these sights: he had not the +strength to stand up in the midst of these confused masses of +terror-driven men and women, and to shout to them that they were +fools--that all their panic must be turned to joy, their lamentations to +shouts of jubilation. News of victory was bound to spread through the +city within the next hour, and he himself longed only to see Crystal, to +reassure her as to his own safety, to see the light of happiness kindled +in her eyes by the news which he brought. He had not the strength for +more. + +It was old Jeanne who opened the door at the lodgings in the rue du +Marais when Maurice finally rang the bell there. + +"M. le Marquis!" she exclaimed. "Oh! but you are ill." + +"Only very tired and weak, Jeanne," he said. "It has been an awful day." + +"Ah! but M. le Comte will be pleased!" + +"And Mademoiselle Crystal?" asked Maurice with a smile which had in it +all the self-confidence of the accepted lover. + +"Mademoiselle Crystal will be happy too," said Jeanne. "She has been so +unhappy, so desperately anxious all day." + +"Can I see her?" + +"Mademoiselle is out for the moment, M. le Marquis. And M. le Comte has +gone to the Cercle des Legitimistes in the rue des Cendres--perhaps M. +le Marquis knows--it is not far." + +"I would like to see Mademoiselle Crystal first. You understand, don't +you, Jeanne?" + +"Yes, I do, M. le Marquis," sighed faithful Jeanne, who was always +inclined to be sentimental. + +"How long will she be, do you think?" + +"Oh! another half hour. Perhaps more. Mademoiselle has gone to the +cathedral. If M. le Marquis will give himself the trouble to walk so +far, he cannot fail to see Mademoiselle when she comes out of church." + +But already--before Jeanne had finished speaking--Maurice had turned on +his heel and was speeding back down the narrow street. Tired and weak as +he was, his one idea was to see Crystal, to hear her voice, to see the +love-light in her eyes. He felt that at sight of her all fatigue would +be gone, all recollections of the horrors of this day wiped out with the +first look of joy and relief with which she would greet him. + + +II + +The service was over, and the congregation had filed out of the +cathedral. Crystal was one of the last to go. She stood for a long while +in the porch looking down with unseeing eyes on the bustle and +excitement which went on in the Place down below. Her mind was not +here. It was far indeed from the crowd of terror-stricken or gossiping +men and women, of wounded soldiers, terrified peasantry and anxious +townsfolk that encumbered the precincts of the stately edifice. + +From the remote distance--out toward the south--came the boom and roar +of cannon and musket fire--almost incessant still. There was her heart! +there her thoughts! with the brave men who were fighting for their +national existence--with the British troops and with their +sufferings--and she stood here, staring straight out before +her--dry-eyed and pale and small white hands clasped tightly together. + +The greater part of to-day she had sat by the open window in the shabby +drawing-room in the rue du Marais, listening to that awful fusillade, +wondering with mind well-nigh bursting with horror and with misery which +of those cruel shots which she heard in the dim distance would still for +ever the brave and loyal heart that had made so many silent sacrifices +for her. + +And her father, vaguely thinking that she was anxious about +Maurice--vaguely wondering that she cared so much--had done his best to +try and comfort her: "She need not fear much for Maurice," he had told +her as reassuringly as he could--"the Brunswickers were not likely to +suffer much. The brunt of the conflict would fall upon the British. Ah! +but they would lose very heavily. Wellington had not more than seventy +thousand men to put up against the Corsican's troops; and only a hundred +and fifty cannon against two hundred and eighty. Yes, the British would +probably be annihilated by superior forces: but no doubt the other +allies--and the Brunswickers--would come off a great deal better." + +But Mme. la Duchesse douairiere d'Agen offered no such consolation. She +contented herself with saying that she was sure in her mind that +Maurice would come through quite safely, and that she prayed to God with +all her heart and soul that the gallant British troops would not suffer +too heavily. Then with her fine, gentle hand she patted Crystal's fair +curls which were clinging matted and damp against the young girl's +burning forehead. And she stooped and kissed those aching dry blue eyes +and whispered quite under her breath so that Crystal could not be sure +if she heard correctly: "May God protect him too! He is a brave and a +good man!" + +And then Crystal had gone out to seek peace and rest in beautiful old +Ste. Gudule, so full of memories of other conflicts, other prayers, +other deeds of heroism of long ago. Here in the dim light and the +silence and the peace, her quivering nerves had become somewhat stilled: +and when she came out she was able just for the moment neither to see or +hear the terror-mongers down below and only to think of the heroes out +there on the field of battle for whom she had just prayed with such +passionate earnestness. + +Suddenly in the crowd she recognised Maurice. He was coming up the +cathedral steps, looking for her, no doubt--Jeanne must have directed +him. When he drew near to her, he saw that a look of happy surprise and +of true joy lit up the delicate pathos of her face. He ran quickly to +her now. He would have taken her in his arms--here in face of the +crowd--but there was something in her manner which instinctively sobered +him and he had to be content with the little cold hands which she held +out to him and with imprinting a kiss upon her finger tips. + +Already in his eyes she had read that the news which he brought was not +so bad as rumour had foretold. + +"Maurice," she cried excitedly, with a little catch in her throat, "you +are well and safe, thank God! And what news? . . ." + +"The news is good," Maurice replied. "Victory is assured by now. It has +been a hard day, but we have won." + +She said nothing for a moment. But the tears gathered in her eyes, her +lips quivered and Maurice knew that she was thanking God. Then she +turned back to him and he could see her face glowing with excitement. + +"And our allies," she asked, and now that little catch in her throat was +more marked, "the British troops? . . . We heard that they behaved like +heroes, and bore the brunt of this awful battle." + +"I don't know much about the British troops, my sweet," he replied +lightly, "but what news I have I will have to impart to your father as +well as to you. So it will have to keep until I see him . . . but just +now, Crystal, while we are alone . . . I have other things to say to +you." + +But it is doubtful if Crystal heard more than just the first words which +he had spoken, for she broke in quite irrelevantly: + +"You don't know about the British troops, Maurice? Oh! but you must +know! . . . Don't you know what British regiments were engaged? . . ." + +"I know that none of our own people were in British regiments, Crystal," +he retorted somewhat drily, "whereas the Brunswickers and Nassauers were +as much French as German . . . they fought gallantly all day . . . you +do not ask so much about them." + +"But . . ." she stammered while a hot flush spread over her cheeks, "I +thought . . . you said . . ." + +"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender +reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and +that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo? +Are you not glad that I am here?" + +He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm +attitude which had begun to chill him. Had he not been in deadly danger +all the day? Had she not heard that distant cannon's roar which had +threatened his life throughout all these hours? Had he not come back out +of the very jaws of Death? + +And yet here she stood white as a lily and as unruffled; except for that +one first exclamation of joy not a single cry from the heart had forced +itself through her pale, slightly trembling lips: yet she was sweet and +girlish and tender as of old and even now at the implied reproach her +eyes had quickly filled with tears. + +"How can you ask, Maurice?" she protested gently. "I have thought of you +and prayed for you all day." + +It was her quiet serenity that disconcerted him--the kindly tone of her +voice--her calm, unembarrassed manner checked his passionate impulse and +caused him to bite his underlip with vexation until it bled. + +The shadows of evening were closing in around them: from the windows of +the houses close by dim, yellow lights began to blink like eyes. +Overhead, the exquisite towers of Ste. Gudule stood out against the +stormy sky like perfect, delicate lace-work turned to stone, whilst the +glass of the west window glittered like a sheet of sapphires and +emeralds and rubies, as it caught the last rays of the sinking sun. +Crystal's graceful figure stood out in its white, summer draperies, +clear and crystalline as herself against the sombre background of the +cathedral porch. + +And Maurice watched her through the dim shadows of gathering twilight: +he watched her as a fowler watches the bird which he has captured and +never wholly tamed. Somehow he felt that her love for him was not quite +what it had been until now: that she was no longer the same girlish, +submissive creature on whose soft cheeks a word or look from him had the +power to raise a flush of joy. + +She was different now--in a curious, intangible way which he could not +define. + +And jealousy reared up its threatening head more insistently:--bitter +jealousy which embraced de Marmont, Clyffurde, Fate and +Circumstance--but Clyffurde above all--the stranger hitherto deemed of +no account, but who now--wounded, abandoned, dying, perhaps--seemed a +more formidable rival than Maurice awhile ago had deemed possible. + +He cursed himself for that touch of sentiment--he called it +cowardice--which the other night, after the ball, had prompted him to +write to Crystal. But for that voluntary confession--he thought--she +could never have despised him. And following up the train of his own +thoughts, and realising that these had not been spoken aloud, he +suddenly called out abruptly: + +"Is it because of my letter, Crystal?" + +She gave a start, and turned even paler than she had been before. +Obviously she had been brought roughly back from the land of dreams. + +"Your letter, Maurice?" she asked vaguely, "what do you mean?" + +"I wrote you a letter the other night," he continued, speaking quickly +and harshly, "after the ball. Did you receive it?" + +"Yes." + +"And read it?" + +"Of course." + +"And is it because of it that your love for me has gone?" + +He had not meant to put his horrible suspicions into words. The very +fact--now that he had spoken--appeared more tangible, even irremediable. +She did not reply to his taunt, and he came a little closer to her and +took her hand, and when she tried to withdraw it from his grasp he held +it tightly and bent down his head so that in the gathering gloom he +could read every line of her face. + +"Because of what I told you in my letter you despised me, did you not?" +he asked. + +Again she made no reply. What could she say that would not hurt him far +more than did her silence? The next moment he had drawn her back right +into the shadow of the cathedral walls, into a dark angle, where no one +could see either her or him. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and +compelled her to look him straight in the face. + +"Listen, Crystal," he said slowly and with desperate earnestness. "Once, +long ago, I gave you up to de Marmont, to affluence and to +considerations of your name and of our caste. It all but broke my heart, +but I did it because your father demanded that sacrifice from you and +from me. I was ready then to stand aside and to give up all the dreams +of my youth. . . . But now everything is different. For one thing, the +events of the past hundred days have made every man many years older: +the hell I went through to-day has helped to make a more sober, more +determined man of me. Now I will not give you up. I will not. My way is +clear: I can win you with your father's consent and give him and you all +that de Marmont had promised. The King trusts me and will give me what I +ask. I am no longer a wastrel, no longer poor and obscure. And I will +not give you up--I swear it by all that I have gone through to-day. I +will not! if I have to kill with my own hand every one who stands in my +way." + +And Crystal, smiling, quite kindly and a little abstractedly at his +impulsive earnestness, gently removed his hands from her shoulders and +said calmly: + +"You are tired, Maurice, and overwrought. Shall we go in and wait for +father? He will be getting anxious about me." And without waiting to see +if he followed her, she turned to walk toward the steps. + +St. Genis smothered a violent oath, but he said nothing more. He was +satisfied with what he had done. He knew that women liked a masterful +man and he meant every word which he said. He would not give her up +. . . not now . . . and not to . . . Ye gods! he would not think of +that;--he would not think of the lonely roadside nor of the wounded man +who had robbed him of Crystal's love. He had done his duty by +Clyffurde--what more could he have done at this hour?--and he meant to +do far more than that--he meant to go back to the English hospital as +soon as possible, to see that Clyffurde had every attention, every care, +every comfort that human sympathy can bestow. What more could he do? He +would have done no good by going out with the ambulance himself--surely +not--he would have missed seeing Crystal--and she would have fretted and +been still more anxious . . . his first duty was to Crystal . . . and +. . . and . . . St. Genis only thought of Crystal and of himself and the +voice of Conscience was compulsorily stilled. + + +III + +Having lulled his conscience to sleep and satisfied his self-love by a +passionate tirade, Maurice followed Crystal down the steps at the west +front of Ste. Gudule. + +Immediately opposite them at the corner of the narrow rue de Ligne was +the old Auberge des Trois Rois, from whence the diligence started twice +a day in time to catch the tide and the English packet at Ostend. +Maurice and Crystal stood for a moment together on the steps watching +the bustle and excitement, the comings and goings of the crowd, which +always attend such departures. All day there had been a steady stream of +fugitives out of the town, taking their belongings with them: the +diligence was for the well-to-do and the indifferent who hurried away to +England to await the advent of more settled times. + +Victor de Marmont had secured his place inside the coach. He had +exchanged his borrowed uniform for civilian clothes, he had bestowed his +belongings in the vehicle and he was standing about desultorily waiting +for the hour of departure. The diligence would not arrive at Ostend till +five o'clock in the morning: then with the tide the packet would go out, +getting into London well after midday. Chance, as represented by the +tide, had seriously handicapped de Marmont's plans. But enthusiasm and +doggedness of purpose whispered to him that he still held the winning +card. The English packet was timed to arrive in London by two o'clock in +the afternoon, he would still have two hours to his credit before +closing time on 'Change and another hour in the street. Time to find his +broker and half an hour to spare: that would still leave him an hour +wherein to make a fortune for his Emperor. + +At one time he was afraid that he would not be able to secure a seat in +the diligence, so numerous were the travellers who wished to leave +Brussels behind them. But in this, Chance and the length of his purse +favoured him: he bought his seat for an exorbitant price, but he bought +it; and at nine o'clock the diligence was timed to start. + +It was now half-past eight. And just then de Marmont caught sight of +Crystal and St. Genis coming down the cathedral steps. + +He had half an hour to spare and he followed them. He wanted to speak to +Crystal--he had wanted it all day--but the difficulty of getting what +clothes he required and the trouble and time spent in bargaining for a +seat in the diligence had stood in his way. M. le Comte de Cambray would +never, of course, admit him inside his doors, and it would have meant +hanging about in the rue du Marais and trusting to a chance meeting with +Crystal when she went out, and for this he had not the time. + +And the chance meeting had come about in spite of all adverse +circumstances: and de Marmont followed Crystal through the crowded +streets, hoping that St. Genis would take leave of her before she went +indoors. But even if he did not, de Marmont meant to have a few words +with Crystal. He was going to win a gigantic fortune for the +Emperor--one wherewith that greatest of all adventurers could once again +recreate the Empire of France: he himself--rich already--would become +richer still and also--if his coup succeeded--one of the most trusted, +most influential men in the recreated Empire. He felt that with the +offer of his name he could pour out a veritable cornucopia of abundant +glory, honours, wealth at a woman's feet. And his ambition had always +been bound up in a great measure with Crystal de Cambray. He certainly +loved her in his way, for her beauty and her charm; but, above all, he +looked on her as the very personification of the old and proud regime +which had thought fit to scorn the parvenu noblesse of the Empire, and +for a powerful adherent of Napoleon to be possessed of a wife out of +that exclusive milieu was like a fresh and glorious trophy of war on a +conqueror's chariot-wheel. + +De Marmont had the supreme faith of an ambitious man in the power of +wealth and of court favour. He knew that Napoleon was not a man who ever +forgot a service efficiently rendered, and would repay this +one--rendered at the supreme hour of disaster--with a surfeit of +gratitude and of gifts which must perforce dazzle any woman's eyes and +conquer her imagination. + +Besides his schemes, his ambitions, the future which awaited him, what +had an impecunious wastrel like St. Genis to offer to a woman like +Crystal de Cambray? + + +Outside the house in the rue du Marais where the Comte de Cambray +lodged, St. Genis and Crystal paused, and de Marmont, who still kept +within the shadows, waited for a favourable opportunity to make his +presence known. + +"I'll find M. le Comte and bring him back with me," he heard St. Genis +saying. "You are sure I shall find him at the Legitimiste?" + +"Quite sure," Crystal replied. "He did not mean to leave the Cercle till +about nine. He is sure to wait for every bit of news that comes in." + +"It will be a great moment for me, if I am the first to bring in +authentic good news." + +"You will be quite the first, I should say," she assented, "but don't +let father stay too long talking. Bring him back quickly. Remember I +haven't heard all the news yet myself." + +St. Genis went up to the front door and rang the bell, then he took +leave of Crystal. De Marmont waited his opportunity. Anon, Jeanne opened +the door, and St. Genis walked quickly back down the street. + +Crystal paused a moment by the open door in order to talk to Jeanne, and +while she did so de Marmont slipped quickly past her into the house and +was some way down the corridor before the two women had recovered from +their surprise. Jeanne, as was her wont, was ready to scream, but +despite the fast gathering gloom Crystal had at once recognised de +Marmont. She turned a cold look upon him. + +"An intrusion, Monsieur?" she asked quietly. + +"We'll call it that, Mademoiselle, an you will," he replied +imperturbably, "and if you will kindly order your servant to go, it +shall be a very brief one." + +"My father is from home," she said. + +De Marmont smiled and shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know that," he said, "or I would not be here." + +"Then your intrusion is that of a coward, if you knew that I was +unprotected." + +"Are you afraid of me, Crystal?" he asked with a sneer. + +"I am afraid of no one," she replied. "But since you and I have nothing +to say to one another, I beg that you will no longer force your company +upon me." + +"Your pardon, but there is something very important which I must say to +you. I have news of to-day's doings out there at Waterloo, which bear +upon the whole of your future and upon your happiness. I myself leave +for England in less than half an hour. I was taking my place in the +diligence outside the Trois Rois when I saw you coming down the +cathedral steps. Fate has given me an opportunity for which I sought +vainly all day. You will never regret it, Crystal, if you listen to me +now." + +"I listen," she broke in coolly. "I pray you be as brief as you can." + +"Will you order the servant to go?" + +For a moment longer she hesitated. Commonsense told her that it was +neither prudent nor expedient to hold converse with this man, who was an +avowed and bitter enemy of her cause. But he had spoken of the doings at +Waterloo and spoken of them in connection with her own future and her +happiness, and--prudent or not--she wanted to hear what he had to say, +in the vague hope that from a chance word carelessly dropped by Victor +de Marmont she would glean, if only a scrap, some news of that on which +St. Genis would not dwell but on which hung her heart and her very +life--the fate of the British troops. + +After all he might know something, he might say something which would +help her to bear this intolerable misery of uncertainty: and on the +merest chance of that she threw prudence to the winds. + +"You may go, Jeanne," she said. "But remain within call. Leave the front +door open," she added. "M. le Comte and M. le Marquis will be here +directly." + +"Oh! you are well protected," said Victor de Marmont with a careless +shrug of the shoulders, as Jeanne's heavy, shuffling footsteps died away +down the corridor. + +"Now, M. de Marmont," said Crystal coolly. "I listen." + +She was leaning back against the wall--her hands behind her, her pale +face and large blue eyes with their black dilated pupils turned +questioningly upon him. The walls of the corridor were painted white, +after the manner of Flemish houses, the tiled floor was white too, and +Crystal herself was dressed all in white, so that the whole scene made +up of pale, soft tints looked weird and ghostly in the twilight and +Crystal like an ethereal creature come down from the land of nymphs and +of elves. + +And de Marmont, too--like St. Genis a while ago--felt that never had +this beautiful woman--she was no longer a girl now--looked more +exquisite and more desirable, and he--conscious of the power which +fortune and success can give, thought that he could woo and win her once +again in spite of caste-prejudice and of political hatred. St. Genis had +felt his position unassailable by virtue of old associations, common +sympathies and youthful vows: de Marmont relied on feminine ambition, +love of power, of wealth and of station, and at this moment in Crystal's +shining eyes he only read excitement and the unspoken desire for all +that he was prepared to offer. + +"I have only a few moments to spare, Crystal," he said slowly, and with +earnest emphasis, "so I will be very brief. For the moment the Emperor +has suffered a defeat--as he did at Eylau or at Leipzic--his defeats are +always momentary, his victories alone are decisive and abiding. The +whole world knows that. It needs no proclaiming from me. But in order to +retrieve that momentary defeat of to-day he has deigned to ask my help. +The gods are good to me! they have put it within my power to help my +Emperor in his need. I am going to England to-night in order to carry +out his instructions. By to-morrow afternoon I shall have finished my +work. The Empire of France will once more rise triumphant and glorious +out of the ashes of a brief defeat; the Emperor once more, Phoebus-like, +will drive the chariot of the Sun, Lord and Master of Europe, greater +since his downfall, more powerful, more majestic than ever before. And +I, who will have been the humble instrument of his reconquered glory, +will deserve to the full his bounty and his gratitude." + +He paused for lack of breath, for indeed he had talked fast and volubly: +Crystal's voice, cold and measured, broke in on the silence that ensued. + +"And in what way does all this concern me, M. de Marmont?" she asked. + +"It concerns your whole future, Crystal," he replied with ever-growing +solemnity and conviction. "You must have known all along that I have +never ceased to love you: you have always been the only possible woman +for me--my ideal, in fact. Your father's injustice I am willing to +forget. Your troth was plighted to me and I have done nothing to deserve +all the insults which he thought fit to heap upon me. I wanted you to +know, Crystal, that my love is still yours, and that the fortune and +glory which I now go forth to win I will place with inexpressible joy at +your feet." + +She shrugged her shoulders and an air of supreme indifference spread +over her face. "Is that all?" she asked coldly. + +"All? What do you mean? I don't understand." + +"I mean that you persuaded me to listen to you on the pretence that you +had news to tell me of the doings at Waterloo--news on which my +happiness depended. You have not told me a single fact that concerns me +in the least." + +"It concerns you as it concerns me, Crystal. Your happiness is bound up +with mine. You are still my promised wife. I go to win glory for my name +which will soon be yours. You and I, Crystal, hand in hand! think of +it! our love has survived the political turmoils--united in love, +united in glory, you and I will be the most brilliant stars that will +shine at the Imperial Court of France." + +She did not try to interrupt his tirade, but looked on him with cool +wonderment, as one gazes on some curious animal that is raving and +raging behind iron bars. When he had finished she said quietly: + +"You are mad, I think, M. de Marmont. At any rate, you had better go +now: time is getting on, and you will lose your place in the diligence." + +He was less to her than the dust under her feet, and his protestations +had not even the power to rouse her wrath. Indeed, all that worried her +at this moment was vexation with herself for having troubled to listen +to him at all: it had been worse than foolish to suppose that he had any +news to impart which did not directly concern himself. So now, while he, +utterly taken aback, was staring at her open-mouthed and bewildered, she +turned away, cold and full of disdain, gathering her draperies round +her, and started to walk slowly toward the stairs. Her clinging white +skirt made a soft, swishing sound as it brushed the tiled floor, and she +herself--with her slender figure, graceful neck and crown of golden +curls, looked, as the gloom of evening wrapped her in, more like an +intangible elf--an apparition--gliding through space, than just a +scornful woman who had thought fit to reject the importunate addresses +of an unwelcome suitor. + +She left de Marmont standing there in the corridor--like some +presumptuous beggar--burning with rage and humiliation, too +insignificant even to be feared. But he was not the man to accept such a +situation calmly: his love for Crystal had never been anything but a +selfish one--born of the desire to possess a high-born, elegant wife, +taken out of the very caste which had scorned him and his kind: her +acquiescence he had always taken for granted: her love he meant to win +after his wooing of her hand had been successful--until then he could +wait. So certain too was he of his own power to win her, in virtue of +all that he had to offer, that he would not take her scorn for real or +her refusal to listen to him as final. + + +IV + +Before she had reached the foot of the stairs, he was already by her +side, and with a masterful hand upon her arm had compelled her, by +physical strength, to turn and to face him once more. + +"Crystal," he said, forcing himself to speak quietly, even though his +voice quivered with excitement and passionate wrath, "as you say, I have +only a few moments to spare, but they are just long enough for me to +tell you that it is you who are mad. I daresay that it is difficult to +believe in the immensity of a disaster. M. de St. Genis no doubt has +been filling your ears with tales of the allied armies' victories. But +look at me, Crystal--look at me and tell me if you have ever seen a man +more in deadly earnest. I tell you that I am on my way to aid the +Emperor in reforming his Empire on a more solid basis than it has ever +stood before. Have you ever known Napoleon to fail in what he set +himself to do? I tell you that he is not crushed--that he is not even +defeated. Within a month the allies will be on their knees begging for +peace. The era of your Bourbon kings is more absolutely dead to-day than +it has ever been. And after to-day there will be nothing for a royalist +like your father or like Maurice de St. Genis but exile and humiliation +more dire than before. Your father's fate rests entirely in your hands. +I can direct his destiny, his life or his death, just as I please. When +you are my wife, I will forgive him the insults which he heaped on me at +Brestalou . . . but not before. . . . As for Maurice de St. Genis +. . ." + +"And what of him, you abominable cur?" + +The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's +lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands +gripping him by the throat. The attack was so swift and so unexpected +that he was entirely off his guard: he lost his footing upon the +slippery floor, and before he could recover himself he was being forced +back and back until his spine was bent nearly double and his head +pressed down backward almost to the level of his knees. + +"Let him go, Maurice! you might kill him. Throw him out of the door." + +It was M. le Comte de Cambray who spoke. He and St. Genis had arrived +just in time to save Crystal from a further unpleasant scene. She, +however, had not lost her presence of mind. She had certainly listened +to de Marmont's final tirade, because she knew that she was helpless in +his hands, but she had never been frightened for a moment. Jeanne was +within call, and she herself had never been timorous: at the same time +she was thankful enough that her father and St. Genis were here. + +Maurice was almost blind with rage: he would have killed de Marmont but +for the Comte's timely words, which luckily had the effect of sobering +him at this critical moment. He relaxed his convulsive grip on de +Marmont's throat, but the latter had already lost his balance; he fell +heavily, his body sliding along the slippery floor, while his head +struck against the projecting woodwork of the door. + +He uttered a loud cry of pain as he fell, then remained lying inert on +the ground, and in the dim light his face took on an ashen hue. + +In an instant Crystal was by his side. + +"You have killed him, Maurice," she cried, as woman-like--tender and +full of compassion now--she ran to the stricken man. + +"I hope I have," said St. Genis sullenly. "He deserved the death of a +cur." + +"Father, dear," said Crystal authoritatively, "will you call to Jeanne +to bring water, a sponge, towels--quickly: also some brandy." + +She paid no heed to St. Genis: and she had already forgotten de +Marmont's dastardly attitude toward herself. She only saw that he was +helpless and in pain: she knelt by his side, pillowed his head on her +lap, and with soothing, gentle fingers felt his shoulders, his arms, to +see where he was hurt. He opened his eyes very soon and encountered +those tender blue eyes so full of sweet pity now: "It is only my head, I +think," he said. + +Then he tried to move, but fell back again with a groan of pain: "My leg +is broken, I am afraid," he murmured feebly. + +"I had best fetch a doctor," rejoined M. le Comte. + +"If you can find one, father, dear," said Crystal. "M. de Marmont ought +to be moved at once to his home." + +"No! no!" protested Victor feebly, "not home! to the Trois Rois . . . +the diligence. . . . I must go to England to-night . . . the Emperor's +orders." + +"The doctor will decide," said Crystal gently. "Father, dear, will you +go?" + +Jeanne came with water and brandy. De Marmont drank eagerly of the one, +and then sipped the other. + +"I must go," he said more firmly, "the diligence starts at nine +o'clock." + +Again he tried to move, and a great cry of agony rose to his throat--not +of physical pain, though that was great too, but the wild, agonising +shriek of mental torment, of disappointment and wrath and misery, +greater than human heart could bear. + +"The Emperor's orders!" he cried. "I must go!" + +Crystal was silent. There was something great and majestic, something +that compelled admiration and respect in this tragic impotence, this +failure brought about by uncontrolled passion at the very hour when +success--perhaps--might yet have changed the whole destinies of the +world. De Marmont lying here, helpless to aid his Emperor--through the +furious and jealous attack of a rival--was at this moment more worthy of +a good woman's regard than he had been in the flush of his success and +of his arrogance, for his one thought was of the Emperor and what he +could no longer do for him. He tried to move and could not: "The +Emperor's orders!" came at times with pathetic persistence from his +lips, and Crystal--woman-like--tried to soothe and comfort him in his +failure, even though his triumph would only have aroused her scorn. + +And time sped on. From the towers of the cathedral came booming the hour +of nine. The shadows in the narrow street were long and dark, only a +pale thin reflex of the cold light of the moon struck into the open +doorway and the white corridor, and detached de Marmont's pale face from +the surrounding gloom. + +The Emperor's orders and because of a woman these could now no longer be +obeyed. If de Marmont had not seen Crystal on the cathedral steps, if he +had not followed her--if he had not allowed his passion and arrogant +self-will to blind him to time and to surroundings--who knows? but the +whole map of Europe might yet have been changed. + +A fortune in London was awaiting a gambler who chose to stake everything +on a last throw--a fortune wherewith the greatest adventurer the world +has ever known might yet have reconstituted an army and reconquered an +Empire--and he who might have won that fortune was lying in the narrow +corridor of an humble lodging house--with a broken leg--helpless and +eating out his heart now with vain regret. Why? Because of a girl with +fair curls and blue eyes--just a woman--young and desirable--another +tiny pawn in the hands of the Great Master of this world's game. + +The rain in the morning at Waterloo--Bluecher's arrival or Grouchy's--a +man's selfish passion for a woman who cared nothing for him--who shall +dare to say that these tiny, trivial incidents changed the destinies of +the world? + +Think on it, O ye materialists! ye worshippers of Chance! Is it indeed +the infinitesimal doings of pigmies that bring about the great upheavals +of the earth? Do ye not rather see God's will in that fall of rain? +God's breath in those dying heroes who fell on Mont Saint Jean? do ye +not recognise that it was God's finger that pointed the way to Bluecher +and stretched de Marmont down helpless on the ground? + + +V + +The arrival of M. le Comte de Cambray, accompanied by a doctor and two +men carrying an improvised stretcher, broke the spell of silence that +had fallen on this strange scene of pathetic failure which seemed but an +humble counterpart of that great and irretrievable one which was being +enacted at this same hour far away on the road to Genappe. + +After the booming of the cathedral clock, de Marmont had ceased to +struggle: he accepted defeat probably because he, too--in spite of +himself--saw that the day of his idol's destiny was over, and that the +brilliant Star which had glittered on the firmament of Europe for a +quarter of a century had by the will of God now irretrievably declined. +He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of +gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly +placid and quiescent. + +Even, perhaps--for such is human nature and such the heart of youth--as +he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with so much pity toward him a sense +of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts +away. Crystal was kind--he argued to himself--she has already +forgiven--women are so ready to forgive faults and errors that spring +from an intensity of love. + +He sought her hand and she gave it--just as a sweet Sister of Mercy and +Gentleness would do, for whom the individual man--even the enemy--does +not exist--only the suffering human creature whom her touch can soothe. +He persuaded himself easily enough that when he pressed her hand she +returned the pressure, and renewed hope went forth once more soaring +upon the wings of fancy. + +Then the doctor came. M. le Comte had been fortunate in securing +him--had with impulsive generosity promised him ample payment--and then +brought him along without delay. He praised Mlle. de Cambray for her +kindness to the patient, asked a few questions as to how the accident +had occurred, and was satisfied that M. de Marmont had slipped on the +tiled floor and then struck his head against the door. He was not likely +to examine the purple bruises on the patient's throat: his business +began and ended with a broken leg to mend. As M. le Comte de Cambray +assured him that M. de Marmont was very wealthy, the worthy doctor most +readily offered his patient the hospitality of his own house until +complete recovery. + +He then superintended the lifting of the sick man on to the stretcher, +and having taken final leave of M. le Comte, Mademoiselle and all those +concerned and given his instructions to the bearers, he was the first to +leave the house. + +M. le Comte, pleasantly conscious of Christian duty toward an enemy +nobly fulfilled, nodded curtly to de Marmont, whom he hated with all his +heart, and then turned his back on an exceedingly unpleasant scene, +fervently wishing that it had never occurred in his house, and equally +fervently thankful that the accident had not more fateful consequences. +He retired to his smoking-room, calling to St. Genis and to Crystal to +follow him. + +But Crystal did not go at once. She stood in the dark corridor--quite +still--watching the stretcher bearers in their careful, silent work, +little guessing on what a filmy thread her whole destiny was hanging at +this moment. The Fates were spinning, spinning, spinning and she did not +know it. Had the solemn silence which hung so ominously in the twilight +not been broken till after the sick man had been borne away, the whole +of Crystal's future would have been shaped differently. + +But as with the rain at Waterloo, God had need of a tool for the +furtherance of His will and it was Maurice de St. Genis whom He +chose--Maurice who with his own words set the final seal to his destiny. + +De Marmont's eyes as he was being carried over the threshold dwelt upon +the graceful form of Crystal--clad all in white--all womanliness and +gentleness now--her sweet face only faintly distinguishable in the +gloom. St. Genis, whose nerves were still jarred with all that he had +gone through to-day and irritated by Crystal's assiduity beside the sick +man, resented that last look of farewell which de Marmont dared to throw +upon the woman whom he loved. An ungenerous impulse caused him to try +and aim a last moral blow at his enemy: + +"Come, Crystal," he said coldly, "the man has been better looked after +than he deserves. But for your father's interference I should have wrung +his neck like the cowardly brute that he was." + +And with the masterful air of a man who has both right and privilege on +his side, he put his arm round Crystal's waist and tried to draw her +away, and as he did so he whispered a tender: "Come, Crystal!" in her +ear. + +De Marmont--who at this moment was taking a last fond look at the girl +he loved, and was busy the while making plans for a happy future +wherein Crystal would play the chief role and would console him for all +disappointments by the magnitude of her love--de Marmont was brought +back from the land of dreams by the tender whisperings of his rival. His +own helplessness sent a flood of jealous wrath surging up to his brain. +The wild hatred which he had always felt for St. Genis ever since that +awful humiliation which he had suffered at Brestalou, now blinded him to +everything save to the fact that here was a rival who was gloating over +his helplessness--a man who twice already had humiliated him before +Crystal de Cambray--a man who had every advantage of caste and of +community of sympathy! a man therefore who must be in his turn +irretrievably crushed in the sight of the woman whom he still hoped to +win! + +De Marmont had no definite idea as to what he meant to do. Perhaps, just +at this moment, the pale, intangible shadow of Reason had lifted up one +corner of the veil that hid the truth from before his eyes--the absolute +and naked fact that Crystal de Cambray was not destined for him. She +would never marry him--never. The Empire of France was no more--the +Emperor was a fugitive. To St. Genis and his caste belonged the +future--and the turn had come for the adherents of the fallen Emperor to +sink into obscurity or to go into exile. + +Be that as it may, it is certain that in this fateful moment de Marmont +was only conscious of an all-powerful overwhelming feeling of hatred and +the determination that whatever happened to himself he must and would +prevent St. Genis from ever approaching Crystal de Cambray with words of +love again. That he had the power to do this he was fully conscious. + +"Crystal!" he called, and at the same time ordered the bearers to halt +on the doorstep for a moment. "Crystal, will you give me your hand in +farewell?" + +The young girl would probably have complied with his wish, but St. Genis +interposed. + +"Crystal," he said authoritatively, "your father has already called you. +You have done everything that Christian charity demands. . . ." And once +more he tried to draw the young girl away. + +"Do not touch her, man," called de Marmont in a loud voice, "a coward +like you has no right to touch the hand of a good woman." + +"M. de Marmont," broke in Crystal hotly, "you presume on your +helplessness. . . ." + +"Pay no heed to the ravings of a maniac, Crystal," interposed St. Genis +calmly, "he has fallen so low now, that contemptuous pity is all that he +deserves." + +"And contempt without pity is all that you deserve, M. le Marquis de St. +Genis," cried de Marmont excitedly. "Ask him, Mademoiselle Crystal, ask +him where is the man who to-day saved his life? whom I myself saw to-day +on the roadside, wounded and half dead with fatigue, on horseback, with +the inert body of M. de St. Genis lying across his saddle-bow. Ask him +how he came to lie across that saddle-bow? and whether his English +friend and mine, Bobby Clyffurde, did not--as any who passed by could +guess--drag him out of that hell at Waterloo and bring him into safety, +whilst risking his own life. Ask him," he continued, working himself up +into a veritable fever of vengeful hatred, as he saw that St. +Genis--sullen and glowering--was doing his best to drag Crystal away, to +prevent her from listening further to this awful indictment, these +ravings of a lunatic half-distraught with hate. "Ask him where is +Clyffurde now? to what lonely spot he has crawled in order to die while +M. le Marquis de St. Genis came back in gay apparel to court Mlle. +Crystal de Cambray? Ah! M. de St. Genis, you tried to heap opprobrium +upon me--you talked glibly of contempt and of pity. Of a truth 'tis I +do pity you now, for Mademoiselle Crystal will surely ask you all those +questions, and by the Lord I marvel how you will answer them." + +He fell back exhausted, in a dead faint no doubt, and St. Genis with a +wild cry like that of a beast in fury seized the nearest weapon that +came to his hand--a heavy oak chair which stood against the wall in the +corridor--and brandished it over his head. He would--had not Crystal at +once interposed--have killed de Marmont with one blow: even so he tried +to avoid Crystal in order to forge for himself a clear passage, to free +himself from all trammels so that he might indulge his lust to kill. + +"Take the sick man away! quickly!" cried Crystal to the stretcher +bearers. And they--realising the danger--the awfulness of the tragedy +which, with that clumsy weapon wielded by a man who was maddened with +rage, was hovering in the air, hurried over the threshold with their +burden as fast as they could: then out into the street: and Crystal +seizing hold of the front door shut it to with a loud bang after them. + + +VI + +Then with a cry that was just primitive in its passion--savage almost +like that of a lioness in the desert who has been robbed of her +young--she turned upon St. Genis: + +"Where is he now?" she called, and her voice was quite unrecognisable, +harsh and hoarse and peremptory. + +"Crystal, let me assure you," protested Maurice, "that I have already +done all that lay in my power. . . ." + +"Where is he now?" she broke in with the same fierce intensity. + +She stood there before him--wild, haggard, palpitating--a passionate +creature passionately demanding to know where the loved one was. It +seemed as if she would have torn the words out of St. Genis' throat, so +bitter and intense was the look of contempt and of hatred wherewith she +looked on him. + +M. le Comte--very much upset and ruffled by all that he had heard--came +out of his room just in time to see the stretcher-bearers disappearing +with their burden through the front door, and the door itself closed to +with a bang by Crystal. Truly his sense of decorum and of the fitness of +things had received a severe shock and now he had the additional +mortification of seeing his beautiful daughter--his dainty and +aristocratic Crystal--in a state bordering on frenzy. + +"My darling Crystal," he exclaimed, as he made his way quickly to her +side and put a restraining hand upon her arm. + +But Crystal now was far beyond his control: she shook off his hand--she +paid no heed to him, she went closer up to St. Genis and once more +repeated her ardent, passionate query: + +"Where is he now?" + +"At the English hospital, I hope," said St. Genis with as much cool +dignity as he could command. "Have I not assured you, Crystal, that I've +done all I could? . . ." + +"At the English hospital? . . . you hope? . . ." she retorted in a voice +that sounded trenchant and shrill through the overwhelming passion which +shook and choked it in her throat. "But the roadside--where you left him +. . . to die in a ditch perhaps . . . like a dog that has no home? . . . +where was that?" + +"I gave full directions at the English hospital," he replied. "I +arranged for an ambulance to go and find him . . . for a bed for him +. . . I. . . ." + +"Give me those directions," she commanded. + +"On the way to Waterloo . . . on the left side of the road . . . close +by the six kilometre milestone . . . the angle of the forest of Soigne +is just there . . . and there is a meadow which joins the edge of the +wood where they were making hay to-day. . . . No driver can fail to find +the place, Crystal . . . the ambulance. . . ." + +But now she was no longer listening to him. She had abruptly turned her +back on him and made for the door. Her father interposed. + +"What do you want to do, Crystal?" he said peremptorily. + +"Go to him, of course," she said quietly--for she was quite calm now--at +any rate outwardly--strong and of set purpose. + +"But you do not know where he is." + +"I'll go to the English hospital first . . . father, dear, will you let +me pass?" + +"Crystal," said M. le Comte firmly, as he stood his ground between his +daughter and the door, "you cannot go rushing through the streets of +Brussels alone--at this hour of the night--through all the soldiery and +all the drunken rabble." + +"He is dying," she retorted, "and I am going to find him. . . ." + +"You have taken leave of your senses, Crystal," said the Comte sternly. +"You seem to have forgotten your own personal dignity. . . ." + +"Father! let me go!" she demanded--for she had tried to measure her +physical strength against his, and he was holding her wrists now whilst +a look of great anger was on his face. + +"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that +lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added +harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to +second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at +this hour of the night." + +"But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke +in a tart voice from the back of the corridor. "Crystal, child! try and +bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to +the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good +enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me." + +And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and +practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful +Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief--almost of happiness--Crystal at +last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the +old woman: "_Ma tante_," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . +if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break." + +M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an +argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a +look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to +interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as +she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her--with or +without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but +one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by +making the best of this situation--of which he still highly disapproved. + +"Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your +way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to +nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist +that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career +about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench." + +"Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as +your father wishes--it will save a lot of argument and save time as +well." + +But even before the words were out of Madame's mouth, Crystal was +running along the corridor--ready to obey. At the foot of the stairs St. +Genis intercepted her. + +"Let me pass!" she cried wildly. + +"Not before you have said that you have forgiven me!" he entreated as he +clung to her white draperies with a passionate gesture of appeal. + +An exclamation which was almost one of loathing escaped her lips and +with a jerk she freed her skirt from his clutch. Then she ran quickly up +the stairs. Outside the door of her own room on the first landing she +paused for one minute, and from out of the gloom her voice came to him +like the knell of passing hope. + +"If he comes back alive out of the hell to which you condemned him," she +said, "I may in the future endure the sight of you again. . . . If he +dies . . . may God forgive you!" + +The opening and shutting of a door told him that she was gone, and he +was left in company with his shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WINNING HAND + + +Until far into the night the air reverberated with incessant +cannonade--from the direction of Genappe and from that of Wavre--but +just before dawn all was still. The stream of convoys which bore the +wounded along the road to Brussels from Mont Saint Jean and Hougoumont +and La Haye Sainte had momentarily ceased its endless course. The sky +had that perfect serenity of a midsummer's night, starlit and azure with +the honey-coloured moon sinking slowly down towards the west. Here at +the edge of the wood the air had a sweet smell of wet earth and damp +moss and freshly cut hay: it had all the delicious softness of a loved +one's embrace. + +Through the roar of distant cannonade, Bobby had slept. For a time after +St. Genis left him he had watched the long straight road with dull, +unseeing eyes--he had seen the first convoy, overfilled with wounded men +lying huddled on heaped-up straw, and had thanked God that he was lying +on this exquisitely soft carpet made of thousands of tiny green +plants--moss, grass, weeds, young tendrils and growing buds and opening +leaves that were delicious to the touch. He had quite forgotten that he +was wounded--neither his head nor his leg nor his arm seemed to hurt him +now: and he was able to think in peace of Crystal and of her happiness. + +St. Genis would have come to her by then: she would be happy to see him +safe and well, and perhaps--in the midst of her joy--she would think of +the friend who so gladly offered up his life for her. + +When the air around was no longer shaken by constant repercussion, Bobby +fell asleep. It was not yet dawn, even though far away in the east there +was a luminous veil that made the sky look like living silver. Behind +him among the trees there was a moving and a fluttering--the birds were +no longer asleep--they had not begun to sing but they were shaking out +their feathers and opening tiny, round eyes in farewell to departing +night. + +That gentle fluttering was a sweet lullaby, and Bobby slept and +dreamed--he dreamed that the fluttering became louder and louder, and +that, instead of birds, it was a group of angels that shook their wings +and stood around him as he slept. + +One of the angels came nearer and laid a hand upon his head--and Bobby +dreamed that the angel spoke and the words that it said filled Bobby's +heart with unearthly happiness. + +"My love! my love!" the angel said, "will you try and live for my sake?" + +And Bobby would not open his eyes, for fear the angel should go away. +And though he knew exactly where he was, and could feel the soft carpet +of leaves, and smell the sweet moisture in the air, he knew that he must +still be dreaming, for angels are not of this earth. + +Then a strong kind hand touched his wrist, and felt the beating of his +heart, and a rough, pleasant voice said in English: "He is exhausted and +very weak, but the fever is not high: he will soon be all right." And to +add to the wonderful strangeness of his dream, the angel's voice near +him murmured: "Thank God! thank God!" + +Why should an angel thank God that he--Bobby Clyffurde--was not likely +to die? + +He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw--bending over +him--a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever +seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled +like rose-leaves in the breeze. He was still dreaming and there was a +haze between him and that perfect vision of loveliness. And the kind, +rough voice somewhere close by said: "Have you got that stretcher +ready?" and two other voices replied, "Yes, Sir." + +But the lips close above him said nothing, and it was Bobby now who +murmured: "My love, is it you?" + +"Your love for always," the dear lips replied, "nothing shall part us +now. Yours for always to bring you back to life. Yours when you will +claim me--yours for life." + +They lifted him onto a stretcher, and then into a carriage and a very +kind face which he quickly enough recognised as Mme. la Duchesse +d'Agen's smiled very encouragingly upon him, whereupon he could not help +but ask a very pertinent question: + +"Mme. la Duchesse, is all this really happening?" + +"Why, yes, my good man," Madame replied; and indeed there was nothing +dreamlike in her tart, dry voice: "Crystal and I really have dragged Dr. +Scott away from the bedside of innumerable other sick and wounded men, +and also from any hope of well-earned rest to-night: we have also really +brought him to a spot very accurately described by our worthy friend, +St. Genis, but where, unfortunately, you had not chosen to remain, else +we had found you an hour sooner. Is there anything else you want to +know?" + +"Oh, yes! Madame la Duchesse, many things," murmured Bobby. "Please go +on telling me." + +Madame laughed: "Well!" she said, "perhaps you would like to know that +some kind of instinct, or perhaps the hand of God guided one of our +party to the place where you had gone to sleep. You may also wish to +know, that though you seem in a bad way for the present, you are going +to be nursed back to life under Dr. Scott's own most hospitable roof: +but since Crystal has undertaken to do the nursing, I imagine that my +time for the next six weeks will be taken up in arguing with my dear and +pompous brother that he will now have to give his consent to his +daughter becoming the wife of a vendor of gloves." + +Bobby contrived to smile: "Do you think that if I promised never to buy +or sell gloves again, but in future to try and live like a gentleman--do +you think then that he will consent?" + +"I think, my dear boy," said Madame, subduing her harsh voice to tones +of gentleness, "that after my brother knows all that I know and all that +his daughter desires, he will be proud to welcome you as his son." + +The doctor's wide barouche lumbered slowly along the wide, straight +road. In the east the luminous veil that still hid the rising sun had +taken on a hue of rosy gold: the birds, now fully awake, sang their +morning hymn. From the direction of Wavre came once more the cannon's +roar. + +Inside the carriage Dr. Scott, sitting at the feet of his patient, gave +a peremptory order for silence. But Bobby--immeasurably happy and +contented--looked up and saw Crystal de Cambray--no longer a girl now, +but a fair and beautiful woman who had learned to the last letter the +fulsome lesson of Love. She sat close beside him, and her arm was round +his reclining head, and, looking at her, he saw the lovelight in her +dear eyes whenever she turned them on him. And anon, when Mme. la +Duchesse engaged Dr. Scott in a close and heated argument, Bobby felt +sweet-scented lips pressed against his own. + + +THE END + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The original text is inconsistent regarding the spelling and +hyphenation of some words. Except when noted in the corrections +below, the spelling of individual words has been left as it was +in the original edition, even when the same word is spelled +differently elsewhere in the text. + +In Chapter I, a quotation mark has been added after "for a rainy day."; +and a period has been added after "'To Grenoble?' exclaimed de Marmont". + +In Chapter II, "experiences which I gleamed in exile" has been changed +to "experiences which I gleaned in exile"; and "a sterotyped smile" has +been changed to "a stereotyped smile". + +In Chapter IV, "The dim has become deafening" has been changed to "The +din has become deafening"; and "brief comamnds to his sergeant" has been +changed to "brief commands to his sergeant". + +In Chapter VII, "the conquerer of Austerlitz" has been changed to "the +conqueror of Austerlitz"; and "the fugutive royalists rallied" has been +changed to "the fugitive royalists rallied". + +In Chapter VIII, "from the Gulf of Juan to the gates of the Tuileries" +has been changed to "from the Gulf of Jouan to the gates of the +Tuileries"; "from the gulf of Juan in the wake of his eagle" has been +changed to "from the gulf of Jouan in the wake of his eagle"; "neither +sleep not yet wakefulness" has been changed to "neither sleep nor yet +wakefulness"; and "that she had not desponded more warmly to his kiss" +has been changed to "that she had not responded more warmly to his +kiss". + +In Chapter X, "those black-coated Brunswickers who longer to fly" has +been changed to "those black-coated Brunswickers who longed to fly". + +No other corrections have been made to the original text. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRONZE EAGLE*** + + +******* This file should be named 25955.txt or 25955.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/5/25955 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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