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diff --git a/30072-0.txt b/30072-0.txt index 89f03b7..f9ceb2d 100644 --- a/30072-0.txt +++ b/30072-0.txt @@ -1,12037 +1,12037 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30072 ***
-
-ANGELOT
-A Story of the First Empire
-
-By
-ELEANOR C. PRICE
-
-_Author of
-"The Heiress of the Forest"_
-
-NEW YORK
-Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
-PUBLISHERS
-
-_Copyright, 1902, by_ THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
-
-[Illustration: "YOU FORGET YOURSELF--YOU ARE MAD," SHE SAID HAUGHTILY.]
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
- CHAPTER PAGE
-
- I. In the Depths of Old France 1
-
- II. How the Owls hooted in the Daytime 13
-
- III. "Je suis le Général Bim-Bam-Boum!" 26
-
- IV. How the Breakfast cooked for Those was eaten by These 41
-
- V. How Angelot made an Enemy 59
-
- VI. How La Belle Hélène took an Evening Walk 78
-
- VII. The Sleep of Mademoiselle Moineau 95
-
- VIII. How Monsieur Joseph met with Many Annoyances 112
-
- IX. How Common Sense fought and triumphed 129
-
- X. How Angelot refused what had not been offered 147
-
- XI. How Monsieur Urbain smoked a Cigar 160
-
- XII. How the Prefect's Dog snapped at the General 173
-
- XIII. How Monsieur Simon showed himself a little too Clever 187
-
- XIV. In which Three Words contain a Good Deal of Information 202
-
- XV. How Henriette read History to Some Purpose 223
-
- XVI. How Angelot played the Part of an Owl in an Ivy-bush 242
-
- XVII. How Two Soldiers came Home from Spain 266
-
- XVIII. How Captain Georges paid a Visit of Ceremony 285
-
- XIX. The Treading of the Grapes 299
-
- XX. How Angelot climbed a Tree 309
-
- XXI. How Monsieur Joseph found himself Master of the Situation 324
-
- XXII. The Lighted Windows of Lancilly 340
-
- XXIII. A Dance with General Ratoneau 353
-
- XXIV. How Monsieur de Sainfoy found a Way Out 369
-
- XXV. How the Curé acted against his Conscience 385
-
- XXVI. How Angelot kept his Tryst 398
-
- XXVII. How Monsieur Joseph went out into the Dawn 416
-
- XXVIII. How General Ratoneau met his Match 437
-
- XXIX. The Disappointment of Monsieur Urbain 456
-
-
-
-
-
-ANGELOT
-
-A Story of the First Empire
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-IN THE DEPTHS OF OLD FRANCE
-
-
-"Drink, Monsieur Angelot," said the farmer.
-
-His wife had brought a bottle of the sparkling white wine of the
-country, and two tall old treasures of cut glass. The wine slipped out
-in a merry foam. Angelot lifted his glass with a smile and bow to the
-mistress.
-
-"The best wine in the country," he said as he set it down.
-
-The hard lines of her face, so dark, so worn with perpetual grief and
-toil, softened suddenly as she looked at him, and the farmer from his
-solemn height broke into a laugh.
-
-"Martin's wine," he said. "That was before they took him, the last boy.
-But it is still rather new, Monsieur Angelot, though you are so amiable.
-Ah, but it is the last good wine I shall ever have here at La
-Joubardière. I am growing old--see my white hair--I cannot work or make
-other men work as the boys did. Our vintage used to be one of the sights
-of the country--I needn't tell you, for you know--but now the vines
-don't get half the care and labour they did ten years ago; and they feel
-it, like children, they feel it. Still, there they remain, and give us
-what fruit they can--but the real children, Monsieur Angelot, their
-life-blood runs to waste in far-away lands. It does not enrich France.
-Ah, the vines of Spain will grow the better for it, perhaps--"
-
-"Hush, hush, master!" muttered the wife, for the old man was not
-laughing now; his last words were half a sob, and tears ran suddenly
-down. "I tell you always," she said, "Martin will come back. The good
-God cannot let our five boys die, one after the other. Madame your
-mother thinks so too," she said, nodding at Angelot. "I spoke to her
-very plainly. I said, '_They_ cannot be unjust--and surely, to take all
-the five children of a poor little farmer, and to leave not one, not
-even the youngest, to do the work of the farm--come, what sort of
-justice is that!' And she said: 'Listen, maîtresse: the good God will
-bring your Martin back to you. He cannot be unjust, as you say. If my
-Angelot had to go to the war--and I always fear it--I should expect him
-back as surely as I expect my husband back from Lancilly at this
-moment.'"
-
-Angelot smiled at her. "Yes, yes, Martin will come back," he said. But
-he shrugged his shoulders, for he could not himself see much comfort for
-these poor people in his mother's argument. If you have lost four, it is
-surely more logical to expect to lose a fifth. His father, a
-philosopher, would not have said so much as this to the Joubards, but
-would have gone on another tack altogether. He would have pointed out to
-them that the glory of France depended on their sons; that this
-conscription, which seemed to them so cruel, which now, in 1811, was
-becoming really oppressive, was the means of making France, under her
-brilliant leader, the most powerful and magnificent nation in the world.
-He would have waved the tricolour before those sad eyes, would have
-counted over lists of victories; and so catching was his enthusiasm that
-Joubard's back would have straightened under it, and he would have gone
-home--it happened more than once--feeling like a hero and the father of
-heroes. But the old fellow's sudden flame of faith in his landlord and
-Napoleon was not so lasting as his wife's faith in Madame and the
-justice of God.
-
-Angelot wished the maîtresse good-day, left a brace of birds on the
-table, and stepped out from the grimy darkness of the farm kitchen into
-the dazzling sunshine of that September morning. The old white farm,
-with crumbling walls about it, remnants of attempts at fortification
-long ago, looked fairly prosperous in its untidiness. The fresh stacks
-of corn were golden still; poultry made a great clatter, a flock of
-geese on their way out charging at the two men as they left the house.
-An old peasant was hammering at barrels, in preparation for the vintage;
-a wild girl with a stick and a savage-looking brindled dog was starting
-off to fetch the cows in from their morning graze.
-
-All the place was bathed in crystal air and golden light, fresh and
-life-giving. It stood high on the edge of the moors, the ground falling
-away to the south and east into a wild yet fertile valley; vineyards,
-cornfields not long reaped, small woods, deep and narrow lanes, then
-tall hedges studded with trees, green rich meadows by the streams far
-below. On the slope, a mile or two away, there was a church spire with a
-few grey roofs near it, and the larger roofs, half-hidden by trees, of
-the old manor of La Marinière, Angelot's home. On the opposite slope of
-the valley, rising from the stream, another spire, another and larger
-village; and above it, commanding the whole country side, with great
-towers and shining roofs, solid lengths of wall gleaming in newly
-restored whiteness, lines of windows still gold in the morning sun,
-stood the old château of Lancilly, backed by the dark screen of forest
-that came up close about it and in old days had surrounded it
-altogether. Twenty years of emptiness; twenty years, first of revolution
-and emigration, then of efforts to restore an old family, which the
-powerful aid of a faithful cousin and friend had made successful; and
-now the Comte de Sainfoy and his family were at last able to live again
-at Lancilly in their old position, though there was much yet to be done
-by way of restoration and buying back lost bits of property. But all
-this could not be in better hands than those of Urbain de la Marinière,
-the cousin, the friend, somewhat despised among the old splendours of a
-former régime, and thought the less of because of the opinions which
-kept him safe and sound on French soil all through the Revolution,
-enabling him both to save Lancilly for its rightful owners, and to keep
-a place in the old and loved country for his own elder brother Joseph, a
-far more consistent Royalist than Hervé de Sainfoy with all his grand
-traditions. For the favour of the Emperor had been made one great step
-to the restoration of these noble emigrants. Therefore in this small
-square of Angevin earth there were great divisions of opinion: but
-Monsieur Urbain, the unprejudiced, the lover of both liberty and of
-glory, and of poetry and philosophy beyond either, who had passed on
-with France herself from the Committee of Public Safety to the
-Directory, and then into the arms of First Consul and Emperor--Monsieur
-Urbain, the cousin, the brother, whose wife was an ardent Royalist and
-devout Catholic, whose young son was the favourite companion of his
-uncle Joseph, a more than suspected Chouan--Monsieur Urbain, Angelot's
-father, was everybody's friend, everybody's protector, everybody's
-adviser, and the one peacemaker among them all. And naturally, in such a
-case, Monsieur Urbain's hardest task was the management of his own
-wife--but of this more hereafter.
-
-"Your father's work, Monsieur Angelot," said old Joubard, pointing
-across the valley to Lancilly, there in the blaze of the sun.
-
-Angelot lifted his sleepy eyelids, his long lashes like a girl's, and
-the glance that shot from beneath them was half careless, half uneasy.
-
-"We have done without them pretty well for twenty years," the farmer
-went on, "but I suppose we must be glad to see them back. Is it true
-that they are coming to-day?"
-
-"I believe so."
-
-"Your uncle Joseph won't be glad to see them. The Emperor's people: they
-may disturb certain quiet little games at Les Chouettes."
-
-"That is my uncle's affair, Maître Joubard."
-
-"I know. Well, a still tongue is best for me. Monsieur Urbain is a good
-landlord--and I've paid for my place in the Empire, _dame_, yes, five
-times over. Yet, if I could choose my flag at this time of day, I should
-not care for a variety of colours. Mind you, your father is a wise man
-and knows best, I dare say. I am only a poor peasant. But taking men and
-their opinions all round, Monsieur Angelot, and though some who think
-themselves wise call him a fool,--with respect I say it,--your dear
-little uncle is the man for me. Yes--I would back Monsieur Joseph
-against all his brother's wisdom and his cousin's fine airs, and I am
-sorry these Sainfoy people are coming back to trouble him and to spoil
-his pretty little plots, which do no harm to any one."
-
-Angelot laughed outright. "My uncle would not care to hear that," he
-said.
-
-"Nevertheless, you may tell him old Joubard said it. And what's more,
-monsieur, your father thinks the same, or he would not let you live half
-your life at Les Chouettes."
-
-"He has other things to think of."
-
-"Ah, I know--and Madame your mother to reckon with."
-
-"You are too clever," said Angelot, laughing again. "Well, I must go,
-for my uncle is expecting me to breakfast."
-
-"Ah! and he has other guests. I saw them riding over from the south,
-half an hour ago."
-
-"You have a watch-tower here. You command the country."
-
-"And my sight is a hawk's sight," said the old man. "Good-day, dear boy.
-Give my duty to Monsieur Joseph."
-
-Angelot started lightly on his way over the rough moorland road. The
-high ridge of tableland extended far to the north; the _landes_, purple
-and gold with the low heather and furze which covered them, unsheltered
-by any tree, except where crossed in even lines by pollard oaks of
-immense age, their great round heads so thick with leaves that a man
-might well hide in them. These _truisses_, cut every few years, were
-the peasants' store of firewood. Their long processions gave a curious
-look of human life to the lonely moor, only inhabited by game, of which
-Angelot saw plenty. But he did not shoot, his game-bag being already
-stuffed with birds, but marched along with gun on shoulder and dog at
-heel over the yellow sandy track, loudly whistling a country tune. There
-was not a lighter heart than Angelot's in all his native province, nor a
-handsomer face. He only wanted height to be a splendid fellow. His
-daring mouth and chin seemed to contradict the lazy softness of his dark
-eyes. With a clear, brown skin and straight figure, and dressed in brown
-linen and heavy shooting boots, he was the picture of a healthy
-sportsman.
-
-A walk of a mile or two across the _landes_ brought him into a green
-lane with tall wild hedges, full of enormous blackberries, behind which
-were the vineyards, rather weedy as to soil, but loaded with the small
-black and white grapes which made the good pure wine of the country.
-
-Angelot turned in and looked at the grapes and ate a few; this was one
-of his father's vineyards. The yellow grapes tasted of sunshine and the
-south. Angelot went on eating them all the way down the lane; he was
-thirsty, in spite of Joubard's sparkling wine, after tramping with dog
-and gun since six o'clock in the morning. The green lane led to another,
-very steep, rough, and stony. Corners of red and white rock stood out
-in it; such a surface would have jolted a strong cart to pieces, but Les
-Chouettes had no better approach on this side.
-
-"I want no fine ladies to visit me," Monsieur Joseph would say, with his
-sweet smile. "My friends will travel over any road."
-
-Down plunged the lane, with a thick low wood on one side and a sloping
-stubble field edged by woods on the other; here again stood a row of old
-pollard oaks, like giant guards of the solitude. Then the deep barking
-of many dogs, Monsieur Joseph's real protectors, and a group of Spanish
-chestnuts sending their branches over the road, announced the strange
-hermitage that its master called by the fanciful name of Les Chouettes.
-There had indeed been a time, not long before, when owls had been its
-chief inhabitants. Now, if report was to be believed, night-birds of a
-different species were apt to congregate there.
-
-The lane opened suddenly on Monsieur Joseph's out-buildings, with no
-gates or barriers, things unknown in Anjou. Tall oaks and birches,
-delicate and grey, leaned across the cream-coloured walls and the high
-grey stone roofs where orange moss grew thickly. Low arched doorways
-with a sandy court between them led into the kitchen on one side, the
-stables on the other. Beyond these again, in the broad still sunshine,
-standing squarely alone in a broad space of yellow sand, was Monsieur
-Joseph's house, not very old, for the kitchens and stables had belonged
-to a little château long since pulled down. It also was built of
-cream-coloured stone, with a little tower to the west of it, with
-playful ironwork and high mansard windows. An odd feature was that it
-had no actual door. All the lower windows opened down to the ground,
-with nothing but a stone step between them and the sandy soil, so that
-the house could be entered or left at any point, through any room.
-
-Two rough roads or country tracks, continuing the lane, passed the house
-to the north and south, the northern road wandering away westward under
-a wild avenue of old oaks on the edge of a wood into high fields beyond,
-the southern crossing broad green slopes that descended gradually into
-the valley towards Lancilly, past low copses and brimming streams,
-leaving to the east the high moors and La Marinière with its small
-village and spire.
-
-Thus Les Chouettes had a view of its own to the west and south, but
-could be seen far off from the south only; woods covering the upper
-slope against the sunset. Woods and high land sheltered it again from
-the north and east, and the only roads near it were little better than
-cart-tracks.
-
-There were long hours at Les Chouettes when no sound was to be heard but
-the hooting of owls or screaming of curlews or the odd little squeak of
-the squirrels as they darted up and down and about the oak trees.
-
-"He mews like a cat, the little _fouquet_," Monsieur Joseph used to say;
-and passionate sportsman as he was, he would never shoot the squirrels
-or allow them to be shot by his man, who lamented loudly. Angelot had
-caught his uncle's liking for that swift red spirit of the woods, and so
-the squirrels had a fine time all over the lands of La Marinière.
-
-Evidently there was a good deal going on at Les Chouettes, when Angelot
-came down from the moors that morning. He was not surprised, after old
-Joubard's report, to see his uncle's outdoor factotum, a bullet-headed
-creature with scarcely anything on but his shirt, leading the last of
-several horses into the shadowy depths of the stable. Opposite, the cook
-looked out smiling from the kitchen, where she lived with her solemn
-husband, the valet-de-chambre. He, in apron and sabots, was now in the
-act of carrying the first dishes across to the dining-room window.
-
-"Just in time, Monsieur Angelot!" cried the cook.
-
-Four large black dogs came barking and leaping to meet the young man and
-his dog, an intimate friend of theirs. Then a small slender figure, with
-a cropped head and a clinging dark blue frock, flashed across from the
-wood, ordered the dogs back in a voice that they obeyed, and clinging to
-Angelot's arm, led him on towards the corner of the house.
-
-"Ah, my Ange! I began to think you were not coming," she said. "There
-are four of them in the salon with papa, and I was afraid to go in till
-you came."
-
-"What! Mademoiselle Riette afraid of anything on earth--and especially
-of four old gentlemen!"
-
-"They are not very old, and they look so fierce and secret this morning.
-But come, come, you must put down your game-bag and wash your hands, and
-then we will go in together."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-HOW THE OWLS HOOTED IN THE DAYTIME
-
-
-The sun poured into the little salon, all polished wood and gay-coloured
-chintz, where Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière and his four friends were
-talking at the top of their voices.
-
-The four guests sat in more or less tired attitudes round the room; the
-host stood poised on the hearth-rug, a dark, dandy little gentleman with
-a brilliant smile. He had a way of balancing himself on one foot and
-slightly extending both arms, as if he were going to fly off into space.
-This, and his gentle, attractive manner, sometimes touched with
-melancholy, gave him a sort of angelic, spiritual air. It was difficult
-to imagine him either a soldier or a conspirator, yet he had been one
-and was still the other. More than once, only a politic indulgence not
-often extended by Napoleon's administrators, and the distinguished
-merits of his younger brother, had saved Monsieur Joseph from sharing
-the fate of some of his friends at Joux, Ham, or Vincennes.
-
-These fortress prisons held even now many men of good family whom only
-the Restoration was to set free. They, as well as plenty of inferior
-prisoners, owed their captivity in most cases to a secret meeting
-betrayed, a store of arms discovered, a discontented letter opened, or
-even to an expression of opinion, such as that France had been better
-off under the Bourbons. Napoleon kept France down with an iron hand,
-while the young men and lads in hundreds of thousands shed their blood
-for him, the women wept, and the old men sometimes raged: but yet France
-as a whole submitted. The memory of the Terror made this milder tyranny
-bearable. And genius commands, as long as it is victorious, and till
-this year of the Spanish war, there had been no check to Napoleon. He
-had not yet set out to extinguish the flame of his glory in Russian
-snows.
-
-The police all over France obeyed his orders only too well--"_Surveillez
-tout le monde, excepté moi!_" To a great degree it was necessary, for
-French society, high and low, was honeycombed with Royalist plots, some
-of them hardly worthy of a cause which called itself religious as well
-as royal. Leaders like Cadoudal and Frotté were long dead; some of their
-successors in conspiracy were heroes rather of scandal than of loyalty,
-and many a tragic legend lingers in French society concerning the men
-and women of those days.
-
-To a great extent, the old families of La Vendée, the La
-Rochejacqueleins at their head, refrained from mixing themselves up in
-the smaller plots against the Empire in which hundreds of Chouans,
-noble and peasant, men and women, were constantly involved during these
-years with probable loss of life and liberty. It was not till later that
-the general feeling became intensified so that Napoleon had to weaken
-his army, in the Waterloo campaign, by sending some thousands of men
-against a new insurrection in the West, under Louis de la
-Rochejaquelein, a second La Vendée war, only stopped by the final return
-of the Bourbons.
-
-Monsieur Joseph's gay little room looked like anything but a haunt of
-conspirators; but his friends were earnestly discussing with him the
-possibility of raising the country, arming the peasants, marching on the
-chief town of the department, capturing the Prefect, as well as the
-General in command of the division, and holding them as hostages while
-the insurrection went on spreading through Anjou and the neighbouring
-provinces.
-
-The most eager, the most original of the plotters was the Baron d'Ombré,
-a dark, square young man with frowning brows. He turned quite fiercely
-on a milder-looking person, a Monsieur de Bourmont, a distant cousin of
-the well-known leader of that name, who doubted whether the peasants
-would rise as readily as César d'Ombré expected.
-
-"I tell you," he said, "they hate, they detest the Empire. Look at their
-desolate homes, their deserted fields! I tell you, the women of France
-alone, if they had a leader, would drive the usurper out of the
-country."
-
-"There is your mission, then, dear César," said the Vicomte des Barres,
-a delicate, sarcastic-looking man of middle age. "March on Paris with
-your phalanx of Amazons."
-
-"César is right, nevertheless, gentlemen," growled the Comte d'Ombré,
-the young man's father, the oldest of the party. "It is energy, it is
-courage, that our cause wants. And I go farther than my son goes. Take
-the Prefect and the General by all means--excellent idea--"
-
-"If you can catch them--" murmured Monsieur des Barres, and was frowned
-upon furiously by César d'Ombré.
-
-The Comte was rather deaf. "What? What?" he asked sharply, being aware
-of the interruption.
-
-"Nothing, monsieur, nothing!" cried their host, with one spring from the
-fireplace to the old man's chair--"and what would you do, monsieur, with
-the Prefect and the General? I am dying of curiosity."
-
-Monsieur d'Ombré stared up into the sweet, birdlike face, which bent
-over him with flashing eyes and a delighted smile.
-
-"Do? I should shoot them on the spot," he said. "They are traitors: I
-would treat all traitors the same. Yes, I know the Prefect is a friend
-of your brother's--of your own, possibly. I know my son and I are your
-guests, too. Never mind! Any other conduct would be cowardly and
-abominable. No member of my family would ever be guilty of opportunism,
-and remain in my family. Those two men have done more harm in this
-province than Napoleon Buonaparte and all his laws and police. They
-never tried to make his government popular. The Prefect, at least, has
-done this--I know nothing about the General."
-
-"A wooden image of his master," said Monsieur des Barres.
-
-Monsieur Joseph returned, rather sobered, to his hearth rug. "Shoot
-them, well, well!" he muttered. "A strong measure, but possibly politic.
-It is what one would _like_ to do, of course, officially. Not
-personally--no--though Monsieur d'Ombré may be right. It is a crime, no
-doubt, to make the Empire popular. I am afraid my poor brother has tried
-to do the same, and succeeded--yes, succeeded a little."
-
-"My father is quite wrong," César d'Ombré muttered in the ear of
-Monsieur de Bourmont, who listened with a superior smile. "Such mad
-violence would ruin the cause altogether. Now as hostages, those two men
-would be invaluable."
-
-"Time enough to discuss that when you have got them," said Monsieur de
-Bourmont. "To me, I must confess, this plan of a rising sounds premature
-and unpractical. What we want first is money--money from England, and
-stronger support, too--as well as a healthier public opinion all through
-this part of the country."
-
-"Ah! but none of your waiting games for me," cried the young Baron.
-"_'De l'audace'_--you know--that is the motto for Frenchmen."
-
-"Boldness and rashness need not be the same thing," said Monsieur de
-Bourmont, drily. "And remember whom you are quoting, my dear César. A
-dangerous person, to say the least."
-
-A grim smile lightened d'Ombré's hard face. "It was the right thing to
-say, if the devil said it," he answered.
-
-The Vicomte des Barres rose from his chair and lounged into the middle
-of the room.
-
-"To be practical, friends," he said, "the feeling among the peasants is
-the question. In this country side, Monsieur de la Marinière ought to
-know pretty well what it is. And I fear he will tell us that a good deal
-of exertion will be necessary, before they will take up their guns and
-pikes, and march where they are led. It goes without saying that he,
-himself, is the one man to lead them. I believe, though he chooses to
-live like a hermit, he is the most popular man in Anjou."
-
-"But no--no, dear Vicomte," said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his head
-violently. "It is true there are some of them who love me--but their
-interest, you see, is on the other side. My brother is more popular than
-I am, and he deserves it, in spite of his lamentable opinions."
-
-"Ah, monsieur, forgive me, but do you understand your peasants?" cried
-César d'Ombré. "Are you doing them justice? Would they set a good farm
-against their king, their religion, the salvation of their country?
-Bleeding from the loss of their sons--will they think more of money and
-corn-stacks and vintages than of that true peace and freedom which can
-only be won by driving out tyranny? Nobody wants to put them back as
-they were before 1789. The feudal ages are gone--we have given up our
-rights, and there is an end of it--but we want our own kings again, and
-we want peace for France, and time to breathe and to let her wounds
-heal. We want to be rid of this accursed usurper who is draining her
-life blood. That, I say, is what the peasants feel, most of them, as
-strongly as we do. But they are of course uneducated. They need stirring
-up, drilling, leading. And I can hardly believe, monsieur, that the
-weight of one man in the other scale--even of your learned and
-distinguished brother--would outweigh all the claims of faith and
-affection and loyalty. No--delay and hesitation are useless. Trust the
-peasants, I say."
-
-"You may be right--I hope you are--" said Monsieur Joseph, more gravely
-than usual. "But my brother will not now be alone in the left-hand
-scale. Lancilly, under his care, has given the people work and wages for
-years, remember. And now, with Hervé de Sainfoy's return--"
-
-A howl from César d'Ombré, a groan from his father, a grimace of disgust
-from Monsieur de Bourmont, who had reason, for his own cousin, once a
-Chouan, was now an Imperial officer--a laugh from Monsieur des Barres;
-all this greeted the name of the owner of Lancilly.
-
-"Although that renegade is your cousin, monsieur," old d'Ombré growled,
-"I hope the country side may soon be made too hot to hold him."
-
-Monsieur Joseph shrugged his shoulders, smiled, looked on the floor. He
-did not take up the old man's words; he could not very well have done
-so. But there was something about him which reminded his guests that the
-slender little boyish man was a dead shot and a perfect swordsman, and
-that once, long ago, in old La Vendée days, he had challenged a man who
-had said something insulting of his brother Urbain, and after one or two
-swift passes had laid him dead at his feet.
-
-There was a moment of rather awkward silence. Then Monsieur des Barres
-took up the word again.
-
-"To be practical, my friends," he repeated, "the first step to action,
-it seems to me, is to sound and encourage the peasants. Each of us must
-be responsible for his own neighbourhood."
-
-"We will answer for ours," said César d'Ombré.
-
-Monsieur de Bourmont, the most cautious of the party, murmured something
-to the same effect, and Monsieur Joseph nodded gravely.
-
-The Vicomte's eyes dwelt on him, a little anxiously. It seemed as if
-that word "renegade," applied to his cousin and neighbour, might have a
-tendency to stick in his throat. Des Barres, who admired and loved the
-little gentleman, was sorry. He wanted to remind him how the old Comte
-d'Ombré was universally known for bad manners, stupidity, and violence.
-He would have liked to reason with him, too, on the subject of that
-cousin, and to point out kindly, as a friend, how Monsieur de Sainfoy
-had had absolutely no real and good excuse for going over to the
-Emperor. Nothing but ambition and worldiness could have led him into the
-course he had taken. Urbain de la Marinière, known even before 1789 as a
-philosophical Republican, held a very different place in the estimation
-of honest men.
-
-"That farmer on the _landes_"--said the Vicomte, looking at his host--"a
-good example of a superior peasant, is he not? We passed near his farm
-this morning. What line does he take?"
-
-"Joubard? He is a fine old fellow, that. His fifth son was taken by the
-conscription a year ago. Four are dead. I think his heart is in the
-right place. But he is my brother's best tenant. Yes--I don't know. Old
-Joubard is made of good stuff, and he loves me."
-
-"And probably he loved his sons, and their mother loved them too," said
-César d'Ombré.
-
-"Here are my children," said Monsieur Joseph, looking out of the window.
-"Breakfast will be ready immediately. With your leave we will finish
-our discussion afterwards."
-
-All the faces lightened, except that of the Baron d'Ombré, whose soul
-was too much in earnest to be glad of a bodily interruption. But the
-ride had been long, over difficult roads and under a hot sun, and
-breakfast was later than usual. The three elder conspirators were not
-sorry to lay aside their plotting for an hour, and they knew by
-experience that Monsieur Joseph's cook was an artist. On an occasion
-such as this, dishes of the rarest distinction crossed the sandy court
-from that quaint high-roofed kitchen.
-
-The children, as Monsieur Joseph called them, came to the glass door and
-opened it gently. They were Angelot and Henriette, first cousins, and
-alike enough to be brother and sister, in spite of the ten years between
-them.
-
-The girl, with her fearless eyes, walked first; it seemed natural to
-her. All the men rose and bowed as she came in. She made a formal
-curtsey to each one separately, and smiled when Monsieur des Barres, the
-man of the world, bent gracefully to kiss her hand as if she had been a
-grown-up woman.
-
-"Good morning, my dear uncle," said Angelot, and kissed Monsieur Joseph
-on both cheeks; then bowed deeply to the company.
-
-They looked upon him with not altogether friendly eyes; the Comte
-d'Ombré even muttered something between his teeth, and hardly returned
-the young fellow's salutation. The son of Urbain de la Marinière, a
-notorious example of two odious things, republicanism and opportunism!
-the mutual affection of him and his uncle Joseph only made him more of a
-possible danger. To Monsieur d'Ombré Angelot seemed like a spy in the
-camp. His son, however, knew better, and so did the other two. Angelot's
-parentage was not in his favour, certainly, but they tried to take him
-at his uncle's valuation, and that was a high one. And Monsieur Joseph's
-judgment, though romantic, was seldom wrong.
-
-Gigot, the dark-faced valet, having kicked off the sabots which covered
-his felt shoes, but still wearing his large apron, set open the door
-into the long narrow hall which ran through the back of the house,
-widening in the middle where the tower and staircase branched from it.
-
-"Monsieur est servi!"
-
-The hungry guests marched willingly to the dining-room, their heavy
-boots creaking, the noise of tread and voices echoing through the bare
-boarded house.
-
-"You do not join us, mademoiselle?" said Monsieur des Barres, seeing
-that Henriette lingered behind in the drawing-room.
-
-"No, monsieur," the child answered. "My father thinks I am too young to
-listen. Besides, I am the _guetteuse_. It is our business to watch--the
-dogs and I."
-
-"Indeed! Is that how you spend your life? A curious employment for a
-young lady!"
-
-"When there is danger abroad, I am more to be trusted than any one
-else."
-
-"I quite believe it. You know, then, that our visit to-day is not
-entirely one of pleasure? Monsieur your father has taken you so far into
-his confidence, though you are too young to listen?"
-
-"I know everything, monsieur," said Henriette.
-
-"Then we may eat in peace. We are safe in your care. That is charming,
-mademoiselle."
-
-"Yes, monsieur. I will let you know at once, if Monsieur le Préfet and
-his gendarmes are riding down the lane."
-
-"Good heavens, what an idea! I have not the smallest wish to meet
-Monsieur le Préfet. I believe that gentleman keeps a black book, in
-which I am quite sure my name is written. Yes indeed, mademoiselle, if
-he should happen to pass, send him a little farther. Tell him he will
-find a nest of Chouans at Vaujour, or anywhere else your fancy
-suggests."
-
-Henriette laughed and nodded. "Trust me, monsieur," she said.
-
-"Your little cousin is charming," said Monsieur des Barres to Angelot,
-who was politely waiting for him in the hall.
-
-The six men were soon sitting at Monsieur Joseph's hospitable round
-table. As they dispatched their plates of steaming soup they saw the
-slim blue figure of Henriette, with two dogs at her heels, flit past the
-window in the direction of the steep lane down which Angelot had come
-not very long before. This lane led not only to the _landes_, but by
-other lanes to one of the rare high roads of the country, and on to the
-chief town of the department. It was partly for this reason that
-Monsieur Joseph, who valued privacy and independence, left it in its
-present break-neck condition, more like the dry course of a torrent than
-a civilised road.
-
-A large dish of eggs followed the soup. But only half the guests had
-been helped, when all the dogs about the place began to bark savagely.
-And then, out of the shadow of the wood, darting down past the back of
-the kitchen, Henriette came flying to the dining-room window, almost
-upsetting Gigot and his dish as she sprang over the step.
-
-"Papa, papa, there is a party riding down the lane. I believe it is
-Monsieur le Préfet and an officer with him, and three servants. I ran up
-the wood. They had only just turned into the lane, and they are coming
-down very slowly; their horses don't like it."
-
-Monsieur Joseph rapped out a tremendous oath, and looked round at his
-guests, whose faces were a study.
-
-"The Prefect and the General!" he said. "Now is your moment,
-gentlemen!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-"JE SUIS LE GÉNÉRAL BIM-BAM-BOUM!"
-
-
-All the men rose to their feet, except the elder d'Ombré, who had taken
-a very long draught of his host's good wine, and now stared stupidly at
-the others. César d'Ombré's eyes flamed with excitement. He seized the
-arm of Angelot, who was next to him, in such a grip that the young
-fellow flinched and frowned.
-
-"It is our moment!" he cried. "Six to two"--then savagely, and
-tightening his grasp--"unless we are betrayed--"
-
-"What do you mean, sir?" cried Angelot, his uncle, and Monsieur de
-Bourmont, all in a breath.
-
-Monsieur des Barres laughed as he looked at Henriette.
-
-"The idea is absurd," he said--"and yet," in a lower tone--"mademoiselle
-has proved herself an amazingly true prophetess. However, it is
-absurd--"
-
-There was a moment or two of uproar. Angelot, having impatiently shaken
-off the Baron's hand, was demanding that he should withdraw his words.
-He, having apparently at once forgotten them, was insisting that now
-indeed was the time to prove a man's loyalty, that they must stand all
-together and dare all things, that the Prefect and the General, once at
-Les Chouettes, must never leave it but as prisoners, that the Government
-would be instantly demoralised, and the insurrection would catch and
-flame like a fire in dry grass--
-
-"And be put out as easily," shouted Monsieur de Bourmont. "Madness,
-madness! Mere midsummer foolery. Go and hide yourself, firebrand!"
-
-"Shoot them on the spot! Where are my pistols?" stammered the old Comte,
-beginning to understand the situation.
-
-Monsieur des Barres laughed till he held his sides. Henriette gave him
-one or two angry and scornful glances, while Gigot, under her orders,
-whisked glasses and plates and dishes into a cupboard, pushed back
-chairs against the wall, took away every sign of the good meal just
-begun. In the midst of all this clatter Monsieur Joseph said a few words
-with eager nods and signs to Monsieur de Bourmont, and they two, taking
-the old man by each arm, led him forcibly out towards the west side of
-the house.
-
-"Bring the others!" said Monsieur Joseph to his nephew, who was
-listening as if fascinated to César d'Ombré's ravings.
-
-The little uncle was angry, Angelot perceived. He stamped his foot, as
-if he meant to be obeyed. Angelot had never seen him in such a state of
-anxiety and excitement, or heard such words as his sincerely pious mouth
-had let fall two minutes before--in Riette's presence, too! Old Joubard
-was wrong: these plots were not exactly to be laughed at. Angelot,
-realising that the Prefect and the General were really in danger of
-their lives from men like the Messieurs d'Ombré, thought rather
-seriously of his own father. At the same time, he longed to punish César
-for what he had dared to say about betrayal. Yes, he was his father's
-son; and so the sight of him was enough to make these wild Chouans
-suspect far better Royalists than themselves. There was an account to
-settle with Monsieur des Barres, too. His polite manners were all very
-well, but his words to Henriette just now were insulting. Angelot was
-angry with his uncle's guests, and not particularly inclined to help
-them out of their present predicament. He stood gloomily, without
-attempting to obey his uncle, till Henriette came up to him suddenly.
-
-"Ange--the horses into the hiding-place! Do you hear--quick, quick!"
-
-It might be possible to hesitate in obeying Uncle Joseph, but Cousin
-Henriette was a far more autocratic person. And then her good sense
-never failed, and was always convincing; she was never in doubt as to
-her own right course or other people's: and Angelot, who had no
-sisters, loved her like a little sister, and accepted her tyrannous
-ways joyfully.
-
-She had hardly spoken when he was out of the window, and with a few
-strides across the sunshine had disappeared into the dark and cavernous
-archway of the stables.
-
-Henriette turned to the two remaining guests, César d'Ombré still
-arguing in favour of instant action with Monsieur des Barres, who looked
-serious enough now, and stood shrugging his shoulders.
-
-"Follow me, gentlemen," said the child. "I know where my papa is waiting
-for you."
-
-"Mademoiselle, we are in your hands," said the Vicomte, bowing. "We have
-never for an instant lost confidence in you."
-
-She bent her head, with the air and smile of a woman who rather
-scornfully accepts an apology. She went out of the dining-room and along
-the hall, the two men following her. César d'Ombré lingered as far as he
-dared, and grumbled between his teeth.
-
-At that very moment the Prefect of the department, with the newly
-appointed General in command of the troops stationed there, only
-escorted by three men in the dress of gendarmes, rode slowly and gently
-round the back of the kitchen into the sandy courtyard of Les Chouettes.
-
-"Monsieur de la Marinière's hermitage," said the Prefect to his
-companion.
-
-"It looks like one, sapristi!" said the General.
-
-Nothing could seem stiller, more fast asleep, than Les Chouettes in the
-approaching noon of that hot September day. The dogs barked and growled,
-it was true, but only one of them, the youngest, troubled himself to get
-up from where he lay in the warm sand. No human creature was to be seen
-about the house or buildings; the silence of the woods lay all around;
-the dry air smelt delicately of wood smoke and fir trees; the shadows
-were very deep, cutting across the broad belts of glowing sunshine.
-
-"Every one is asleep," said the Prefect. "I am afraid breakfast is over;
-we ought to have arrived an hour ago."
-
-"Caught them napping!" chuckled the General.
-
-The voices, and the clinking of bridles, as the little cavalcade passed
-towards the house at a walking pace, brought the cook to the kitchen
-door. She stared in consternation. She was a pretty woman, Gigot's wife,
-with a pale complexion and black hair; her provincial cap was very
-becoming. But she now turned as red as a turkey-cock and her jaw
-dropped, as she stared after the horsemen. No one had warned her: there
-had not been time or opportunity. She was just dishing up the roast meat
-for the hungry appetites of Messieurs les Chouans, when behold, the
-gendarmes! Who the gentlemen were, she did not know; but imperial
-gendarmes were never a welcome sight to Monsieur Joseph's household.
-
-"The place is like a city of the dead," said the Prefect, drawing rein
-in front of the salon windows. "See if you can find any one, Simon, and
-ask for Monsieur de la Marinière."
-
-One of the gendarmes dismounted. Wearing the ordinary dress of these
-civil soldiers, he yet differed in some indefinable way from his two
-companions. He had the keen and wary look of a clever dog; his eyes were
-everywhere.
-
-"City of the dead, eh! Plenty of footprints of the living!" he muttered,
-as he turned back towards the outbuildings and noticed the trampled
-sand.
-
-Marie Gigot saw him coming, and dived back into her kitchen.
-
-"Ah! it is that demon!" she said to herself. "Holy Virgin, defend us! I
-thought that wretch was gone. All of them in the dining-room--the stable
-full of their horses, and no one there but that ignorant Tobie! We are
-done for at last, that's sure. Eh! there's Monsieur Angelot talking to
-him. But of course it is hopeless. That must be the Prefect. To be sure
-they say he is better than the last--and it may be only a friendly
-visit--and why should not my master have his friends to breakfast? But
-then, again, what brings that Simon, that Chouan-catcher, as they call
-him! Why, Gigot told me of half-a-dozen fellows who had sworn to shoot
-him, and not a hundred miles from here."
-
-She ran to the door again and looked out. Angelot, cool and quiet, had
-come out of the stable and met the gendarme face to face, returning his
-salutation with indifference.
-
-"It is Monsieur le Préfet? Certainly, my uncle is at home," he said. "I
-am not sure that he is in the house," and he walked on towards the group
-of horsemen.
-
-"Not in the house!" breathed the cook. "They are hiding, then! They must
-have heard or seen them coming--ah, how stupid I am! I saw mademoiselle
-run past the window."
-
-Angelot came bareheaded, smiling, to represent his uncle in welcoming
-the Prefect to Les Chouettes. He would not have been his father's son if
-the droll side of the situation had not struck him. He thought it
-exquisite, though he was sorry for his uncle's annoyance. The Chouan
-guests had irritated him, and that they should lose their breakfast
-seemed a happy retribution, though he would have done all he could to
-save them from further penalties. Angelot looked up at the Prefect, his
-handsome sleepy eyes alight with laughter.
-
-"Do my uncle the pleasure of coming in, monsieur," he said. "He will be
-here immediately; he has been out shooting. It is exactly breakfast
-time."
-
-"We shall be very grateful for your uncle's hospitality; we have had a
-long ride in the heat," said the Prefect.
-
-His eyes as they met Angelot's were very keen, as well as very kind and
-gentle. He was a singularly good-looking man, and sat his horse
-gracefully. His manners were those of the great world; he was one of the
-noblest and most popular of the men of old family who had rallied to the
-Empire, believing that Napoleon's genius and the glory of France were
-one.
-
-"Monsieur le Général," he said, turning to his companion, "let me
-present Monsieur Ange de la Marinière, the son of Monsieur Urbain de la
-Marinière, one of my truest friends in the department."
-
-The rough and mocking voice that answered--"Happy to make his
-acquaintance"--brought the colour into Angelot's face as he bowed.
-
-The Prefect, who for reasons of his own watched the lad curiously, saw
-the change, the cloud that darkened those frank looks suddenly, and
-understood it pretty well. The new military commander, risen from the
-ranks in every sense, had nothing to justify his position except
-courage, a talent for commanding, and devotion to the Emperor. That he
-was not now fighting in Spain was due partly to quarrels with other
-generals, partly to wounds received in the last Austrian campaign, which
-unfitted him for the time for active service. In sending him to this
-Royalist province of the West, Napoleon might have aimed at providing
-the Prefect with an effective foil to his own character and connections.
-The great Emperor by no means despised the trick of setting his
-servants to watch one another.
-
-One personal peculiarity this General possessed, which had both helped
-and hindered him in his career. As Monsieur des Barres said, he was
-exceedingly like his master. A taller, heavier man, his face and head
-were a coarse likeness of Napoleon's. There were the lines of beauty
-without the sweetness, the strength without the genius, the ingrained
-selfishness unveiled by any mask, even of policy. General Ratoneau was
-repulsive where Napoleon was attractive. He had fought under Napoleon
-from the beginning, and had risen by his own efforts, disliked by all
-his superiors, even by the Emperor, to whom the strange likeness did not
-recommend him. But it had a great effect on the men who fought under
-him. Though he was a brutal leader, they were ready to follow him
-anywhere, and had been known to call him _le gros caporal_, so strong
-and obvious was this likeness. He was a splendid soldier, though
-ill-tempered, cruel, and overbearing. He was a man to be reckoned with,
-and so the amiable Prefect found. Having himself plenty of scruples,
-plenty of humanity, and a horror of civil war, he found a colleague with
-none of these difficult to manage. Nothing, for instance, was further
-from the Prefect's wish than to spy upon his Royalist neighbours and to
-drive them to desperation. The very word _Chouan_ represented to General
-Ratoneau a wild beast to be trapped or hunted.
-
-Angelot looked at this man, and from the first glance hated him. There
-was something insolent in the stare of those bold dark eyes, which were
-bloodshot, too, matching the redness and coarseness of the face;
-something mocking, threatening, as much as to say: "Very fine, young
-fellow, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe you, baby as you
-are, and your father, and your uncle, and the whole boiling of you, are
-a set of traitors to the Emperor and ought to be hanged in a row on
-those trees of yours. So take care how you behave, young man!"
-
-The Prefect read Angelot's looks, and saw what kind of instant
-impression the General had made. No girl, at the moment, could have
-shown her feelings more plainly. Angelot might have said aloud, "What
-odious wretch is this!" such proud disgust was written on his face. But
-he recovered himself instantly, and again laughter was very near the
-surface as he begged these new guests to dismount. For the outwitting
-and disappointing of such a horrible official was even a richer piece of
-fun than the disturbance of the poor Chouans at their breakfast table.
-
-Nothing could have been more agreeable than the manner in which Monsieur
-Joseph received his unexpected visitors. They were hardly in the salon
-when he came lightly along the hall, step and air those of a much
-younger man. All smiles, he shook hands affectionately with the Prefect
-and bowed ceremoniously to the General. They had done him the greatest
-honour, caused him the keenest delight, by this friendly visit of
-surprise. Only he must beg them to pardon the deficiencies of his
-household. He really could not say what sort of breakfast they were
-likely to find. Plenty, he hoped--for his nephew had come in from a long
-morning's sport, half-an-hour ago, and the cook knew how to a measure a
-young man's appetite. But as to quality--he could only throw himself on
-the kind indulgence of his friends.
-
-"As for me," said the General, "I am as hungry as a wolf, and I could
-eat a lump of brown bread, and wash it down with a quart of sour wine."
-
-"Ah, ah! a true soldier, monsieur!" said Monsieur Joseph, and clapped
-his hands gently.
-
-"My uncle's wine is not sour, as Monsieur le Général will find," said
-Angelot.
-
-The General replied, with a scowl and a shrug, "I don't suppose you mean
-to compare your wine from this poor soil with the wine of the South, for
-instance."
-
-"Ah, pardon, but I do!" cried the boy. "This very morning, our farmer on
-the _landes_ gave me a glass of wine, white sparkling wine, which you
-would hardly match in France, except, of course, in the real champagne
-country. And even as to that, our wine is purer. It tastes of sunshine
-and of the white grapes of the vineyard. There is nothing better."
-
-"Nothing better for children, I dare say," said General Ratoneau, with
-a laugh. "Men like something stronger than sunshine and grapes. So will
-you, one of these days."
-
-Angelot looked hard at the man for a moment. He sat squarely, twisting
-his whip in his hands, on one of Monsieur Joseph's old Louis Quinze
-chairs, which seemed hardly fit to bear his weight. The delicate
-atmosphere of old France was all about him. Angelot and his uncle were
-incarnations of it, even in their plain shooting clothes; and the
-Prefect, the Baron de Mauves, was worthy in looks and manners of the old
-régime from which he sprang. The other man was a son of the Revolution
-and of a butcher at Marseilles. With his glittering uniform, his look of
-a coarse Roman, he was the very type of military tyranny at its worst,
-without even the good manners of past days to soften the frank insolence
-of a soldier.
-
-"Voilà l'Empire! I wish my father could see him!" Angelot thought.
-
-Monsieur Joseph looked at his nephew. His sweet smile had faded, a
-sudden shadow of anxiety taking its place. How would Angelot bear with
-this man? Would he remember that in spite of all provocation he must be
-treated civilly? The Prefect also glanced up a little nervously at
-Angelot as he stood. Had the handsome, attractive boy any share at all
-of his father's wisdom and faultless temper?
-
-Angelot was conscious of both these warnings. He answered the little
-uncle's with a smile, and said easily--"It is possible--I cannot tell.
-As to the wine--I will ask your opinion after breakfast, monsieur."
-
-The Prefect's face cleared up suddenly. Angelot was a worthy son of his
-father.
-
-"It is quite unnecessary, my dear friend," he said to Monsieur Joseph,
-"for you to attempt to alarm us about our breakfast. Your cook can work
-miracles. This is not the first time, remember, that I have taken you by
-surprise."
-
-"And you are always welcome, my dear Baron," Monsieur Joseph answered
-gently, but a little dreamily.
-
-"I shall now have a fresh attraction in this country," the Prefect said.
-"With your cousin, De Sainfoy, at Lancilly, your neighbourhood will
-indeed leave nothing to be desired."
-
-"Hervé is an agreeable man," said Monsieur Joseph. "I have not seen him
-for many years; I do not know his wife and family. My brother is charmed
-to welcome them all."
-
-"Of course, and they must feel that they owe everything to him. Monsieur
-your brother is a benefactor to his country and species," said the
-Prefect, with a smile at Angelot. "Madame de Sainfoy is an exceedingly
-pretty woman. She made quite a sensation at Court in the spring, and I
-should think there will not be much difficulty in her getting the
-appointment I understand she wishes--lady in waiting to the Empress.
-Only they say that the Emperor does not quite trust De Sainfoy--finds
-him a little half-hearted."
-
-"That is possible," said Monsieur Joseph, gently.
-
-"Well, it is a pity," said the Prefect. "If you accept the new régime at
-all, you should do it loyally."
-
-"My cousin has a son fighting in Spain. That ought to be placed to his
-credit."
-
-"And no doubt it is. His daughter, too, may do something. There is only
-one grown up, and she has not been brought much into society--her
-father's fault, they say; he has ideas of his own about marrying her.
-But I am telling you what you know already?"
-
-"Not at all, monsieur. I have heard nothing of it. When my cousins live
-at Lancilly, the family councils may include me; so far they have not
-done so. I did not even realise that Mademoiselle Hélène was old enough
-to be married. And what match is arranged for her?"
-
-"None that I know of. Her father's action has been negative, not
-positive, I understand. He has simply refused to consider one or two
-suggested marriages, either of which would have been good politically."
-
-"Reasons of birth, I suppose," said Monsieur Joseph. "He has my cordial
-sympathy."
-
-The Prefect coughed; the General scraped his chair; Angelot nearly
-laughed aloud.
-
-"You will find it very agreeable to have your cousins at Lancilly," the
-Prefect said, looking at him kindly.
-
-"I don't know, monsieur," Angelot answered. "Young girls are hardly
-companions for me."
-
-"Indeed! As to that--" began the Prefect, still smiling as he looked at
-the lad; but his remark was cut short and his attention pleasantly
-distracted.
-
-Gigot, with unshaken solemnity, set open the doors for the second time
-that morning.
-
-"Monsieur est servi!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-HOW THE BREAKFAST COOKED FOR THOSE WAS EATEN BY THESE
-
-
-The Prefect and the General enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly. They sat
-over it long; so long that Angelot, his hunger satisfied, began to
-suffer in his young limbs from a terrible restlessness. It was as much
-as he could do to sit still, listening first to the Prefect's political
-and society talk, then to stories of the General's campaigns. Under the
-influence of the despised wine of Anjou, Monsieur de Mauves, whose
-temper needed no sweetening, became a little sleepy, prosy, and
-long-winded. General Ratoneau on his side was mightily cheered, and
-showed quite a new animation: long before the meal ended, he was talking
-more than the other three put together. It was he who had been the hero
-of Eylau, of Friedland, of Wagram; the Emperor and the Marshals were
-nowhere. All the great movements were in consequence of his advice. And
-then his personal courage! The men he had killed with his own hand! As
-to the adventures which had fallen to his lot in storming and plundering
-towns, burning villages, quartering his men on country houses, these
-often belonged so much to the very seamiest side of war that Monsieur
-Joseph, soldier as he was, listened with a frown, and the Prefect
-coughed and glanced more than once at Angelot. For some of these stories
-were hardly suited to young and innocent ears, and Angelot looked, and
-indeed was, younger than his age.
-
-He was listening, not curiously, but with a kind of unwilling
-impatience. The man seemed to impress him in spite of himself, in spite
-of disgust at the stories and dislike of the teller. Once or twice he
-laughed, and then General Ratoneau gave him a stare, as if just reminded
-of his existence, and went on to some further piece of coarse bragging.
-
-Monsieur Joseph became paler and graver, Angelot more restless, the
-Prefect sleepier, as the rough voice talked on. Angelot thought
-breakfast would never be over, and that this brute would never have done
-boasting of his fine deeds, such as hanging up six brothers in a row
-outside their own house, and threatening the mother and sisters with the
-same fate unless they showed him the way to the cellar, where he knew
-they had hidden plate and jewellery, as well as a quantity of good wine.
-
-"You would not have done it, monsieur?" said Angelot, quickly.
-
-The General assured him with oaths that he certainly would.
-
-"And they knew it, and did as they were told," he said. "We did not hurt
-them, as it happened. We stripped the house, and left them to bury their
-men, if they chose. What had they to expect? Fortune of war, my boy!"
-
-Angelot shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"You should send that nephew of yours to learn a few things in the
-army," the General said to Monsieur Joseph, when they at last rose and
-left the dining-room. "He will grow up nothing but an ignorant, womanish
-baby, if you keep him down here among your woods much longer."
-
-"I am not his father," Monsieur Joseph answered with some dryness. "He
-is a friend of the Prefect's; you can easily remonstrate with him,
-Monsieur le Général. But you are mistaken about young Ange. He is
-neither a girl nor a baby, but a very gallant young fellow, still humane
-and innocent, of course--but your stories might pierce a thicker skin, I
-fancy."
-
-The General laughed aloud, as they strolled out at the back of the house
-into the afternoon sunshine.
-
-"Well, well, a soldier has the right to talk," he said. "I need not tell
-a man who knows the world, like you, that I should never have hanged
-those women--poor country rubbish though they were, and ugly too, I
-remember. But the men had tried to resist, and martial law must be
-obeyed."
-
-Some reassurance of the same kind was given to Angelot by the Prefect,
-who lingered behind with him.
-
-"And our conscripts go for this, monsieur!" Angelot said.
-
-"My dear boy," said Monsieur de Mauves, lazily, "you must take these
-tales _cum grano_. For instance, if I know the Emperor, he would have
-shot the man who hanged those women. And our friend Ratoneau knew it."
-
-Les Chouettes seemed stiller than ever, the sun hotter, the atmosphere
-more sleepy and peaceful. The dogs were lying in various directions at
-full length on the sand. The sleeping forms of the Prefect's gendarmes
-were also to be seen, stretched on the grass under the southern belt of
-fir trees. One moving figure came slowly into sight on the edge of the
-opposite wood, and strolled into the sunshine, stooping as she came to
-pick the pale purple crocuses of which the grass was full--little
-Henriette, a basket on her arm, her face shaded by a broad straw bonnet.
-
-The General shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared at her.
-
-"Who is that young girl, monsieur?" he asked.
-
-The question itself seemed impertinent enough, but the insolence of the
-tone and the manner sent a quiver through Monsieur Joseph's nerves. His
-face twitched and his eyes flashed dangerously. At that moment he would
-have forgiven any rashness on the part of his Chouan friends; he would
-have liked to see Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol within a few inches of the
-General's head, and if it had gone off, so much the better. He wondered
-why he had not encouraged César d'Ombré's idea of making these men
-prisoners. Perhaps he was right, after all; the boldest policy might
-have been the best. Perhaps it was a splendid opportunity lost. Anyhow,
-the imperial officials would have been none the worse for cooling their
-heels and starving a little, the fate of the Royalists now. As to the
-consequences, Monsieur Joseph in his present mood might have made short
-work of them, had it not been for that young girl in the meadow.
-
-"It is my daughter, Monsieur le Général."
-
-A person with finer instincts could not have failed to notice the angry
-shortness of the reply. But the General was in high good humour, for
-him, and he coolly went on adding to his offences.
-
-"Your daughter, is it! I did not know you were married. I understood
-from Monsieur le Préfet that you were a lonely hermit. Is there a Madame
-de la Marinière hidden away somewhere? and possibly a few more children?
-This house is a kind of beehive, I dare say--" he walked on to the
-grass, and turned to stare at the windows. "Was madame afraid to
-entertain us? My stories would have been too strong for her, perhaps?
-but I assure you, monsieur, I know how to behave to women!" and he
-laughed.
-
-"I hope so, monsieur, especially as you are not now in Germany," said
-Monsieur Joseph, thinking very earnestly of his own sword and pistols,
-ready for use in his own room.
-
-He need only step in at that window, a few yards off. A fierce word, a
-blow, would be a suitable beginning--and then--if only Riette were out
-of sight, and the Prefect would not interfere--there could not be a
-better ground than the sand here by the house. Must one wait for all the
-formalities of a duel, with the Prefect and Angelot to see fair play?
-However, he tried hard to restrain himself, at least for the moment.
-
-"My wife is dead, monsieur, and I have but that one child," he said,
-forcing the words out with difficulty: it was a triumph of the wise and
-gentle Joseph over the fiery and passionate Joseph.
-
-He thought of Urbain, when he wanted to conquer that side of himself;
-Urbain, who by counsel and influence had made it safe for him to live
-under the Empire, and who now, hating vulgarity and insolence as much as
-he did himself, would have pointed out that General Ratoneau's military
-brutality was not worth resenting; that there were greater things at
-stake than a momentary annoyance; that the man's tongue had been
-loosened, his lumbering spirit quickened, by draughts of sparkling wine
-of Anjou, and that his horrible curiosity carried no intentional insult
-with it. Indeed, as Monsieur Joseph perceived immediately, with a kind
-of wonder, the man fancied that he was making himself agreeable to his
-host.
-
-"Ah, sapristi, I am sorry for you, monsieur, and for the young lady
-too," he said. "I am not married myself--but the loss of wife and mother
-must be a dreadful thing. Excuse a soldier's tongue, monsieur."
-
-Monsieur Joseph accepted the apology with a quick movement of head and
-hand, being as placable as he was passionate. The General continued to
-stare at Henriette, who moved slowly, seeming to think of nothing, to
-see nothing, but the wild flowers and the crowd of flitting butterflies
-in the meadow.
-
-During this little interlude, one of the gendarmes, who had seemed
-asleep, got up and moved towards the Prefect, who turned to speak to
-him, and after the first word walked with him a few yards, so as to be
-out of hearing of the others. Angelot, who had been standing beside the
-Prefect, glanced after them with a touch of anxiety. He did not like the
-looks of that gendarme, though he had not, like Marie Gigot, recognised
-him as specially dangerous. He walked forward a few steps and stood
-beside his uncle. Suppose the meeting of that morning, risky if not
-unlawful, were to come to the Prefect's knowledge; suppose his uncle's
-dangerous friends were ferreted out of their hiding-place in the wood;
-what then was he, his father's son, to do? His mother's son, though far
-enough from sharing her enthusiasms, had an answer ready: whatever it
-might cost, he must stand by the little uncle and Riette.
-
-"Your daughter is still young,"--it was the General's hoarse voice--"too
-young yet to be reported to the Emperor. Monsieur le Préfet must wait
-three or four years. Then, when she is tall and pretty--"
-
-Angelot's brow darkened. What was the creature saying?
-
-"You were pleased to mean--" Monsieur Joseph was asking, with extreme
-civility.
-
-"Ah, bah, have you heard nothing of the new order? Well, as I say, it
-will not affect you at present. But ask Monsieur le Préfet. He will
-explain. It is rather a sore subject with him, I believe, he has the
-prejudices of his class--of your class, I mean."
-
-"You are talking in riddles, indeed, monsieur," said Monsieur Joseph.
-
-They looked round at the Prefect. He had now finished his short talk
-with the gendarme, and as he turned towards the other group, Angelot's
-young eyes perceived a shadow on his kind face, a grave look of awakened
-interest. Angelot was also aware that he beckoned to him. As soon as he
-came up with him, the Prefect said, "That is mademoiselle your cousin,
-is it not, gathering flowers in the meadow? I should like to pay her my
-compliments, if she is coming this way."
-
-"I will go and tell her so, Monsieur le Préfet," said Angelot.
-
-"Do, my friend."
-
-His eyes, anxious and thoughtful, followed the young man as he walked
-across towards the distant edge of the wood, whose dark shadows opened
-behind Riette and the crocuses. She looked up, startled, as her cousin
-came near, and for a moment seemed to think of disappearing into the
-wood; but a sign from him reassured her, and she came with a dancing
-step to meet him.
-
-"I have been rousing curiosity, Monsieur le Préfet," said the General,
-smiling grimly, as the Prefect rejoined the other men. "I have been
-telling Monsieur de la Marinière that one of these days you will report
-his daughter to the Emperor."
-
-The Prefect looked angry and annoyed. His handsome face flushed. With an
-involuntary movement he laid his hand on Monsieur Joseph's shoulder;
-their eyes met, and both men smiled.
-
-"I sometimes think," said Monsieur de Mauves, "that His Majesty does not
-yet quite know France. His ideas have great spirit and originality, but
-they are not always very practical."
-
-"They are generally put into practice," growled the General.
-
-"Yes--but I do not think this one will go far. Certainly, it will have
-died out long before Mademoiselle de la Marinière is grown up."
-
-"But explain, my dear friend!" cried Monsieur Joseph. "Is the Emperor
-going to raise a regiment of Amazons, to fight Russia? I am dying with
-curiosity."
-
-"Some people would find your idea less disagreeable than the fact," said
-the Prefect, smiling, while the General shook with laughter.
-
-"Amazons! ha! ha! capital! I should like to lead them."
-
-It seemed that the Prefect, for once, was ashamed of his great master.
-He went on to explain, in a hurried fashion, how he and his brother
-Prefects had received this very singular command from the Emperor--that
-they were to send him, not a mere list, but a _catalogue raisonné_, of
-all the well-born girls in their several departments; their personal
-appearance, their disposition, their dowries, their prospects in the
-future; in short, every particular regarding them. And with what object?
-to arrange marriages between these young women of the best blood in
-France and his most favoured officers. It was one way, an original way,
-of making society loyal to the Empire; but the plan savoured too much of
-the treatment of a conquered country to please men like the Baron de
-Mauves. He might speak of it with a certain outward respect, as coming
-from the Emperor; and the presence of General Ratoneau was also a check
-upon his real sentiments; but he was not surprised at Monsieur Joseph's
-evident disgust, and not out of sympathy with it.
-
-The reign of the soldier! They were heroes, perhaps, many of these men
-whom Napoleon delighted to honour. It was not unnatural that he should
-heap dukedoms and pensions and orders upon them. But it seemed a
-dangerous step forward, to force such men as this Ratoneau, for
-instance, into the best families of France. No doubt he, in spite of his
-Napoleonic looks, was a bad specimen; but Monsieur Joseph might be
-excused if he looked at him as he said: "My dear Baron, it is tyranny. I
-speak frankly, gentlemen; it is a step on the road to ruin. Our old
-families will not bear it. What have you done?"
-
-"Nothing," said Monsieur de Mauves. "I think most of the Prefects agree
-with me; it is an order which will have to be repeated."
-
-On which the General turned round with a grin, and quoted to him his own
-words--"Monsieur le Préfet--if you accept the new régime, you should
-accept it loyally."
-
-"Pardon--nothing of this before the children, I beg," exclaimed Monsieur
-Joseph in haste, for Angelot and Henriette were coming across the
-meadow.
-
-The Prefect's delicate brows went up; he shrugged his shoulders, and
-moved off with a somewhat absent air to meet the young people.
-
-The sunshine, the flowery meadow, the motionless woods all about in the
-still afternoon: no background could be more peaceful. Nor could any
-unwelcome visitor with official power be more gentle and courteous than
-the Prefect as he took off his hat and bowed low to the slim child in
-her old clinging frock, who curtseyed with her hands full of crocuses
-and a covered basket on her arm. But little Riette and her cousin
-Angelot watched the amiable Prefect with anxious, suspicious eyes, and
-she took his kind words and compliments with an ease of reply which was
-not quite natural. She was a responsible person in her father's house at
-all times; but the fates of men had never, perhaps, been hung round her
-neck before. Why, the very fact of their concealment would be enough to
-condemn the four in government eyes looking out for conspiracies. And
-Monsieur des Barres, always lively, had said to Riette ten minutes ago:
-"Now, mademoiselle, you have sheltered us, you have fed us; we depend on
-you to keep all inconvenient persons out of the wood."
-
-"Stay where you are till they are gone, and have no fear," the child
-answered, and went back to meet the enemy.
-
-And presently the Prefect said, "You have gathered some very pretty
-flowers, mademoiselle."
-
-"Pray take some, monsieur," said Riette.
-
-The Prefect took two crocuses in his fingers, and cleverly slipped them
-into a buttonhole, for which they were not very well suited. Then he
-went on talking about flowers for a minute or two, but the subject was
-soon exhausted, for his knowledge lay among garden flowers, and Riette
-knew none but those that grew among her own woods and fields. Then
-suddenly and without warning, those pointed fingers of his had lifted
-the cover of the basket. It was done with a smile, as one might do it, a
-little mischievously, to a child trying to hide something, and with the
-words--"More flowers, mademoiselle?" At the bottom of the basket lay two
-corks and a small roll of bread. St. Elizabeth's miracle was not
-repeated for Henriette.
-
-Angelot smiled and bit his lip; then looked at the faces of his two
-companions. In the Prefect's there was plainly a question. Riette
-flushed crimson; for a moment her dark eyes were cast down; then there
-was something both roguish and pathetic in them, as she looked up at the
-man on whom so much depended.
-
-"Monsieur," said the sweet, childish voice, "I often eat my breakfast
-out-of-doors--I did to-day."
-
-The Prefect smiled, but gravely. Angelot hardly thought that he was
-deceived.
-
-"It is an agreeable thing to do, when one is young," the Prefect said.
-"Young, and with a clear conscience. But most people, if they had the
-choice, would prefer your father's hospitable dining-room."
-
-He turned with a wave of his hand and walked towards the house.
-
-"What have you done, child?" said Angelot, half laughing, half solemn.
-
-"I did not tell a lie," said Riette. "Marie gave me something for myself
-too: she and papa both said I must not have breakfast with you. Oh, they
-were hungry, Angelot! They devoured what I took, especially the Baron
-d'Ombré. I am sorry there was a bit of bread left, and I don't know how
-the corks got there. But, my dear, he knows nothing!"
-
-"Hush. I am not so sure. Now keep out of the way till they are gone."
-
-This was a counsel of perfection, which Henriette did her best to
-follow; but it was difficult, for the time was long. All the household
-at Les Chouettes became very restless and impatient as the afternoon
-wore on, but none of them dared show it. Poor Monsieur Joseph summoned
-up all his powers of general conversation, which were a little rusty, to
-entertain the Prefect, who went on talking politics and society as if
-life, for him, had no more immediate and present interest. Angelot
-marched about with an uneasy sense of keeping guard; knowing, too, that
-his father was expecting him to help to receive the distinguished
-cousins at Lancilly. He did not mind that much; the idea of the Sainfoy
-family was not very attractive to him: he thought they might interfere
-with the old freedom of the country-side; and even to please his father
-he could not desert his little uncle in a difficulty. He poured out some
-of his irritation on the Prefect's pet gendarme, whom he caught stealing
-round by the wood where, hidden behind a pile of logs in an old stone
-hovel, the four Royalist gentlemen were finding this official visit
-considerably more than a joke.
-
-"What are you doing on my uncle's land?" Angelot said sharply to the
-man.
-
-"Nothing, monsieur. Is it not allowed to take a little exercise?" said
-Simon, the Chouan-catcher.
-
-There was such a keen look in the man's eyes, such a veiled insolence in
-his tone, that Angelot suddenly felt he must say no more. He muttered
-something about disturbing the game, and passed on. Simon grinned as he
-looked after him.
-
-All this time the General was fast asleep, stretched on a sofa in the
-salon. Angelot looked in upon him as he lay snoring. With his eyes shut,
-he was more like the Emperor than ever; and as with Napoleon, there was
-a sort of fascination in the brow, the chin, the shape of the head,
-though here there was coarseness instead of refinement, the power of
-will without the genius.
-
-"He is a handsome beast, but I hate him!" the young man thought as he
-looked through the window. "Now if our excellent Chouans were here, what
-would they do? Probably nothing. And what can anybody do? Nothing. Fate
-has brought the Empire, as my father says, and he does not agree with
-Uncle Joseph that it does much more harm than good. For my part, I would
-as soon live in peace--and it does not please me to be ruled by
-overbearing soldiers and police spies. However, as long as they leave me
-my dog and gun and the freedom of the woods, they may have their
-politics to themselves for me.--Here I am, dear uncle."
-
-He turned from the window with a shrug. Monsieur Joseph and the Prefect
-had been strolling about the meadow, and the Prefect now expressed a
-wish to walk round the woods, and to see the view of Lancilly from the
-high ground beyond them.
-
-Angelot went with the two men. They walked right through the wood. The
-Prefect stopped and talked within twenty yards of the hovel where the
-four conspirators lay hidden. It was a grand opportunity for old
-Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol-shot; but not a movement, not a sound broke
-the stillness of the wood. There was only the rustling of the leaves,
-the squeak of the squirrels as they raced and scampered in the high
-branches of the oaks.
-
-The two La Marinières stood on each side of Monsieur de Mauves: they
-were a guard to him, though he did not know it, as his eyes wandered
-curiously, searchingly, down the glade in which he chose to linger.
-
-A rough whitewashed corner of the hovel, the mass of its dark roof,
-were actually visible beyond an undergrowth of briars.
-
-"What have you there?" said the Prefect, so quietly that his companions
-did not even suspect him of a suspicion.
-
-"A shelter--an old hovel where wood is stored for the winter," Monsieur
-Joseph answered truthfully; but his cheeks and eyes brightened a little,
-as if prepared for something more.
-
-"Ah!" the Prefect only said, looking rather fixedly that way. "And where
-is this view of Lancilly?"
-
-Both the uncle and nephew breathed more freely as they led him up the
-hill, through higher slopes of wood, then under some great branching
-oaks, here allowed to grow to their full size, and out into a rugged
-lane, winding on through wild hedges festooned with blackberries. Here,
-at the top, they looked straight across the valley to Lancilly, as it
-lay in the sunshine. Its high roofs flashing, it looked indeed the
-majestic centre of the country-side. Angelot gazed at it indifferently.
-Again the Prefect turned to him with his kind smile.
-
-"It will be charming for you to have your cousins there. They will
-reconcile you to the powers that be."
-
-Angelot answered: "I have no quarrel with the powers that be, monsieur,
-as long as you represent them. As to life, I want no change. Give me a
-gun and set me on a moor with my uncle. There we are!"
-
-"If I thought your uncle was quite so easily satisfied!" the Prefect
-said, and his look, as he turned to Monsieur Joseph, was a little
-enigmatical.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-HOW ANGELOT MADE AN ENEMY
-
-
-The sun was near setting when the Prefect and his companions rode away
-from Les Chouettes, their visit having resulted, as it seemed, in
-nothing worse than annoyance and anxiety.
-
-Joseph de la Marinière drew a long breath as he saw them go. The Prefect
-looked back once or twice and saw him standing near his house, a small
-black figure in the full blaze of the west. He seemed to be alone with
-his dogs, though in fact Riette and the three servants were peeping
-round the corner of the house beyond him, waiting for the final
-disappearance of the visitors. He had asked Angelot to guide them
-through the labyrinth of woods and lanes to a road leading to a town
-which the Prefect wished to reach before nightfall. As Angelot was on
-foot, their progress was slow; and it seemed an age to Monsieur Joseph
-till they had crossed his broad meadow to the south, and instead of
-going on towards Lancilly, had struck into a wood on the left through
-which a narrow path ran.
-
-When the last gendarme had passed from bright sunshine into shadows,
-when the tramp of the last horse had died away, Monsieur Joseph made a
-little joyful spring into the air and called, "Riette, my child, where
-are you?"
-
-"Here I am, papa!" cried the girl, darting forward. "Ah, what a day we
-have had!"
-
-"And what an evening we will have now!" said Monsieur Joseph.
-
-He seized her two hands, and they danced round together. In the shadow
-behind the house Gigot and Marie followed their example, while Tobie,
-having no partner, jumped up and down with his arms akimbo. Mademoiselle
-Riette, catching sight of him, laughed so exhaustingly that she could
-dance no longer. Then the whole family laughed till the tears ran down
-their faces, while the dogs sat round and wagged their tails.
-
-"The good God has protected us," said Gigot, coming forward to his
-master. "Does monsieur know that one of those gendarmes was Simon, the
-police agent, the Chouan-catcher, they call him? When I saw him, my
-heart died within me. But we were too clever for him. He went smelling
-about, but he found nothing."
-
-"He smelt something, though," growled Tobie the groom. "He would have
-searched the stable and found the inner place if I had not stood in
-front of him: luckily I was the biggest man of the two. It is not so
-easy, do you see, to make a way past me."
-
-"I gave them enough good food and wine to send them to sleep for the
-afternoon," said Marie the cook. "It was a sad waste, but the only way
-to keep such creatures quiet."
-
-"What a terrible man, that General!" said Gigot. "How he slept and
-snored and kicked the sofa! you can see the marks of his boots now. And
-how he resembles the Emperor! I know, for I saw his Majesty once--"
-
-"Stop your recollections, Gigot," said Monsieur Joseph; for Gigot, like
-many solemn and silent people, was difficult to check when once set
-talking. "We have something else to think of now. Make haste with
-dinner, Marie. We must console our poor friends for their captivity.
-Come, Riette, we will go and fetch them."
-
-So that evening was a merry one at Les Chouettes, and the moon was high
-before the second batch of guests climbed slowly to the moor on their
-homeward way. The day's experience had not heightened their courage,
-somehow, or advanced their plans for a rising. Even the Comte d'Ombré
-agreed that the time was hardly ripe; that five or six men might throw
-away their own lives or liberties, but could not make a new revolution;
-that the peasants must be sounded, public opinion educated; and that the
-Prefect's courteous moderation was an odious quality which made
-everything more difficult.
-
-And in the meanwhile, Monsieur de Mauves was justifying their
-conclusions in a way that would have startled them.
-
-Beyond the wood, Angelot led the party across stubble-fields, where blue
-field flowers with grey dusty leaves clustered by the wayside, and
-distant poplars, pointing high into the evening air, showed where his
-home lay. Then they turned down into one of the hollow lanes of the
-country, its banks scooped out by winter rains and treading of cattle,
-so that it was almost like three sides of a cylinder, while the thick
-pollard oaks, leaning over it, made twilight even in the lingering
-sunshine.
-
-The General was riding in front, the gendarmes some yards behind;
-Angelot, with his dog and gun, kept close beside the Prefect, who talked
-to him with his usual friendliness. Presently he said, "I love your
-uncle, Angelot, much better than he loves me, and I am sorry that he
-should run such useless risks."
-
-"What risks, monsieur?" the young man said, glancing up quickly; and
-somehow it was difficult to meet the Prefect's eyes.
-
-"Ah, you know very well. Believe me, your father is right, and your
-uncle is wrong. The old régime cannot be reëstablished. The path of
-France is marked out for her; a star has arisen to guide her, and she is
-foolish, suicidal, not to follow where it leads. I do not defend or
-admire the Emperor in everything: but see what he has done for France.
-She lay ruined, distracted. She took the mountain path of liberty, made
-a few wrong turns, and was dashed over the precipice. See how the
-Emperor has built her up into a great nation again; look at the laws and
-the civilisation; look at the military glory which has cost much blood,
-it is true, but has raised her so high in Europe that the nations who
-were ready to devour her are mostly crouching at her feet. Would our
-Bourbons have done all this for us, Angelot? Are they, after all, worth
-the devotion of men like your uncle and--for instance--Monsieur des
-Barres? Does not true patriotism lead a man to think of his country's
-good and glory, not of the advantage of one special family? Your uncle
-can hardly believe in that mediæval fiction of divine right, I suppose?"
-
-Angelot smiled. "My uncle belongs to the days of Saint Louis," he said.
-
-"But you do not," the Prefect replied. "I find it hard to forgive him.
-He is free, of course, to put his own neck in danger. One of these days
-he will drive me to extremities, and will find himself and his friends
-in a state prison--lucky if nothing worse happens. But he has no right
-to involve you in these treasonous tricks of his. It is selfish and
-immoral. Your father should see to it. You ought not to have been there
-to-day."
-
-The Prefect spoke low and earnestly. It was impossible to misunderstand
-him. Angelot felt something like a cold shiver running over him. But he
-smiled and answered bravely.
-
-"If my uncle has been foolish, so have I, and I will share the
-consequences with him. But as to to-day, monsieur?"
-
-"I know all," the Prefect said. "Your uncle had visitors this morning,
-who were spirited away out of our sight. Their horses were hidden in an
-inner stable; they themselves in a hovel in the wood--and if they have
-waited there till we were gone, they must be tired of it. That famous
-breakfast we enjoyed was not prepared on such miraculously short notice.
-Your little cousin, poor child, was employed to carry food to the
-fugitives hidden in the wood. With all my heart I pity her; a life of
-political plots is not happiness. But if Monsieur de la Marinière does
-not hesitate to sacrifice his daughter, it is no wonder that he lightly
-runs his nephew into danger! You acted well, you and he. But I almost
-think it might have been safer to carry on that first breakfast-party,
-and not show its character by absurd attempts at concealment. You cannot
-contradict a word I have been saying, Angelot. I do not ask you to tell
-me the names of your uncle's guests."
-
-"If you did, monsieur," the young fellow answered, "I should consider
-that an uncomfortable day had punished them enough, and so I should
-respectfully decline to answer you. I don't know how you made all these
-wonderful discoveries."
-
-The Prefect looked at him and laughed. "You take it lightly!"
-
-"I am speaking to a friend," Angelot said.
-
-"That is all very well. Yes--too good a friend, I fear, from the point
-of view of duty. But I shall not repent, if you will be warned into
-prudence yourself, and will warn your uncle."
-
-"I am rather afraid, monsieur, that my father has all the prudence of
-the family."
-
-The Prefect would have argued further, but suddenly a sound like low
-thunder, still distant, echoed down the lane.
-
-"What is that?" he said, looking round.
-
-"Cattle, monsieur. Pull right into the bank and give them room to pass,"
-said Angelot.
-
-The gendarmes, who knew the country, had already taken this precaution.
-They were drawing up in single file by the side of the road, close under
-the steep bank, pressing into it, in the dark shadow of the pollards.
-But General Ratoneau, in advance, was riding stolidly forward, clanking
-along at a quick foot's pace in the very middle of the narrow lane, with
-all that swaggering air of a conqueror, which was better suited to
-German fields than to the quiet woody ways of France. Angelot hurried
-forward.
-
-"Monsieur le Général!" he called out; but Ratoneau, though he must have
-heard, did not turn his head or take any notice.
-
-"Insolent animal! I might as well leave him to fight it out with the
-cows," the young fellow muttered; but for the Prefect's sake he ran on,
-his dog scampering after him, caught up the General, and stretched out
-a hand to his bridle.
-
-"What the devil do you want!" said the General, lifting his whip.
-
-"There is a herd of cows coming," Angelot shouted, though the blood
-rushed into his face at the man's involuntary movement. "You must get
-out of their way, or they will knock you down and trample on you. This
-is their way home. Draw up under the bank at once."
-
-"I shall get out of nobody's way," roared the General. "But you had
-better get out of mine, little ape of a Chouan, or--"
-
-The whip quivered in the air; another moment would have brought it down
-on Angelot's bare hand. He cried out, "Take care!" and in that moment
-snatched the whip and threw it over the horse's head. It fell into a
-mass of blackberry briars which made a red and green thicket under the
-bank just here. The lane turned slightly and was very narrow at this
-place, with a stony slope upwards. It was a little more than usual like
-the dry bed of a torrent. Only under the right-hand bank there was a
-yard of standing-room, where it was possible to draw aside while the
-crowd of horned beasts rushed past. The thunder of their hoofs was
-drawing near. The Prefect, fifty yards behind, called out advice to his
-angry colleague, which fell on deaf ears. Angelot was pelted with some
-choice specimens of a soldier's vocabulary, as he seized the bridle and
-tried to pull the horse to the side of the road. But the rider's
-violent resistance made this impossible. The horse plunged: the General,
-swearing furiously, did his best to throw Angelot down under its feet.
-For a minute the young fellow did his best to save the obstinate man in
-spite of himself, but then he was obliged to let the bridle go, and
-stepped to the shelter of the bank, while man and horse filled up the
-roadway with prancing and swearing.
-
-"Give me back my whip, you--" the various epithets which followed were
-new to Angelot's country ears, but their tone made them serious.
-
-Still, there was something so ridiculous in the General's fury that
-Angelot could scarcely help laughing in his face as he called out in
-answer, "When the cows are gone, monsieur, if you ask me civilly! I had
-to take it, or you would have struck me, and that was out of the
-question."
-
-Even as he spoke, the cattle were coming. The lane was filled with a
-solid mass of padding feet, panting hides, low heads, and long fierce
-horns. An old bull of unfriendly aspect led the way, and one or two
-younger bulls came pushing and lowing among the quieter cows. Behind the
-large horned creatures came a few goats and sheep; then a dog, sharply
-barking, and a woman, shouting and flourishing her stick. But in this
-narrow space she had no control over the herd, which poured along like
-water in a stream's bed, irresistible, unresisted. They knew their own
-way home from pasture to the yards at La Marinière. This was their own
-road, worn hollow by no trampling but theirs and that of their
-ancestors. Anything or anybody they happened to meet always drew aside
-to let them pass, and they were not as a rule ill-tempered.
-
-General Ratoneau thought he could ride through them, and spurred his
-restless horse, fresh from Monsieur Joseph's corn, straight at the
-wedged heads and shoulders of the advancing herd. The horse plunged,
-shied, tried to bolt; and there were a few moments of inextricable
-confusion. Angelot shouted to the woman in charge of the cows; she
-screamed to the dog, which dived among them, barking. Frightened, they
-scrambled and crushed together so that Angelot was pressed up by their
-broad sides against the bank, and only lifted himself out of their way
-by climbing to the trunk of a tree. The sun was setting; the dazzling
-light, in a sky all gold and red and purple, lay right across the lane:
-the General's uniform, his horse's smart trappings, flashed and swayed
-above the brown mass for a moment or two as it pushed down the slope.
-Then the horse fell, either slipping on a stone or pushed over by the
-cattle, but fortunately not under their feet. He and his master rolled
-over together into the briars on the farther side of the lane, and there
-lay struggling till the beasts had crowded by, hurrying on past the rest
-of the party, drawn prudently aside in the shelter of the bank.
-
-As soon as they were gone, the Prefect and the gendarmes rode up to help
-Angelot, who had already pulled the General out of the briars, unhurt,
-except by scratches. The horse had at once struggled to its feet, and
-stood trembling in the road.
-
-It was impossible for any one but the sufferer to take such an adventure
-seriously. Two of the gendarmes were convulsed with laughter; it was
-only Simon whose native cleverness and keen sense of his own advantage
-kept his face grave and sympathising, as he handed the General his hat
-and the other objects which his tumble had sent flying. The Prefect was
-smiling as he asked anxiously whether any bones were broken. Angelot
-trembled with hardly restrained laughter. It had seized him with an
-overpowering force, when he saw the General's fat figure rise in the air
-with a most undignified jerk, then being deposited in the thicket with a
-fine pair of riding boots and shining spurs uppermost. This was so
-exactly the accident that suited the man's swaggering airs of
-superiority, Angelot felt that he could almost forgive him his insolent
-words and looks, could almost bear the incomprehensible language of five
-minutes ago, the threatened stroke with the whip--ah, by the by, here
-lay the precious whip, with its silver handle, safely deposited in the
-bushes out of the cows' way. Angelot magnanimously picked it up and
-presented it to the General with a bow. He grunted a word meant for
-thanks, but the eyes that met Angelot's flashed with a dark fury that
-startled the careless boy and came back to his mind afterwards.
-
-"Whose beasts were those?" the General asked hoarsely.
-
-"They were my father's beasts, monsieur," Angelot answered. "They did
-not realize, unfortunately--" He broke off under a warning look from the
-Prefect, who went on with the sentence for him--"No one would regret
-such a tiresome accident more than your father, I am sure."
-
-"I was going to say so," Angelot murmured softly. "Now if they had been
-my uncle's cattle--"
-
-The General turned his back and mounted his horse. "The owner does not
-signify," he growled. "He cannot be punished. But it was either
-foolishness or malice that brought us along such a road."
-
-"Come, come, General, that was my fault, after all!" the Prefect said
-pleasantly. "And you must acknowledge that our young friend did his best
-to save you. We all knew this country and its ways better than you
-did--it is a pity, but there is no more to be said."
-
-The General seemed to be of the same opinion, for he rode off without a
-word. Angelot, looking after him, thought that one of these days there
-might be a good deal more to be said.
-
-But now the Prefect was asking a last direction as to the road, and
-wishing Angelot good-night, for the sun was actually setting. His last
-words were: "Adieu, my friend! Be prudent--and make my best compliments
-to your parents. No doubt we shall meet soon at Lancilly."
-
-"And perhaps without Monsieur le Général!" said Angelot, smiling.
-
-"Possibly! We are not inseparable," the Prefect replied, and waved his
-hand kindly as he rode away.
-
-"How was it that I did not strike that reptile? he tried to strike me,"
-Angelot reflected as he walked down the quiet lane. "Well! the Prefect
-and my father would have been vexed, and he had his little punishment.
-Some day we shall meet independently, and then we shall see, Monsieur
-Ratoneau, we shall see! But what a somersault the creature made! If the
-bushes had not broken his fall, he would have been hurt, or killed,
-perhaps."
-
-He laughed at the remembrance of the scene, and thought how he would
-describe it to his mother. Then he became grave, remembering all that
-had gone before. The Prefect was a friend, and a gentleman, neither of
-which the General could ever be. But it was a serious thought that the
-Prefect was at present by far the most dangerous person of the two.
-Uncle Joseph's life and liberty were in his hands, at his mercy.
-Angelot frowned and whistled as he strode along. How did the Prefect
-find out all that? Why, of course, those men of his were not mere
-gendarmes; they were police spies. Especially that one with the
-villanous face who was lurking round the woods!
-
-"We are all in their hands; they are the devil's own regiment," Angelot
-said to himself. "How can Monsieur de Mauves bring himself to do such
-work among his old friends, in his old country! It is inconceivable."
-
-Another rough lane brought Angelot into the rough road that led past the
-Manor of La Marinière to the church and village lying beneath it, and so
-on into the valley and across the bridge to Lancilly.
-
-The home of his family was one of those large homesteads, half farm,
-half castle, which are entirely Angevin in character; and it had not yet
-crumbled down into picturesque decay. Its white walls, once capable of
-defence, covered a large space on the eastern slope of the valley; it
-was much shaded all about by oak, beech, and fir trees, and a tall row
-of poplars bordered the road between its gateway and the church spire.
-
-The high white arch of the gateway, where a gate had once been, opened
-on a paved road crossing the lower end of a farmyard, and up to the
-right were lines of low buildings where the cows, General Ratoneau's
-enemies, were now being safely housed for the night, and a dove-cote
-tower, round which a few late pigeons were flapping. To the left another
-archway led into a square garden with lines of tall box hedges, where
-flowers and vegetables grew all together wildly, and straight on,
-through yet a third gate, Angelot came into a stone court in front of
-the house, white, tall, and very ancient, with a quaint porch opening
-straight upon its wide staircase, which seemed a continuation of the
-broad outside steps where Madame de la Marinière was now giving her
-chickens their evening meal.
-
-In spite of the large cap and apron that smothered her, it was plain to
-see where Angelot got his singular beauty. His little mother, once upon
-a time, had been the loveliest girl in Brittany. Her small, fine,
-delicate features, clear dark skin, beautiful velvet eyes and cloud of
-dusky hair that curled naturally,--all this still remained, though youth
-and freshness and early happiness were gone. Her cheeks were thin, her
-eyes and mouth were sad, and yet there was hardly a grey hair in that
-soft mass which she covered and hid so puritanically. She had been
-married as almost a child, and was still under forty. Her family, very
-old but very poor, had married her to Urbain de la Marinière, quite
-without consulting any wishes of hers. He was well off and well
-connected, though his old name had never belonged exactly to the _grande
-noblesse_. The Pontvieux were too anxious to dispose of their daughter
-to consider his free opinions, which, after all, were the fashion in
-France before 1789, though never in Brittany. And probably Madame de la
-Marinière's life was saved by her marriage, for she was and remained
-just as ardently Catholic and Royalist as her relations who died one by
-one upon the scaffold.
-
-She lived at La Marinière through the Revolution, in outward obedience
-to a husband whose opinions she detested, and most of whose actions she
-cordially disapproved, though it was impossible not to love him
-personally. Gratitude, too, there might very well have been; for
-Urbain's popularity had not only guarded his wife and son; it had
-enabled her to keep the old Curé of the village safe at La Marinière
-till some little liberty was restored to the Church and he was able to
-return to his post without danger. When madame used hard words of the
-Empire--and she was frank in her judgments--monsieur would point to the
-Curé with a smile. And the old man, come back from mass to breakfast at
-the manor, and resting in the chimney corner, would say, "Not so
-bad--not so bad!" rubbing his thin hands gently.
-
-"Little mother!" Angelot said, and stepped up into the porch among the
-chickens.
-
-His eyes, quick to read her face, saw a shadow on it, and he wondered
-who had done wrong, himself or his father.
-
-"Enfin, te voilà!" said Madame de la Marinière. "Have you brought us
-any game? Ah, I am glad--" as he showed her his well-filled bag. "Your
-father came home two hours ago; he expected to find you here; he wanted
-you to do some service or other for these cousins."
-
-"I am sorry," said Angelot. "I could not leave Uncle Joseph. I have a
-hundred things to tell you. Some rather serious, and some will make you
-die of laughing, as they did me."
-
-"Mon Dieu! I should be glad to laugh," said his mother.
-
-Angelot had taken the basket from her hand, and was throwing the
-chickens their last grain. She stood on the highest step, with a little
-sigh which might have been of fatigue or of disgust, and her eyes, as
-she gazed across the valley, were half angry, half melancholy. The sun
-had gone down behind the opposite hills, and the broad front of the
-Château de Lancilly, in full view of La Marinière, looked grey and cold
-against the woods, even in the warm twilight of that rosy evening.
-
-"Strange, that it should be inhabited again!" Angelot had emptied the
-basket, and stood beside his mother; the chickens bustled and scrambled
-about the foot of the steps.
-
-"Yes, and as I hear, by all the perfections," said Madame de la
-Marinière. "Hervé de Sainfoy is more friendly than ever--and well he may
-be--his wife is supremely pretty and agreeable, his younger girls are
-most amiable, and as for Hélène, nothing so enchantingly beautiful has
-ever set foot in Anjou. Take care, my poor Ange, I beseech you."
-
-Angelot laughed. "Then I suppose my father's next duty will be to find a
-husband for her. I hear she is difficult--or her parents for her,
-perhaps."
-
-"Who told you so?"
-
-"Monsieur de Mauves."
-
-"What? the Prefect?"
-
-"Yes. He sent his respectful compliments to you. I have been spending
-the day at Les Chouettes with him and the new General. He--oh, mon Dieu,
-mon Dieu!"
-
-Angelot burst into a violent fit of laughing, and leaned, almost
-helpless, against a pillar of the porch.
-
-"Are you mad?" said his mother.
-
-"Ah--" he struggled to say--"if only you had seen the cows--our
-cows--and the General in the air--oh!"
-
-A faint smile dawned in the depths of her eyes. "You have certainly lost
-your senses," she said, and slipped her hand into his arm. "Come down
-into the garden: I like it in the twilight--and that pile of stones over
-there will not weigh upon our eyes; the trees hide it. Come, my Ange:
-tell me all your news, serious and laughable. I am glad you were helping
-your uncle; but I do not like you to be away all day."
-
-"I could not help it, mother," Angelot said. "Yes; I have indeed a great
-deal to tell you."
-
-They strolled down together into the garden, where the vivid after-glow
-flushed all the flowers with rose. His mother leaned upon his arm, and
-they paced along by the tall box hedges. The serious part of the story
-was long, and interested her far more than the General's comic
-adventure, at which Angelot could only make her smile, though the
-telling of it sent him off into another fit of laughter.
-
-"Poor Monsieur de Mauves, to go about with such a strange animal!" she
-said. "As for you, my child, you grow more childish every day. When will
-you be a man? Now be serious, for I hear your father coming."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-HOW LA BELLE HÉLÈNE TOOK AN EVENING WALK
-
-
-Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière was always amiable and indulgent. He did
-not reproach his son for his long absence or ask him to give any account
-of himself; not, that is, till he had talked to his heart's content, all
-through the evening meal, of the coming of the Sainfoys, their
-adventures by the way, their impressions on arrival.
-
-He was glad, on the whole, that he had not organised any public
-reception. Hervé had decided against it, fearing some jarring notes
-which might prejudice his wife against the place and the country. As it
-was, she was fairly well pleased. A few old people in the village had
-come out of their doors to wave a welcome as the carriages passed;
-groups of children had thrown flowers; the servants, some sent on from
-Paris, others hired by Urbain in the neighbourhood, had stood in lines
-at the entrance. Urbain himself had met them at the door. The Sainfoys,
-very tired, of course, after their many hours of rough driving, were
-delighted to find themselves at last within the old walls, deserted
-twenty years ago. Only the son, now fighting in Spain, had been born at
-Lancilly; the three girls were children of emigration, of a foreign
-land.
-
-The excellent Urbain had indeed some charitable work to pride himself
-upon. Even he himself hardly knew how it had all been managed: the
-keeping of the château and its archives, the recovery of alienated
-lands, so that the spending of money in repairing and beautifying was
-all that was needed to set Lancilly in its place again as one of the
-chief country houses of Anjou, a centre of society. Urbain had worked
-for his cousin all these twenty years, quietly and perseveringly. To
-look at his happy face now, it would seem that he had gained his heart's
-desire, and that his cousin's gratitude would suffice him for the rest
-of his life. His eyes were wet as he looked at his wife and said: "There
-was only one thing lacking--I knew it would be so. If only you and
-Joseph had gone with me to welcome them! I never felt so insignificant
-as when I went out alone from that doorway to help my cousins out of the
-coach. And I saw her look round--Adélaïde--she was surprised, I know, to
-find me alone."
-
-"Did she ask for me--or for Joseph?" said Madame de la Marinière, in her
-dry little voice.
-
-"Not at the moment--no--afterwards, of course. She has charming manners.
-And she looks so young. It is really hard to believe that she has a son
-of twenty-two. My dear old Hervé looks much older. His hair is grey. He
-has quite left off powder; nearly everybody has, I suppose. I wish you
-had been there! But you will go to-morrow, will you not?"
-
-"Whenever you please," said Madame de la Marinière. "In my opinion,
-allow me to say, it was much better that I should not be there to-day.
-You had done everything; all the credit was yours. Madame de Sainfoy,
-tired and nervous, no doubt,--what could she have done with an
-unsympathetic old distant cousin, except wish heartily for her absence?
-No, no, I did not love Adélaïde twenty years ago. I thought her worldly
-and ambitious then--what should I think her now! I will be civil for
-your sake, of course,--but my dear Urbain, what have I to do with
-emigrants who have changed their flag, and have come back false to their
-old convictions? No--my place is not at Lancilly. Nor is Joseph's--and I
-hardly believe we should be welcome there."
-
-"My dear, all this is politics!" cried Monsieur Urbain, flourishing his
-hands in the air. "It is agreed, it is our convention, yours and mine,
-that we never mention politics. It must be the same between you and our
-cousins. What does it matter, after all? You live under the Empire, you
-obey the laws as much as they do. Why should any of us spoil society by
-waving our private opinions. It is not philosophical, really it is not."
-
-"I did not suppose it was," she said. "I leave philosophy to you, my
-dear friend."
-
-She shrugged her shoulders and looked at Angelot, who was sitting in
-silence, watching his father with the rather puzzled and qualified
-admiration that he usually felt for him. This admiration was not unmixed
-with fear, for Urbain, so sweet and so clever, could be very stern; it
-was an iron will that had carried him through the past twenty years. Or
-rather, perhaps, a will of the finest steel, a character that had a
-marvellous faculty for bending without being broken.
-
-"And you--" said Monsieur Urbain to his son--"you had a long day's sport
-with the uncle. Did you get a good bag?"
-
-Angelot told him. "But that was only by myself till breakfast time," he
-said. "Since then I have been helping my uncle in other ways. I am
-afraid you wanted me, monsieur, but it was an important matter, and I
-could not leave him."
-
-"Ah! Well, the other was not a very important matter--at least, I found
-another messenger who did as well. It was to ride to Sonnay, to tell the
-_coiffeur_ there to come to Lancilly early to-morrow. Madame de
-Sainfoy's favourite maid was ill, and stayed behind in Paris. No one
-else can dress her hair. It was she herself who remembered the old
-hairdresser at Sonnay, a true artist of the old kind. I had a strong
-impression that he--well, that he died unfortunately in those unhappy
-days--you understand--but she thought he had even then a son growing up
-to succeed him, and it seemed worth while to send to enquire."
-
-Angelot smiled; his mother frowned. "I am glad you were not here!" she
-murmured under her breath.
-
-Later on they were sitting in the curious, gloomy old room which did
-duty for salon and library at La Marinière. Nothing here of the simple,
-cheerful, though old-time grace of Les Chouettes. Louis Quatorze chairs,
-with old worked seats, stood in a solemn row on the smooth stone floor;
-the walls were hung with ancient tapestry, utterly out of date and out
-of fashion now. A large bookcase rose from the floor to the dark painted
-beams of the ceiling, at one end of the room. It contained many books
-which Madame de la Marinière would gladly have burnt on the broad
-hearth, under her beautiful white stone chimney-piece--itself out of
-date, old and monstrous in the eyes of the Empire. But Madame de la
-Marinière was obliged to live with her husband's literary admirations,
-as well as with his political opinions, so Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot,
-Helvétius, with many earlier and healthier geniuses, such as Montaigne,
-looked down in handsomely gilt bindings from the upper shelves. High up
-they were: there was a concession. In the lower shelves lived Bousset,
-and other Catholic writers; the modern spirit in religion being
-represented by Chateaubriand's five volumes of _Le Géne du
-Christianisme_ and two volumes of _Les Martyrs_. Corneille and Racine,
-among poets, had the honour of accessibility. When Monsieur Urbain
-wanted one of his own books, he had to fetch a little ladder from a
-cupboard in the hall. Angelot, from a child, was forbidden to use that
-ladder. The prohibition was hardly necessary. Angelot seldom opened a
-book at all, or read for more than five minutes at a time. He followed
-his uncle in this, as in so much else. The moors, the woods, the
-riverside, were monsieur Joseph's library: as to literal books, he had
-none but a few volumes on sport and on military history.
-
-In this old room Madame de la Marinière would sit all the evening long,
-working at her tapestry frame; Urbain would read, sometimes aloud;
-Angelot would draw, or make flies and fishing tackle. On this special
-evening the little lady sat down to her frame--she was making new seats
-in cross-stitch for the old chairs against the wall. Two candles, which
-lighted the room very dimly, and a tall glass full of late roses, stood
-on a solid oak table close to her chair.
-
-She made a charming picture as she sat there, seemingly absorbed in her
-work, yet glancing up every instant to listen to the talk of the two
-men. Angelot was giving his father an account of the day's adventures,
-and Monsieur Urbain was as much annoyed as his easy-going temper would
-allow.
-
-"Is he not mad and bad, that brother of mine!" he cried. "But what was
-it all about? What were they plotting and planning, these foolish men?
-Why could he not have two more places laid at table and entertain the
-whole party together? That would have been the clever thing to do. The
-Prefect has nothing special against any of those gentlemen--or had not,
-before this. What were they plotting, Angelot?"
-
-Angelot knew nothing about that. He thought their consciences were bad,
-from the readiness with which they scuttled off into the woods. And from
-things they said as they went, he thought they and the imperial officers
-were best apart. The Messieurs d'Ombré especially, from their talk,
-would have been dangerous companions at table. Pistols, prisons, a
-general insurrection and so forth.
-
-"My poor brother will be punished enough," said Urbain, "if he has to
-spend his time in Purgatory with these d'Ombrés."
-
-He glanced at his wife, who did not like such allusions as this; but she
-bent over her frame and said nothing.
-
-"Go on, tell me all," he said to his son.
-
-Angelot told him the whole story. He was an emotional person, with a
-strong sense of humour. The Prefect's generosity brought tears into his
-eyes; the General's adventure made him laugh heartily, but he was soon
-grave again.
-
-"I have not seen General Ratoneau," he said. "But I have heard that he
-is a very revengeful man, and I am sorry you should have offended him,
-my boy."
-
-"He offended me!" said Angelot, laughing. "I tried to save him; he swore
-at me and would not be saved. Then he tried to strike me and I would not
-be struck. And it was I who pulled him out of the bushes, and a clumsy
-lump he was, too. I assure you, father, the debt is on his side, not
-mine. One of these days he shall pay it, if I live."
-
-"Nonsense! forget all about it as soon as you can," said his father. "As
-to his language, that was natural to a soldier. Another time, leave a
-soldier to fight his own battles, even with a herd of cows. To run
-between a soldier and his enemy is like interfering between husband and
-wife, or putting your hand between the bark and the tree. Never do it
-again."
-
-"You do not practise what you preach," said Madame de la Marinière,
-while Angelot looked a little crestfallen. "I wonder who has run between
-more adversaries than yourself, in the last few years!"
-
-"My dear friend, I never yet differed with an imperial officer, or
-presumed to know better than my superiors, even on Angevin country
-subjects," said her husband, smiling.
-
-"Ah!" she sighed. Her brows wrinkled up a little, and there was a touch
-of scorn in the pretty lines of her mouth. "Ah! Ange and I will never
-reach your philosopher's level," she said.
-
-"I wish--I wish--" Monsieur Urbain muttered, pacing up and down, "that
-Joseph would grow a little wiser as he grows older. The Prefect is
-excellent--if it were only the Prefect--but the fellows who were with
-him--yes, it would be disagreeable to feel that there was a string round
-Joseph's neck and that the police held the end of it. A secret meeting
-to-day--at Joseph's house--and Joseph's and Angelot's the only names
-known!"
-
-"Ange was not at the meeting!" cried Madame de la Marinière.
-
-"I know--but who will believe that?"
-
-Angelot was a little impressed. He had very seldom seen his father, so
-hopeful, so even-tempered, with a cloud of anxiety on his face. The very
-rarity of such uneasiness made it catching. A sort of apprehensive chill
-seemed to creep from the corners of the dark old room, steal along by
-the shuttered windows, hover about the gaping cavern of the hearth. It
-became an air, breathing through the room in the motionless September
-night, so that the candle-flames on madame's table bent and flickered
-suddenly.
-
-Then the dogs out in the yard began to bark.
-
-"They are barking at the moon," said Monsieur Urbain. "No, at somebody
-passing by."
-
-"Somebody is coming in, father," said Angelot, "I hear footsteps in the
-court--they are on the steps--in the porch. Shall I see who it is?"
-
-"Do, my boy."
-
-The mother turned pale, half rose, as if to stop him. "Not the police!"
-were the words on her lips; but her husband's calmness reassured her.
-
-Angelot went out into the hall, and reached the house-door just as
-somebody outside began to knock upon it. He opened it, and saw two
-figures standing in the half-darkness: for the moon was not yet very
-high, and while she bathed all the valley in golden light, making
-Lancilly's walls and windows shine with a fairy beauty, the house at La
-Marinière still cast a broad shadow. The figures were of a man and a
-woman, strangers to Angelot; he, standing in the dark doorway, was
-equally strange to them and only dimly visible. The stranger lifted his
-hand courteously to his hat, and there was a touch of hesitation in his
-very musical voice, as if--which was the fact--he did not know to whom
-he was speaking.
-
-"Madame de la Marinière is at home? She receives this evening?"
-
-"Certainly, monsieur," said Angelot. "One moment, and I will fetch a
-light--madame--" and he bowed low to the stranger's companion.
-
-"What? Are you Angelot? Shake hands: there is light enough for that,"
-said the visitor with sudden friendliness. "Let me present you to my
-daughter Hélène--your cousin, in fact."
-
-The slender, silent girl who stood by Monsieur de Sainfoy might have
-been pretty or ugly--there was no light to show--but Angelot seemed to
-know by instinct at once all that he was to discover afterwards. He
-bowed again, and kissed Hélène's glove, and felt a most unreasonable
-dizziness, a wildfire rushing through his young veins; all this for the
-first time in his boyish life and from no greater apparent cause than
-the sweetness of her voice when she said, "Bonjour, mon cousin!"
-
-Then, before he could turn round, his father was there, carrying one of
-the heavy candlesticks, and all the porch was full of light and of
-cheerful voices.
-
-"I am triumphant," cried the Comte de Sainfoy. "My wife said I could not
-find my way. I felt sure I had not forgotten boyish days so completely,
-and Hélène was ready to trust herself to me, and glad to wait upon
-madame her cousin."
-
-"She is most welcome--you are both most welcome," the beaming master of
-the house assured him. "Come in, dear neighbours, I beg. What happiness!
-What an end to all this weary time! If a few things in life were
-different, I could say I had nothing left to wish for."
-
-"A few things? Can we supply them, dear Urbain?" said the Comte,
-affectionately.
-
-"No, Hervé, no. They do not concern you, my beloved friend. On your side
-all is perfection. But alas! you are not everybody, or everywhere. Never
-mind! This is a joy, an honour, indeed, to make one forget one's
-troubles."
-
-Angelot had taken the candlestick from his father as they crossed the
-hall. He carried it in before the party and set it down in its place,
-then stepped back into the shadow while Monsieur Urbain brought them in,
-and his mother, still pale, and a little shy or stiff in manner, went
-forward to receive them.
-
-"After twenty years!" The Comte de Sainfoy bowed low over the small hand
-that lay in his, thin, delicate, if not so white and soft as a court
-lady's hand. His lips touched it lightly; he straightened himself, and
-looked smiling into her face. He had always admired Anne de Pontvieux.
-He might himself have thought of marrying her, in those last days of old
-France, from which so great a gulf now parted them, if her family had
-been richer and more before the world. As a young man, he had been
-surprised at Urbain's good fortune, and slightly envious of it.
-
-"Utterly unchanged, belle cousine!" he said. "What does he mean, that
-discontented man, by finding his lot anything short of perfection! Here
-you have lived, you and he, in that quietest place that exists in the
-very heart of the storm. Both of you have kept your youth, your
-freshness, while as for me, wanderings and anxieties have turned me as
-grey as a badger."
-
-"Your wife is still young and beautiful, I hear," said Madame de la
-Marinière. "And your hair, cousin, is the only thing that proves you
-more than twenty. At any rate, you have not lost a young man's genius
-for paying compliments."
-
-"My compliments are simple truth, as they always were, even before I
-lived in more plain-spoken countries than this," said the Comte. "And
-now let me ask your kindness for this little eldest girl of mine--the
-eldest child that I have here--you know Georges is with the army."
-
-"I know," said Madame de la Marinière.
-
-Her look had softened, though it was still grave and a little distant.
-It was with a manner perfectly courteous, but not in the least
-affectionate, that she drew Hélène towards her and kissed her on the
-cheek. "She is more like you than her mother," she said. "I am charmed
-to make your acquaintance, my dear."
-
-Words, words! Angelot knew his mother, and knew that whatever pretty
-speeches politeness might claim, she did not, and never could rejoice in
-the return of the cousins to Lancilly. But it amused and astonished him
-to notice the Comte's manner to his mother. Did it please her? he
-wondered. Gratitude to his father was right and necessary, but did she
-care for these airs of past and present devotion to herself, on the part
-of a man who had outraged all her notions of loyalty? It began to dawn
-on Angelot that he knew little of the world and its ways.
-
-Standing in the background, he watched those four, and a more
-interesting five minutes he had never yet known. These were shadows
-become real: politics, family and national, turned into persons.
-
-There stood his father beside the man to whose advantage he had devoted
-his life; whom he had loved as that kind of friend who sticks closer
-than a brother, almost with the adoration of a faithful dog, ever since
-the boys of the castle and of the old manor played together about the
-woods of La Marinière and Lancilly.
-
-They were a contrast, those two. Urbain was short and broad, with quick
-eyes, a clever brow, a strong, good-tempered mouth and chin. He was
-ugly, and far from distinguished: Joseph had carried off the good looks
-and left the brains for him. Hervé de Sainfoy was tall, slight, elegant;
-his face was handsome, fair, and sleepy, the lower part weak and
-irresolute. A beard, if fashion had allowed it, would have become him
-well. His expression was amiable, his smile charming, with a shade of
-conscious superiority.
-
-But Angelot understood, when he remembered it, the Prefect's remark that
-the Emperor found Monsieur de Sainfoy "a little half-hearted."
-
-However, from that evening, Angelot ceased to think of Monsieur de
-Sainfoy as the unknown cousin, his father's friend, the master of
-Lancilly; he was Hélène's father, and thus to be, next to herself, the
-most important personage in poor Angelot's world. For it is not to be
-imagined that those few minutes, or even one of them, were spent in
-noting the contrast between the cousins, or in considering the Comte's
-manner to Madame de la Marinière, and hers to him. There in the light of
-the candles, curtseying to the unknown cousin with a simple reverence,
-accepting her kiss with a faint smile of pleasure, stood the loveliest
-woman that young Angelot had ever seen, ever dreamed of--if his dreams
-had been occupied with such matters at all! Hélène was taller than
-French women generally; taller than his mother, very nearly as tall as
-himself. She was like a lily, he thought; one of those white lilies that
-grew in the broad border under the box hedge, and with which his mother
-decked the Virgin's altar, not listening at all to the poor old Curé
-when he complained that the scent made his head ache. Hélène had thrown
-off the hooded cloak that covered her white gown; the lovely masses of
-fair hair seemed almost too heavy for her small, bent head.
-
-"No wonder they wanted a _coiffeur_! Oh, why was I not here to fetch
-him!" thought Angelot.
-
-The beauty of whiteness of skin and perfect regularity of feature is
-sometimes a little cold; but Hélène was flushed with her walk in the
-warm night, her lips were scarlet; and if her grey eyes were strangely
-sad and wistful, they were also so beautiful in size, shape, and
-expression that Angelot felt he could gaze for ever and desire no
-change.
-
-He started and blushed when his own name roused him from staring
-breathlessly at Mademoiselle Hélène, who since the lights came had
-given him one or two curious, half-veiled glances.
-
-"And now let me congratulate you on this fine young man," said Monsieur
-de Sainfoy in his pleasant voice. "The age of my Georges, is he not?
-Yes, I remember his christening. His first name was Ange--I thought it a
-little confiding, you know, but no doubt it is justified. I forgot the
-rest--and I do not know why you have turned him into Angelot?"
-
-Madame de la Marinière smiled; this was a way to her heart.
-
-"Yes, it is justified," she said proudly. "Ange-Marie-Joseph-Urbain is
-his name. As to the nickname, it is something literary. I refer you to
-his father."
-
-"It is a name to keep him true to his province," said Monsieur Urbain.
-"Read Ronsard, my friend. It was the name he gave to Henry, Duc d'Anjou.
-But I must fetch the book, and read you the pretty pastoral."
-
-"My dear friend, you must excuse me. I am perfectly satisfied. A very
-good name, Angelot! But to read or listen to that ancient poetry before
-the flood--"
-
-They all laughed. "What a wonderful man he is!" said the Comte to Madame
-Urbain. "As poetical as he is practical."
-
-It all seemed pleasant trifling, then and for the rest of the evening.
-The young countryman of Ronsard's naming was rather silent and shy, and
-the Comte's daughter had not much to say; the elders talked for the
-whole party. This, they thought, was quite as it should be.
-
-But the boy who had said that morning, "Young girls are hardly
-companions for me," and had talked lightly of his father's finding a
-husband for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, lay down that night with a girl's
-face reigning in his dreams; and went so far as to tell himself that it
-was for good or evil, for time and for eternity.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-THE SLEEP OF MADEMOISELLE MOINEAU
-
-
-"We must make the best of it," said Madame de Sainfoy. "To be practical
-is the great thing. I know you agree with me."
-
-She had a dazzling smile, utterly without sweetness. Madame de la
-Marinière said it was like the flashing of sunbeams on ice; but it had a
-much more warming and inspiring effect on Urbain.
-
-"It is one of the few consolations in life," he said, "to meet with
-supreme good sense like yours."
-
-They were standing together in one of the deep windows of the Château de
-Lancilly; a window which looked out to the garden front towards the
-valley and La Marinière. A deep dry moat surrounded the great house on
-all sides; here, as on the other front, where there were wings and a
-courtyard, it was approached by a stiff avenue, a terrace, and a bridge.
-But this ancient and gloomy state of things could not be allowed to
-continue. An army of peasants was hard at work filling up the moat,
-laying out winding paths in the park, making preparations for the
-"English garden" of a thousand meaningless twists leading to nowhere,
-which was the Empire's idea of beauty. Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoy
-would have no rest till their stately old château was framed in this
-kind of landscape gardening, utterly out of character with it. It was
-only Monsieur Urbain's experience which had saved trees from being cut
-down in full leaf, to let in points of view, and had delayed the
-planting in hot September weather of a whole forest of shrubs on the
-sloping bank, where the moat had once been.
-
-The interior of the house, too, was undergoing a great reformation.
-Madame de Sainfoy had sent down a quantity of modern furniture from
-Paris, the arrangement of which had caused the worthy Urbain a good deal
-of perplexity. He had prided himself on preserving many ancient
-splendours of Louis XIV, XV, XVI, not from any love for these relics of
-a former society, but because good taste and sentiment alike showed him
-how entirely they belonged to these old rooms and halls, where the
-ponderous, carved chimney-pieces rose from floor to painted ceiling,
-blazoned with arms which not even the Revolution had cut away. But
-Madame de Sainfoy's idea was to sweep everything off: the tapestries,
-which she considered grotesque and hideous, from the walls; the rows of
-solemn old chairs and sofas, the large screens and heavy oak tables, the
-iron dogs from the fireplace, on which so many winter logs had flamed
-and died down into a heap of grey ashes. All must go, and the old
-saloon must be made into a modern drawing-room of the Empire.
-
-Madame de la Marinière, being old-fashioned and prejudiced, resented
-these changes, which seemed to her both monstrous and ungrateful. She
-was angry with her husband for the angelic patience with which he bore
-them, throwing himself with undimmed enthusiasm into the carrying out of
-every wish, every new-fangled fancy, that Hervé and Adélaïde de Sainfoy
-had brought from Paris with them. If he was disappointed at the bundling
-off into garret and cellar of so much of Lancilly's old and hardly-kept
-glory, he only showed it by a shrug and a smile.
-
-"If one does not know, one must be content to learn," he said. "A modern
-fish wants a modern shell, my dear Anne. I may have been foolish to
-forget it. The atmosphere that you enjoy gives Adélaïde the blues. Come,
-I will quote Scripture. 'New wine must be put into new bottles.'"
-
-"Then, on the whole, it was a pity Lancilly was not burnt down," said
-his wife.
-
-"Ah, Lancilly! Lancilly will see a few more fashions yet," he said.
-
-And now he stood, quite happy and serene, in the cold sunshine of
-Adélaïde's smile, and together they watched the earthworks rising
-outside, and he agreed with her as to the necessity of being modern in
-everything, of marching with one's time, regretting nothing, using the
-present and making the best of it. She was utterly materialist and
-baldly practical. Her manners were frank and simple, she had suffered,
-she had studied the world and knew it, and used it without a scruple for
-her own advantage. The time and the court of Napoleon knew such women
-well: they had the fearless dignity of high rank, holding their own, in
-spite of all the Emperor's vulgarity; and the losses and struggles of
-their lives had given them a hard eye for the main chance, scarcely to
-be matched by any _bourgeois_ shopkeeper. And with all this they had a
-real admiration for military glory. Success, in fact, was their God and
-their King.
-
-Far down below in the park, within sight of the windows, Monsieur de
-Sainfoy was strolling about, watching the workmen, and talking to them
-with the pleasant grace which always made him popular. With him was
-young Angelot, who had walked across with his father on that and several
-other mornings. It seemed as if Uncle Joseph and Les Chouettes had lost
-a little of their attraction, since Lancilly was inhabited. Angelot
-brought his gun, and Cousin Hervé, when he had time and energy, took
-his, and they had an hour or two's sport round about the woods and
-marshes and meadows of Lancilly. Once or twice Monsieur de Sainfoy
-brought the young man in to breakfast; his father was often there, in
-attendance on the Comtesse and her alterations. She took very little
-notice of Angelot, beyond a smile when he kissed her hand. He was of no
-particular use, and did not interest her; she was not fond of his
-mother, and thought him like her; it was not worth while to be kind to
-him for the sake of his father, whose devotion did not depend, she knew,
-on any such attentions.
-
-Angelot was rather awed by her coldness, though he said nothing about
-it, even to his mother. And after all, he did not go to Lancilly to be
-entertained by Madame de Sainfoy. He went for the sake of a look, a
-possible word, or even a distant sight of the girl whose lovely face and
-sad eyes troubled him sleeping and waking, whose presence drew him with
-strong cords across the valley and made the smallest excuse a good
-reason for following his father to Lancilly. But he never spoke to
-Hélène, except formally and in public, till that day when he lingered
-about with his cousin in the park, watching the men as they dug the
-paths for the English garden, while Madame de Sainfoy and Monsieur
-Urbain talked good sense high up in the window.
-
-Presently two figures approached the new garden, crossing the park from
-the old avenue, and Monsieur de Sainfoy went to meet them with an air of
-cordial welcome.
-
-"Who are those people?" said the Comtesse, putting up her eyeglass.
-
-"It is my brother Joseph and his little daughter," Urbain answered. "He
-has his gun, I see, as usual. I suppose he was shooting in this
-direction."
-
-"Does he take the child out shooting with him? He is certainly very
-eccentric."
-
-Urbain shrugged his shoulders. "Poor dear Joseph! A little, perhaps.
-Yes, he is unlike other people. To tell you the truth, I am only too
-glad when his odd fancies spend themselves on the management of
-Henriette."
-
-"Or mis-management! He will ruin the child. He brought her here the
-other day, and she appeared to me quite savage."
-
-"Really, madame! Poor Henriette! She is a sociable child and clever,
-too. My wife and Angelot are very fond of her. I think she must have
-been shy in your presence."
-
-"Oh, not at all. She talked to Hervé like a grown-up woman. I was
-amused. When I say 'savage,' I mean that she had evidently been in no
-society, and had not the faintest idea how a young person of her age is
-expected to behave. She was far more at her ease than Hélène, for
-instance."
-
-"Ah, dear madame! there is something pleasing, is there not, in such a
-frank trust in human nature! The child is very like her father."
-
-"Those manners may be pretty in a child of six," said Madame de Sainfoy,
-"but they are quite out of place in a girl of her age--how old is she?"
-
-"I don't exactly know. Twelve or thirteen, I think."
-
-"Then there is still some hope for her. She may be polished into shape.
-I shall suggest to your brother that she come here every day to take
-lessons with Sophie and Lucie. I dare say she is very ignorant."
-
-"I am afraid she is. What a charming idea! How like your kindness! My
-brother will certainly accept your offer with enthusiasm. I shall insist
-upon it."
-
-"He will, if he is a wise man," said Madame de Sainfoy. They both
-laughed: evidently the wisdom of Monsieur Joseph was not proverbial in
-the family. "Mademoiselle Moineau is an excellent governess, though she
-is growing old," she went on. "I have known her make civilised women out
-of the most unpromising material. I shall tell your brother that I
-consider it settled. It will be good for Sophie and Lucie, too, to have
-the stimulus of a companion."
-
-"You are not afraid that--You know my brother's very strong opinions?"
-
-"Do you think a child of twelve is likely to make converts?" she said,
-with an amused smile. "No, cousin. The influence will be the other way,
-but your brother will not be foolish enough, I hope, to consider that a
-danger."
-
-Urbain shook his head gently: he would answer for nothing. He murmured,
-"A charming plan! The best thing that could happen to the child."
-
-"A pity, too," said Madame de Sainfoy, looking out of the window, "that
-she should grow up without any young companions but your son. Where are
-they going now?"
-
-"I don't know," said Urbain.
-
-For a moment they watched silently, while Angelot and Henriette left the
-others in the garden, and walked away together, turning towards the
-château, and then disappearing behind a clump of trees.
-
-"I know," said the Comtesse. "I told Hervé something of this plan of
-mine, and he approved highly: he has an old family affection for your
-brother. He is sending the young people to find Sophie and Lucie; they
-are out walking in the wood with Mademoiselle--Hélène is reading Italian
-in her own room."
-
-She seemed to add this as an after-thought, and the faintest smile
-curled Monsieur Urbain's lips as he heard her. "No danger, dear
-Comtesse," he felt inclined to say. "My boy's heart is in the woods and
-fields--and he is discreet, too. You might even trust him for five
-minutes with that beautiful, silent girl of yours."
-
-Had Madame de Sainfoy made some miscalculation as to her daughter's
-hours of study? or was it Hélène's own mistake? or had the sunshine and
-the waving woods, the barking of dogs, the chattering of workmen, all
-the flood of new life outside old Lancilly, made it impossible to sit
-reading in a chilly, thick-walled room and tempted the girl irresistibly
-to break her mother's strict rules. However it may have happened--when
-Angelot and Riette, laughing and talking, entered the wood beyond the
-château, not only square Sophie and tall Lucie and their fat little
-governess, but Mademoiselle Hélène herself, were found wandering along
-the soft path, through the glimmering maze of green flicked with gold.
-
-Sophie and Lucie were good-natured girls, enchanted to see the new
-little cousin. They admired her dark eyes, the delicate smallness of her
-frame, a contrast with their own more solid fairness. In their family,
-Hélène had taken all the beauty; there was not much left for them, but
-they were honest girls and knew how to admire. Riette on her side,
-untroubled with any shyness or self-consciousness, quite innocent of the
-facts that her dress was old-fashioned and her education more than
-defective, was delighted to improve her acquaintance with the new
-cousins. She could tell them a thousand things they did not know. To
-begin with, Lancilly itself, the woods, the walled gardens and courts,
-even the staircases and galleries of the house--all was more familiar to
-her than to them. She and Angelot had found Lancilly a splendid
-playground, ever since she was old enough to walk so far; they had spent
-many happy hours there in digging out rabbits, catching rats,
-birds-nesting, playing _cache-cache_, and other charming employments.
-She enlarged on these in the astonished ears of Sophie and Lucie,
-walking between them with linked arms, pulling them on with a dancing
-step, while they listened, fascinated, to the gay little spirit who led
-them where she pleased. It did not seem so certain, to look at the three
-young girls, that Madame de Sainfoy was right as to influence. But no
-political talk, no party secrets, escaped from the loyal lips of Riette.
-A word of warning from Angelot--a word which her father would not have
-dreamed of saying--had closed her mouth on subjects such as these. She
-could be friendly with her cousins, yet true to her father's friends.
-
-"Let us go to the great garden," she said. "Have you seen the sundial,
-and the fish-ponds? You don't know the way? Ah, my dear children, but
-what discoveries you are going to make!"
-
-"Sophie--Lucie--where are you going? Come back, come back!" cried
-Mademoiselle Moineau, who was pacing slowly behind with Angelot and
-Hélène.
-
-But Sophie and Lucie could not stop if they wished it; an impetuous
-little whirlwind was carrying them along.
-
-"To the garden--to the garden!" they called out as they fled.
-Mademoiselle Moineau was distracted. She was fat, she was no longer
-young; she could not race after the rebellious children; and even if she
-could, it was impossible to leave Hélène and Angelot alone in the wood.
-
-"Where are they going?" she said helplessly to the young man.
-
-He explained amiably that they were perfectly safe with his little
-cousin, who knew every corner of the place, and while Mademoiselle
-Moineau groaned, and begged that he would show her the way to the
-garden, he ventured a look and smile at Hélène. A sudden brightness came
-into her face, and she laughed softly. "Henriette might be your little
-sister," she said. "You are all alike, I think--at least monsieur your
-uncle, and madame your mother, and Henriette, and you--"
-
-"Yes--I've often thought Uncle Joseph ought to be my mother's brother,
-not my father's," said Angelot.
-
-He dared not trust himself to look very hard at Hélène. He kept his
-lightness of tone and manner, the friendly ease which was natural to
-him, though his pulses were beating hard from her nearness, and though
-her gentle air of intimacy gave him almost a pang of passionate joy. How
-sweet she was, how simple, when for a moment she forgot the mysterious
-sadness which seemed sometimes to veil her whole nature! Angelot knew
-that she liked and trusted him, the strange young country cousin who
-looked younger than he was. She thought him a friendly boy, perhaps. Her
-eyes, when she looked at him, seemed to smile divinely; they were no
-longer doubtful and questioning, as at first. He longed to kneel down on
-the pine-needles and kiss the hem of her gown; he longed, he, the
-careless sportsman, the philosopher's son, to lay his life at her feet,
-to do what she pleased with. But Mademoiselle Moineau was there.
-
-They walked on in the vast old precincts of Lancilly, following the
-children. It was all deep shade, with occasional patches of sunshine;
-great forest trees, wide-spreading, stretched their arms across sandy
-tracks, once roads, that wandered away at the back of the château:
-through the leaves they could see mountains of grey moss-stained roof
-and the peaked top of the old _colombier_. All the yards and buildings
-were now between them and the house itself. Along by a crumbling wall,
-once white, and roofed with tiles, they came to the broken-down gate of
-the garden. It was not much better than a wilderness; yet there were
-loaded fruit-trees, peaches, plums, figs, vines weighed down with masses
-of small sweet grapes, against the ancient trellis of the wall.
-Everywhere a forest of weeds; the once regular paths covered with burnt
-grass and stones and rubbish; the fountain choked and dry.
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau groaned many times as she hobbled along; the
-walking was rough, the way seemed endless, and the garden, when they
-reached it, a sun-baked desert. Angelot guided them to the very middle,
-where the old sundial was, and while he showed it to Hélène, the little
-governess sat down on a stone bench that encircled a large mulberry
-tree, the only shady place in the garden. They could hear the children's
-voices not far off. Hélène sat down near Mademoiselle Moineau. Angelot
-went away and came back with a leaf filled with fruit, to which Hélène
-helped herself with a smile. As he was going to hand it to Mademoiselle
-Moineau, she put out a hand to stop him.
-
-"She is asleep," she whispered.
-
-It was true. The warmth, the fatigue, the sudden rest and silence, had
-been too much for the little lady, who was growing old. Her eyes were
-shut, her hands were folded, her chin had sunk upon her chest; and even
-as Angelot stared in unbelieving joy, a distinct snore set Hélène
-suddenly laughing.
-
-"I must wake her," she said softly. "We must go, we must find the
-children."
-
-"Oh no, no!" he murmured. "Let the poor thing rest--see how tired she
-is! The children are safe--you can hear them. Do not be so cruel to
-her--and to me."
-
-"_I_ cruel?" said Hélène; and she added half to herself--"No--other
-people are cruel--not I."
-
-Angelot did not understand her. She looked up at him rather dreamily, as
-he stood before her. Perhaps the gulf of impossibility between them kept
-her, brought up and strictly sheltered as she had been, from realising
-the meaning of the young man's face. It was very grave; Angelot had
-never before felt so utterly in earnest. His eyes were no longer sleepy,
-for all the strength of his nature, the new passion that possessed him,
-was shining in them. It was a beautiful, daring face, so attractive that
-Hélène gazed for a speechless moment or two before she understood that
-the beauty and life and daring were all for her. Then the pale girl
-flushed a little and dropped her eyes. She had had compliments enough in
-Paris, had been told of her loveliness, but never with silent speech
-such as this. This conquest, though only of a young cousin, had
-something different, something new. Hélène, hopeless and tired at
-nineteen, confessed to herself that this Angelot was adorable. With a
-sort of desperation she gave herself up to the moment's enjoyment, and
-said no more about waking Mademoiselle Moineau, who snored on
-peacefully, or about finding the children. She allowed Angelot to sit
-down on her other side, and listened to him with a sweet surprise as he
-murmured in her ear--"Who is cruel, then, tell me! No, you are not, you
-are an angel--but who are you thinking of?"
-
-"No one in particular, I suppose," the girl answered. "Life itself is
-cruel--cruel and sad. You do not find it so?"
-
-"Life seems to me the most glorious happiness--at this moment,
-certainly."
-
-"Ah, you must not say those things. Let us wake Mademoiselle Moineau."
-
-"No," Angelot said. "Not till you have told me why you find life sad."
-
-"Because I do not see anything bright in it. Books tell one that youth
-is so happy, so gay--and as for me, ever since I was a child, I have had
-nothing but weariness. All that travelling about, that banishment from
-one's own country--ill tempers, discontent, narrow ways, hard
-lessons--straps and backboards because I was not strong--loneliness, not
-a friend of my own age--and then this horrible Paris--and things that
-might have happened there, if my father had not saved me--" She stopped,
-with a little catch in her breath, and Angelot understood, remembering
-the Prefect's talk at Les Chouettes, a few days before.
-
-This was the girl they talked of sacrificing in a political marriage.
-
-"But now that you are here--now that you have come home, you will be
-happy?" he said, and his voice shook a little.
-
-"Perhaps--I hope so. Oh, you must not take me too much in earnest,"
-Hélène said, and there was an almost imploring look in her eyes. She
-added quickly--"I hope I shall often see madame your mother. What a
-beautiful face she has--and I am sure she is good and happy."
-
-This was a fine subject for Angelot. He talked of his mother, her
-religion, her charity, her heroism, while Hélène listened and asked
-childish questions about the life at La Marinière, to which her evening
-visit had attracted her strangely. And the minutes flew on, and these
-two cousins forgot the outside world and all its considerations in each
-other's eyes, and the shadows lengthened, till at last the children's
-voices began to come nearer. Mademoiselle Moineau snored on, it is true,
-but the enchanting time was coming to an end.
-
-"Remember," Angelot said, "nothing sad or cruel can happen to you any
-more. You are in your own country; your own people will take care of you
-and love you--we are relations, remember--my father and mother and my
-uncle and Riette--and I, Hélène!"
-
-He ended in the lowest whisper, and suddenly his slight brown hands
-closed on hers, and his dark face bent over her.
-
-"Never--never be sad again! I adore you--my sweet, my beautiful--"
-
-Very softly their lips met. Hélène, entirely carried out of herself, let
-him hold her for a moment in his arms, then started up with flaming
-cheeks in consternation, and began to hurry towards the gate.
-
-At the same moment the three young girls came down the path towards the
-sun-dial, and Mademoiselle Moineau, waking with a violent start, got up
-and hobbled stiffly forward into the sunshine.
-
-"Where are you, my children?" she cried. "Sophie, Lucie, it is quite
-time to go back to your lessons--see, your sister is gone already. Say
-good-by to your cousins, my dears--"
-
-[Illustration: SUDDENLY HIS SLIGHT BROWN HANDS CLOSED ON HERS.]
-
-"We may all go back to the château together, madame, may we not?"
-said Angelot with dancing eyes, and he hurried the children on, all
-chattering of the wonderful corners and treasures that Henriette had
-shown them.
-
-But Mademoiselle Hélène flew before like the wind, and was not to be
-overtaken.
-
-In the meanwhile, Madame de Sainfoy consulted Cousin Urbain about her
-new silk hangings for the large drawing-room, and also as to a list of
-names for a dinner, at which the chief guests were to be the Baron de
-Mauves, the Prefect of the Department, and Monsieur le Général Ratoneau,
-commanding the troops in that western district.
-
-"And I suppose it is necessary to invite all these excellent cousins?"
-Madame de Sainfoy asked her husband that evening, when the cousins were
-gone.
-
-"Entirely necessary, my dear Adélaïde!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH MET WITH MANY ANNOYANCES
-
-
-Dark clouds were hanging over Les Chouettes. In the afternoon there had
-been a thunderstorm, with heavy rain which had refreshed the burnt
-slopes and filled the stream that wound through the meadows under the
-lines of poplars and willows, and set great orange slugs crawling among
-the wet grass. The storm had passed, but the air was heavy, electric,
-and still. The sun had set gloriously, wildly, like a great fire behind
-the woods, and now all the eastern sky was flaming red, as if from a
-still more tremendous fire somewhere beyond the moors and hills.
-
-Two men were sitting on a bench under Monsieur Joseph's south wall;
-himself and white-haired Joubard, the farmer; before them was a table
-with bottles and glasses. Joubard had been trying a wine that rivalled
-his own. Monsieur Joseph had entertained him very kindly, as his way
-was; but the shadow of the evening rested on Monsieur Joseph's face. He
-was melancholy and abstracted; he frowned; he even ground his teeth with
-restrained irritation. Joubard too looked grave. He had brought a
-warning which had been lightly taken, he thought; yet looking sideways
-at Monsieur Joseph, he could not help seeing that something, possibly
-his words, was weighing on the little gentleman. There were plenty of
-other things to talk about; the farm, the vintage, the war in Spain, the
-chances of Martin's return, the works at Lancilly. Monsieur Joseph and
-Joubard were both talkers; they were capable of chattering for hours
-about nothing; but this evening conversation flagged, at least on
-Monsieur Joseph's side. Perhaps it was the weather.
-
-At last the old man was ready to go. He stood up, staring hard at
-Monsieur Joseph in the twilight.
-
-"Monsieur forgives me?" he said. "Perhaps I should have said nothing;
-the police have their ways. They may ask questions without malice. And
-yet one feels the difference between an honest man and a spy. Well, I
-could have laughed, if I did not hate the fellow. As if the talk of a
-few honest gentlemen could hurt the State!"
-
-"Some day I hope it will," said Monsieur Joseph, coolly. "When the
-rising comes, Joubard, you will be on the right side--if only to avenge
-your sons, my good man!"
-
-Joubard opened his eyes wider, hesitated, pushed his fingers through his
-bushy hair.
-
-"Me, monsieur! The rising! But, monsieur, I never said I was a Chouan! I
-am afraid of some of them, though not of you, monsieur. They are people
-who can be dangerous. A rising, you said! Then--"
-
-"Don't talk of it now," said Monsieur Joseph, impatiently.
-
-As he spoke, little Henriette came round the corner of the house with
-some blue feathers in her hand. Tobie had been out shooting, making
-havoc among the wild birds, large and small, and sparing the squirrels,
-with regret, to please his master. Owls, kites, rooks, magpies, jays,
-thrushes, finches; those that were eatable went into pies, and the
-prettiest feathers were dressed and made into plumes for Mademoiselle
-Henriette. She was fond of adorning her straw bonnet with jay's
-feathers, which, as her uncle Urbain remarked, gave her the appearance
-of one of Monsieur de Chateaubriand's squaws. "See, papa, what Tobie has
-brought me," she cried. "Good evening, Maître Joubard! How are your
-chickens? and when will the vintage begin?"
-
-Joubard would gladly have entered on a lengthy gossip with Mademoiselle
-Henriette, but Monsieur Joseph, with a shortness very unlike him,
-brought the interview to an end.
-
-"You must not keep Maître Joubard now," he said. "It is late, and he
-must get back to the farm. Bonsoir, Joubard."
-
-The farmer waved his large hat. "Bonsoir, la compagnie!" and with a
-smile departed.
-
-As he passed the stables, Tobie, still carrying his gun, slipped out and
-joined him.
-
-"Anything wrong with the master, Tobie?" said the old man, curiously.
-"His tongue has an edge to it this evening; he is not like himself."
-
-"I think I know," said Tobie, and they strolled together up the lane.
-
-"Go to bed, my child," said Monsieur Joseph to his little daughter. "It
-is too damp now for you to be out-of-doors. Yes, very pretty feathers.
-Good night, mon petit chou!"
-
-Riette flung herself upon him and hugged him like a young bear.
-
-"Ah," he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "and is this the way to
-behave to one's respected father? Do you suppose, now, that
-Mesdemoiselles de Sainfoy crush their parents to death like this?"
-
-"I dare say not," said Riette, with another hug and a shower of kisses.
-"But their parents are grand people. They have not a little bijou of a
-papa like mine. And as for their mamma, she is a cardboard sort of
-woman."
-
-"All that does not matter. Manners should be the same, whether people
-are tall or short, great or humble. You know nothing about it, my poor
-Riette."
-
-"Nor do you!"
-
-"It is becoming plain to me that you must be sent to learn manners."
-
-"Where?"
-
-"Go to bed at once. I must think about it. There, child--enough--I am
-tired this evening."
-
-"Ah, you have had so many visitors to-day, and that old Joubard is a
-chatterbox."
-
-"And he is not the only one in the world. Go--do you hear me?"
-
-The child went. He heard her light feet scampering upstairs, clattering
-merrily about on the boards overhead. He sat very still. The glow in the
-east deepened, spreading a lurid glory over the dark velvety stillness
-of the woods. Crickets sang and curlews cried in the meadow, and the
-long ghostly hoot of an owl trembled through the motionless air. Joseph
-de la Marinière leaned his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his
-hands, and gazed up thus into the wild autumnal sky.
-
-"What would become of her!" he said to himself.
-
-He was not long alone. Angelot and his dog came lightly up through the
-shadows, and while the dog strayed off to join his favourites among the
-dark guards who lay round the house, the young man sat down beside his
-uncle.
-
-Though with a mind full of his own matters, Angelot was sympathetic
-enough to feel and to wonder at the little uncle's depression. After a
-word or two on indifferent things--the storm, the marvellous sky--he
-said to him, "Has anything happened to worry you?"
-
-Monsieur Joseph did not answer at once, and this was very unlike him.
-
-"It is the thunder, perhaps?" said Angelot, cheerfully. "A tree was
-struck near us. My mother is spending the evening in church."
-
-"And your father?"
-
-"He is at Lancilly, playing boston."
-
-"Why are you not with him?"
-
-"Why should I be? I--I prefer a talk with my dear uncle."
-
-"Ah! you ask if anything worries me, Angelot. Three or four things.
-First--I had a visit this morning from César d'Ombré. He had his
-breakfast in peace this time, poor fellow."
-
-Angelot smiled, rather absently. "What had he to say?"
-
-"Nothing special. The time is not quite ripe--I think they realised that
-the other day."
-
-"I hope so," murmured Angelot.
-
-"Hope what you please," said his uncle, with sudden irritation. "The
-time will come in spite of you all, remember. I, for one, shall not long
-be able to endure this abominable system of spying."
-
-"What do you mean?" said Angelot, staring at him.
-
-"This is what I mean. The instant d'Ombré was gone--while he was here,
-in fact--that fellow, the Prefect's jackal, was prowling round the
-stables and asking questions of Tobie. Some silly excuse--pretended he
-had lost a strap the other day. Asked which of my friends was
-here--asked if they often came, if they were generally expected.
-Suggested that Les Chouettes was well provided with hiding-places, as
-well for arms as for men. I don't think he made much out of Tobie; he is
-as solid as an old oak, with a spark of wit in the middle of his thick
-head. From his own account, he very nearly kicked him off the premises."
-
-"What? that man Simon? I don't like him either, but was it not a little
-dangerous to treat him so? He is more than a gendarme, I think; he is an
-_agent de police_."
-
-"I don't care what he is, nor does Tobie. He had better come to me with
-his impertinent questions. And I am angry with De Mauves. I suppose the
-rascal would not prowl about here without his orders. Of course it was
-he who found out everything the other day. I did not notice or know him
-at the time, but the servants tell me he is, as you say, a well-known
-police spy. Well, after what De Mauves said to you, I should have
-expected him to leave me in peace. I would rather have one thing or the
-other--be arrested or let alone. I say, this spying system is
-ungentlemanly, ungenerous, and utterly contemptible and abominable."
-
-Monsieur Joseph rapped hard on the table, then took a pinch of snuff
-with much energy, folded his arms, and looked fiercely into Angelot's
-downcast face.
-
-"I can hardly think the Prefect sent him," the young man said.
-
-"Why should he act without his master's orders? In any case I shall have
-it out with De Mauves. Well, well, other annoyances followed, and I had
-half forgotten the rascal, your father being here, and the rain coming
-in at the roof and running down the stairs, when behold Joubard, to tell
-me the story over again!"
-
-"What story?"
-
-"Mille tonnerres! Angelot, you are very dull to-day. Why, the Simon
-story, of course. The fellow paid Joubard a visit on his way to us, it
-seems, and asked a thousand questions about me and my concerns--what
-visitors of mine passed La Joubardière on their way here, and so forth.
-He tried to make it all appear friendly gossip, so as to put Joubard off
-his guard, though knowing very well that the old man knew who he was."
-
-"Does Joubard think the Prefect sent him?"
-
-"I did not consult Joubard on that point," said Monsieur Joseph with
-dignity. "That is between De Mauves and myself."
-
-"Oh, my little uncle," Angelot said with a low laugh, "you are a very
-gem among conspirators."
-
-"None of you take me in earnest, I know," said Monsieur Joseph, and he
-smiled for the first time. "Your father scolds me, Joubard does not half
-believe in me, Riette takes liberties with me, you laugh at me. It is
-only that scoundrel of a Prefect who thinks me worth watching."
-
-"I don't believe he does," said Angelot.
-
-"Then pray tell me, what brought that police rascal here to-day?"
-
-"Some devilry of his own. Don't you know, Uncle Joseph, these fellows
-gain credit, and money too, by hunting out cases of disloyalty to the
-Empire. It is dirty work; officials like the Prefect do not always care
-to soil their hands with it. I have heard my father tell of cases where
-whole families were put in prison, just on the evidence of some police
-spy who wormed himself into their confidence and informed against them."
-
-Monsieur Joseph sat in silence for a minute.
-
-"Peste! France is not fit to live in," he said. "To change the
-subject--your excellent father proposed to-day that I should send Riette
-every morning to Lancilly, to learn lessons with Mesdemoiselles de
-Sainfoy. It seems that Madame de Sainfoy herself proposed this obliging
-plan. The governess, it seems, is a jewel of the first water. Is that
-the lady I saw with the children the other day?"
-
-"Yes; Mademoiselle Moineau."
-
-Angelot's breath came a little short; his heart seemed to beat
-unreasonably in his throat. How could he express with sufficient
-restraint his opinion of that sleepy old angel, Mademoiselle Moineau!
-
-He felt himself colouring crimson; but it was growing dark, the gorgeous
-sunset had faded, the clouds hung blacker and heavier as the oppressive
-night closed in.
-
-"No doubt a charming lady and a very good woman," said Monsieur Joseph,
-with his usual politeness, "but she has not the air of a genius. In any
-case, even if I saw any advantage for Riette in the plan, which I do
-not, I am too selfish to consent to it. Well, well, I have other
-reasons; I will tell them to your mother one of these days. I am sorry
-Madame de Sainfoy should have thought of it, as it seems ungracious to
-refuse. But I was miserable enough without Riette last year, when she
-spent those weeks at the Convent at Sonnay. By the by, the good nuns did
-not find her so ignorant. She knows her religion, she can dance and
-sing, she can make clothes for the poor, she understands the animals,
-and has read a little history. Pray what more does a girl want?"
-
-"Nothing, I dare say," said Angelot, dreamily. "I did not think you
-would like it."
-
-"I do not like it," said Monsieur Joseph. "Your father was astonished
-when I told him so. We did not discuss it long; the storm interrupted
-us. But how could I let my child be brought up in a household devoted to
-the Empire! It is unreasonable."
-
-Angelot started suddenly to his feet.
-
-"Are you going? It will rain again soon," said Monsieur Joseph.
-
-"No, I am not going yet," said Angelot.
-
-He marched up and down two or three times in front of the bench.
-
-"Uncle Joseph," he burst out, "I have something to say to you. I came
-here to-night on purpose to consult you. You can help me, I think, if
-anybody can."
-
-"What, what? Are they sending you into the army?" Monsieur Joseph was
-all interest, all affection. His own annoyances were forgotten. He
-started up too, standing in his most inspired attitude, with a sweet
-smile on his face. "Declare yourself, my boy!" he said. "Yes, I will
-stand by you. You cannot fight for that bloodthirsty wretch. Escape,
-dearest, if there is nothing else for it. Go and join the Princes. Your
-mother will agree with me. I will lend you money for the journey."
-
-"Ah, a thousand thanks, Uncle Joseph!" cried the young man. "But no, it
-is not that at all." He lowered his voice suddenly. "I want to marry,"
-he said.
-
-"To marry! Angelot! You! In heaven's name, why?"
-
-"Because I am in love."
-
-"What a reason!"
-
-Monsieur Joseph sat down again.
-
-"This is serious," he said. "Sit down beside me on the bench, and tell
-me all about it. It sounds like madness, and I always thought you were a
-reasonable boy."
-
-"It is madness in one way, I suppose," said Angelot. "And yet stranger
-things have happened. In fact, of course, nothing else could happen."
-
-Monsieur Joseph frowned and stared. His quick brain was running round
-the neighbourhood and finding nobody; then it made an excursion at
-lightning speed into the wilds of Brittany, where Angelot had sometimes
-visited his mother's relations; but there again, as far as he knew, no
-likely match was to be found. He was sure that Urbain and Anne had not
-yet taken any steps to find a wife for Angelot; he also thought it was a
-subject on which they were likely to disagree. And now the young rascal
-had hit on somebody for himself. Might Heaven forbid that he had
-followed modern theories and was ready to marry some woman of a rank
-inferior to his own--some good-for-nothing who had attracted the
-handsome, simple-hearted boy!
-
-"No! He would not dare to tell me that," Monsieur Joseph said to
-himself, and added aloud, "Who is the lady?"
-
-There was a touch of severity in his tone; a foretaste, even from the
-dear little uncle, of what was to be expected.
-
-"But, dear uncle," Angelot said slowly, "it could only be one person."
-
-"No--no, impossible!" said Monsieur Joseph, half to himself. "Angelot,
-my boy--not--not there?" and he waved his hand in the direction of
-Lancilly.
-
-Angelot nodded. "You have seen her," he murmured; "you ought not to be
-surprised. You have never seen any one half so beautiful."
-
-Monsieur Joseph laughed outright. "Have I always lived at Les
-Chouettes?" he said. "However, she is a pretty girl, fair, graceful,
-distinguished. Riette had more to tell me about the younger ones; that
-was only natural. Of course I have only exchanged a compliment with
-Mademoiselle Hélène. She looked to me cold and rather haughty--or
-melancholy, perhaps. When have you spoken to her, Angelot? or is it
-merely the sight of her which has given you this wild idea?"
-
-"Yes, she is melancholy," Angelot said, "but not cold or haughty at all.
-She is sad; it is because she is alone, and her mother is hard and
-stern, though her father is kind, and she has had no peace in life from
-all their worldly ways. They wanted to marry her to people she
-detested--her mother did, at least--"
-
-"Yes, yes, I have heard something of that," said Monsieur Joseph. "They
-expect a great deal from her. She is to make an advantageous
-marriage--it is necessary for her family. It will happen one of these
-days; it must. My dear little Angelot, you know nothing of the
-world--how can you possibly imagine--Besides, I do not care for the
-Sainfoys." Monsieur Joseph sighed. "I would rather you went to Brittany
-for a wife, and so would your mother."
-
-"But you will help me, Uncle Joseph?" said Angelot.
-
-"Help you! How can I? Anyhow, you must tell me more. How did you find
-out all this? When did those people give you an opportunity of speaking
-to her? From their own point of view, they are certainly very imprudent.
-But I suppose they think you harmless."
-
-It is unpleasant to be thought harmless. Angelot blushed angrily.
-
-"They may find themselves mistaken," he muttered. "I will tell you,
-Uncle Joseph;" and he went on to give a slight sketch of what had
-happened.
-
-It seemed necessary to convince his uncle that he was not talking
-nonsense, that the fates had really allowed him a few minutes' talk with
-Hélène. He could only give half an explanation, after all; the old
-mulberry tree had been the only witness of what was too sacred to be
-told. He said that Mademoiselle Moineau's fortunate nap had given them
-time to understand each other.
-
-"And this is the fine governess to whom they expect me to confide my
-Riette!" said Monsieur Joseph, laughing; but he became serious again
-directly. "And in this interview under the tree, my poor Angelot," he
-said very gravely, "you made up your mind to propose yourself as a
-husband for Mademoiselle Hélène?"
-
-"It sounds solemn, Uncle Joseph, when you say it. But yes, I suppose you
-are right," said Angelot.
-
-"It _is_ solemn. Most solemn and serious. Something more than a
-flirtation, an amourette. For life, as I understand you. A real marriage
-à l'Anglais," said Monsieur Joseph.
-
-For answer, Angelot raved a little. His uncle listened indulgently, with
-a charming smile, to all the pretty lunacies of the young man's first
-love, poured into an ear and a heart that would never betray or
-misunderstand him.
-
-"And did you tell Mademoiselle Hélène all this? Did you ask her what she
-thought of you?" Monsieur Joseph said at last.
-
-"She knows enough, and so do I," said Angelot.
-
-It seemed like sacrilege to say more; but as his uncle waited, he added
-hastily--"She is sad, and I can make her happy. But I cannot live
-without her--voila! Now will you help me?"
-
-"It does not occur to you, then, that you are astonishingly
-presumptuous?"
-
-"No."
-
-"Diable, my Angelot! It would occur to my cousins De Sainfoy!"
-
-"We are not so poor. As to family, we have not a title, it is true, but
-we are their cousins--and look at my mother's descent! They can show
-nothing like it. And then see what they owe to my father. Without him,
-what would have become of Lancilly? They can make imperialist marriages
-for their two other daughters. You must help me, dear little uncle!"
-
-"Do you suppose they would listen to me, an old Chouan? Where are your
-wits, my poor boy? All flown in pursuit of Mademoiselle Hélène!"
-
-"Not they, no; they are too stupid to appreciate you. But speak to my
-father and mother for me. They love and honour you; they will listen.
-Tell them all for me; ask them to arrange it all. I will do anything
-they wish, live anywhere. Only let them give me Hélène."
-
-Monsieur Joseph whistled, and took another large pinch of snuff. It was
-almost too dark now to see each other's face, and the heavy clouds, with
-a distant rolling of thunder, hung low over Les Chouettes.
-
-Suddenly a child's voice from a window above broke the silence.
-
-"Ah, forgive me, papa and Angelot, but I have heard all, every word you
-have been saying. It was so interesting, I could not shut the window and
-go to sleep. Well, little papa, what do you say to Angelot? Tell him you
-will help him, we will both help him, to the last drop of our blood."
-
-Angelot sprang from his seat with an exclamation, to look up at the
-window. A small, white-clad figure stood there, a round dark head
-against the dim light of the room. The voice had something pathetic as
-well as comical.
-
-"Mille tonnerres!" shouted Monsieur Joseph, very angry. "Go to bed this
-instant, little imp, or I shall come upstairs with a birch rod. You will
-gain nothing by your dishonourable listening. I shall send you to
-Mademoiselle Moineau to-morrow, to learn lessons all day long."
-
-"Ah, papa, if you do, I can talk to Hélène about Angelot," said
-Henriette, and she hastily shut the window.
-
-The two men looked at each other and laughed.
-
-"Good night, dear uncle," said Angelot, gently. "I leave my cause in
-your hands--and Riette's!"
-
-"You are mad--we are all mad together. Go home and expect nothing," said
-Monsieur Joseph.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-HOW COMMON SENSE FOUGHT AND TRIUMPHED
-
-
-General Ratoneau found himself a hero at Madame de Sainfoy's dinner
-party, and was gratified. A new-comer, he had hardly yet made his way
-into provincial society, except by favour of the Prefect. Even the old
-families who regarded the Prefect as partly one of themselves, and for
-his birth and manners forgave his opinions, found a difficulty in
-swallowing the General. The idea that he was unwelcome, when it
-penetrated Ratoneau's brain, added to the insolence of his bearing. To
-teach these ignorant provincial nobles a lesson, to show these poor and
-proud people, returned from emigration, that they need not imagine the
-France of 1811 to be the same country as the France of 1788, to make
-them feel that they were subjects of the Emperor Napoleon and inferior
-to his officers--all this seemed to General Ratoneau part of his mission
-in Anjou. And at the same time it was the wish of his heart to be
-received as a friend and an equal by the very people he pretended to
-despise.
-
-Lancilly enchanted him. Though the stately halls and staircases were
-bare, the great rooms half-furnished and dark--for Madame de Sainfoy
-had not yet carried out her plans of decoration--though there were few
-servants, no great display of splendid plate, no extravagance in the
-dinner itself, no magnificence in the ladies' dresses, for at this time
-simplicity was the fashion--yet everything pleased him, because of the
-perfections of his hostess. Madame de Sainfoy laid herself out to
-flatter him, to put him in a good humour with himself. Rather to the
-disgust of various old neighbours who had not dined at Lancilly for more
-than twenty years, she placed the Prefect and the General on her right
-and left at dinner, and while the Prefect made himself agreeable to an
-old lady on his right, whose satin gown was faded and her ancient lace
-in rags, she devoted all her powers of talk to the General.
-
-In a way she admired the man. His extraordinary likeness to his master
-attracted her, for she was a hearty worshipper of Napoleon. She talked
-of Paris, the Empress, the Court; she talked of her son and his
-campaigns, asking the General's opinion and advice, but cleverly leading
-him off when he began to brag of his own doings; so cleverly that he had
-no idea of her tactics. He was a little dazzled. She was a very handsome
-woman; her commanding fairness, her wonderful smile, the movements of
-her lovely hands and arms, the almost confidential charm of her manner;
-she was worthy to be an Empress herself, Ratoneau thought, and his
-admiration went on growing. He began to talk to her of his most private
-affairs and wishes, and she listened more and more graciously.
-
-It was a large party; many of the old provincial families were
-represented there. All the company talked and laughed in the gayest
-manner, though now and then eyes would light on the hostess' left-hand
-neighbour with a kind of disgusted fascination, and somebody would be
-silent for a minute or two, or murmur a private remark in a neighbour's
-ear. One lady, an old friend and plain of speech, turned thus to Urbain
-de la Marinière:--
-
-"Why does Adélaïde exert herself to entertain that creature?"
-
-"Because, madame," he answered, smiling, "Adélaïde is the most sensible
-and practical woman of our acquaintance."
-
-"Mon Dieu! But what does she expect to get by it?"
-
-He shrugged his shoulders.
-
-Angelot, the youngest man present, had been allowed to take his cousin
-Hélène in to dinner. Two minutes of happiness; for the arrangement of
-the table separated them by its whole length. But it had been enough to
-bring a smile and a tinge of lovely colour to Hélène's face, and to give
-her the rare feeling that happiness, after all, was a possibility. Then
-she found herself next to a person who, after Angelot, seemed to her
-the most delightful she had ever met; who asked her friendly questions,
-told her stories, watched her, in the intervals of his talk with others,
-with eyes full of admiration and a deep amusement which she did not
-understand, but which set her heart beating oddly and pleasantly, as she
-asked herself if Angelot could possibly have said anything to this dear
-uncle of his.
-
-Poor Angelot! he looked unhappy enough, there in the distance, sitting
-in most unusual sulks and silence.
-
-There was an opportunity for a word, as he led her back from the
-dining-room, through the smaller salon, into the large lighted room
-where all the guests had preceded them.
-
-"I don't wonder that you love your uncle," she said to him.
-
-"I don't love him, when I see him talking to you. I am too jealous."
-
-"How absurd!"
-
-"Besides, I am angry with him. He has not done something that I asked
-him. Delay is dangerous, and I live in terror."
-
-"What?" she asked, turning a little white.
-
-"If you would give me the Empire, I could not tell you now."
-
-They were in the salon. He put his heels together and bowed; she swept
-him a curtsey.
-
-"Help me to hand the coffee," she said under her breath.
-
-So it came to pass, when the coffee-table was brought in, that they
-walked up together to the new sofa, polished mahogany and yellow satin,
-finished with winged Sphinxes in gilded bronze, where Madame de Sainfoy
-and General Ratoneau were sitting side by side.
-
-The Prefect, of course, had brought his hostess back from the
-dining-room and had stood talking to her for a few minutes afterwards.
-But the General, having deposited his lady, came clanking up almost
-immediately to rejoin Madame de Sainfoy.
-
-"Allow me, my dear Prefect," he said. "I have not finished an
-interesting talk with Madame la Comtesse."
-
-Monsieur de Mauves looked at him, then glanced at her with a questioning
-smile.
-
-"Yes, it is true. We had just touched on a subject of the very deepest
-interest," she said.
-
-Her look, her smile, seemed to glide over the Prefect's tall figure and
-pleasant face, as if he was merely a not disagreeable obstacle, to rest
-thoughtfully, with satisfaction, on Ratoneau in his gorgeous uniform.
-
-"Listen! I will confide in you, and then you will understand," said the
-General, seizing the Prefect's arm. "I am going to consult Madame la
-Comtesse on the subject of a marriage."
-
-He showed his teeth in a broad smile, staring into the Prefect's face,
-which did not change in its expression of easy good-humour.
-
-"Whose marriage, may I ask? Your own?"
-
-"You have said it, monsieur. My own. Could I do better?"
-
-"You could not have a better counsellor. I retire at once," said the
-Prefect.
-
-Then an idea crossed his mind, for just as he was met, with a friendly
-greeting--"A word with you, Monsieur le Préfet"--from Joseph de la
-Marinière, his eyes fell on Hélène de Sainfoy as she turned away from
-Angelot at the door. He had already admired her at a distance, so far
-the most beautiful thing at Lancilly, in spite of the oppressed and
-weary air that suited so ill with her fresh girlhood.
-
-"Mon Dieu, what a sacrilege! But no, impossible!" said the Prefect to
-himself.
-
-Several young people were carrying the coffee-cups about the room,
-Sophie and Lucie in white frocks among them. It was generally the part
-of the young girls; the men did not often help them, so that Madame de
-Sainfoy looked at Angelot with surprise, and a shade of displeasure,
-when he approached her with Hélène.
-
-Angelot was perfectly grave and self-possessed. On his side, no one
-would have known that he had ever met General Ratoneau before, certainly
-not that he regarded him as an enemy. He hardly changed colour, even
-when Ratoneau waved him aside with a scowl, and stretched across him,
-without rising, to take his cup from Hélène.
-
-"Come," he said, "I'll have my coffee from those pretty hands, or not at
-all."
-
-Hélène looked up startled, and met the man's bold eyes. Angelot turned
-away instantly, and in a few seconds more she had joined him, and they
-were attending to other guests. Angelot commanded himself nobly; his
-time for punishing the General would come some day, but was not yet. As
-he and his cousin walked together along the room, the Vicomte des
-Barres, Monsieur Joseph's friend, pointed them out to Madame de la
-Marinière.
-
-"A pretty pair of cousins, madame!"
-
-"Ah, yes," she said a little sadly. "I cannot always realise that Ange
-is grown up. To see him, a man, in the salon at Lancilly, makes me feel
-very old."
-
-The Vicomte murmured smiling compliments, but they soon turned to talk
-which was more serious, if not a little treasonable.
-
-And in the meanwhile other eyes followed the two young people: Madame de
-Sainfoy's, while she doubted whether it might be necessary to snub
-Monsieur Ange de la Marinière; General Ratoneau's, with a long, steady,
-considering gaze, at the end of which he turned to his hostess and said,
-"You advise me to marry, madame! Give me your daughter."
-
-For the moment, even the practical Madame de Sainfoy was both startled
-and shocked; so much so that she lifted her fan to hide the change in
-her face. But she collected herself instantly, and lowered it with a
-smile.
-
-"Indeed, Monsieur le Général, you do us great honour"--she began. "But
-you were good enough to ask my advice, and I should not, I think--in
-fact, my daughter is still rather young, rather unformed, for such a
-position--and then--"
-
-"She is nineteen, I know," said General Ratoneau. "Too young for me, you
-think? Well, I am forty-two, the same age as the Emperor, and he married
-a young wife last year."
-
-"You wish to resemble His Majesty in every way," said Madame de Sainfoy,
-smiling graciously; it was necessary to say something.
-
-"I am like him, I know--sapristi, it is an advantage. But I am a better
-match in one way, madame. I have never been married. I have no wife to
-get rid of, before offering myself to Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. She looks
-like a good girl, and she is devilish pretty. I dare say she will do
-what she likes with me. Anyhow, it is a good marriage for her, and for
-me. I am well off, I shall not expect much money."
-
-In Adélaïde de Sainfoy's heart there was amazement at herself for having
-listened even so long and so patiently. This was indeed a trial of her
-theories. But after all, common sense was stronger than sentiment.
-
-"We must live in our own times," she reminded herself. "These are the
-people of the future; the past is dead."
-
-Her eyes wandered round the room. Every man she saw there was a
-gentleman, with ancestors, with manners, with traditions. Whether they
-were returned emigrants or people who had by _force majeure_ accepted
-the Revolution and the Empire, all bore the stamp of that old world
-which they alone kept in memory. Differences of dress, a new simplicity,
-ease and freedom, a revolt against formalities, these things made a
-certain separation between the new country society and the old. But
-gentlemen and ladies all her guests were, except the man who sat beside
-her and asked for Hélène as coolly as if he were asking for one of her
-dog's puppies.
-
-Yet Madame de Sainfoy repeated to herself, "The past is dead!"
-
-"You do us great honour," she repeated; for so strong-minded a person,
-the tone and words were vague.
-
-"That is precisely what you do not think, madame," said Ratoneau,
-looking her straight in the face with a not unpleasant smile.
-
-She was very conscious of the resolute will, the power to command, which
-the man possessed in common with his master. Who could refuse Napoleon
-anything? except a man or woman here and there with whom the repulsion
-was stronger than the attraction. Adélaïde de Sainfoy was not one of
-these.
-
-"You are mistaken; I do," she said, and smiled back with all her
-brilliancy.
-
-"It is true," he said, "I am not yet a Duke, or a Marshal of France,
-like the others. I have had enemies--envious people: my very wounds,
-marks of honour, have come between me and glory. But next year, madame,
-when I have swept the Chouans out of the West, you will see. I have a
-friend at Court, now, besides. One of the Empress's equerries, Monsieur
-Monge, is an old brother-in-arms of mine. The Emperor has ennobled him;
-he is the Baron de Beauclair--a prettier name than Monge, n'est-ce pas?"
-
-"But that is charming! Tell me more about this friend of yours," said
-Madame de Sainfoy, rather eagerly.
-
-This was a new view, a new possibility. Ratoneau knew what he was doing;
-he had not forgotten the Prefect's remark at Les Chouettes, some days
-before, as to Madame de Sainfoy's ambition of a place at Court for
-herself, as lady-in-waiting to the Empress. For a minute or two he
-swaggered on about his friend Monge; then suddenly turned again upon the
-Comtesse.
-
-"But my answer, madame! There, you must excuse me; I am a rough soldier;
-I am not accustomed to wait for anything. When I want a thing, I ask for
-it. When it is not given at once--"
-
-"You take it, I suppose? Yes: the wonder is that you should ask at all!"
-said Madame de Sainfoy.
-
-Her look and smile seemed to turn the words, which might have been very
-scornful, into an easy little jest; but none the less they were a
-slight check on the airs of this conquering hero. He laughed.
-
-"Well, madame, you are right, I withdraw the words. If you refuse my
-request, I shall have to make my bow, I suppose. But you will not."
-
-She leaned back with lowered eyelids, playing with her fan.
-
-"At this moment," she said, "I can only give you a word of
-advice--Patience, Monsieur le Général. For myself I will speak frankly.
-I am entirely loyal to the Empire and the Army; they are the glory of
-France. I think a brave soldier is worthy of any woman. Personally, this
-sudden idea of yours does not at all displease me. But I am not the only
-or the chief person concerned. Monsieur de Sainfoy, too, has his own
-ideas, and among them is an extreme indulgence of his daughter's
-fancies. You observe, I am speaking to you in the frankest confidence. I
-treat you as you treat me--" she glanced up and smiled. "Only this year,
-in Paris, plans of mine have been spoilt in this way."
-
-"But fortunately for me, madame!" exclaimed Ratoneau. "We will not
-regret those plans, if you please. Shall I speak to Monsieur de Sainfoy
-this evening?"
-
-"No, I beg! Say nothing at all. Leave the affair in my hands. I promise,
-I will do my best for you."
-
-She spoke low and hurriedly, for her husband was walking up to the
-retired corner where she and the General were sitting, and she, knowing
-his humours so well, could see that he was surprised and a little angry
-at the confidences which had been going on.
-
-It was one of Hervé's tiresome points, unworthy of a man of the world,
-that he did not always let her go her own way without question, though
-he ought to have learnt by this time to trust her in everything.
-
-He now came up and asked General Ratoneau if he would play a game of
-billiards. Most of the men had already left the salon. The General
-grunted an assent, and rose stiffly to follow his host, with a grave bow
-to Madame de Sainfoy. The Comte walked with him half across the room,
-then suddenly turned back to meet his wife, whose preoccupation he had
-noticed rather curiously.
-
-"You have other guests, Adélaïde!" he said, so that she alone could
-hear.
-
-"I have," she answered. "And I must talk to you presently. I have
-something to say."
-
-He gazed an instant into her eyes, which were very blue and shining, but
-he found no answer to the question in his own, and hurried at once away.
-Without the Prefect's scrap of information or his wider knowledge of
-men, he did not even guess what those two could have been talking about.
-Something political, he supposed; Adélaïde loved politics, and could
-throw herself into them with anybody, even such a lump of arrogant
-vulgarity as this fellow Ratoneau. She thought it wise, no doubt, to
-cultivate imperial officials. But in that case why did she not bestow
-the lion's share of her smiles on the Prefect, a greater man and a
-gentleman into the bargain? Why did she let him waste his pleasant talk
-on the dowagers of Anjou, while she sat absorbed with that animal?
-
-The guests, thirty or more, were scattered between the billiard-room,
-the smaller drawing-room, where card-tables were set out, and the large
-drawing-room, given up to conversation and presently to the acting of a
-proverb by several of the younger people and Mademoiselle Moineau, who
-played the part of a great-grandmother to perfection.
-
-Angelot so distinguished himself as a jealous lover that Hélène could
-hardly sit calmly to look on, and several people told him and his mother
-that his right place was at the _Français_.
-
-"It is part of our life at La Marinière," Anne said with a shade of
-impatience to the Prefect, who was talking to her. "When we are not
-singing or playing or dancing or shooting, we are acting. It does not
-sound like a very responsible kind of life."
-
-"Ah, madame," Monsieur de Mauves said softly, in his kind way, "we
-French people know how to play and to work at the same time. All these
-little amusements do not hinder people from conspiring against the
-State."
-
-A flush rose in her thin face; she threw herself eagerly forward.
-
-"Are you speaking of my son, Monsieur le Préfet? Do not blame him for
-loyalty to his uncle. He is not a conspirator. Sometimes--" she
-laughed--"I think Ange has not character enough."
-
-"Yes, he has character," the Prefect answered. "But you are right in one
-way, madame; he does not yet care enough for one cause or the other.
-Something will draw him--some stronger love than this for his uncle."
-
-"Heaven forbid!" sighed Madame de la Marinière.
-
-For her eyes followed his. They fell on Hélène near the door, white and
-fair, her face lit up with some new and sweet feeling as she laughed
-with the little old governess dressed up in ancient brocades from a
-chest in the garret, the dowager Marquise of the proverb just played.
-And a little further, in the shadow of the doorway, stood Angelot in
-powdered wig, silk coat, and sword, looking like a handsome courtier
-from a group by Watteau, and his eyes showed plainly enough what woman,
-if not what cause, attracted him at the moment. As to causes, Monsieur
-Joseph and the Vicomte des Barres were deep in talk close by; two
-Chouans consulting in the very presence of the Prefect.
-
-Monsieur de Mauves smiled, took a delicate pinch of snuff, and stroked
-his chin.
-
-"Sometimes I congratulate myself, madame," he said, "on having no young
-people to marry. Yet, with a sense of duty, which, thank God, they
-generally have, they are more manageable than their elders. Look, for
-instance, at your dear and charming brother-in-law. There he is hatching
-fresh plots, when I have just assured him that the police are not
-supervising him by my orders, and never shall, if I can trust him to
-behave like a peaceable citizen."
-
-"Ah, you are very good, Monsieur le Préfet," said Madame de la
-Marinière. She went on talking absently. "Whatever we may think of your
-politics," she said, "it seems a crime to annoy or disappoint you.
-Indeed you do much to reconcile us. But as to Ange--his father's son is
-never likely--"
-
-"It is a world of surprises, dear madame," said the Prefect, as she did
-not finish her sentence. "I wish him all that is good--and so I wish
-that you and Monsieur de la Marinière would send him into the army. He
-should serve France--should make her his only mistress, at least for the
-next ten years. Then let him marry, settle down amongst us here--turn
-against the Emperor, if he chooses--but by that time there will be no
-danger!"
-
-Thus flattering himself and his master, the Prefect wished her an almost
-affectionate good night.
-
-In a few minutes more, nearly all the guests were gone. Angelot, still
-in his quaint acting costume, went out to the court with Monsieur de
-Sainfoy to see the ladies into their carriages. He then went to change
-his clothes, his cousin returning to the salon. Hurrying back into the
-long hall, now empty of servants, vast and rather ghostly with its rows
-of family portraits dimly lighted, while caverns of darkness showed
-where passages opened and bare stone staircases led up or down, he saw
-Hélène, alone, coming swiftly towards him.
-
-She flew up the stairs, the last landing of which he had just reached on
-his way down, where it turned sharply under a high barred window.
-Meeting Angelot suddenly, she almost screamed, but stopped herself in
-time. He laughed joyfully; he was wildly excited.
-
-"Ah, belle cousine!" he said softly. "Dear, we shall say good night here
-better than in the salon!"
-
-Never once, since that hour in the garden ten days ago, had these two
-met without witnesses. Hélène, as a rule, was far too well guarded for
-that. She tried even now, but not successfully, to keep her rather
-presumptuous lover at a little distance, but in truth she was too much
-enchanted to see him, her only friend, for this pretence of coldness to
-last long. Standing with Angelot's arms round her, trembling from head
-to foot with joy and fear, she tried between his kisses and tender
-words to tell him how indeed he must not stop her, for in real prosaic
-truth Madame de Sainfoy had sent her off to bed.
-
-"But why, why, dear angel, before we were all gone! It was the best
-thing that could happen--but why?"
-
-"That is what I do not know, and it frightens me a little," said Hélène.
-
-"Frightened here with me!"
-
-"Yes, Angelot!" She tried to speak, but he would hardly let her. She
-held him back with both hands, and went on hurriedly--"It was mamma's
-look--she looked at me so strangely, she spoke severely, as if I had
-done wrong, and indeed I have, mon Dieu! but she does not know it, and I
-hope she never may. If she knew, I believe she would kill me. Let me go,
-I must!"
-
-"One moment, darling! Come away with me! I will fetch a horse and carry
-you off. Then it won't matter what any one knows!"
-
-"You are distracted!" Hélène began to laugh, though her eyes were full
-of tears. "Listen, listen," she said. "Your father and mother and uncle
-were just going, when mamma called them back. She said to papa and them
-that she wished to consult the family. Oh, what is it all about? What
-can it be?"
-
-"That matters very little as long as they don't want us. Let them talk.
-What are you afraid of, my sweet?"
-
-"I can't tell you. I hardly know," murmured Hélène; and in the next
-instant she had snatched herself from him and flown upstairs.
-
-There were quick steps in the hall below, and Monsieur Joseph's voice
-was calling "Angelot!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-HOW ANGELOT REFUSED WHAT HAD NOT BEEN OFFERED
-
-
-Madame de Sainfoy herself hardly knew why she wished to consult the
-family, there and then, on the fate proposed for Hélène. The truth was,
-she relied on Urbain, and wanted his support against her husband, with
-whom the subject was a difficult one. As to Anne de la Marinière, no
-particular sympathy was to be expected from her, certainly; but one
-could not detain Urbain at that hour without detaining her too. It was
-the same with Joseph, in a less degree. Neither to him nor to Madame
-Urbain did it matter in the least what marriage was arranged for Hélène
-de Sainfoy; they had even no right to an opinion; they were neither aunt
-nor uncle, they had no special place in the world, and the girl had
-nothing to expect from them. But Madame de Sainfoy knew that her husband
-took a different view of all this, that he made a certain fuss with
-these old cousins, considered them as his family, and would not endure
-that they should be in any way shut out or slighted.
-
-"He likes to be surrounded by these country admirers," Madame de
-Sainfoy would have said. "If I do not talk to them about this, he will;
-and it will please him that I should consult them. Urbain is different,
-of course. Urbain is a sensible man; he will be on my side."
-
-So she put Madame Urbain, rather grave, indifferent, and tired, into a
-chair on her right, smiled brilliantly upon her, and turned her
-attention upon the two men standing before the fireplace, Hervé and
-Urbain, one troubled and curious, for he knew her well, and her drift
-puzzled him, the other gay, serene, and waiting her commands with ready
-deference. Monsieur Joseph, not much interested, thinking of his talks
-with the Prefect and Monsieur des Barres, impatient to hurry home and
-say good night to Riette, sat a little in the background.
-
-With all her eagerness, with all her ambition and policy, Adélaïde de
-Sainfoy flushed and hesitated a little before she set forth her plan.
-
-"My friends," she said, "this is a family council. Hervé and I are
-fortunate, here at Lancilly. We need no longer decide family affairs by
-our unassisted wits."
-
-She smiled on Hervé's cousins, and Urbain bowed; he, at least,
-recognised the honour that was done them.
-
-"A proposal of marriage has been made to me for our daughter Hélène."
-
-She spoke to the company, but looked at her husband; there was fear as
-well as defiance in her eyes. He returned her gaze steadily, slightly
-frowning. Urbain bowed again, and looked at the floor with an
-inscrutable countenance. Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly, as if to
-say, "How does that concern me?" Joseph jumped suddenly from his chair,
-the colour rushing into his thin brown face, and stood like a point of
-exclamation. Nobody spoke, not even Hélène's father.
-
-"Let me announce to you," said Madame de Sainfoy, still looking at him,
-"that the personage who has done us this honour is--Monsieur le Général
-Ratoneau."
-
-The moment of dead silence that followed this was broken by a short
-laugh from the Comte.
-
-"Was it worth while to consult a family council?" he said. "I should
-have thought, my dear Adélaïde, that a word from you might have settled
-that matter on the spot."
-
-Monsieur Joseph said aside: "Honour! It is an insult!"
-
-Anne opened her eyes wide with horror, and even Urbain was startled, but
-he prudently said nothing.
-
-"It might--it certainly might--" said Madame de Sainfoy, "if I could
-have been sure that you would take my view, Hervé."
-
-"I imagine that we could hardly differ on such a point!" he said,
-shrugging his shoulders.
-
-"What is your opinion, then? Think well before you speak."
-
-"On my honour, no thought is necessary. To speak very mildly, a man of
-that birth, manners, appearance, is not worth considering at all as a
-husband for Hélène. Come, it is ridiculous! You cannot have encouraged
-such an idea, Adélaïde! Was that the subject of all your long
-conversation? Waste of time, truly!"
-
-"Pardon, it is not ridiculous," said Madame de Sainfoy. "Your prejudices
-will end by sending Hélène into a convent; this, I believe, is the
-fourth good proposal that you have laughed at. Yes, a good
-proposal--listen, Urbain, I know you will agree with me, for every
-sensible man must. You talk of General Ratoneau's birth! All honour to
-him, that his talents and courage have raised him above it. As to his
-manners, they are those of a soldier; frank and rough, of course, but he
-seems to me both intelligent and sincere. Manners! It is a little late
-in the day to talk of them, when most of the Marshals of France and the
-new nobility have none better. Do you fancy yourself back in the
-eighteenth century, my poor Hervé?"
-
-"Very well--but you would not like Georges to bring such manners home
-from Spain!"
-
-"If Georges distinguishes himself, and gains the Emperor's favour, he
-may bring home what he likes," said Madame de Sainfoy, scornfully.
-"However, there is no danger; he is our son."
-
-"I should have thought that our son-in-law mattered at least as much."
-
-"We are not responsible for him. By the bye, as to the General's
-appearance, you can hardly object to that without bordering on treason.
-For my part, I call him a handsome man."
-
-"A handsome butcher!" said Anne de la Marinière, under her breath.
-
-"He is--he is a butcher's son," cried Joseph, suddenly. "I know it--the
-Prefect told me. His father is still alive--old Ratoneau--a wholesale
-butcher at Marseilles. He was one of the foremost among the
-Revolutionists there--a butcher, indeed. Oh, madame, Hervé is right! But
-it is more than ridiculous--it is impossible. Why, the very name is
-enough! Ratoneau!"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy hardly seemed to hear him. She put him on one side
-with the slightest movement of her hand.
-
-"Next year, probably," she said, "General Ratoneau will be a Marshal of
-France and ennobled. He will be the equal of all those other men who
-have already married into our best families. At this moment a friend of
-his, the Baron de Beauclair, formerly his equal, is an equerry to the
-Empress. General Ratoneau has only to do the Emperor's work here, to--to
-pacify and reconcile the West, and his turn will come."
-
-She gave herself credit for not repeating Ratoneau's own words as to
-sweeping out the Chouans. Joseph de la Marinière did not deserve such
-consideration, but she wished to be careful and politic.
-
-"After all, do you not see how inconsistent we are?" she said to the
-company generally. "We take all the benefits of the Empire, we submit to
-a successful soldier, accept a new régime for ourselves, and refuse it
-for our children. Is it not unreasonable?"
-
-"On the face of it, yes," said Urbain, speaking for the first time. "And
-there is nothing, they say, that pleases the Emperor so much as the
-marriage of his officers with young ladies of good family. I have no
-doubt at all, if my friend Hervé could reconcile himself, that
-Mademoiselle Hélène would further the fortunes of her family by such a
-marriage as this. General Ratoneau is a fine soldier, I believe. I agree
-with you, madame, he is handsome. He rubs our instincts a little the
-wrong way, but after all, this is not the time to be sensitive. As to
-Mademoiselle Hélène herself, I am sure she is most dutiful. I could
-imagine marriages more obnoxious to her. She would soon reconcile
-herself to a husband chosen for her by all the authorities."
-
-"Poor Hélène!" sighed Madame de la Marinière.
-
-"Come, Urbain, you friend of liberty!" exclaimed Joseph. "You advise
-internal tyranny, it seems; what would you say to the external? If I
-were in my cousin's place, I would wait for that before making such a
-sacrifice."
-
-"What do you mean, Joseph?" said his brother.
-
-"I mean that our dear Prefect has the fates of all our young daughters
-in his hands. He has only to report them to the Emperor, and a marriage
-to please His Majesty will be at once arranged. Is not that enough
-obedience? Cannot we wait for that necessity, instead of running
-beforehand to give a beautiful girl to the first brutal soldier who asks
-for her?"
-
-And after that the argument waxed loud and strong. Monsieur Joseph was
-called upon for his authority, for particulars as to this new power
-given to the Prefects, which was hardly yet known, their own good
-Prefect being heartily ashamed of it. Hervé de Sainfoy declared that it
-was stupid and intolerable, but also impracticable, and in this he and
-his Royalist cousin agreed. No one would bear it, they were sure; but
-they were also convinced that De Mauves would never make use of it.
-Urbain shrugged his shoulders, and was of a different opinion. He
-thought the idea quite of a piece with many of Napoleon's other
-administrative plans; it seemed to him far-reaching and clever, the
-foundation of a new Imperialist nobility. Madame de Sainfoy, her cheeks
-flushed, her blue eyes shining, applauded Urbain as he spoke. It seemed
-to her, as to him, common sense put into practice. If the foolish old
-families of France would not swallow and assimilate the new order of
-things, it must be forced down their throats. The Emperor, and no one
-else, had the power to do this. His resolute will had the task of making
-a new society, and it was useless to complain of his means. But,
-evidently, the way to the Emperor's favour was not to wait for coercion,
-but to accept this fine opportunity of ranging one's family definitely
-on his side. Georges an officer, Hélène married to an officer, herself a
-lady-in-waiting to Marie Louise; thus everything would be arranged for
-floating down the great river of the Empire into the ocean of a new
-world. And immediate action seemed all the more advisable, if the
-Prefect's false delicacy was likely to leave the Sainfoy family stranded
-on a reef of old-fashioned manners.
-
-At last, when every one had ceased to talk at once and the clamour was a
-little stilled, Hervé de Sainfoy stepped forward and made his wife a low
-bow.
-
-"Madame," he said, "I have heard all your arguments, and my
-old-fashioned prejudices remain the same. I have made some sacrifices to
-keep our country and position, and may have to make more; but when you
-ask me to give my eldest daughter to a man who is not even a poor
-imitation of a gentleman, you ask too much. I will choose a husband for
-Hélène myself, or she shall take the veil. That life, at least, has its
-distinction. Aunts, great-aunts, cousins, have chosen it before her. One
-of our best and most beautiful ancestors was a Carmelite nun."
-
-Madame de la Marinière clapped her hands gently. Hervé smiled at her,
-and Madame de Sainfoy frowned.
-
-"A convent! No, no!" cried Urbain, while Joseph muttered breathlessly,
-"But there is a better alternative, dear cousins!"
-
-He flew out of the room. The rest of the council looked at each other,
-puzzled and smiling, except Madame de Sainfoy, whose irritation
-deepened. Who was this tiresome, old-fashioned little man, that he
-should interfere in her plans! and what _lubies_ might possess him now!
-
-The curtains at the door, flung back by Joseph, had hardly settled once
-more into their places when he came back again, clutching Angelot by the
-arm.
-
-Coming from the darkness, from the presence of Hélène, Angelot was
-dazzled and slightly out of breath when his uncle dragged him into the
-salon. He had not had time to ask a question; he came utterly unprepared
-into the presence of the family, and the faces that received him were
-not encouraging. Three at least were flushed with anger or confusion;
-his father's, his mother's, Madame de Sainfoy's. It was at her that he
-looked most intently; and he had never seen anything more unfriendly
-than the gleam of her eyes, the flash of her white teeth between lips
-suddenly drawn back like those of a fierce animal, while her flush
-faded, as Monsieur Joseph spoke, to a whiteness even more threatening.
-He understood Hélène's words, "If she knew, she would kill me." No,
-this woman would not have much mercy on anything that crossed her
-will--and Hélène was in her power.
-
-Monsieur Joseph's slight hands, like Angelot's, were strong. The young
-fellow tried instinctively to wrench himself from his uncle's grasp on
-his arm, but it only tightened.
-
-"Here, dear friends, I bring you the alternative!" cried Monsieur
-Joseph, in his joyfullest tone. "Why not marry Mademoiselle Hélène to
-the best and handsomest boy in Anjou--in France, for that matter--a boy
-we have all known from his cradle--who will have a good fortune, a
-prudent father's only child--who would, no doubt, though I grieve to say
-it, serve under any flag you please for such a prize. Yes, I am safe in
-saying so, for--"
-
-The romantic little gentleman was stopped in his wild career. Angelot,
-his eyes blazing, with a white face and teeth set as furiously as Madame
-de Sainfoy's own, turned round upon him, seized him with his free hand
-by the other arm, and shook him with all his young strength, hissing
-out: "Will you be quiet, Uncle Joseph! Will you hold your tongue, if you
-please, and leave me to manage my own affairs."
-
-"Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Urbain, stepping forward.
-
-"It means that my uncle is mad--mad--you know you are!" Angelot said in
-a choked voice.
-
-Still holding Monsieur Joseph with a dog's firm grip, he stared into his
-eyes and shook his head violently.
-
-"What, ungrateful--" the little uncle tried to say, but Angelot's face,
-his totally unexpected rage, seemed to suggest such unknown mysteries
-that the words died in his throat.
-
-Suddenly released, he dropped into a chair and swore prodigiously under
-his breath, quite forgetting the presence of ladies in the unnatural,
-awful change that had come over his nephew. He stared at Angelot, who
-was indeed the centre of all eyes; his mother sitting upright in
-consternation; his father with angry brow and queerly smiling mouth;
-Hervé de Sainfoy very grave, with elevated eyebrows; the Comtesse
-leaning back in her chair, hard, fierce, watchful, yet a shade less
-angry than before. If this was only a fancy of that ridiculous Joseph,
-it might not signify--yet who knew? She was ready to suspect any one,
-every one, even the young man's father. The name of La Marinière was
-odious to her.
-
-Angelot drew himself very upright, folded his arms, and turned to face
-the family council.
-
-"See what it is to have an uncle!" he said, and his voice, though clear
-enough, was not quite so proud and convincing as his attitude. "He
-treats me like a child crying for the moon. If he could, he would fetch
-the moon out of the sky for me. But his kind pains are quite thrown
-away, mesdames et messieurs, for--I do not want the moon, any more than
-the moon wants me!"
-
-He almost laughed; and only the quick change of colour in his young face
-showed that any feeling lay behind the words which sounded--in Monsieur
-Joseph's ears at least--heartlessly playful.
-
-Angelot stepped up to Madame de Sainfoy and respectfully kissed her
-hand. "Bonsoir, madame!"
-
-"Bonsoir, Angelot."
-
-She spoke coldly; she was still uneasy, still suspicious; she gave him a
-keen look, and his eyelids were not lifted to meet it. In another moment
-he was gone.
-
-Then the others gathered round poor Monsieur Joseph, and tried to make
-him explain his wild behaviour. At first he stared at them vaguely, then
-in a few quick words took all the blame upon himself. Yes, it was an
-idea that had suddenly seized him. His love for Angelot, the beauty and
-sweetness of Hélène, a dream of happiness for them both! A pastoral
-poem, in short! but it seemed that the young man was not worthy of his
-place as its hero.
-
-"It seems, after all, I am more poetical than you," he said rather
-bitterly to Urbain.
-
-"My dear," his brother said, "poetry at its best is the highest good
-sense. Now your idea, as the boy himself let us know, is moonstruck
-madness."
-
-"Ah, moonstruck madness! Ah, the boy! Yes, yes," said Monsieur Joseph,
-dreamily, and he also took his leave.
-
-Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had not
-waited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on across
-the valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as they
-drove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor,
-their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturb
-him.
-
-"I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband for
-Hélène," Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired of
-the business."
-
-"I don't think there will be much difficulty. We must look further
-afield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, and
-Hélène is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! I
-rather like that boy."
-
-"Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid--and he put an effectual stop
-to his uncle's absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. I
-wish the Chouans joy of him."
-
-"Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, it
-is amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic."
-
-"I find it tiresome," said Adélaïde.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-HOW MONSIEUR URBAIN SMOKED A CIGAR
-
-
-These days before the vintage were very peaceful at La Marinière.
-Monsieur and Madame Urbain were practical people, and idleness, as a
-rule, had a bad time of it with them; but September was a holiday month,
-and there was little work going on, except the hammering of barrels in
-the yard, and other preparations for busy October. September was usually
-the month when Angelot could shoot and ramble to his heart's content,
-when Urbain had leisure to sit down with a book at other times than
-evening, when Anne, her poor people visited, nursed, comforted, her
-household in quiet old-fashioned order, could spend long hours alone
-praying and meditating in the little old church.
-
-Lancilly had brought disturbance into September. It occupied Urbain's
-thoughts and time, it seemed now to be throwing its net over Angelot.
-Anne longed still more for peace and refuge under the low white arches
-of the church, in her visits to _le bon Dieu;_ and even here her
-thoughts distracted her.
-
-She came back from early mass, the morning after the dinner party, to
-find Angelot already gone out with his gun, and her husband just
-starting for Lancilly.
-
-"He is not gone that way, I hope?" she said quickly.
-
-"No, no, he is gone across the fields towards Les Chouettes. I told him
-to bring back some partridge and quail, and a hare or two, if possible.
-I think he is gone to make his peace with Joseph."
-
-"I should like to know the meaning of all that. I must talk to him when
-he comes in."
-
-"My dear Anne, do nothing of the sort. Let the boy alone. If he has a
-fancy for his cousin, and if Joseph guessed it, which I suspect, it is
-better for us to ignore it altogether."
-
-"I am afraid he has, do you know. I did not think so till last
-night--but then I saw something. So did Monsieur de Mauves. He said as
-much. He advised sending Ange into the army--but you will never do that,
-Urbain!"
-
-A gold mist filled the valley, hiding Lancilly, and through it rose the
-glittering points of the poplars. She walked with him to the garden
-gate, past the trim box hedges, and then down the lane towards the
-church. Apple-trees, heavy with red fruit, bent over the way, as safe on
-that village road as in any fenced orchard.
-
-"I do not want to send him into the army," Urbain said, and he looked at
-her tenderly.
-
-He had long doubted whether, to please her, he was not spoiling and
-wasting the boy's life. He was sometimes angry with himself for his
-weakness; then again philosophy came to his aid: he laughed and shrugged
-his shoulders. It had always been so: on one side the bringing up of his
-son according to his own mind; and on the other, domestic peace. For his
-little Anne, with all her religion, perhaps because of it, was anything
-but meek as a wife and mother. It was fortunate for all parties, he now
-thought, that the present slight anxiety found her and himself on the
-same side, though for different reasons.
-
-"Hélène is an astonishingly pretty girl," he said, "and the sooner she
-is married the better. Young men will be foolish."
-
-"More than pretty--beautiful, I think. A little lifeless--I don't know
-that I should fall in love with her. Yes--but a good marriage, poor
-girl. Not to that monster! Adélaïde amazes me."
-
-Urbain's ugly face curled up in a rather sardonic smile. He took his
-wife's hand and kissed it.
-
-"My little lady, Adélaïde is to be admired. You are to be adored. Go and
-say your prayers for us all."
-
-He disappeared into the morning mist, which just then moved and swept
-away under a light wind, opening to view all the opposite slope and the
-gorgeous, sun-bathed front of Lancilly.
-
-"Ah, mon Dieu!" murmured Anne. "To lose both of them to Lancilly--come,
-it is too much. You shall not have Ange, you horrible old walls--no!"
-
-By this time Urbain had disappeared round the corner of the church, and
-was hurrying down the hill. She slipped in at her own little door, to
-her place near the altar, so lately left. All was silent now, the Curé
-was gone; she knelt there alone and prayed for them all, as Urbain had
-said. His words were mockery, she knew; but that only made her prayers
-more earnest.
-
-The misty autumn morning grew into a cloudless day. Urbain came home to
-breakfast between ten and eleven, but Angelot did not appear. Urbain was
-grave and full of business. A short talk with Hervé, who was going out
-shooting, a much longer and more interesting talk with Adélaïde, had the
-consequence of sending him off that very day to the town of
-Sonnay-le-Loir, the Prefect's residence and General Ratoneau's
-headquarters.
-
-It was not exactly a pleasant errand, to convey Monsieur and Madame de
-Sainfoy's refusal of his offer to a man like the General. It could have
-been done quite as easily by the post, thus sparing trouble and
-annoyance to the faithful cousin who had borne so much. But there were
-complications; and a careful talking over of these with Adélaïde, after
-Hervé was gone, had led Urbain to suggest going himself. He had a double
-reason for wishing to soften the effect of his cousin's rather short and
-haughty letter. It must go, of course, whatever his own and Madame de
-Sainfoy's disapproval; but there were things that diplomacy might do,
-without, as it seemed, any serious consequences to recoil on the
-diplomatists. Madame de Sainfoy might gain imperial favour, Monsieur de
-la Marinière might help her and save his foolish boy, and no one in the
-family, except themselves, need know what they were doing.
-
-It was not an uncommon thing for Urbain to drive over to Sonnay, though
-he generally started much earlier. On this occasion he said nothing of
-his real errand to his wife, only telling her when she mentioned
-Hélène's marriage that Hervé continued in the same mind. Many things
-wanted for the house and the farm had come conveniently to his memory.
-He started with his groom at twelve o'clock, in the high, hooded
-carriage, with a pair of strong horses, which made short work of the
-rocky lanes about La Marinière. The high road towards Sonnay was smooth
-compared with these, running between belts of dark forest, and along it
-Monsieur Urbain drove at a good rattling pace of twelve miles an hour.
-
-Sonnay-le-Loir was a beautiful and picturesque town, once strongly
-defended, both by walls and a deep river which flowed round below them.
-There was a good deal left of the old ramparts; the gates still stood,
-the narrow streets of tall old white houses, each with its court and
-carriage entrance and shady garden behind, went climbing up the hill to
-the large square where the Cathedral towered on one side, the town-hall
-and public offices filled up another, the Prefecture a third, and an old
-hotel, now used as military quarters, the fourth.
-
-Though it was not market-day, the white cobbled square was cheerful
-enough; a few stalls of fruit and vegetables, sheltered by coloured
-umbrellas from the strong sunshine, were lodged about the broad steps of
-the Cathedral; peasants and townspeople were clattering about in their
-sabots, soldiers were being drilled in front of the hotel. The bells
-were chiming and clanging; high up into the blue air soared the tall
-pinnacles of the Cathedral, delicate stone lacework still fresh and
-young at five hundred years old, spared by the storm which twenty years
-ago had wrecked so much down below that was beautiful. A crowd of
-blue-grey pigeons flapped and cooed about the towers or strutted softly
-on the stones in the square.
-
-Monsieur Urbain put up his horses at an old posting hotel in the street
-near the gateway, and walked up into the square. Finding that General
-Ratoneau was at home, he left Monsieur de Sainfoy's letter with his own
-card, and a message that he would have the honour of calling to see the
-General, later in the afternoon. He then went away to do his
-commissions. At the appointed time he returned to the hotel, and was at
-once shown upstairs to a large room at the back, looking on a broad,
-paved court surrounded by barracks.
-
-Neither the room nor its inmate was attractive, and Urbain's humorous
-face screwed itself into a grimace of disgust as he walked in; but he
-did not, for that, renounce the errand with which Madame de Sainfoy had
-entrusted him. The floor was dusty and strewn with papers, the walls
-were stained, the furniture, handsome in itself, had been much ill-used,
-and two or three chairs now lay flung where it was tolerably evident
-that the General had kicked them. The western sun poured hotly in; the
-atmosphere was of wine, tobacco, and boots; dirty packs of cards were
-scattered on the table among bottles and glasses, pipes and cigars.
-General Ratoneau lay stretched on a large sofa in undress uniform, with
-a red face and a cigar in his mouth. Hervé de Sainfoy's letter, torn
-across, lay on the floor beside him.
-
-He got up and received his visitor with formal civility, though his
-looks said plainly, "What the devil do you want here?"
-
-Urbain was cool and self-possessed. He acted the _rôle_ of an ordinary
-visitor, talking of the country and the news from Spain. The General,
-though extremely grumpy, was still capable of ordinary conversation, and
-his remarks, especially on the Spanish campaign, were those of an
-intelligent soldier who knew his subject.
-
-"If the Emperor would send me to Spain," he growled, "I would teach
-those miserable Spaniards a lesson. As to the English, it is the desire
-of my life to fight them. They are bull-dogs, they say--sapristi, I am
-something of a bull-dog myself--when I lay hold, I don't often let go.
-You don't know me yet, monsieur, but you will find that that is my way.
-I am not easily thwarted, monsieur."
-
-"A fine quality, Monsieur le Général!" said Urbain, calmly. "It is true,
-I hardly know you. I had heard of you from my brother, Joseph de la
-Marinière--"
-
-"Your Chouan brother, ha, ha!"
-
-"My Royalist brother, suppose we say. Every one has a right to his own
-private opinions, Monsieur le Général."
-
-"A dangerous doctrine, that!"
-
-"As long as he keeps them to himself, and does not disturb the public
-peace. I have acted successfully on that principle for the last thirty
-years, and it has carried me comfortably through various changes."
-
-"What are you, monsieur?"
-
-"A philosopher. I take life as it comes. That way happiness lies."
-
-The General laughed. "I think differently. My idea is to make life come
-as I want it."
-
-"That is a fine idea, too," Urbain said serenely. "Only it does not
-always seem to be within the limits of the possible."
-
-"Ah, there I agree with the Emperor. He will not have the word
-'impossible' in the dictionary."
-
-"The Emperor is a great man," said Urbain, with his inscrutable smile.
-
-It was certainly on Ratoneau's tongue to answer, "So am I!" but he only
-laughed again and muttered something about strength of will.
-
-The dark, watchful eyes followed his visitor's to the floor, where
-Monsieur de Sainfoy's letter lay; that letter which seemed to belie his
-bull-dog boasting. Something he wanted in life had been refused him
-point-blank; in ceremonious terms, but with uncompromising plainness.
-The Comte de Sainfoy did not even trouble himself to find reasons for
-declining the offer of marriage that General Ratoneau had done
-Mademoiselle de Sainfoy the honour to make.
-
-"We met last night at Lancilly, monsieur," said Ratoneau, "but I did not
-expect the politeness of a visit from you--at any rate so soon. But I
-understand that you are your cousin's messenger. You brought me that
-letter--neither did I expect that so soon."
-
-He pointed to the fragments on the floor. His manner was insolent, and
-La Marinière felt it so; even to his seasoned cheek a little warmth
-found its way. Something of him was on Hervé's side, while he was
-prepared and resolved to serve Adélaïde in this matter.
-
-"My own affairs brought me to Sonnay," he said. "My cousin wished you to
-receive his letter as soon as might be. I therefore took charge of it."
-
-"Do you know what it is about?"
-
-To this abrupt question Urbain answered by a bow.
-
-The General frowned angrily. "Then what brought you here, monsieur? Do
-you want to report my disappointment to your aristocratic fool of a
-cousin? Merci!" and he swore a few hearty oaths. "There are plenty more
-pretty girls in France, and plenty of their fathers who would gladly be
-linked with the Empire. Take that message back to your cousin, if you
-please."
-
-"But no, Monsieur le Général," said Urbain, smiling and shaking his
-head. "If I were to repeat all you have just said, my cousin might send
-me back to you with a challenge. And I am a man of peace, a philosopher,
-as I tell you. No, I did not come to report your disappointment. And
-indeed, to tell you the truth, my cousin did not know that I was going
-to visit you at all. And I do not think he will ever be wiser."
-
-Ratoneau stared at him. "May I be extinguished if I understand you!"
-
-"However," said Urbain, rising from his chair, "I am glad, personally,
-that you take the matter so well. As you say, the young ladies of
-France, and their _fathers_, will not all be so shortsighted."
-
-"Thousand thunders! Sit down again, monsieur. Take one of these
-cigars--I had them from Spain--and try this Château Latour. Rather a
-different sort of thing from the stuff that son of yours expected me to
-enjoy at Les Chouettes, the other day. That's right. I like you,
-monsieur. You are a man without prejudices; one can talk frankly with
-you. Your health, monsieur!" and glasses were clinked together, for
-Urbain did not refuse the soldier's hospitality.
-
-"Now tell me all about it!" cried the General, in a much better humour.
-"I understand your emphasis just now, sapristi! That was what puzzled
-me, that Madame la Comtesse should seem to have played me false. Last
-night, I assure you, she encouraged me to the utmost. At first, it's
-true, she muttered something about her daughter being too young, but I
-very soon convinced her what a foolish argument that was. I tell you,
-monsieur, when I left her, I considered the promise as good as made. She
-said her husband had a way of indulging his daughter's fancies--but
-after all, I took her to be a woman who could turn husband and daughter
-and everybody else round her little finger, if she chose. So this rag of
-a letter came upon me like a thunderbolt. Is that it? Has the young girl
-taken a dislike to me? Why, mille tonnerres, she has not even spoken to
-me, nor I to her!"
-
-"No, Monsieur le Général," said Urbain, "Mademoiselle de Sainfoy has not
-been asked for her opinion. The decision comes from her father, and
-from him alone. Madame de Sainfoy was loyal to you; she urged your
-cause, but unsuccessfully. My cousin, I must say, much as I love him,
-showed a certain narrowness and obstinacy. He would hear nothing in
-favour of the marriage."
-
-"Were you present when they discussed it?"
-
-"I was. I am always on the advanced, the liberal side. I spoke in your
-favour."
-
-"I am obliged to you. Your glass, monsieur. How do you find that cigar?"
-
-"Excellent."
-
-"Now, monsieur, give me your advice, for I see you are a clever man.
-First, is any other marriage on the tapis for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy?"
-
-"Decidedly no, monsieur. None."
-
-"Shall I then insist on seeing her, and pleading my cause for myself?"
-
-"I should not advise that course," said Urbain, and there was something
-in his discreet smile which made the General's red face redder with a
-touch of mortification.
-
-"Well, I should not eat her," he said. "Her mother found me agreeable
-enough, and a shy young girl rather likes a man who takes her by storm."
-
-"Nevertheless, I think that plan would not answer. For one thing, my
-cousin would object: he considers his refusal final. In fact--after much
-thought--for I agree with Madame de Sainfoy as to the probable
-advantages of a connection with a distinguished man like yourself--in
-fact, there is only one faint possibility that occurs to me."
-
-"What is that, monsieur?"
-
-Urbain hesitated. He sat looking out of the window, frowning slightly,
-the tips of his fingers pressed together.
-
-"I wonder," he said--something, perhaps conscience, made the words long
-in coming--"I wonder if some day, in the course of the reports that he
-is bound, I believe, to make to the Emperor, it might occur to Monsieur
-le Préfet to mention--"
-
-General Ratoneau stared blankly. "Monsieur le Préfet?"
-
-"Well, am I wrong? I heard something of an imperial order--a list of
-young ladies--marriages arranged by His Majesty, without much consulting
-of family prejudices--"
-
-General Ratoneau brought down his heavy fist on the table, so that the
-glasses jumped and clattered. His language was startling.
-
-"Monsieur de la Marinière, you are the cleverest man in Anjou!" he
-shouted. "And Madame la Comtesse would not be angry?"
-
-"I think not. But a command from the Emperor--a command coming
-independently from the highest quarter--would naturally carry all before
-it," said Urbain.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-HOW THE PREFECT'S DOG SNAPPED AT THE GENERAL
-
-
-The shadows were lengthening when Urbain de la Marinière at last left
-the General's hotel, and walked thoughtfully across the square, past the
-Prefecture, down the street to find his carriage.
-
-He had resisted the temptation of dining with the officers and playing
-cards afterwards, though he by no means disliked either a game of chance
-or a good dinner. It seemed to him that he had done as much in Madame de
-Sainfoy's interests as she could reasonably expect. Though there might
-be worse men, General Ratoneau could not be called a pleasant companion.
-His loud voice and swaggering manners could not be agreeable to a person
-of Monsieur Urbain's measured mind and self-controlled ways. He was a
-type, and in that way interesting. The strange likeness to his master
-lent him a touch of character, almost of distinction, neither of which
-really belonged to him; yet, somehow, by a certain appeal to the
-imagination, it made him a just possible husband for a girl of good
-family. Not a gentleman, or anything like one; yet not quite the
-ordinary _bourgeois_. Considering the times, it appeared to Urbain that
-his cousin de Sainfoy need not be actually ashamed of such a son-in-law.
-Anyhow, he had done his best to further the matter, with an earnest
-recommendation to the General to keep his name out of the affair.
-
-"Why not?" said Ratoneau. "You only reminded me of what I knew before.
-In fact, it was through me you heard of it. I startled your brother with
-it; our dear Prefect would never have said a word on the subject--ha,
-ha! So I owe you no gratitude, monsieur. You have done nothing."
-
-"Ah, but just a little gratitude, if you please," said Urbain, smiling.
-"Enough to shut your ears to any reports that may reach you about my
-brother Joseph."
-
-Ratoneau looked at him sharply, and frowned.
-
-"I can make no bargains as to my duty, monsieur. Let your brother be
-loyal."
-
-"I do my utmost to make him so," said Urbain, still smiling, and they
-parted.
-
-"He is right--the man is right--and by heaven, I respect him!" Urbain
-said to himself as he crossed the square.
-
-Passing near the great gate of the Prefecture, he noticed a police
-officer loitering on the pavement, whose dark, keen, discontented face
-seemed not unknown to him.
-
-As Urbain came nearer, this man raised his hand to his cap, and spoke
-with an impudent grin.
-
-"Monsieur de la Marinière has been making peace with Monsieur le Général
-Ratoneau? It was a difficult matter, I bet! Monsieur has been
-successful?"
-
-Urbain looked at the man steadily. He was not easily made angry.
-
-"Who are you, my friend? and what do you mean?" he said.
-
-"I am Simon, the police agent, monsieur. The affair rather interested
-me. I was there."
-
-"What affair?"
-
-"Your son's affair with the General. That droll adventure of the cattle
-in the lane--your cattle, monsieur, and it was your son's fault that the
-General was thrown. Monsieur heard of it, surely?"
-
-"You are mistaken," Monsieur Urbain replied quietly. "It was an
-accident; it was not my son's fault. Nobody has ever thought of it or
-mentioned it since. It was nothing."
-
-"General Ratoneau did not think it nothing. All we who were there, we
-saw the droll side of it, but he did not. He swore he would have his
-revenge on Monsieur Angelot, as they call him. He has not forgotten it,
-monsieur. Only last night, his servant told me, when he came back from
-dining at Lancilly, he was swearing about it again."
-
-"Let him swear!" said Urbain, under his breath.
-
-Then his eyes dwelt a moment on Simon, who looked the very incarnation
-of malice and mischief, and he smiled benignly.
-
-"Merci, Monsieur Simon," he said. "We are fortunate in having you to
-watch over us. But do not let this anxiety trouble you. I have just been
-spending some time with General Ratoneau, as you appear to know. We are
-the best of friends, and if my son irritated him the other day, I think
-he has forgotten it."
-
-"So much the better," grinned Simon, "for Monsieur le Général would not
-be a pleasant enemy." Then, as Urbain was walking on, he detained him.
-"Everybody must respect Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière," he said. "He
-has a difficult position. If certain eyes were not wilfully shut,
-serious things might happen in his family. And we sometimes ask
-ourselves, we of the police, whether closed eyes at headquarters ought
-to mean a silent tongue all round. How does it strike you, monsieur?"
-
-Urbain hesitated a moment. He had done a certain amount of bribery in
-his day, for the sake of those he loved, but his native good sense and
-obstinacy alike arose against being blackmailed by a police spy, a
-subordinate official at best. The fellow could not do Joseph much harm,
-he thought, the Prefect being friendly, and the General likely to be a
-connection. And Joseph must in the future be loyal, as the General said.
-No; he might as well keep his napoleons in his pocket.
-
-"I really have no time to discuss the subject," he said. "The police,
-like every one else, must do their duty according to their lights.
-Good-day, Monsieur Simon."
-
-He touched his hat and walked on. Simon looked after him, muttering
-viciously.
-
-After some minutes, a clash of arms from the opposite hotel archway drew
-his attention. The sentries were saluting the General as he came out,
-now in full uniform, and followed by two orderlies, while a third went
-before to announce him at the Prefecture.
-
-Ratoneau looked every inch a soldier, broad, sturdy, and swaggering, as
-he clanked across the square. Simon noticed with surprise that his face
-was bright with most unusual good-humour.
-
-"Why, what can that grinning monkey have been saying to him?" Simon
-asked himself. "Licking the dust off his boots somehow, for that is what
-he likes, the parvenu! They are like cats, those La Marinières! they
-always know how to please everybody, and to get their own way. It seems
-to me they want a lesson."
-
-He moved a little nearer to the great gates, and watched the General as
-he walked in. The bell clanged, the sentries saluted, the gates were set
-open ceremoniously. With all his frank, soldierly ways, Ratoneau was
-extremely jealous of his position and the respect due to it. The
-Prefect, on the contrary, aimed at simplicity and liked solitude. His
-wife had died some years before, not surviving the death of her parents,
-guillotined in the Terror. If she had lived, her influence being very
-great, Monsieur de Mauves might never have held his present appointment;
-for her royalism was quite as pronounced as that of Anne de la Marinière
-and might have overpowered her husband's admiration for Napoleon. And
-this would have been a pity, for no part of France, at this time, had a
-wiser or more acceptable governor.
-
-On that calm and sunny autumn afternoon, the Prefect was sitting in a
-classically pillared summerhouse near the open windows of his library.
-Late roses climbed and clustered above his amiable head; lines of orange
-trees in square green boxes were set along the broad gravel terrace
-outside, and there was a pleasant view down a walk to a playing fountain
-with trees about it, beyond which some of the high grey roofs of Sonnay
-shone in the sunlight.
-
-The Prefect never smoked; his snuff-box and a book were enough for him.
-Monsieur de Chateaubriand's _Itinéraire de Paris a Jérusalem_, just
-published in three volumes, lay on a marble table beside him, and he was
-enjoying an hour of unusual peace and quietness, his only companions two
-little greyhounds sleeping at his feet.
-
-[Illustration: "AN ORDER FROM THE EMPEROR!" HE REPEATED.]
-
-It was with a touch of mental annoyance, therefore, that he received the
-announcement of General Ratoneau's visit. But he was far too well
-bred to show a sign of such feeling. He left that to the little dogs,
-who barked their disapproval. He closed his book, went to meet the
-General in the library, and invited him out to his favourite seat in the
-summer-house. They were an odd contrast as they sat there together; the
-quiet, graceful gentleman in ordinary morning dress of an easy
-description, the soldier, impatient and rough in manner, flashing at
-every point with gold lace and polished leather.
-
-"Monsieur le Préfet, I have a favour to ask," Ratoneau began.
-
-He did not often speak so civilly, and the Prefect felt relieved, for he
-had had more than one bad quarter of an hour with this colleague of his.
-
-"How can I oblige you, Monsieur le Général?" he asked, smiling.
-
-"By doing your duty," said Ratoneau, with a grin.
-
-The Prefect shrugged his shoulders slightly, raised his eyebrows and
-looked at him.
-
-"I ought not," he said, "to need the additional inducement of doing you
-a favour. I was not aware of having neglected any duty. To what, pray,
-do you refer?"
-
-"I refer to an order from the Emperor which you have not obeyed."
-
-"Indeed?"
-
-The Prefect's smile had now quite faded. "An order from the Emperor!" he
-repeated.
-
-"Yes. His Majesty ordered you to report to him the names and
-particulars of all young girls of good family in the department."
-
-"And what of that, monsieur?"
-
-"I am quite sure you have not done so."
-
-Something in the General's tone was so displeasing to one of the
-Prefect's little dogs, that it suddenly sprang up and snapped at him.
-Its master just saved it from a kick by catching it up on his knee.
-
-"A bas, Toutou!" he said, softly stroking it, and took a pinch of snuff,
-regarding the General with a curiously patient expression.
-
-"I know you have done nothing of the sort!" Ratoneau repeated.
-
-"And how, may I ask, does the matter interest you?"
-
-The Prefect spoke slowly and gently; yet something in his manner
-irritated the General. He made an impatient movement and rattled his
-sword.
-
-"It does interest me," he said. "How can you disobey an order from the
-Emperor?"
-
-"As to that, my dear colleague, I am responsible. You know the view I
-take of that order. I am not alone. Several of my brother Prefects agree
-with me. It is impolitic, and worse, offensive. The Emperor is
-reasonable, and does not expect a blind obedience which would really do
-harm to the Empire."
-
-"Do not make too sure of that, Monsieur le Préfet."
-
-"If the old provincial families are to be brought round _en masse_ to
-the Empire, it must be done by diplomacy, not by a tyrannical domestic
-legislation."
-
-"At that rate, Monsieur le Préfet, the work will take a hundred years.
-They laugh at your diplomacy, these infernal old families. Propose a
-soldier as a husband for one of their daughters, and you will see."
-
-"I have not done so," the Prefect said very drily, and the glance that
-shot from under his quiet eyelids might have made a thin-skinned person
-uncomfortable.
-
-"And nothing would make you do so, I suppose," sneered the General.
-"Come, monsieur, you should forget your aristocracy now and then, and
-remember that you are a servant of the Emperor. People will begin to say
-that His Majesty might be better served."
-
-Monsieur de Mauves shrugged his shoulders, and reflected that if the
-Emperor had wished to punish him for some crime, he could not have done
-it better than by giving him this person for a colleague. Fortunately he
-had a splendid temper; Urbain de la Marinière himself was not endowed
-with a larger share of sweet reasonableness. Most men would not have
-endured the General's insolence for five minutes. The Prefect's love of
-peace and sense of public duty, united with extreme fairness of mind,
-helped him to make large allowances for his fellow-official. He knew
-that Ratoneau's vapouring talk was oftener in coarse joke than in sober
-earnest. He had, in truth, a very complete scorn of him, and hardly
-thought him worthy of a gentleman's steel. As to veiled threats such as
-that which had just fallen from his lips, the Prefect found them
-altogether beneath serious notice.
-
-"Let us arrive at understanding each other, General," he said coldly,
-but very politely. "You began by asking me to do you a favour. Then you
-branched off to a duty I had neglected. You now give me a friendly
-warning. Is it, perhaps, because you fear to lose me as a colleague,
-that you have become anxious about my reports to His Majesty?" he
-smiled. "Or, how, I ask again, does the matter interest you?"
-
-"In this way, Monsieur le Préfet," said Ratoneau. He pulled himself
-together, keeping his bullying instincts in check. After all, he knew he
-would be a fool to quarrel with the Prefect or to rouse his active
-opposition. "No offence?" he said gruffly. "You know me--you know my
-rough tongue."
-
-The Prefect bowed courteously, and handed him his snuff-box.
-
-"You saw last night at Lancilly," said Ratoneau, much more quietly,
-"that I had a long talk with Madame la Comtesse."
-
-"A charming woman," said Monsieur de Mauves. "Certainly--you told me the
-subject of your talk, if you remember. Did you arrive then at any
-conclusion? What was our hostess's advice on that interesting subject?
-Did she suggest--the name of any lady, for instance?"
-
-He noticed with a touch of amusement that the General looked slightly
-confused.
-
-"_I_ made a suggestion; and Madame de Sainfoy accepted it very kindly.
-In fact, Monsieur le Préfet, I asked her for her daughter, Mademoiselle
-Hélène."
-
-Monsieur de Mauves knew that he ought to have been prepared for this
-answer; yet, somehow, he was not. Fixing his eyes on the yellow marble
-mosaic under his feet, he realised once more the frightful contrast that
-had struck him a few hours before in the lighted salon at Lancilly. "La
-belle Hélène," as everybody called her; the pale, beautiful girl with
-the sad eyes and enchanting smile, walking through the long room with
-her boy cousin, himself in his slender _élancé_ beauty a perfect match
-for her, so that the eighteenth century might have painted them as two
-young deities from the Court of Olympus, come down to earth to show
-mortals a vision of the ideal! And General Ratoneau, the ponderous bully
-in uniform, the incarnation of the Empire's worst side!
-
-"Sacrilege!"
-
-Last night, the Prefect had thought the same. But he had then added
-"Impossible!" and now it seemed that the girl's mother did not agree
-with him. Could ambition carry a woman through such a slough as this?
-did she really mean to gain imperial favour by such a sacrifice?
-
-For a moment or two the Prefect was lost in a dream; then he suddenly
-recovered himself.
-
-"Pardon--and you say that Madame de Sainfoy accepted--"
-
-"She thanked me for the honour," said the General, a little stiffly.
-"She expressed herself favourably. She only asked me to have patience
-till she could consult her husband. Between ourselves, madame knows that
-I could be of use to her at Court."
-
-"Could you?"
-
-"Certainly, Monsieur le Préfet. My friend, the Baron de Beauclair, is an
-equerry to Her Majesty the Empress."
-
-"Oh!" Evidently the Prefect knew and cared little about the Baron de
-Beauclair. "But, Monsieur le Général," he said, with a puzzled frown, "I
-am still at a loss to understand you. Your course is apparently smooth.
-Why do you want the help of an imperial order which, if it did no other
-harm, would almost certainly set Monsieur de Sainfoy against you?"
-
-Ratoneau's dark face flushed crimson. "Mille tonnerres, Monsieur le
-Préfet," he growled out, "Monsieur de Sainfoy is against me already,
-confound him! This afternoon he sent me a letter, flatly declining my
-proposal for his daughter."
-
-"Is it possible!"
-
-The Prefect had some difficulty in hiding the sincere, if inconsistent,
-joy that this news gave him.
-
-"Well done!" he thought. "I should have expected nothing less. Ah! I
-see, I see," he said aloud. "Monsieur de Sainfoy does not quite share
-his wife's ambitions. It is unfortunate for you, certainly. But if you
-wish to marry into an old family, there are others--"
-
-Ratoneau stared at him and laughed.
-
-"What do you take me for? Am I beaten so easily? No, monsieur!
-Mademoiselle de Sainfoy is the woman I mean to marry. I admire that
-white skin, that perfect distinction. You will not put me off with some
-ugly little brown toad out of Brittany, I assure you!"
-
-The Prefect laughed.
-
-"But what is to be done? Unless you can gain her father's consent--"
-
-"That is the favour you will do me, Monsieur le Préfet. You will write
-to headquarters, do you see, and an order will be sent down--yes, an
-order which her father would not disobey if he were a dozen dukes rolled
-into one, instead of being what he is, a poor emigrant count helped back
-into France by wiser men than himself! Voilà, monsieur! Do you
-understand me now?"
-
-"Ah--yes, General, I understand you," said Monsieur de Mauves.
-
-He leaned back in the corner of the marble seat, calm and deliberate,
-gently stroking the little dog on his knee. Those long white fingers had
-lifted the lid of Henriette's basket, those keen eyes, now thoughtfully
-lowered, had seen the hiding-place of the Chouans in Monsieur Joseph's
-wood; yet no harm had come to the Royalist conspirators. And now, when
-an official of the Empire asked his help in a private matter, help
-strictly legal, even within the limits of an imperial command, again
-this blameworthy Prefect would not stir a finger. He was running himself
-into greater danger than he knew, in the satisfaction of his gentle
-instincts, when he glanced up into the bold, angry, eager face beside
-him, and said with uncompromising clearness: "Do not deceive yourself,
-monsieur. I shall not write to headquarters on any such subject, and no
-such order will be sent down through any action or influence of mine.
-The Comte de Sainfoy is my friend, remember."
-
-Ratoneau was choking with rage.
-
-"You defy me, monsieur!" he snarled.
-
-"Why--if such a desperate course is necessary," the Prefect murmured.
-"But I would rather reason with you."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-HOW MONSIEUR SIMON SHOWED HIMSELF A LITTLE TOO CLEVER
-
-
-General Ratoneau had gone into the Prefecture in a good humour; he came
-out in a bad one. The change was not lost on the police agent, still
-loitering under the shade of the high white wall.
-
-Simon was a malcontent. He had talent, he wanted power. No one was
-cleverer at hunting out the details of a case; he was a born detective.
-It was hard on such a man, who intended to rise high in his profession,
-and found the spying and chasing of state criminals an agreeable duty,
-to be under the orders of so weak-kneed an official as the Baron de
-Mauves. What was the use of giving in reports that were never acted on!
-In other departments there were substantial money rewards to be had, if
-a police spy, at his own risk, hunted out treason against the Empire. In
-other departments a Prefect made it worth while, in every sense, for his
-subordinates to do their duty. In this one, since the present Prefect
-came into office, there was neither rising pay nor quick promotion. He
-drove with a slack rein; his weapons were trust and kindness. He had to
-be driven to extremities before he would treat anybody, even a proved
-Chouan, with the rigour of the law. Simon tried to do a little
-terrorising on his own account, and had made some money by blackmailing
-less wide-awake men than Urbain de la Marinière; but, on the whole, he
-earned more hatred than anything else in his prowlings round the
-country.
-
-Ratoneau, coming out with a sulky, scowling face from his interview with
-the Prefect, happened to look up as he passed Simon, and the fellow's
-expression struck him oddly. It was full of intelligence, and of a queer
-kind of sympathy. He had noticed it before. Simon had made himself
-useful to him in several underhand ways.
-
-"What do you want?" he said, stopping suddenly.
-
-Simon stepped up close to him, so that neither sentries nor passers-by
-might hear.
-
-"Me? I want nothing. I was only thinking that Monsieur le Général had
-been annoyed. A thousand pardons! I was only wondering--well, I have my
-provocations too, plenty of them!"
-
-"I'll be bound you have, in such a service as yours," said the General,
-staring at him. "Come to the hotel this evening, and I'll talk to you."
-
-The officers who dined that day with their chief found his company less
-attractive than ever. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, and to
-judge by his face, they were anything but agreeable. The whole mess was
-glad to be relieved of his scowling presence unusually early. He had
-drunk little, and went away unusually sober; but that was not always a
-good sign with him. If he chose to keep a clear brain, it was generally
-for his own ends, and they were seldom virtuous or desirable.
-
-The General was scarcely in his own room when Simon presented himself,
-sneaking upstairs with a light tread and slipping noiselessly through
-the door, his dark face full of eager expectation. He had often wondered
-whether there might not be some special dirty work to be done for the
-General, and had taken pains to keep himself under his eye and in his
-good looks. If the civil power chose to let the Chouans have it all
-their own way, the military power might one of these days step in
-effectively. But Simon was not particular. Whatever the work might be,
-public or private, he was at the service of the authorities. If only the
-authorities would take his view of their interest and duty!
-
-It was a little difficult to stand unmoved under General Ratoneau's
-bullying stare. Simon did so, however, his mouth only working a little
-at the corners. How far might he go with this man? he was asking
-himself. Ratoneau did not keep him long in suspense. He suddenly took
-his cigar from his mouth, swore a tremendous oath, and kicked a chair
-across the room.
-
-"Are you to be trusted, fellow?" he said.
-
-"I have kept a few secrets, monsieur," Simon answered discreetly.
-
-"Then here is another for you. I wish that chair was Monsieur le Baron
-de Mauves."
-
-"Ah! Indeed! There has been some disagreement. I saw it, when Monsieur
-le Général came out of the Prefecture this afternoon."
-
-"You saw it, did you? No wonder! I try to hide nothing--why should I?
-But tell me, I beseech you, why are we in this miserable department
-cursed with a feather-bed for a governor?"
-
-"If I might venture in this presence to say so," murmured Simon, "I have
-often asked the same question. A feather-bed, yes--and it would be
-softer and quieter to kick than that arrangement of wood and nails!" He
-muttered the last sentence between his teeth with an amused grin, for
-General Ratoneau, striding round the room in a whirlwind of kicks and
-oaths, was making far too much noise to hear him.
-
-At last, his wrath having exploded, the General flung himself back on
-his sofa and said, "The Prefect is a fool, and I hate him."
-
-"Tiens!" Simon whistled softly and long. "This is something new--and
-serious!" he murmured.
-
-The General turned upon him instantly, with a severe air.
-
-"What is your grievance against the Prefect?"
-
-"Ah--well, monsieur, when you come to grievances--a grievance is a
-valuable thing--yes, sometimes a small fortune lies in a grievance."
-
-"I believe you are a liar!"
-
-"Pardon, monsieur--what lie have I told?"
-
-"You said you had had provocations. You called Monsieur le Préfet a
-feather-bed, meaning that he had smothered and stifled you. I don't
-believe a word of it!"
-
-"Oh! Monsieur le Général is very clever!" Simon ventured on a small
-laugh.
-
-"Come, don't play with me, you rascal. What complaint have you to make?"
-
-"Monsieur le Général may have had a slight difference to-day with
-Monsieur le Préfet, but they will be reconciled to-morrow. Why should I
-give myself away and put myself in their power for nothing?"
-
-"You are a fool! What complaint have you to make against Monsieur le
-Préfet?"
-
-"I am not a fool, monsieur. That is just it. Therefore, I will not tell
-you--not yet, at least."
-
-"Then why did you come here? What did you suppose I wanted you for?"
-
-"To do some work, for which I might possibly be paid."
-
-"Is it a question of pay?"
-
-"Partly, monsieur. I made some valuable discoveries a week or two ago,
-and they have turned out of no use whatever. Here am I still an ordinary
-police officer, my work not acknowledged in any way, by praise, pay, or
-promotion. I tried on my own account to verify my discoveries and to
-find out more. This day, this very morning, I am warned to let the whole
-thing alone, to say nothing, even to the commissary of police."
-
-The General hesitated. He was grave and thoughtful enough now.
-
-He took out five napoleons and pushed them across the table to Simon,
-who picked them up quickly and greedily.
-
-"Merci, Monsieur le Général!"
-
-"Chouannerie?" said Ratoneau.
-
-Simon grinned.
-
-"Ah, monsieur, this is not enough to make me safe. I must have five
-thousand francs at least, to carry me away out of the Prefect's reach,
-if I tell his little secrets to Monsieur le Général."
-
-"Five thousand devils! Do you think I am made of money? What do I want
-with your miserable secrets? What are the Chouans to me? The Prefect may
-be a Chouan himself, I dare say: stranger things have happened."
-
-Simon shrugged his shoulders. His face was full of cunning and of secret
-knowledge.
-
-"If Monsieur le Général wants a real hold over Monsieur le Préfet," he
-said, with his eyes fixed on Ratoneau's face--"why then, these secrets
-of mine are worth the money. Of course, there is another thing for me to
-do. I can go to Paris and lay the whole thing before the Minister of
-Police or Monsieur le Comte Réal. I had thought of that. But--the
-Government is generally ungrateful--and if there were any private
-service to be done for Monsieur le Général, I should like it better.
-Besides, it is just possible that I might be doing harm to some of your
-friends, monsieur."
-
-"My friends? How?"
-
-"Ah! voilà! I can mention no names," said Simon.
-
-The General took out his pocket-book and gave him a note for a thousand
-francs.
-
-"Out with it, fellow. I hate mysteries," he said.
-
-"Pardon, Monsieur le Général! I said _five_ thousand."
-
-"Well, there are two more. Not another penny till you have explained
-yourself. And then, if I am not satisfied, I shall turn you over to my
-guard to be flogged for theft and lying. And I doubt if they will leave
-much in your pockets."
-
-"You treat me like a Jew, monsieur!"
-
-"You are a Jew. Go on. What are these grand discoveries that Monsieur le
-Préfet will have nothing to do with?"
-
-"A Chouan plot, monsieur. The conspirators have met, more than once, I
-believe, at Monsieur de la Marinière's house, Les Chouettes. They were
-there that day, when Monsieur le Préfet and Monsieur le Général
-breakfasted with him. That day when we met a herd of cows in the
-lane--"
-
-"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel. You are telling me a pack of lies. The
-place was quiet and empty, no one there but ourselves. Why, we strolled
-about there the whole afternoon without seeing a single living creature
-except a little girl gathering flowers in the meadow."
-
-"Ah, monsieur! See what it is to be an agent de police. To have eyes and
-ears, and to know how to use them! Worth a reward, is it not? I had not
-been an hour at Les Chouettes before I knew everything."
-
-And five minutes had not passed before General Ratoneau was in
-possession of all that Simon knew or suspected. Every one was
-implicated; master, servants, the four guests, whose voices he had
-recognised as he prowled in the wood, Angelot, and even the child
-Henriette.
-
-"Gathering flowers in the meadow!" the spy laughed maliciously. "She
-ought to be in prison at this moment with her father and her cousin."
-
-"Sapristi! And the Prefect knew all this?" growled the General.
-
-"I told him at the time, monsieur. As he was strolling about after
-breakfast with Monsieur de la Marinière, I called him aside and told
-him. Of course I expected an order to arrest the whole party. We were
-armed, we could have done it very well, even then, though they
-outnumbered us. Since then I have viewed the ground again, and caught
-the Baron d'Ombré breakfasting there, the most desperate Chouan in these
-parts. I questioned old Joubard the farmer, too, for his loyalty is
-none too firm. Well, when I came to report this to Monsieur le Préfet,
-he only told me again to be silent. And this very morning, after
-conferring with some of these Chouan gentlemen last night at Lancilly,
-as I happen to know, he told me to let the matter alone, to keep away
-from Les Chouettes and leave Monsieur de la Marinière to do as he
-pleased."
-
-The General stared and grunted. Honestly, he was very much astonished.
-
-"That afternoon! The devil! who would have thought it?" he muttered to
-himself.
-
-"It is not that Monsieur le Préfet is disloyal to the Empire," Simon
-went on, "though he might easily be made to appear so. It is that he
-thinks there is no policy like a merciful one. Also he is too
-soft-hearted, and too kind to his friends."
-
-"By heaven! those are fortunate who find him so."
-
-"The old friends of the country, monsieur. It is amazing how they hang
-together. Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière is brother of Monsieur Urbain,
-Monsieur Ange is Monsieur Urbain's son, Monsieur le Comte de Sainfoy is
-their cousin--and I heard the servants saying, only last night, how
-beautiful the two young people looked, handing the coffee
-together--though I should certainly have thought, myself, that Monsieur
-le Comte would have made a better marriage than that for his daughter.
-But they say the young gentleman's face--"
-
-"Stop your fool's chatter!" cried the General, furiously.
-
-"But that is just what I said, monsieur, to the Prefect's fellow who
-told me. I said this young Angelot was a silly boy who cared for nothing
-but practical jokes. Besides, if he is mixed up in Chouan conspiracies,
-Monsieur de Sainfoy could hardly afford--and after all, cousins are
-cousins. You may be very intimate with a cousin, but it does not
-follow--does it, monsieur?"
-
-"Once for all, put that foolery out of your head. Now listen. You have
-told me your grievance against the Prefect. I will tell you mine."
-
-And the police officer listened with all his ears, while General
-Ratoneau told him his story of last night and to-day.
-
-"Ah!" he said thoughtfully--"I see--I see very well. Monsieur le Comte
-is a foolish gentleman, and Madame la Comtesse is a wise lady. Then
-Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière--he is the friend of both--he visited
-Monsieur le Général to-day."
-
-This was a touch of curiosity, which the General did not satisfy, for he
-saw no good to be gained, at present, by mixing up Urbain's name in the
-business. He had made a good suggestion, which had failed. The General
-was aware that in consulting Simon he might be entering on dark ways
-where no gentleman would follow him. Simon's help might mean a good
-deal. It might mean arrests rather too near Monsieur Urbain to be
-pleasant. On one thing the General was resolved; by hook or by crook, by
-fair means or foul, Hélène de Sainfoy should become his wife. With her
-mother on his side, he suspected that any means would in the end be
-forgiven. He was never likely again to have such an opportunity of
-marrying into the old noblesse. Personally, Hélène attracted him; he had
-been thinking of her a good deal that day.
-
-"Monsieur de la Marinière--" he said rather gruffly--"Yes, he came to
-see me. He is of Madame de Sainfoy's opinion--he is a sensible man. No
-one would be more angry at your idiotic stories about his son. Now what
-next? I come down on the Prefect with your information, and demand the
-arrest of all these people, unless--hein?"
-
-"There are objections to that plan, monsieur."
-
-"What are they?"
-
-"Well, to begin with, Monsieur le Préfet may not be managed so easily.
-He is quite capable of going to Paris and laying the whole case before
-the Emperor, who respects him. He might point out Monsieur Joseph de la
-Marinière's close relationship with all these people who have rallied to
-the Empire. He might make it appear like personal spite of yours,
-monsieur, because Monsieur de Sainfoy had refused you his daughter. And
-such a course would spoil your chance in another way, monsieur. It would
-make all the family hate you. Even Madame la Comtesse could hardly be on
-your side, if you had done that. And besides, it would kill at one blow
-all my chances in this department. I think we must go to work more
-quietly, monsieur. At least, I think we must keep threats and arrests
-for a last resort, now that you have told me everything."
-
-"Then you would say no more to the Prefect?"
-
-"Not another word, monsieur. I would be silent. I would appear to accept
-the Prefect's decision, and Monsieur de Sainfoy's answer. But after a
-few days I would make some pretext for going to Paris. I am going there
-myself next week; I have leave to visit my old father. Then, monsieur,
-by spending a little money at the centre of things--well, a thunderbolt
-out of a clear sky is very effective, monsieur, and that is what we will
-try to manufacture."
-
-Simon grinned and licked his lips.
-
-"Then what have I paid you three thousand one hundred francs for,
-rascal, if the information about all this Chouannerie is to be of no
-use?"
-
-"Well, of course, it is at Monsieur le Général's service. It gives him a
-hold over Monsieur le Préfet, at any time. That was desired, I
-understood. All I say is, I would not use it just yet. The circumstances
-are delicate. When I sold the information, and dirt cheap too, I knew
-nothing of all the interesting romance Monsieur le Général has told me.
-An affair of marriage wants tender handling. This one, especially, wants
-very clever management. If I, in Monsieur le Général's place, meant to
-be the husband of Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, I would not begin by doing
-anything to make myself still more odious in the eyes of her friends and
-relations."
-
-"Still more odious, fellow! What do you mean?"
-
-"Pardon! I am only arguing from your own words, monsieur. You told me
-what her father said, and what Monsieur le Préfet said. One makes one's
-deductions, hein!"
-
-"Ah! You had better not be impudent. I am not a person to be played
-with, Monsieur Simon!"
-
-"Heaven forbid! I have the deepest respect for Monsieur le Général. And
-now let me explain my plan a little further."
-
-"Hold your tongue with your infernal plans, and let me think," said
-Ratoneau.
-
-He got up and began pacing up and down the room with his head bent, in a
-most unusually thoughtful state of mind. The dark, treacherous eyes of
-Simon followed him as he walked. His brain was working too, much more
-swiftly and sharply than the General's. This little affair was going to
-bring him in considerably more than five thousand francs, or he would
-know the reason why. Presently he spoke in a low, cautious voice.
-
-"The person to approach is Monsieur le Duc de Frioul. A direct order
-from His Majesty would be the quickest and most certain way of bringing
-the marriage about. It is not a police question, that. Monsieur le
-Général has certainly deserved the favour, and the Emperor does not very
-often refuse officers in matters of this kind."
-
-"Mille tonnerres, Simon, you talk like an ambassador," said Ratoneau,
-with a laugh. "Yes, I know Duroc; but there was never any love lost
-between us. However, I might get at him through Monge, and other people.
-Sapristi, Monge will have enough to do for me!" He was thinking aloud.
-But now he turned on his counsellor with sudden fierceness.
-
-"And am I to leave this Chouan plot to go its own way under the
-Prefect's protection?" he said. "A pretty idea, that!"
-
-"Ah! when once Monsieur le Général has peacefully secured his prize,
-_then_ he can do as he thinks right about public affairs," said Simon,
-with a sneer.
-
-"Then I can punish my enemies, hein?" said Ratoneau.
-
-"You can indeed, monsieur. With my information, you might very probably
-ruin Monsieur le Préfet, besides causing the arrest of Monsieur de la
-Marinière, his nephew, Monsieur d'Ombré, and several other gentlemen
-whom I shall be able to point out. You could make a clean sweep of
-Chouannerie in Anjou, monsieur. It is very desirable. All I say is,
-make sure of your wife first."
-
-Still Ratoneau walked up and down the room. With arms folded and head
-bent, he looked more _le gros caporal_ than ever.
-
-Presently he stopped short and turned to Simon.
-
-"Get along with you, fellow, and hold your tongue," he said. "I will
-have nothing to do with your dirty tricks. I will settle the matter with
-Monsieur le Préfet."
-
-"But me, monsieur? What will become of me?"
-
-"What do I care! A snake in the grass, like you, can look after
-himself."
-
-"But my other two thousand francs, Monsieur le Général?"
-
-"You shall have them when the affair is settled. Do you hear me? Go--or
-wait to be kicked. Which shall it be?"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-IN WHICH THREE WORDS CONTAIN A GOOD DEAL OF INFORMATION
-
-
-It was not so easy for Angelot to make his peace with Uncle Joseph, who
-was more than a little angry with him.
-
-"Yes, my boy, you were foolish, as well as ungrateful. It was a chance,
-it was a moment, that will not occur again. It was better that the idea
-should seem to come from me, not from you, and it seemed the only way to
-save that pretty girl from some marriage she will hate. I thought you
-would at least be ready to throw yourself at her feet--but you were not
-even that, Angelot. You refused her--you refused Mademoiselle Hélène,
-after all you had told me--and do you know what that mother of hers has
-been planning for her? No? Don't look at me with such eyes; it is your
-own doing. Madame de Sainfoy would arrange a marriage for her with
-General Ratoneau, if Hervé would consent. He says he will not, he says a
-convent would be better--"
-
-"Ah!" Angelot gave a choked cry, and stamped violently in the sand. "Ah!
-Ratoneau or a convent! Dieu! Not while I live!"
-
-"Very fine to say so now!" said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his head.
-
-He was ready to go out shooting in the fresh morning air. His gun leaned
-against the bench where he was sitting, and his dog watched him with
-eager eyes. His delicate face was dark with melancholy disgust as he
-looked at the boy he loved, tramping restlessly up and down between him
-and the fir trees.
-
-"You don't listen to me, Uncle Joseph; you don't understand me!" Angelot
-cried out passionately. "What do you take me for? It was for her sake
-that I answered as I did. It was because she had told me, one minute
-before, that her mother would kill her if she knew that she--that I--"
-
-He sprang to the bench, threw himself down by Monsieur Joseph, flung his
-arm around his shoulders.
-
-"Ah, little uncle, voyons, tell me everything. You said you would help
-me--"
-
-"Help you! I am well repaid when I try to help you!" said Joseph, with a
-short laugh.
-
-"But that was not the way! Come, come!" and Angelot laid his head
-against the little uncle's shoulder, coaxing and caressing him as he
-might have done ten years before, as Riette would do now.
-
-"Ah, diable! what would you have? I offered them you in the place of
-Ratoneau or a convent, and you would not even wait to hear what they
-said. Nonsense about her mother! Mothers do not kill their children in
-these days. Mademoiselle is a little extravagant."
-
-"I don't believe it. She knows her mother. I think Madame de Sainfoy
-would stop at nothing--no ill-treatment--to force her own way. I saw it
-in her face, I met her eyes when you dragged me into the room. Uncle
-Joseph, I tell you she hates me already, and if she thinks I am an
-obstacle to her plans, she will never let me see Hélène again."
-
-"Where were you, then, when I called you, good-for-nothing?"
-
-"I was on the stairs, talking to her. Her mother had sent her out of the
-room--"
-
-"On my word, you snatch your opportunities!"
-
-"Of course! And when you were young--"
-
-"There--no impertinence--"
-
-"Dear uncle, I asked you days ago to talk to my father and mother. Why
-did you never do it? Then I might have been beforehand with that man--as
-to him, of course, he is an utter impossibility, and if Cousin Hervé
-sees that, we are safe--but still--"
-
-"Ah! there is a 'but' in the affair, I assure you. Madame would do
-anything for a nearer connection with her beloved Empire--and Ratoneau
-might be Napoleon's twin-brother, but that is a detail--and not only
-madame, your father is on the same side."
-
-"My father!"
-
-"He thinks there could not be a more sensible marriage. The daughter of
-the Comte de Sainfoy--a distinguished general of division; diable! what
-can anybody want more? So my Angelot, I was not a false prophet, it
-seems to me, when I felt very sure that what you asked me was hopeless.
-Your father would have been against you, for the sake of the Sainfoys;
-your mother, for opposite reasons. There was one chance, Hervé himself.
-I saw that he was very angry at the Ratoneau proposal; I thought he
-might snatch at an alternative. I still think he might have done so, if
-you had not behaved like a maniac. It was the moment, Angelot; such
-moments do not return. I was striking while the iron was hot--you, you
-only, made my idea useless. You made me look even more mad and foolish
-than yourself--not that I cared for that. As to danger from her mother,
-why, after all, her father is the authority."
-
-"Ah, but you are too romantic," sighed Angelot. "He would never have
-accepted me. He would never really oppose his wife, if her mind was set
-against him."
-
-"He opposes her now. He plainly said that his daughter should marry a
-gentleman, therefore not Ratoneau. And where have all your fine
-presumptuous hopes flown to, my boy? The other day you found yourself
-good enough for Mademoiselle Hélène."
-
-"Perhaps I do still," Angelot said, and laughed. "But I did not then
-quite understand the Comtesse. I know now that she detests me. Then,
-too, she had not seen or thought of Ratoneau--Dieu! What profanation!
-Was it quite new, the terrible idea? I saw the brute--pah! We were
-handing the coffee--"
-
-"Yes," said Monsieur Joseph. "As far as I know, the seed was sown, the
-plant grew and flowered, all in that one evening, my poor Angelot.
-Well--I hope all is safe now, but women are very clever, and there is
-your father, too--he is very clever. If it is not this marriage, it will
-be another--but you are not interested now; you have put yourself out of
-the question."
-
-"Don't say that, Uncle Joseph--and don't imagine that your troubles are
-over. You will have to do a good deal more for me yet, and for Hélène."
-He spoke slowly and dreamily, then added with a gesture of despair--"But
-my father--how could he! Why, the very sight of the man--"
-
-"Ah! Very poetical, your dear father, but not very sentimental. I told
-him so. He said the best poetry was the highest good sense. I do not
-quite understand him, I confess. Allons! I am afraid I do. He is a
-philosopher. He also--well, well!"
-
-"He also--what?"
-
-"Nothing," said Monsieur Joseph, shortly. "What is to be done then, to
-help you?"
-
-"I am afraid--for her sake--I must not go quite so much to Lancilly. Not
-for a few days, at least, till last night is forgotten. I cannot meet
-her before all those people, with their eyes upon me. I believe Madame
-de Sainfoy saw that I was lying, that I would give my life for what I
-seemed to refuse."
-
-"Do you think so? No, no, she laughed and teased and questioned me with
-the others."
-
-"Nevertheless, I think so. But I must know that Hélène is well and safe
-and not tormented. Uncle Joseph, if you could go there a little
-oftener--you might see her sometimes--"
-
-"How often?"
-
-"Every two days, for instance?"
-
-Monsieur Joseph smiled sweetly.
-
-"No, mon petit. What should take me to Lancilly every two days? I have
-not much to say to Hervé; his ideas are not mine, either on sport or on
-politics. And as to Madame Adélaïde--no--we do not love each other. She
-is impatient of me--I distrust her. She has Urbain, and one in the
-family is enough, I think. Voyons! Would your Mademoiselle Moineau do
-any harm to Riette?"
-
-"Ah! But no! I believe she is a most excellent woman."
-
-"Only a little sleepy--hein? Well, I will change my mind about that
-offer I refused. I will send Riette every day to learn needlework and
-Italian with her cousins. She will teach more than she learns, by the
-bye! Yes, our little _guetteuse_ shall watch for you, Angelot. But on
-one condition--that she knows no more than she does already. You can ask
-her what questions you please, of course--but no letters or messages,
-mind; I trust to your honour. I will not have the child made a
-go-between in my cousin's house, or mixed up with matters too old for
-her. She knows enough already to do what you want, to tell you that
-Mademoiselle Hélène is safe and well. I will have nothing more, you
-understand. But I think you will be wise to keep away, and this plan may
-make absence bearable."
-
-He turned his anxious, smiling face to Angelot. And thus the entire
-reconciliation was brought about; the two understood and loved each
-other better than ever before, and Riette, as she had herself suggested,
-was to take her part in helping Angelot.
-
-Neither Monsieur Urbain, in his great discretion, nor his wife, in her
-extreme dislike of Lancilly and all connected with it, chose to say a
-word either to Angelot or his uncle about the strange little scene that
-had closed the dinner-party. It was better forgotten, they thought. And
-Angelot was too proud, too conscious of their opinion, to speak of it
-himself.
-
-So the three talked that night about Sonnay-le-Loir and the markets
-there, and about the neighbours that Urbain had met, and about certain
-defects in one of his horses, and then about the coming vintage and its
-prospects.
-
-Urbain fetched down a precious book, considerably out of date now, the
-_Théâtre d'Agriculture_ of Olivier de Serres, Seigneur du Pradel, and
-began studying, as he did every year, the practical advice of that
-excellent writer on the management of vineyards. The experience of
-Angelot, gained chiefly in wandering round the fields with old Joubard,
-differed on some points from that of Monsieur de Serres. He argued with
-his father, not at all in the fashion of a young man hopelessly in love;
-but indeed, though Hélène was the centre of all his thoughts, he was far
-from hopeless.
-
-There was a bright spring of life in Angelot, a faith in the future,
-which kept him above the most depressing circumstances. The waves might
-seem overwhelming, the storm too furious; Angelot would ride on the
-waves with an unreasoning certainty that they would finally toss him on
-the shore of Paradise. Had not Hélène kissed him? Could he not still
-feel the sweet touch of her lips, the velvet softness of that pale
-cheek? Could his eyes lose the new dream in their sleepy dark depths,
-the dream of waking smiles and light in hers, of bringing colour and joy
-into that grey, mysterious world of sadness! No; whatever the future
-might hold--and he did not fear it--Angelot could say to his fate:--
-
-"To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day."
-
-There was such a glory of happiness behind the present clouds that the
-boy had never seemed to his mother more light-hearted. She listened to
-his talk with his father, the smiling dispute as to what age of the moon
-was the most lucky for beginning the vintage. Monsieur de Serres, with a
-kindly word of indulgence for those who thought much of the moon,
-contented himself with recommending fine weather and a convenient day.
-Joubard, and Angelot with him, held to the old country superstition of
-the waning moon.
-
-This would throw the vintage later than Monsieur Urbain wished, and he
-pointed out that De Serres was a sensible man and a philosopher. Silly
-fancies, lunatical, astrological, were not much in his line.
-
-"He is also a Calvinist," said Madame de la Marinière. "He has no
-religion--no real religion. He believes in nothing but what he can see.
-Take my advice, leave Olivier on the shelf, and stick to the old ways of
-the country."
-
-"Ah, bah! and do you know why my farming has always succeeded?" said her
-husband, laughing. "Because I have been guided by the wisdom of De
-Serres. He is a rare man. He has as little superstition as Montaigne
-himself."
-
-"And is as worthy of a bonfire!" said Anne, but she smiled.
-
-She was sitting at her tapestry frame, beside her two wax candles, and
-while her needle went industriously in and out, her eyes were
-constantly lifted to where those two sat talking. Urbain turned over
-the leaves of his fat, red-edged quarto, lingering lovingly on favourite
-pages. Angelot laughed and chattered, leaning easily on the table. The
-adventure of last night seemed to have left no impression upon him.
-
-"How foolish that dear Joseph was!" his mother thought. "But oh, what a
-contrast to that odious dinner-party! Now, this is peace, this is what I
-have prayed for, to have them both happy at home, and free of Lancilly."
-
-But when she kissed her boy that night, looking eagerly into his face,
-something cold touched her heart. For his look was far away, and the
-smile in his eyes was not for her at all.
-
-"Urbain," she said, "are you sure that all is right with Ange?"
-
-"All, my beloved, except a little superstition about the moon, of which
-life will cure him," her husband answered with his queer smile.
-
-"The moon! Yes, he talked last night about the moon," she said. "That is
-what I mean, Urbain, not your moon for the vintage."
-
-"Oh! la belle Hélène!" he said lightly. "Don't derange yourself. I did
-not tell you--I found her mother this morning in a resolute state of
-mind. She does not intend to have the young lady on her hands long. If
-not one marriage, it will be another, you will see. Hervé will find he
-must leave the matter to his wife. Ange! bah! children's fancies are not
-worth a thought. If you lived more in the world, you would be happier,
-my poor Anne."
-
-"I don't think so," Anne said as she turned away.
-
-The next morning Monsieur Urbain stayed indoors till breakfast time.
-This was often enough a habit of his, but he was generally buried in his
-books and did not care to be disturbed. To-day he wandered about the
-house, took a turn into the porch, observed the clouds, looked at his
-watch, and behaved generally with a restlessness that Anne would have
-found unaccountable; but she was out with a sick woman in the village.
-She came in soon after ten, followed by Angelot from his shooting.
-
-They sat down to breakfast, that warm day, with doors and windows open.
-The old, low room with its brick-paved floor was shady and pleasant,
-opening on the stone court where the porch was; the polished table was
-loaded with fruit. Angelot's dog lay stretched in a patch of sunshine;
-he was ordered out several times, but always came back. When the heat
-became too much he rose panting, and flung his long body into the shade;
-then the chilly bricks drove him back into the sun again.
-
-The three were rather silent. Urbain, who always led their talk, was a
-little preoccupied that morning. After finishing his second large slice
-of melon, he looked up at Angelot and said, "After breakfast I will go
-with you to La Joubardière. We must settle with Joubard about the
-vintage; it is time things were fixed. I say the first of October. As to
-his moons, I cannot listen to such absurdities. He must arrange what
-suits me and the weather and the vines. First of all, me."
-
-"That is decided," said Angelot, smiling. "Joubard will shake his head,
-but he will obey you. You are a tyrant in your way."
-
-"Perhaps!" Urbain said, screwing up his mouth. "A benevolent despot.
-Obedience is good for the soul--n'est-ce pas, madame? I give my commands
-for the good of others, and pure reason lies behind them. What is it,
-Négo?"
-
-The dog lifted his black head and growled. There was a sharp clank of
-footsteps on the stones outside.
-
-"A bas, Négo!" cried Angelot, as a soldier, with a letter in his hand,
-appeared at the window.
-
-The dog sprang up, barking furiously, about to fly at him.
-
-"See to your dog! Take him away!" Monsieur Urbain shouted to Angelot.
-
-The young man threw himself on the dog and dragged him, snarling, out of
-the room. Anne looked up with surprise at the soldier, who saluted,
-standing outside the low window-sill. Urbain went to him, and took the
-letter from his hand.
-
-"It is Monsieur de la Marinière?" said the man. "At your service. From
-Monsieur le Général. Is there an answer?"
-
-"Wait a moment, my man," said Urbain.
-
-He broke the large red seal, standing by the window. One glance showed
-him the contents of the letter, for they were only three words and an
-initial.
-
---"_Tout va bien. R._"--
-
-But though the words were few, their significance was great, and it kept
-the sturdy master of La Marinière standing motionless for a minute or
-two in a dream, with the open letter in his hand, forgetful alike of the
-messenger waiting outside, and of his wife behind him at the table. A
-dark stain of colour stole up into his sunburnt face, his strong mouth
-quivered, then set itself obstinately. So! this thing was to happen.
-Treason to Hervé, was it? No, it was for his good, for everybody's good.
-Sentiment was out of place in a political matter such as this. Sacrifice
-of a girl? well, what was gained in the world without sacrifice? Let her
-think herself Iphigenia, if she chose; but, after all, many girls as
-noble and as pretty had shown her the way she was to go.
-
-"All goes well!" he muttered between his teeth. "This gentleman is
-impatient; he does not let the grass grow. Odd enough that we have to
-thank our dear Joseph for suggesting it!" Then he woke to outside
-things, among them the waiting soldier, standing there like a wooden
-image in the blaze of sunshine.
-
-"No answer, my friend," he said.
-
-He took out a five-franc piece and gave it to the man, not without a
-glance at the splendid Roman head upon it.
-
-"He only needs a little idealising!" he said to himself; then aloud to
-the soldier: "My best compliments to Monsieur le Général. Go to the
-kitchen; they will give you something to eat and drink after your ride."
-
-"Merci, monsieur!" the soldier saluted and went.
-
-Urbain folded the letter, put it into his pocket, and returned silently
-to his breakfast. Something about him warned his wife that it would be
-better not to ask questions; but Anne seldom observed such warnings, for
-she did not know what it was to be afraid of Urbain, though she was
-often angry with him. With Angelot it was different; he had sometimes
-reason to fear his father; but for Anne, the tenderness was always
-greater than the severity.
-
-They were alone for a few minutes, Angelot not having reappeared. While
-Urbain hurriedly devoured his sorrel and eggs, his wife gazed at him
-with anxious eyes across the table.
-
-"You correspond with that odious General!" she said. "What about, my
-dear friend? What can he have to say to you?"
-
-"Ah, bah! the curiosity of women!" said Monsieur Urbain, bending over
-his plate.
-
-"Yes," Anne said, smiling faintly. "It exists, and therefore it must be
-gratified. Is not that a doctrine after your own heart? What was that
-letter about, tell me? You could not hide that it interested you
-deeply."
-
-He shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"Remember, we never talk politics, you and I. Not even the politics of
-the department."
-
-"It has something to do with the Chouans, then? With Joseph? Ah, but do
-not trust that man, Urbain! he has a horrid face. Did you see him
-yesterday? Did he say anything about Joseph--and about Ange? He has a
-spite against Ange, I believe."
-
-"Do not be uneasy," Monsieur Urbain replied. "I did see him yesterday,
-if you must know, my dear Anne. He is friendly; well, you can see the
-letter. I do not choose to explain it altogether, but it speaks for
-itself."
-
-He took out the letter, unfolded it, and handed it to her with a curious
-smile.
-
-"_Tout va bien!_" Anne read aloud. "What does he mean?"
-
-"He means, I suppose, that my mind may be at rest. You see that he is in
-a good temper."
-
-"It looks like it, certainly. But that is strange, too. Had Hervé de
-Sainfoy sent him an answer? When you saw him, did he know--"
-
-"Yes, he knew."
-
-"How did he bear it?"
-
-"Like a man."
-
-"Really! One dislikes him a little less for that. But still, Urbain,
-why should you have anything to do with him? Is it not enough that the
-Prefect is so friendly to us all? With his protection, Joseph and Ange
-are not in any real danger."
-
-"It is best to have two strings to one's bow," answered Urbain. "I
-prefer Ratoneau a friend to Ratoneau an enemy."
-
-"I should like best no Ratoneau at all," said Anne. She flicked the
-letter back to him from the tips of her fingers, lightly and scornfully.
-"How could Adélaïde talk to him for a whole evening!" she sighed.
-
-"Adélaïde is a woman of the world, as we have decided before," said
-Urbain. "Say no more; here is the boy. It is best that he should know
-nothing of this--do you understand?"
-
-Anne understood, or thought she did; and a nod and smile from her went a
-long way towards reassuring Angelot, who had been a little puzzled by
-the sudden appearance of the soldier. But he was not curious; his father
-was by no means in the habit of telling him everything, making indeed a
-thin cloud of wilful mystery about some of his doings. It had always
-been so; and Angelot had grown up with a certain amount of blind trust
-in the hand which had guided his mother and himself through the thorny
-years of his childhood.
-
-At this moment he was distracted by a very serious attack on Négo. The
-dog would have to be shot, Monsieur Urbain said, if he received people
-so savagely; and in defending Négo the rest of Angelot's breakfast-time
-was spent.
-
-Later on he was a little surprised by his father's telling him to go
-alone to La Joubardière and arrange about the vintage. Urbain had
-remembered business, he said, which called him to Lancilly. He turned
-away and left the room without a word, without seeing, or perhaps
-choosing to see, the sudden flame of irritation in Anne's dark eyes, the
-light of another feeling in Angelot's.
-
-The young fellow lingered a moment in the dining-room window, and
-watched the sturdy figure walking away in linen clothes and a straw hat,
-the shoulders slightly bent from study, the whole effect that of honest
-strength and capacity, not at all of intrigue and ruse. Then he turned
-round and met his mother's eyes. For a moment it seemed as if they must
-read each other's soul. But Anne only said: "Do not delay, my boy. Go to
-Joubard; arrange things to please your father. We must remember; he is
-wiser than we are; he does the best for us all."
-
-"Yes, my little mother," said Angelot. "Only--Négo shall not be shot.
-Yes, I am going this instant."
-
-He took her hand and kissed it. She pushed back his hair and kissed his
-forehead.
-
-"And what are you going to do?" he said. "Come with me to see the old
-Joubards."
-
-"No, no. I must go to the church," she said. "I was hurried this
-morning."
-
-As Urbain crossed the valley, going through the little hamlet, down the
-white stony lane, between high hedges, then by field paths across to the
-lower poplar-shaded road, then along by the slow, bright stream to the
-bridge and the first white houses of Lancilly, he thought with some
-amusement and satisfaction of that morning's diplomacy. He had not the
-smallest intention of taking his dear and pretty Anne into his
-confidence. The little plot, which Adélaïde and he had hatched so
-cleverly, must remain between them and the General.
-
-This power of suggesting was a wonderful thing, truly. A word had been
-enough to set the whole machinery going. If he rightly understood that
-_Tout va bien_, it meant that the Prefect was ready at once to do his
-part. That seemed a little strange; but after all, De Mauves would not
-have reached his present position without some cleverness to help him,
-and no doubt he saw, as Urbain did, the excellence of this arrangement
-for everybody all round. Hervé de Sainfoy was really foolish; his own
-enemy: Urbain and Adélaïde were his friends; they knew how to make use
-of the mammon of unrighteousness. The advantages of such a connection
-with the Empire were really uncountable. Urbain was quite sure that he
-was justified in plotting against Hervé for his good. Did he not love
-him like a brother? Would he not have given him the last penny in his
-purse, the last crust if they were starving? And as for misleading Anne
-a little, that too seemed right to his conscience. It was only a case of
-economising truth, after all. In the end, the Ratoneau connection would
-be useful in saving Joseph and his friends, no doubt, from some of the
-consequences of their foolishness.
-
-It was with the serenity of success and conscious virtue, deepened and
-brightened by the joy of pleasing the beautiful Adélaïde, that Urbain,
-finding her alone, put the General's letter into her hand.
-
-There was an almost vulture look in the fair face as she stooped over
-it.
-
-"Ah--and what does this mean?"
-
-"It means," Urbain said, "that General Ratoneau has seen the Prefect,
-and that that excellent man is ready to oblige him--and you, madame."
-
-"Me?" Adélaïde looked up sharply, with a sudden flush. "I hope you gave
-no message from me."
-
-"How could I? you sent none. I am to be trusted, I assure you. I simply
-hinted that if the affair could be managed from outside, you would not
-be too much displeased."
-
-"Nor would you," she said.
-
-"No--no, I should not." He spoke rather slowly, stroking his face,
-looking at her thoughtfully. This pale passion of eagerness was not
-becoming, somehow, to his admired Adélaïde.
-
-"Nor would you," she repeated. "Come, Urbain, be frank. You know it is
-necessary, from your point of view, that Hélène should be married soon.
-You know that silly boy of yours fancies himself in love with her."
-
-"It would not be unnatural. All France might do the same. But pardon me,
-I do not know it."
-
-"You mean that he has not confided in you. Well, well, do not lay hold
-of my words; you had eyes the night before last; you saw what I saw,
-what every one must have seen. You confessed as much to me yesterday, so
-do not contradict yourself now."
-
-"Very well--yes!" Urbain smiled and bowed. "Let us agree that my poor
-boy may have such a fancy. But what does it matter?"
-
-"Of course it does not really matter, because such a marriage would be
-absolutely impossible for Hélène. But it is better for a young man not
-to have such wild ambitions in his head at all. You know I am right. You
-agree with me. That is one reason why you are working with me now."
-
-"It is true, madame. You are right. But did it not seem to you, the
-other night, that Angelot himself saw the impossibility--"
-
-"No, it did not," she said, and her eyes flashed. "He had to protect
-himself from his uncle's madness--that was nothing. By the bye, that
-wonderful brother of yours has changed his mind about Henriette. He
-sent her here this morning with a letter to me, and she is now doing her
-lessons with Sophie and Lucie."
-
-"I am delighted to hear it," said Urbain, absently. "But now, to return
-to our subject--the Ratoneau marriage--" he paused an instant, and
-whatever his words and actions may have been, Madame de Sainfoy was a
-little punished for her scorn of his son by the accent of utter disgust
-with which he dwelt on the General's name.
-
-For she felt it, and he had the small satisfaction of seeing that she
-did. She had trodden on her worm a little too hard, in telling Ange de
-la Marinière's father that he might as well dream of a princess as of
-Hélène de Sainfoy.
-
-"Yes, yes," she said hastily, and smiled brilliantly on Urbain as much
-as to say, "Dear friend, I was joking. We understand each other.--Tell
-me everything you did yesterday--what he said, and all about it," she
-went on aloud. "Ah, Hervé!" as her husband sauntered into the room--"do
-have the goodness to fetch me those patterns of silk hangings from the
-library. This dear Urbain has come at the right moment to be consulted
-about them."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-HOW HENRIETTE READ HISTORY TO SOME PURPOSE
-
-
-The inside of the Château de Lancilly was a curious labyrinth of arched
-stone passages paved with brick, cold on the hottest day, with short
-flights of steps making unexpected changes of level; every wall so thick
-as to hold deep cupboards, even small rooms, or private staircases
-climbing steeply up or down. The old ghosts of the château, who slipped
-in and out of these walls and flitted about the hidden steps, had lost a
-good deal of their credit in the last twenty years. No self-respecting
-ghost could show itself to Urbain de la Marinière, and few mortals
-besides him haunted the remote passages while the great house stood
-empty.
-
-And now one may be sure that the ghosts were careful to hide themselves
-from Madame de Sainfoy. No half-lights, no chilly shadows wavering on
-the wall, no quick passing of a wind from nowhere, such hints and
-vanishings as might send a shiver through ordinary bones, had any effect
-on Adélaïde's cool dignity. The light of reason shone in her clear-cut
-face; her voice, penetrating and decided, was enough to frighten any
-foolish spirit who chose to sweep rushingly beside her through the wall
-as she walked along the passages.
-
-"Do you hear the rats?" she would say. "How can we catch them? These old
-houses are infested with them."
-
-She spoke so firmly that even the ghost itself believed it was a rat,
-and scuttled away out of hearing.
-
-To reach the north wing, where her three girls and their governess
-lived, Madame de Sainfoy had to mount a short flight of steps from the
-hall, then to go along a vaulted corridor lighted only by a small
-lucarne window here and there, then down a staircase which brought her
-to the level of the great salons and the dining-room at the opposite
-end, which formerly, like this north wing, had hung over the moat, but
-were now being brought nearer the ground by Monsieur de Sainfoy's
-earthworks.
-
-This old north wing had been less restored than any other part of the
-château. The passage which ran through it, only lighted by a window at
-the foot of the staircase, ended at the arched door of a silent,
-deserted chapel with an altar on its east side, a quaint figure of Our
-Lady in a carved niche, and a window half-darkened with ivy leaves,
-overhanging the green and damp depths of the moat, now empty of water.
-
-Before reaching the chapel--lonely and neglected, but not desecrated,
-for by the care of Madame de la Marinière mass had been said in it once
-a year--there were four doors, two on each side of the corridor. The
-first on the left was that of the room where Sophie and Lucie both slept
-and did their lessons, a large room looking out west to the gardens and
-woods behind Lancilly; and opening from this, with a separate door into
-the passage, was Mademoiselle Moineau's room. On the right the rooms
-were smaller, the chapel cutting them off to the north, with a secret
-staircase in the thickness of the wall by the altar. A maid slept in the
-first; and the second, nearest the chapel, but with a wide, cheerful
-view of its own across the valley to the east, was Hélène's room.
-
-Madame de Sainfoy, after disposing of Hervé and hearing all that Urbain
-had to tell her, with digressions to the almost equally interesting
-subject of silk hangings, set off across the château to inspect the
-young people at their lessons. She was an excellent mother. She did not,
-like so many women, leave her children entirely to the consciences of
-their teachers.
-
-Her firm step, the sharp touch which lifted the heavy old latch,
-straightened the backs of Sophie and Lucie as if by magic. Lucie looked
-at her mother in terror. Too often her round shoulders caught that
-unsparing eye, and the dreaded backboard was firmly strapped on before
-Madame de Sainfoy left the room; for Lucie, growing tall and inclined
-to stoop, was going through the period of torture which Hélène, for the
-same reason, had endured before her.
-
-They all got up, including Mademoiselle Moineau. The two girls went to
-kiss their mother's hand; Henriette, more slowly, followed their
-example.
-
-"I hope your new pupil is obedient, mademoiselle," said Madame de
-Sainfoy, as her cold glance met the child's fearless eyes.
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau cocked her little arched nose--she was very like a
-fluffy old bird--and smiled rather mischievously.
-
-"We shall do very well, when Mademoiselle de la Marinière understands
-us," she said. "I have no wish to complain, but at present she is a
-little sure of herself, a little distrustful of me, and so--"
-
-"Ignorance and ill-breeding," said the Comtesse, coolly. "Excuse
-her--she will know better in time."
-
-Riette's eyes fell, and she became crimson. The good-natured Sophie
-caught her hand and squeezed it, thinking she was going to cry; but such
-weakness was far from Riette; the red of her cheeks was a flame of pure
-indignation. Ignorant! Ill-bred! She had been very much pleased when the
-little papa decided suddenly on sending her to join Sophie and Lucie in
-their lessons; she had been seized with a romantic admiration for
-Hélène, independent of the interest she took in her for Angelot's sake,
-and in other ways the Château de Lancilly was to her enchanted ground.
-And now this fair, tall lady, whom she had disliked from the first,
-talked of her ignorance and ill-breeding! She drew herself up, her lips
-trembled; another such word and she would have walked out of the room,
-fled down the corridor, escaped alone across the fields to Les
-Chouettes. She knew every turn, every step in the château, every path in
-the country, far better than these people did; they would not easily
-overtake her.
-
-But Madame de Sainfoy was not thinking of Henriette.
-
-"What are you doing? Reading history?" she said to the others.
-"Mademoiselle, I thought it was my wish that Hélène should read history
-with her sisters. The other day, if you remember, she could not tell
-Monsieur de Sainfoy the date of the marriage of Philippe Duc d'Orléans
-with the Princess Henriette of England. It is necessary to know these
-things. The Emperor expects a correct knowledge of the old Royal Family.
-Where is Hélène?"
-
-"She is in her own room, madame. Allow me an instant--"
-
-The three children were left alone. Madame de Sainfoy walked quickly
-into Mademoiselle Moineau's room, the little governess waddling after
-her, and the door was shut.
-
-Riette made a skip in the air and pirouetted on one foot. Then while
-Sophie and Lucie stared open-mouthed, she was on a chair; then with a
-wild spring, she was hanging by her hands to the top cornice of a great
-walnut-wood press; then she was on her feet again, light as an
-india-rubber ball.
-
-"Ah, mon Dieu! sit down, Riette, or we shall all be beaten!" sighed the
-trembling Lucie.
-
-"Don't be frightened, children!" murmured Riette. "Where is our book?
-Now, my angels, think, think of Henri Quatre and all his glory!"
-
-In the meanwhile, Mademoiselle Moineau laid her complaint of Hélène
-before the Comtesse. Something was certainly the matter with the girl;
-she would not read, she would not talk, her tasks of needlework were
-neglected, she did not care to go out, or to do anything but sit in her
-window and gaze across the valley.
-
-"Of course there has been no opportunity--they have never met, except in
-public--but if it were not entirely out of the question--" Mademoiselle
-Moineau stammered, blushing, conscious, though she would never confess
-it, of having nodded one day for a few minutes under a certain mulberry
-tree. "The other night, madame, at the dinner party, did it strike you
-that a certain gentleman was a little forward, a little intimate--"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy lifted her brows and shrugged her shoulders.
-
-"You mean young La Marinière? Bah! nonsense, mademoiselle. Only a
-little cousin, and a quite impossible one. We cannot keep him quite at
-arm's length, because of his father, who has been so excellent. But if
-you really think that Hélène has any such absurdity in her head--"
-
-"Oh, madame, I do not say so. I have no positive reason for saying so.
-She has told me nothing--"
-
-"I should think not," said Madame de Sainfoy, shortly.
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau was dismissed back to her pupils, whom she found,
-under Henriette's surveillance, deep in the romance of French history.
-
-Madame de Sainfoy crossed the passage and tried Hélène's door. It was
-not fastened, as she had half expected. Opening it quickly and gently,
-she found her daughter sitting in the window, as the governess had
-described her, with both arms stretched out upon its broad sill, and
-eyes fixed in a long wistful gaze on the small spire of the church at La
-Marinière, and the screen of trees which partly hid the old manor
-buildings from view.
-
-"What are you doing, Hélène?" said Madame de Sainfoy.
-
-Her voice, though low, was peremptory. The girl started up, turning her
-white face and tired eyes from the window. Her mother walked across the
-room and sat down in a high-backed chair close by.
-
-"What a waste of time," she said, "to sit staring into vacancy! Why are
-you not reading history with your sisters, as I wished?"
-
-"Mamma--my head aches," said Hélène.
-
-"Then bathe it with cold water. What is the matter with you, child? You
-irritate me with your pale looks. Do you dislike Lancilly? Do you wish
-yourself back in Paris?"
-
-"No, mamma."
-
-"I could excuse you if you did," said Madame de Sainfoy, with a smile.
-"I find the country insupportable myself, but you see, as the fates have
-preserved to us this rat-infested ruin, we must make the best of it. I
-set you an example, Hélène. I interest myself in restoring and
-decorating. If you were to help me, time would not seem so long."
-
-She did not speak at all unkindly.
-
-"I like the country. I like Lancilly much better than Paris," said
-Hélène.
-
-There was a moment's gleam of pity in Madame de Sainfoy's bright blue
-eyes. Languid, sad, yet not rebellious or sulky, her beautiful girl
-stood drooping like a white lily in the stern old frame of the window.
-The mother believed in discipline, and Hélène's childhood and youth had
-been spent in an atmosphere of cold severity. Punishments would have
-been very frequent, if her father's rather spasmodic and inconsequent
-kindness had not stepped in to save her. She owed a good deal to her
-father, but these debts only hardened her mother against both of them.
-Yet Madame de Sainfoy was not without a certain pride in the perfect
-form and features, the delicate, exquisite grace and distinction, which
-was one of these days to dazzle the Tuileries. On that, her resolution
-was firm and unchanging. _Tout va bien!_ One of these days the Emperor's
-command might be expected. With that confident certainty in the
-background, she felt she need not trouble herself much about her
-husband's objections or her daughter's fancies.
-
-"You are a very difficult young woman, Hélène," she said, still not
-unkindly, and her eyes travelled with slow consideration over every
-detail as the girl stood there. "I do not like that gown of yours," she
-said. "Don't wear it again. Give it to Jeanne--do you hear?"
-
-"Must I? But it is not worn out, mamma. I would rather keep it," the
-girl said quickly, stroking her soft blue folds, which were in truth a
-little faded.
-
-Then she flushed suddenly, for what reason could she give for loving the
-old gown! Not, certainly, that she had worn it one day in the
-garden--one day when Mademoiselle Moineau went to sleep!
-
-"You will do as I tell you," said Madame de Sainfoy. Then she added with
-a slight laugh--"You are so fond of your own way, that I wonder you
-should object to being married. Do you think, perhaps, you would find a
-husband still more tyrannical?"
-
-The girl shook her head. "No," she murmured.
-
-"Then what is your reason? for you evidently intend not to be married at
-all."
-
-"I do not say that," said Hélène; and Madame de Sainfoy was conscious,
-with sudden anger, that once more the dreamy grey eyes travelled out of
-the open window, far away to those lines of poplars and clipped elms
-opposite.
-
-"How different things were when I was young!" she said. "My marriage
-with your father was arranged by our relations, without our meeting at
-all. I never saw him till everything was concluded. If I had disliked
-him, I could neither have said nor done anything."
-
-"That was before the Revolution," said Hélène, with a faint smile.
-
-"Indeed you are very much mistaken," her mother said quickly, "if you
-think the Revolution has altered the manners of society. It may have
-done good in some ways--I believe it did--but in teaching young people
-that they could disobey their parents, it did nothing but harm. And it
-deceived them, too. As long as our nation lasts, marriages will be
-arranged by those who know best. In your case, but for your father's
-absurd indulgence, you would have been married months ago. However,
-these delays cannot last for ever. I think you will not refuse the next
-marriage that is offered you."
-
-The girl looked wonderingly at her mother, half in terror, half in
-hope. She spoke meaningly, positively. What marriage could this be?
-
-"What would you say to a distinguished soldier?" said Madame de Sainfoy,
-watching her keenly. "Then, with some post about the Court and your
-husband always away at the wars, you could lead a life as independent as
-you chose. Now, pray do not think it necessary to throw yourself out of
-the window. I make a suggestion, that is all. I am quite aware that
-commands are thrown away on a young lady of your character."
-
-"What do you mean, mamma?" the girl panted, with a quick drawing-in of
-her breath. "Who is it? Not that man who dined here--that man who was
-talking to you?"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy flamed suddenly into one of those cold rages which had
-an effectiveness all their own.
-
-"Idiot!" she said between her teeth. "Contemptible little fool! And if
-General Ratoneau, a handsome and distinguished man, did you the honour
-of asking for your hand, would you expect me to tell him that you had
-not taken a fancy to him?"
-
-"Mon Dieu!" Hélène murmured. She turned away to the window for a moment,
-clasping her hands upon her breast; then, white as death, came back and
-stood before her mother.
-
-"It is what I feared," she said. "It is what you were talking about; I
-knew it at the time. That was why you sent me out of the room--you
-wanted to talk it over. Have you settled it, then? What did papa say?"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy hesitated. She had not at all intended to mention any
-name, or to make Hélène aware to any extent of the true facts of the
-case. Her sudden anger had carried her further than she meant to go. She
-neither wished to frighten the girl into flying to her father, nor to
-tell her that he had refused his consent.
-
-"Really, Hélène, you are my despair," she said, and laughed, her eyes
-fixed on the girl's lovely, changing face. "You leap to conclusions in
-an utterly absurd way. If such a thing were already settled, or even
-under serious consideration, would you not have been formally told of it
-before now? Would your father have kept silence for two days, and would
-you not have heard of another visit from General Ratoneau? You would not
-be surprised, I suppose, to hear that he admires you--and by the bye, I
-think your taste is bad if you do not return his admiration--but that is
-absolutely all I have to tell you."
-
-"Is it?" the girl sighed. "Ah, mamma, how you terrified me!"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy shrugged her shoulders.
-
-"I wonder," she said, "how I have deserved such a daughter as you! No
-courage, no ambition for your family, no feeling of duty to them.
-Nothing but--I am ashamed to say it, Hélène, and you can deny it if it
-is not true--some silly sentimental fancy which carries your eyes and
-thoughts to that old farm over there. Ah, I see I am right. When did
-this preposterous nonsense begin? Why, the question is not worth asking,
-for you have hardly even spoken to that cousin of yours, and I will do
-him the justice to say that he, on his side, has no such ridiculous
-idea. He does not sit staring at Lancilly as you do at La Marinière!
-Yes, Hélène, I am ashamed of you."
-
-Hélène stood crimson and like a culprit before her mother. She hardly
-understood her words; she only knew that her mother had read her heart,
-had known how to follow her thoughts as they escaped from this stony
-prison away to sunshine and free air and waving trees and a happy,
-homely life; away to Angelot. What was there to be ashamed of, after
-all? She expected no one to be on her side; she dreaded their anger and
-realised keenly what it might be; but as for shame!
-
-Even as Madame de Sainfoy spoke, the thought of her young lover seemed
-to surround Hélène with an atmosphere of joyful sweetness. Yes, he was
-wonderful, her Angelot. Would he ever be afraid or ashamed to confess
-his love for her? Why could she not find courage then to tell of hers
-for him?
-
-With a new and astonishing courage Hélène lifted her long lashes and
-looked up into her mother's face. It was a timid glance at the best; the
-furtive shadow lingered still in her eyes, result of a life of cold
-repression.
-
-"Why should I deny it, mamma?" she said. Her voice was distinct, though
-it trembled. "It is true, and I am not ashamed of it. Angelot has been
-kinder to me than any one in the world. Yes--I love him."
-
-"Ah!" Madame de Sainfoy drew a long breath. "Ah! Voyons! And what next,
-pray?"
-
-"If you care at all to make me happy," the girl said, and she gained a
-little hope, heaven knows why, as she went on, "you and papa will--will
-give me to him. Yes, that is what I want. Mamma, see, I have no
-ambition. I don't care to live in Paris or to go to Court--I hate it! I
-want to live in the country--over there--at La Marinière."
-
-A smile curled Madame de Sainfoy's pretty mouth. It was not an agreeable
-one; but it frightened Hélène much less than an angry word would have
-done. She came forward a step or two, knelt on her mother's footstool,
-timidly rested a hand on her knee. Madame de Sainfoy sat immovable,
-looking down and smiling.
-
-"Speak, mamma," murmured the girl.
-
-"Hélène, are you deaf?" said Madame de Sainfoy. "Did you hear what I
-said just now?"
-
-"You told me I had no courage or ambition. I suppose it is true."
-
-"I told you something else, which you did not choose to hear. I told you
-that this fancy of yours was not only foolish and low, but one-sided.
-Trust me, Hélène. I know more of your precious cousin than you do, my
-dear."
-
-"Pardon! Ah no, mamma, impossible."
-
-"It is true. The other night, as you guessed, I sent you away that I
-might discuss your future with your father and his family. That very
-absurd person, Cousin Joseph de la Marinière, chose to give his opinion
-without being asked for it, and took upon himself to suggest a marriage
-between you and that little nephew of his. Take your hand away. I
-dislike being touched, as you know."
-
-The girl's pale face was full of life and colour now, her melancholy
-eyes of light. She snatched away her hand and rose quickly to her feet,
-stepping back to her old place near the window.
-
-"Dear Uncle Joseph!" she murmured under her breath.
-
-"The young man was not grateful. He said in plain words that he did not
-wish to marry you. Yes, look as bewildered as you please. Ask your
-father, ask either of his cousins. I will say for young Ange that he has
-more wits than you have; he does not waste his time craving for the
-impossible. If it were not so, I should send you away to a convent. As
-it is, I shall stop this little flirtation by taking care that you do
-not meet him, except under supervision."
-
-The girl looked stricken. She leaned against the wall, once more white
-as a statue, once more terrified.
-
-"Angelot said--but it is not possible!" she whispered very low.
-
-"Angelot very sensibly said that he did not care for you. Under those
-circumstances I think you are punished enough; and I will not insist on
-knowing how you came to deceive yourself so far. But I advise you not to
-spend any more time staring at that line of poplars," said Madame de
-Sainfoy. "Learn not to take in earnest what other people mean in play;
-your country cousin admires you, no doubt, but he knows more of the
-world than you do, most idiotic and ill-behaved girl!"
-
-As she said the last words she rose and crossed the room to the door,
-throwing them scornfully over her shoulder. Then she passed out, and
-Hélène, planted there, heard the key grind in the lock.
-
-She was a prisoner in her room; but this did not greatly trouble her.
-She went back to the window, leaned her arms on the sill, gazed once
-more at La Marinière, its trees motionless in the afternoon sunlight,
-thought of the old room as she had first seen it that moonlit evening
-with its sweet air of peace and home, thought of the noble, delicate
-face of Angelot's mother, thought of Angelot himself as the candle-light
-fell upon him, of the first wonderful look, the electric current which
-changed the world for herself and him. And then all that had happened
-since, all that her mother did not and never must know. Was it really
-possible, could it be believed that he meant nothing, that he did not
-love her after all? No, it could not be believed. And yet how to be
-sure, without seeing him again?
-
-Ah, well, for some people life must be all sadness, and Héléne had long
-believed herself one of these. Angelot's love seemed to have proved her
-wrong, but now the leaf in her book was turned back again, and she found
-herself at the old place. Not quite that either, for the old deadness
-had been waked into an agony of pain. Angelot false! Hell must certainly
-be worse to bear after a taste of Paradise.
-
-She laid her fair head down on her arms at the open window, high in the
-bare wall. An hour passed by, and still she sat there in a kind of
-hopeless lethargy. She did not hear a gentle tapping at the door, nor
-the trying of the latch by some one who could not get in. But a minute
-later she started and exclaimed when a dark head was suddenly nestled
-against hers, her cheek kissed by rosy lips, her name whispered
-lovingly.
-
-"Oh, little Riette!" she cried. "Where did you come from, child? Was the
-key in the door?"
-
-"No, there was no key," Riette whispered. "You are locked in, ma belle;
-but never mind. I know my way about Lancilly. I am going home now, and I
-wanted to see you. They will ask me how you are looking."
-
-Hélène blushed and almost laughed. She looked eagerly into the child's
-face.
-
-"Who will ask you?"
-
-"Papa, of course."
-
-"Ah, yes, he is very kind. What will you say to him?"
-
-Riette looked hard at her and shrugged her slight shoulders.
-
-"I must go," she said. "Kiss me again, ma belle."
-
-"Stop!" Hélène held her tight, with her hands on her shoulders. "Do you
-often see--your cousin--Angelot?"
-
-Riette's face rippled with laughter. "Every day--nearly every hour."
-
-"Why do you laugh?"
-
-"How can I tell? It is my fault, my own wickedness," said Riette,
-penitently. "Why indeed should I laugh, when you look sad and ill? Can I
-say any little word to Angelot, ma cousine?"
-
-"Tell him I must see him--I must speak to him. Tell him to fix the place
-and the hour."
-
-"And you a prisoner?"
-
-"Yes--but how did you get in? That way I can get out--Riette--Riette!"
-
-"Precisely. Adieu! they are calling me."
-
-The child was gone. Hélène, standing in the deep recess in the window,
-now came forward and looked round wonderingly. The old tapestried walls
-surrounded her; ancient scenes of hunting and dancing which at first
-had troubled her sleep. There was no visible exit from the room, except
-the locked door. But Riette was gone, and the message with her. Was she
-a real child, or only a comforting dream?
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-HOW ANGELOT PLAYED THE PART OF AN OWL IN AN IVY-BUSH
-
-
-That night, while Hélène sat alone and in disgrace, her lover was
-dancing.
-
-After dinner Riette persuaded her father to walk across with her to La
-Marinière, where they found Monsieur Urbain, his wife and son, spending
-the evening in their usual sober fashion; he, deep in vintage matters,
-still studying his friend De Serres, and arguing various points with
-Angelot whose day had been passed with Joubard in the vineyards; she,
-working at her frame, where a very rococo shepherd and shepherdess under
-a tree had almost reached perfection.
-
-Madame de la Marinière had views of her own about little girls, and
-considered Riette by no means a model. She had tried to impress her
-ideas on Monsieur Joseph, but though he smiled and listened admiringly,
-he spoiled Riette all the more. So her Aunt Anne reluctantly gave her
-up. But still, in her rather severe way, she was kind to the child, and
-Riette, though a little shy and on her good behaviour, was not afraid of
-her. There was always a basket beside Aunt Anne, of clothes she was
-making for the poor, for her tapestry was only an evening amusement. In
-this basket there was a little white cap such as the peasant children
-wore, partly embroidered in white thread. This was Riette's special
-work, whenever she came to La Marinière. Sitting on a footstool beside
-her aunt, she stitched away at "le bonnet de la petite Lise." At her
-rate of progress, however, as her aunt pointed out with a melancholy
-smile, Lise would be a grown-up woman before the cap was finished.
-
-And on this special evening the stitches were both few and crooked.
-Riette paid no attention to her work, but sat staring and smiling at
-Angelot across the room, and he, instead of talking to his father and
-uncle, watched her keenly under his eyelids. Presently he came and stood
-near his mother's chair while she asked Riette a few questions about her
-lessons that day. It appeared that all had been satisfactory.
-
-"A good little woman, Mademoiselle Moineau," said Riette, softly,
-smiling at Angelot, who felt the colour mounting to his hair. "I like
-her very much. She pretends to scold, but there is no malice in it, you
-know. I don't think she is very clever. Quite clever enough for Sophie
-and Lucie, who are most amiable, poor dear children, but stupid--ah!"
-
-"They are older than you, I believe, Henriette," said her aunt,
-reprovingly.
-
-"Yes, dear aunt, in years, but not in experience. I have lived, I know
-life"--she nodded gently--"while those poor girls--Ah, how charming! May
-I have a little dance with Ange, Aunt Anne?"
-
-"I suppose so. Lise will not have her cap yet, it seems," said Madame de
-la Marinière, smiling in spite of herself.
-
-Monsieur Joseph had sat down to the piano and was playing a lively
-polka. Angelot started up, seized his little cousin, and whirled her off
-down the room. In a minute or two Urbain took off his spectacles, shut
-the _Théâtre d'Agriculture_ with a sharp clap, walked up to Anne and
-held out his hands with a smiling bow.
-
-"I can't resist Joseph's music, if you can, my little lady!"
-
-"It seems we must follow the children," she said. "Riette has just been
-pointing out that she, at least, is wiser than her elders."
-
-Angelot and his father jumped their light partners up and down with all
-the merry energy of France and a new world. After a few turns, Angelot
-waltzed Riette out into the hall, and they stood still for a few moments
-under the porch, while she whispered Hélène's message into his ear.
-
-"Mon Dieu! But how can she meet me? It must be at night, or they will
-see us. And if she is locked into her room?"
-
-"She can get out of her room, mon petit! She knows there is a way,
-though I have not shown it to her. Then there is the secret staircase
-in the chapel wall."
-
-"You are right, glorious child that you are. She will find me in the
-moat, close to the little door. Nothing can be safer, provided that no
-one misses her."
-
-"At what time?"
-
-"Nine o'clock, when they are all playing cards."
-
-"I will tell her," said Riette. "Oh, my Ange! she looked so sweet when
-she talked of you. I think I love her as much as you do. Why don't you
-bring her to Les Chouettes, that we may take care of her? There is an
-idea. Take her to Monsieur le Curé to-morrow night. He will be gone to
-bed, but no matter. Make him get up and marry you. Then come and live at
-Les Chouettes, both of you. We have plenty of room, and little papa
-would not be angry."
-
-"Hush, child, what things you say!"
-
-The very thoughts were maddening, there in the dim darkness under the
-stairs, with glimmering points of distant earthly light from Lancilly on
-the opposite hill. One of them might be Hélène's window, where she sat
-and watched La Marinière.
-
-The music in the old room behind went swinging on. Monsieur Joseph
-played with immense spirit; Monsieur and Madame Urbain danced merrily up
-and down.
-
-"Allons! we must go back," Angelot whispered to his little cousin,
-whose arms were round his neck. "And then you must dance with your
-uncle, because my mother likes a turn with me."
-
-One cold touch of reflection came to dim his happiness. He had promised
-Uncle Joseph not to make Henriette a go-between. And it seemed no real
-excuse that it was Hélène's doing, not his. Well, this once it could not
-be helped. All the promises in the world would not make him disobey
-Hélène or disappoint her.
-
-For the present, it seemed as if the attraction between himself and
-Hélène, a rapture to both of them, still meant very real misery to her.
-She was in deep disgrace with Madame de Sainfoy. Although she was
-allowed to come down to the meals, at which she sat statue-like and
-silent, she was sent back at once to her room, and either her mother or
-Mademoiselle Moineau locked her in.
-
-Her father noticed these proceedings and shrugged his shoulders. He was
-sorry for Hélène, but had learnt by experience not to interfere, except
-on great and necessary occasions. No doubt girls were sometimes
-troublesome, and he did not pretend to know how to manage them. Adélaïde
-must bring up her children in her own way.
-
-Another day of almost entire solitude, with a terrible doubt of Angelot
-added to the longing for his presence, so that peace was no longer to be
-found in the distant sight of La Marinière; another day had dragged its
-length through the hot hours of the afternoon, when, as Hélène walked
-restlessly up and down in her room, the blue-green depths of a grove on
-her tapestried wall began to move, and out from the wall itself, as if
-to join the dancing peasants beyond the grove, came the slender little
-figure of Henriette. In an instant the panel of tapestry had closed
-behind her and she had sprung into Hélène's arms. The girl clutched her
-convulsively.
-
-"What does he say?"
-
-"To-night, at nine o'clock, he will be near the little door in the moat.
-Meet him there."
-
-"The little door in the moat!"
-
-"You see this. Let me show you the spring"--she dragged her to the wall,
-and opened the panel with a touch. Inside it there was a dark and narrow
-passage, but opposite another panel stood slightly ajar.
-
-"That is the way into the chapel," Riette whispered. "I came that way.
-But you must turn to the right, and almost directly you will find the
-stairs. The door is at the foot of them. He will be there."
-
-"It is unlocked?"
-
-"There is no key. I believe there has been none for centuries. Adieu, my
-pretty angel. They will miss me; I must go. I told them I wanted to say
-a little prayer to Our Lady in the chapel. She often helped me when I
-used to play here."
-
-"I hope she will help me, too!" murmured Hélène.
-
-In another moment she was terrified at finding herself alone in the
-dark; for the child was gone, softly closing the secret door into the
-chapel. Hélène felt about for a minute or two before she could find the
-spring behind the tapestry, and stepped back into her room, shivering
-from the damp chill of the passage.
-
-It seemed like an extraordinary fate that that night her mother kept her
-downstairs at needlework later than usual. It was in truth a slight mark
-of returning favour. Madame de Sainfoy was in a better temper, and
-realised that it might be unwise to treat a tall girl of nineteen quite
-like a disobedient child. So Hélène sat there stitching beside
-Mademoiselle Moineau, who was sometimes called upon to take a hand at
-cards. To-night this did not seem likely, for Urbain de la Marinière
-came in after dinner, and the snuffy, sharp-faced little Curé of
-Lancilly was there too. Madame de Sainfoy had asked him to dine that
-day, partly to show herself superior to family prejudices; for this
-little man, unlike the venerable Curé of La Marinière, was one of the
-Constitutional priests of the Republic.
-
-Flushing crimson, and feeling, as she well might, like a heroine of
-romance, Hélène heard the new Paris clock strike nine. Its measured,
-silvery tones had not died away, when she was by her mother's side at
-the card-table, timidly asking leave to go to her room.
-
-Madame de Sainfoy had just glanced at her hand and found it an excellent
-one.
-
-"Yes, my child, certainly," she said absently, and gave Hélène her free
-hand.
-
-The girl touched it with her lips, and then her mother's fingers lightly
-patted her cheek.
-
-"How feverish you are!" Adélaïde murmured, but took no further notice,
-absorbed in her game.
-
-"Like a little flame! but it is a hot night," said Hervé as his daughter
-kissed him.
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau was following Hélène from the room, when she was
-called back.
-
-"No, mademoiselle, you must stay; we cannot do without you. Monsieur le
-Curé has to be home before ten o'clock."
-
-The governess went back obediently to her corner. Hélène glanced back
-from the door at the group round the table, deep in their calculations,
-careless of what might be going on outside their circle of shaded
-candle-light. Only her father lifted his head and looked after her for
-an instant; her presence or absence was totally indifferent to the other
-men, though the square-headed cousin Urbain was Angelot's father; and
-her mother had forgotten her already.
-
-Carrying her light, Hélène went with quick and trembling steps through
-the house to the north wing. As she entered the last passage, she met
-the maid who had been waiting on Sophie and Lucie, and who slept in the
-room next her own.
-
-"Mademoiselle wants me?" said Jeanne, a little disappointed; she had
-hoped for half-an-hour's freedom.
-
-"No, no, I do not want you," Hélène answered quickly. "I have things to
-do--you can stay till Mademoiselle Moineau comes up."
-
-Jeanne went on her way rejoicing.
-
-Hélène, once in her own room, locked the door inside, took a large black
-lace scarf and threw it over her head, hiding her white dress with it as
-much as possible; then, still carrying her candle, touched the
-mysterious tapestry door, that door which seemed to lead into old-time
-woods, into happy, romantic worlds far away, and stepped through into
-the passage in the thickness of the wall.
-
-Almost instantly she came to the topmost step of the staircase. Black
-with dust and cobwebs, damp, with slimy snail-tracks on the stones, it
-went winding down to the lowest story of the old house. The steps were
-worn and irregular. Long ago they had been built, for this was the most
-ancient part of the château. In their first days the stairs had not
-ended with the moat, then full of water, but had gone lower still,
-leading to a passage under the moat that communicated with the open
-country. There were many such underground ways in the war-worn old
-province. But when Lancilly was restored and the moat drained, in the
-seventeenth century, the lower stairs and passage were blocked up, and
-the present door was made, opening on the green grass and bushes that
-grew at the bottom of the old moat.
-
-Hélène went down the steep and narrow stairs as quickly as her trembling
-limbs would carry her. They seemed endless; but at last the light fell
-on a low, heavy door, deep set in the immense foundation wall. She
-seized the large rusty latch and lifted it without difficulty. Then she
-pulled gently; no result; she pushed hard, thinking the door must open
-outwards; it did not move. She set down her light on the stairs, and
-tried again with both hands; but the door was immovable. As her brain
-became a little steadier, and her eyes more accustomed to the dimness,
-she saw that a heavy iron bar was fastened across the upper panels of
-the door, and run into two enormous staples on the wall at each side.
-She touched the bar, tried to move it, but found her hands absolutely
-useless; it would have been a heavy task for a strong man. She stood and
-looked at the door, shivering with terror and distress. After all, it
-seemed, she was a real prisoner. She could not keep her appointment with
-Angelot. She gave a stifled cry and threw herself against the door,
-beating it with her fists and bruising them. Then a voice spoke outside,
-low and quickly.
-
-"Hélène!"
-
-"Ah! you are there!" she said, and leaned her head against the door.
-
-"Open then, dearest--don't be afraid. Lift the latch, and pull it
-towards you. There is only a keyhole on this side--but it can't be
-locked, for there is no key."
-
-"I cannot," she said. "It is barred with a great iron bar. I cannot move
-it. Oh, how unhappy I am! Why should I be so unfortunate, so miserable?"
-she cried, and beat upon the door again.
-
-"Ah, mon Dieu! My father's precautions! He went round the château six
-weeks ago, to examine all the doors. I was not with him, or I should
-have known it. Hélène! Will you do as I ask you?"
-
-"Ah! there is nothing to be done. I had to speak to you--I cannot, with
-this dreadful door between us, and--Ah, heavens, something has put out
-my candle. I am in the dark! What shall I do!"
-
-"Courage, courage!" he said, speaking close to the keyhole. "Go back up
-the stairs; go to the chapel window!"
-
-"But I cannot speak to you from the window!"
-
-"Yes, you can--you shall."
-
-"But I am in the dark!"
-
-"You cannot miss your way. Go--go quickly--we have not much time--it is
-late already."
-
-"I could not help it," sighed Hélène.
-
-She was almost angry with him, and for a moment she was sorry she had
-sent him any message.
-
-"What is the use? How can I speak to him from the window? it is too
-high," she said to herself as she stumbled up the stairs, shuddering as
-her fingers touched the damp wall. "It is my fate--I am never to be
-happy. My mother knows she can do as she likes with me."
-
-A sob rose in her throat, and burning tears blinded her. But she dashed
-them away when she reached the level, and saw the thin line of light
-which showed the entrance into her own room, where she had left a candle
-burning. The opposite panel flew open as she touched it; she stooped and
-crept into the chapel.
-
-It was dark, cold, and lonely; no friendly red light in the seldom-used
-little sanctuary; but the window in the north wall was unshuttered, and
-let in the pale glimmer of a sky lit by stars. Hélène had no difficulty
-in opening the window, though its rusty hinges groaned. There was a
-quick, loud rustling in the ivy beneath. Hélène stepped back with a
-slight scream as a hand shot suddenly up and caught the sill; in another
-instant Angelot had climbed to the level of the window and dropped on
-the brick floor. Hélène was almost in his arms, but she drew back and
-motioned him away, remembering just in time that she was angry.
-
-"What is it?" he said quickly. "Why--"
-
-"How--how did you get here?" she stammered. "I thought you were down in
-the moat."
-
-"It is not the first time I have climbed the ivy, as the owls might
-tell you," he said. "It is easy; the old trunk is as thick as my body,
-and twists like a ladder. Hélène! You are angry with me! What have I
-done?"
-
-He tried to take her hand, but she drew it from him. He fell on his
-knees and kissed the hem of her gown.
-
-"Hélène!"
-
-She stood motionless, unable to speak. But Angelot was not long to be
-treated in this chilling fashion. It seemed that he had a good
-conscience, and was not afraid to account for any of his actions. He
-rose to his feet; no words passed between them; but Hélène resisted him
-no longer. Her head was leaning on his breast; a long, happy sigh
-escaped her; and it was between kisses that he asked her again, "Why are
-you angry with me?"
-
-"I am not--not now--I know it is not true," she murmured.
-
-"What, my beloved?"
-
-"You do care for me?"
-
-Angelot laughed. Indeed it did not seem necessary to reassure her on
-such a point.
-
-"Because, if you give me up, I shall die," she said. "I should have
-died, I think, if I had not seen you to-night. Now they may say and do
-what they please."
-
-"What have they been saying and doing? Ah, my sweet, how have they been
-tormenting you? You are no happier than when I saw you first, though I
-love you so. How you tremble! Sit down here--there, softly--you are
-quite safe. What in God's name are we to do? Must I leave you again with
-these people?"
-
-For a few minutes they sat in a corner of an old carved bench under the
-window, one of the family seats in those more religious days when
-grandfathers and grandmothers came to the chapel to pray. Hélène leaned
-against Angelot, clinging to him, and past his dark profile, dimly
-visible in the twilight of stars, she could see the roughly carved and
-painted figure of Our Lady, brought from a Spanish convent and much
-venerated by that Mademoiselle de Sainfoy who became a Carmelite in the
-early days of the order. Hélène had fancied, before now, that there was
-something motherly in the smile of the statue, neglected so long. She
-thought, even as her lover kissed her, that neither the Blessed Virgin,
-nor St. Theresa, nor the ancestor who was her disciple, would have been
-angry with her and Angelot. Only her own mother, and she for worldly
-reasons alone, would find any sin in this sweet human love which wrapped
-her round, which, if allowed to have its way, would shield her from all
-the miseries of life and keep her in the rapturous peace she enjoyed in
-this moment, this fleeting moment, which she could not spoil even by
-telling her Angelot why she sent for him.
-
-"Ah, how I wanted you!" she breathed in his ear.
-
-"My love! But what--what are we to do!" he murmured passionately; her
-feelings of rest and peace and safety were not for him.
-
-"Your father is very good, and loves you," he said. "At least we know
-that he will not have you sacrificed. I will ask him. If he
-refuses--then, mille tonnerres, I will carry you off into the woods,
-Hélène."
-
-"It is no use asking him, dearest, none," she said. "Besides, you told
-them all that you did not care for me."
-
-She lifted her head, and tried to look into his face.
-
-"Ah, did they tell you that? Was that why you were angry?" Angelot
-cried.
-
-"Yes," she said; "and now you had better ask to be forgiven."
-
-Indeed, as they both knew too well, there were more serious things than
-kisses and loving words to occupy that stolen half-hour. They had to
-tell each other all--all they knew--and each became a little wiser.
-Hélène knew that General Ratoneau had actually asked for her, and that
-her father had refused to listen; thus realising that her mother was
-deceiving her, and also that for some hidden reason the plan seemed to
-Madame de Sainfoy still possible. Angelot, even as they sat there
-together, realised vividly that he was living in a fool's paradise; that
-his love's confession to her mother had made things incalculably worse,
-justifying all the stern treatment, the violent means, which such a
-mother might think necessary.
-
-"She means to marry her to Ratoneau," he thought, "and she will do it,
-unless Heaven interferes by a miracle. Uncle Joseph is my only friend,
-and he cannot help me--at least--if I do not act at once, we are lost."
-
-He lifted Hélène's fair head a little, and its pale beauty, in the dim
-gleam from the open window, seemed to fill his whole being as he gazed.
-He drew her towards him and kissed her again and again; it might have
-been a last embrace, a last good-bye, but he did not mean it for that.
-
-"Will you come with me now?" he said.
-
-"Yes!" Hélène said faintly.
-
-"Are you afraid?"
-
-"No"--she hesitated--"not with you. I can be brave when I am with
-you--but when you are not here--"
-
-"They shall not part us again," Angelot said.
-
-"But how are we to get out?"
-
-Though her lover was there, still holding her, the girl trembled as she
-asked the question.
-
-"I can unbar the door," he said. "Come to the top of the stairs and wait
-there till I whistle; then come down to me."
-
-This seemed enough for the moment, and the wild fellow had no further
-plan at all. To have her outside these prison walls, in the free air he
-loved, under the trees in the starlight, to make a right to her, as he
-vaguely thought, by running off with her in this fashion--that was all
-that concerned him at the moment. Where was he to take her? Would Uncle
-Joseph receive them? Such thoughts just flashed through the tumult of
-his brain, but seemed of no present importance. Angelot was mad that
-night, mad with love of his cousin, with the desperate necessity which
-needed to be met by desperate daring.
-
-Hélène followed him, trembling very much, to the top of the stairs.
-
-"You have a candle there? Fetch it for me," he said.
-
-She obeyed him, slipping through the tapestry into her own room. Once
-there, she looked round with a wild wonder. Could this be
-herself--Hélène de Sainfoy--about to escape into the wide world with her
-lover--and empty-handed? She looked down vaguely at her white evening
-gown and thin shoes, snatched up her watch and chain and a diamond ring,
-which were lying on the table, and slipped them into her pocket. It was
-the work of a moment, yet when she carried the candle to Angelot, he was
-white as death, and stamping with impatience; the flame in his eyes
-frightened her.
-
-He took the candle without a word and disappeared down the first steep
-winding of the stairs. His moving shadow danced gigantic on the wall,
-then was gone. Hélène waited in the darkness. Even love and faith, with
-hope added, were not strong enough to keep her brave and happy during
-the terrible minutes of lonely waiting there. Her limbs trembled, her
-heart thumped so that she had to lean for support against the cold damp
-wall. She bent her head forward, eagerly listening. Why had she not gone
-down with him? Somebody might hear him whistle. However, no whistle
-came; only a dull sound of banging, which echoed strangely, alarmingly,
-up the narrow staircase in the thickness of the wall.
-
-It seemed to Hélène that she had waited long and was becoming stupefied
-with anxiety, when a light flashed suddenly upon her eyes, and she
-opened them wide; she had never lost the childish fear which made her
-shut them in the dark. Angelot had leaped up the stairs again and was
-standing beside her, white and frowning.
-
-"It is impossible," he said, in a hurried whisper. "I cannot move the
-bar without tools. Come back into the chapel."
-
-He set down the candlestick on the altar step, walked distractedly to
-the end of the low vaulted room, then back to where she stood gazing at
-him with a pitiful terror in her eyes.
-
-"What is to be done! Is there no other way!" he said, half to himself.
-"Mon Dieu, Hélène, how beautiful you are! Ah, what is that? Listen!"
-
-His ears, quicker than hers, had caught steps and a rustling sound in
-the passage that ended at the chapel door.
-
-"Dear--go back to your room," he said. "They must not find you here. We
-shall meet again--Good-night, my own!"
-
-He was gone. The bewildered girl looked after him silently, and he was
-across the floor, on the window-sill, disappearing hand over head down
-his ladder of old twisted ivy stems, before she realised anything. Then,
-not the least aware that some one was knocking at her bedroom door in
-the passage, shaking the latch, calling her name, she flew after him to
-the window and leaned out, crying to him low and wildly, "Angelot, come
-back, come back! Why did you go? Ah, don't leave me! Help me to climb
-down, too,--please, please, darling!"
-
-Angelot was out of sight, though not out of hearing. Forty feet of thick
-ivy and knotted stems, shelter of generations of owls, stretched between
-the chapel window and the moat's green floor; ivy two centuries old, the
-happy hunting-ground of many a lad of Lancilly and La Marinière. But
-that night, perhaps, the hospitable old tree reached the most romantic
-point of its history.
-
-Hélène stretched down eager hands among the thick leaves.
-
-"Angelot! Angelot!"
-
-She heard nothing but the rustling down below, saw nothing but the thick
-leaves under the stars, though somebody had opened the chapel door, and
-though her treacherous candle, throwing a square of light upon the dark
-trees opposite, showed not only her own imploring shadow, but that of a
-tall figure stepping up behind her. In another moment her arm was seized
-in a grasp by no means gentle, and she turned round with a scream to
-face Madame de Sainfoy.
-
-Her cry might have stopped Angelot in his swift descent and brought him
-to the window again, but as he neared the ground he saw that some one
-was waiting for him, some one standing on the flat grass, under the
-light of such stars as shone down into the moat, gazing with fixed
-gravity at the window from which Hélène was leaning.
-
-Angelot's light spring to the ground brought him within a couple of
-yards of the motionless figure, and his white face flushed red when he
-saw that it was Hélène's father. The few moments during which he faced
-Comte Hervé silently were the worst his happy young life had ever known.
-The elder man did not speak till Hélène, with that last little cry, had
-disappeared from the window. Then he looked at Angelot.
-
-"I am sorry, Ange," he said, "for I owe a good deal to your father. But
-I will ask you to wait here while I fetch my pistols. It is best to
-settle such a matter on the spot--though you hardly deserve to be so
-well treated."
-
-"Monsieur--" Angelot almost choked.
-
-"Ah! Do not trouble yourself to hunt for excuses--there are none," said
-the Comte.
-
-He was moving off, but Angelot threw himself in his way.
-
-"Bring one pistol," he said. "One will be enough, for I cannot fight
-you--you know it. But you may kill me if it pleases you."
-
-Hervé shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"How long has this been going on? How many times have you met my
-daughter clandestinely? Does it seem to you the behaviour of a
-gentleman? On my soul, you deserve to be shot down like a dog, as you
-say!"
-
-"No, monsieur," Angelot said quickly, "I give you leave to do it, for I
-see now that life must be misery. But I have done no such harm as to
-deserve to be shot! No! I love and adore my cousin, and you must have
-known it--every one knows it, I should think. Can I sit quietly at home
-while her family gives her the choice between General Ratoneau and a
-convent? No, I confess it is more than I can bear."
-
-"And if her family had given her such a choice--which is false, by the
-bye--what could you do? Is it likely that they would change their minds
-and give her to you, as your uncle Joseph suggested? And would you
-expect to gain their favour by this sort of thing?" He pointed to the
-window. "No, young man; if you were not your father's son, my grooms
-might whip you out of Lancilly, and I should feel justified in giving
-the order."
-
-Angelot broke into a short laugh. "A pistol-shot is not an insult," he
-said. "But you are angry."
-
-"And you are Urbain's son," the Comte said.
-
-There was a world of reproach in the words, but little violent anger.
-The two men stood and looked at each other; and it was not the least
-strange part of the position that they were still, as they had been all
-along, mutually attracted. Both natures were open, sweet-tempered, and
-generous. A certain grace and charm about Hervé de Sainfoy drew Angelot,
-as it had drawn his father. The touch of romance in Angelot, his beauty,
-his bold, defiant air, took Hervé's fancy.
-
-"You climb like a monkey or a sailor," he said. "But you tried another
-exit, did you not? Was it you who was hammering at the door down there?"
-
-"Yes, monsieur."
-
-"Tell me all."
-
-The questions were severe, but Angelot answered them frankly and truly,
-as far as he could do so and take the whole blame upon himself.
-
-"It was I," he said; "I did the whole wrong, if it was wrong. Do not let
-madame her mother be angry with her. But for God's sake do not make her
-marry Ratoneau. She is timid, she is delicate--ah, monsieur--and we are
-cousins, after all--"
-
-There was a break in his voice, and the Comte almost smiled.
-
-"You are a pair of very absurd and troublesome children," he said, much
-more kindly. "But you are old enough to know better; it is ignorance of
-the world to think that lives can be arranged to suit private
-inclinations. I could not give you my daughter, even if I wished it; you
-ought to see, as your father would, that you are not in a position to
-expect such a wife. You are not even on my side in politics, though you
-very well might be. If you were in the army, with even the prospect of
-distinguishing yourself like General Ratoneau--and why not even now--"
-
-It was a tremendous temptation, but only for a moment. Angelot thought
-of his mother and of his uncle Joseph.
-
-"I cannot go into the army," he said quickly.
-
-"No--you are a Chouan at heart, I know," said Hervé.
-
-He added presently, as the young man stood silent and doubtful before
-him--"You will give me your word of honour, Angelot, that there is no
-more of this--that you do not attempt to see my daughter again."
-
-Angelot answered him, after a moment's pause, "I warn you that I shall
-break my word, if I hear more of Ratoneau."
-
-"The devil take Ratoneau!" replied his cousin. "You will give me your
-word, and I will give you mine. I will never consent to such a marriage
-as that for Hélène. Are you satisfied now?"
-
-"You give me life and hope," said Angelot.
-
-"Not at all. It is not for your sake, I assure you."
-
-Angelot's poor love went to bed that night in a passion of tears. The
-time came for her to know and confess that Angelot's father, when he
-barred the postern door, might have had more than one guardian angel
-behind him; but that time was not yet.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-HOW TWO SOLDIERS CAME HOME FROM SPAIN
-
-
-The family scandal was great. Angelot, if he had ever thought about such
-possibilities at all, would never have imagined that his relations could
-be so angry with him; and this without exception. Monsieur de Sainfoy,
-the most entirely justified, was by far the gentlest. Madame de
-Sainfoy's flame of furious wrath enveloped every one. She refused at
-first even to see Monsieur Urbain; she vowed that she would leave
-Lancilly at once, take Hélène back to Paris, let the odious old place
-fall back into the ruin from which she wished it had never been rescued,
-shake herself and her children free from the contact of these low,
-insolent cousins who presumed so far on their position, on the gratitude
-that might be supposed due to them. Urbain, however, having stuck to his
-point and obtained a private interview with her, in which he promised
-that his son should be sent away, or at least should annoy her no more,
-her tone became a little milder and she did not insist on breaking up
-the establishment. After all, Urbain pointed out, _Tout va bien!_ It was
-to be expected that an imperial order would very soon decide Hélène's
-future and check for ever young Angelot's ambition. Madame de Sainfoy
-perceived that it was worth while to wait.
-
-In the meantime, the philosopher's nature was stirred to its depths. If
-it had not been for his wife's strong opposition, he would have insisted
-on Angelot's accepting one of those commissions which Napoleon was
-always ready to give to young men of good family, sometimes indeed, when
-the family was known to be strongly Royalist, making them
-sub-lieutenants in spite of themselves and throwing them into prison if
-they refused to serve. Anne would not have it. She was as angry with
-Angelot as any one. That he should not only have been taken captive,
-soul and body, by Lancilly, but should have put himself so hopelessly in
-the wrong, filled her with rage and grief. But she would not have
-matters made worse by committing her boy to the Empire. She would
-rather, as Monsieur Joseph suggested, pack him off across the frontier
-to join the army of the Princes. But then, again, his father would never
-consent to that.
-
-"Why do they not send the girl away!" she cried. "Why not send her to a
-Paris convent till they find a husband for her! We do not want her here,
-with that pale face and those tragic eyes of hers, making havoc of our
-young men. I respect Hervé for refusing that horrible General, but why
-does he not take means to find some one else! They are beyond my
-understanding, Hervé and Adélaïde. I wish they had never come back,
-never brought that girl here to distract my Angelot. He was free and
-happy till they came. Ah, mon Dieu! how they make me suffer, these
-people!"
-
-"Do not blame them for Angelot's dishonourable weakness," said her
-husband, sternly. "If your son had possessed reason and self-control,
-which I have tried in vain all my life to teach him, none of all this
-need have happened. There is no excuse for him."
-
-"I am making none. I am very angry with him. I am not blaming your dear
-Sainfoys. I only say that if they had never come, or if Providence had
-given them an ugly daughter, this could not have happened. You will not
-try to deny that, I suppose!"
-
-He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
-
-"Your logic is faultless, my dear Anne. If you had not married me, there
-would have been no handsome boy to fall in love with a pretty girl. And
-if La Marinière had not been near Lancilly--"
-
-"Are you ever serious?" she said, and swept out of the room.
-
-His strong face was grave enough as he looked after her.
-
-But in Angelot's presence there was no such philosophical trifling. He
-was made to feel himself in deep disgrace with both his parents, and he
-was young enough to feel it very keenly. After the first tremendous
-scolding, they hardly spoke to him; he went in and out in a gloomy
-silence most strange to the sunny life of La Marinière. And at Les
-Chouettes it was no better.
-
-In truth, Angelot found his uncle Joseph's deep displeasure harder to
-bear than that of any one else. There was something clandestine about
-the affair which touched the little gentleman's sense of honour; his
-code of manners and good breeding was also offended. He knew life; his
-own younger days had been stormy; and even now, though respecting
-morality, he was not strict or narrow. But such adventures as this of
-Angelot's seemed to him on a lower plane of society than belonged to
-Lancilly or La Marinière. A secret meeting at night; climbing ivy like a
-thief; making use of his familiarity with the old house to do what,
-after all, was an injury as well as an offence to its owners,--all this
-was matter of deep disgust to Monsieur Joseph.
-
-"I thought Ange was a gentleman!" he said; and to Henriette, who with
-bitter tears confessed to him her part in the story, he would not even
-admire the daring spirit in which he and she had often rejoiced
-together.
-
-"Hélène's fault, you say, child? No, we will not make that excuse for
-him. If the poor girl was unhappy, there were other ways--"
-
-"But what could he have done, papa? Now you are very unkind. If she
-asked him to come, could he have said no? Is that the way for a
-gentleman to treat a lady?"
-
-Riette had posed him, and she knew it. But she did not reap any personal
-advantage.
-
-"As to that," he said, "the whole thing was your fault. I did not send
-you to Lancilly to carry messages, but to learn your lessons. What did
-it matter to you if your cousin Hélène was unhappy? In this world we
-must all be unhappy sometimes, as you will find. Go to bed at once.
-Consider yourself in disgrace. You will stay in your room for two days
-on bread and water, and you will not go to Lancilly again for a long
-time, perhaps never. I am sorry I ever sent you there, but in future
-Mademoiselle Hélène's affairs will be arranged without you."
-
-Riette went obediently away, shaking her head. As she went upstairs she
-heard her father calling to Marie Gigot, giving severe commands in a
-nervous voice, and she smiled faintly through her tears.
-
-"Nevertheless, little papa, we love our Ange, you and I!" she said.
-
-Angelot wandered about solitary with his gun and Négo, avoiding the
-Lancilly side of the country, and keeping to his father's and his
-uncle's land, where game abounded. For the present his good spirits were
-effectually crushed; and yet, even now, his native hopefulness rose and
-comforted him. It was true every one was angry; it was true he had given
-his word of honour not to attempt to see Hélène, and at any moment her
-future might be decided without him; but on the other hand, her father
-had promised that she should not marry Ratoneau; and he and she, they
-were both young, they loved each other; somehow, some day, the future
-could hardly fail to be theirs.
-
-In the meantime, Angelot was better off among his woods and moorlands
-than Hélène in her locked room, all the old labyrinths and secret ways
-discovered and stopped. The vintage was very near, for the last days of
-September had come. Again a young moon was rising over the country, for
-the moon which lighted Hélène to La Marinière on her first evening in
-Anjou had waned and gone. And the heather had faded, the woods and
-copses began to be tinted with bronze, to droop after the long, hot
-season, only broken by two or three thunderstorms. The evenings were
-drawing in, the mornings began to be chilly; autumn, even lovelier than
-summer in that climate which has the seasons of the poets, was giving a
-new freshness to the air and a new colour to the landscape.
-
-One day towards evening Angelot visited La Joubardière. He went to the
-farm a good deal at this time, for it was pleasant to see faces that did
-not frown upon him, but smiled a constant welcome, and there was always
-the excuse of talking to Joubard about the vintage. And again, this
-evening, the Maîtresse brought out a bottle of her best wine, and the
-two old people talked of their son at the war; and all the time they
-were very well aware that something was wrong with Monsieur Angelot,
-whom they had known and loved from his cradle. The good wife's eyes
-twinkled a little as she watched him, and if nothing had happened later
-to distract her thoughts, she would have told her husband that the boy
-was in love. Joubard put down the young master's strange looks to
-anxiety, not unfounded, about his uncle Joseph and the Chouan gentlemen.
-Since Simon's spying and questioning, Joubard had taken a more serious
-view of these matters.
-
-"Monsieur Angelot has been at Les Chouettes to-day?" he said. "No? Ah,
-perhaps it is as well. There were two gentlemen shooting with Monsieur
-Joseph--I think they were Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur César
-d'Ombré. A little dangerous, such company. Monsieur Joseph perhaps
-thinks a young man is better out of it."
-
-Angelot did not answer, and turned the conversation back to the vintage.
-
-"Yes, I believe it will be magnificent," said the farmer. "If Martin
-were only here to help me! But it is hard for me, alone, to do my duty
-by the vines. Hired labour is such a different thing. I believe in the
-old rhyme:--
-
- 'L'ombre du bon maître
- Fait la vigne croître!'
-
-Monsieur your father explained to me the meaning of it, that there must
-be no trees in or near the vineyard, no shadow but that of the master.
-He found that in a book, he said. Surely, I thought, a man must have
-plenty of time on his hands, to write a book to prove what every child
-knows. Now I take its meaning to be deeper than that. There is a shadow
-the vine needs and can't do without. You may talk as you please about
-sun and air and showers; 'tis the master's eye and hand and shadow that
-gives growth and health to the vines."
-
-"Don't forget the good God," said Maîtresse Joubard. "All the shadows of
-the best masters won't do much without Him."
-
-"Did I say so?" Her husband turned upon her. "It is His will, I suppose,
-that things are so. We must take His creation as we find it. All I say
-is, He gives me too much to do, when He sets me on a farm with five sons
-and leaves me there but takes them all away."
-
-"Hush, hush, master; Martin will come back," his wife said.
-
-Nearly a month ago she had said the same. Angelot, standing again in the
-low dark kitchen with her slender old glass in his hand, remembered the
-day vividly, for it had indeed been a marked day in his life. The
-breakfast at Les Chouettes, the hidden Chouans, General Ratoneau and his
-adventure in the lane, and then the wonderful moonlight evening, the
-coming of Hélène, the dreams which all that night waited upon her and
-had filled all the following days. Yes; it was on that glorious morning
-that Maîtresse Joubard, poor soul, had talked with so much faith and
-courage of her Martin's return. And Angelot, for his part, though he
-would not for worlds have said so, saw no hope of it at all. The last
-letter from Martin had come many months ago. The poor conscript, the
-young Angevin peasant, tall like his father, with his mother's quiet,
-dark face, was probably lying heaped and hidden among other dead
-conscripts at the foot of some Spanish fortress wall.
-
-Angelot set down his glass, took up his gun, looked vaguely out of the
-door into the misty evening, bright with the spiritual brilliance of the
-young moon.
-
-"If Martin comes back, anything is possible," he was thinking. "I should
-believe then that all would go well with me."
-
-From the white, ruinous archway that opened on the lane, a figure
-hobbled slowly forward across the gleams and shadows of the yard. The
-great dog chained there began to yelp and cry; it was not the voice with
-which he received a stranger; Négo growled at his master's feet.
-
-Angelot's gaze became fixed and intent. The figure looked like one of
-those wandering beggars, those _chemineaux_, who tramped the roads of
-France with a bag to collect bones and crusts of bread, the scraps of
-food which no good Christian refused them, who haunted the lonely farms
-at night and to whom a stray lamb or kid or chicken never came amiss.
-This figure was ragged like them; it stooped, and limped upon a wooden
-leg and a stick; an empty sleeve was pinned across its breast. And the
-rags were those of a soldier's uniform, and the dark, bent face was
-tanned by hotter suns than the sun of Anjou.
-
-Angelot turned to the old Joubards and tried to speak, but his voice
-shook and was choked, and the tears blinded his eyes.
-
-"My poor dear friends--" he was beginning, but Joubard started forward
-suddenly.
-
-"What steps are those in the yard? The dog speaks--ah!"
-
-The old man rushed through the doorway with arms stretched out, wildly
-sobbing, "Martin, Martin, my boy!"--and clasped the miserable figure in
-a long embrace.
-
-"Did I not say so, Monsieur Angelot?" the little mother cried; and the
-young man, with a sudden instinct of joy and reverence, caught her rough
-hand and kissed it as she went out of the door. "Tell madame she was
-right," she said.
-
-Angelot called Négo and walked silently away. As he went he heard their
-cries of welcome, their sobs of grief, and then he heard a hoarse voice
-ringing, echoed by the old walls all about, and it shouted--"Vive
-l'Empereur!"
-
-Angelot felt strangely exalted as he walked away. The heroism of the
-crippled soldier touched him keenly; this was the Empire in a different
-aspect from any that he yet knew; the opportunism of his father and of
-Monsieur de Mauves, the bare worldliness of the Sainfoys, the military
-brutality of Ratoneau. The voice of this poor soldier, wandering back, a
-helpless, destitute wreck, to end his days in his old home, sounded like
-the bugle-call of all that generous self-sacrifice, that pure enthusiasm
-for glory, which rose to follow Napoleon and made his career possible.
-Angelot felt as if he too could march in such an army. Then as he strode
-down the moor he heard Hervé de Sainfoy's voice again: "And why not even
-now?" and again he thought of those dearest ones now so angry with him,
-whose loyalty to old France and her kings was a part of their religion,
-and whom no present brilliancy of conquest and fame could dazzle or lead
-astray.
-
-Thinking of these things, Angelot came down from the moor into a narrow
-lane which skirted it, part of the labyrinth of crossing ways which led
-from the south to La Marinière and Lancilly. This lane was joined, some
-way above, by the road which led across the moor from Les Chouettes. It
-was not the usual road from the south to Lancilly, but turned out of
-that a mile or two south, to wander westward round one or two lonely
-farms like La Joubardière. It ran deep between banks of stones covered
-with heather and ling and a wild mass of broom and blackberry bushes,
-the great round heads of the pollard oaks rising at intervals, so that
-there were patches of dark shadow, and the road itself was a succession
-of formidable ruts and holes and enormous stones.
-
-In this thoroughfare two carriages had met, one going down-hill from the
-moorland road, the other, a heavy post-chaise and pair, climbing from
-the south. It was impossible for either conveyance to pass the other,
-and a noisy argument went on, first between the post-boy and the groom
-who drove the private carriage, a hooded, four-wheeled conveyance of the
-country, next between the travellers themselves.
-
-Angelot came down from the steep footpath by which he had crossed the
-moor, just as the occupant of the post-chaise, after shouting angrily
-from the window, had got out to see the state of things for himself. He
-was a stranger to Angelot; a tall and very handsome young man of his own
-age, with a travelling cloak thrown over his showy uniform.
-
-"What the devil is the matter? Why don't you drive on, you fool?" he
-said to the post-boy, who only gesticulated and pointed hopelessly to
-the obstacle in front of him.
-
-"Well, but drive through them, or over them, or something," cried the
-imperious young voice. "Are you going to stop here all night staring at
-them? What is it? Some kind of _diligence_? Look here, fellow--you,
-driver--get out of my way, can't you? Mille tonnerres, what a road! Get
-down and take your horse out, do you hear? Lead him up the bank, and
-then drag your machine out of the way. Any one with you? Here is a man;
-he can help you. Service of the Emperor; no delay."
-
-Apparently he took Angelot, in the dusk, for a country lad going home.
-Before there was time to show him his mistake, a dark, angry face bent
-forward from the hooded carriage, and Angelot recognised the Baron
-d'Ombré, who gave his orders in a tone quite as peremptory, and much
-haughtier.
-
-"Post-boy! Back your carriage down the hill. You see very well that
-there is no room to pass here. Pardon, monsieur!" with a slight salute
-to the officer.
-
-"Pardon!" he responded quickly. "Sorry to derange you, monsieur, but my
-chaise will not be backed. Service of His Majesty."
-
-"That is nothing to me, monsieur."
-
-"The devil! Who are you then?"
-
-"I will give you my card with pleasure."
-
-César d'Ombré descended hastily from the carriage, while Monsieur des
-Barres, who was with him, leaned forward rather anxiously.
-
-"Explain the rule of the road to this gentleman," he said. "He is
-evidently a stranger. I see he has two servants behind the carriage, who
-can help in backing the horses. Explain that it is no intentional
-discourtesy, but a simple necessity. The delay will be small."
-
-The tall young stranger bowed in the direction of the voice.
-
-"Merci, monsieur. Your rules of the road do not concern me. I give way
-to no one--certainly not to your companion, who appears to be disloyal.
-I had forgotten, for a moment, the character of this country. The dark
-ages still flourish here, I believe."
-
-The Baron d'Ombré presented his card with a low bow.
-
-"Merci, monsieur. Permit me to return the compliment. But it is almost
-too dark for you to see my name, which ought to be well known here. De
-Sainfoy, Captain 13th Chasseurs, at your service. Will you oblige me--"
-
-"It is not necessary at this moment, monsieur. You will not meet me at
-the Château de Lancilly."
-
-"But you may possibly meet me--Vicomte des Barres--for your father and I
-sometimes put our old acquaintance before politics--" cried the voice
-from the carriage. "You will be very welcome to your family. But this
-arranges matters, Monsieur le Capitaine, for you are on the wrong road."
-
-"Sapristi! The wrong road! Why, I picked up a wounded fellow and brought
-him a few miles. He got down to take a short cut home, and told me the
-next turn to the right would bring me to Lancilly. He was lying, then? A
-fellow called Joubard, not of my regiment."
-
-"What do you say?" said d'Ombré to Angelot, who had already greeted him,
-lingering in the background to see the end of the dispute.
-
-Georges de Sainfoy now first looked at the sportsman standing by the
-roadside, and Angelot looked at him. Monsieur des Barres, a little stiff
-from a long day's shooting--for he was not so lithe and active as his
-host, and not so young as the Baron--now got down from the carriage and
-joined the group.
-
-"Bonjour, Monsieur Ange," he said kindly. "You have been shooting, I
-see, but not with your uncle. Have you met before, you two?" He glanced
-at Georges de Sainfoy, who stared haughtily. Even in the dim dusk
-Angelot could see that he was wonderfully like his mother.
-
-"No, monsieur," he answered. "Not since twenty years ago, at least, and
-I think my cousin remembers that time as little as I do."
-
-He spoke carelessly and lightly. De Sainfoy's fine blue eyes considered
-him coldly, measured his height and breadth and found them wanting.
-
-"Ah! You are a La Marinière, I suppose?" he said.
-
-"Ange de la Marinière, at your service."
-
-Georges held out his hand. It was with an oddly unwilling sensation that
-Angelot gave his. Though the action might be friendly, there was
-something slighting, something impatient, in the stranger's manner; and
-the cousins already disliked each other, not yet knowing why.
-
-"Are my family well? Do they expect me?" said Georges de Sainfoy.
-
-"I believe they are very well. I do not know if they expect you,"
-Angelot answered.
-
-"Is it true that this is not the road to Lancilly?"
-
-D'Ombré growled something about military insolence, and Monsieur des
-Barres laughed.
-
-"Pardon, gentlemen," said De Sainfoy. "I am impatient, I know. A soldier
-on his way home does not expect to be stopped by etiquettes about
-passing on the road. My cousin knows the country; I appeal to him, as
-one of you did just now. Is this the way to Lancilly, or not?"
-
-Angelot laughed. "Yes--and no," he said.
-
-"What do you mean by that? Come, I am in no humour for joking."
-
-Angelot looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"It is _a_ road, but not _the_ road," he said. "No one in his senses
-would drive this way to Lancilly. This part of it is bad enough; further
-on, where it goes down into the valley, it is much worse; I doubt if a
-heavy carriage could pass. You turned to the right too soon. Martin
-Joubard forgot this lane, perhaps. He would hardly have directed you
-this way--unless--"
-
-"Unless what?"
-
-"Unless he wished to show you the nature of the country, in case you
-should think of invading it in force."
-
-The two Chouans laughed.
-
-"Well said, Angelot!" muttered César d'Ombré.
-
-Georges de Sainfoy, stiff and haughty, did not trouble himself about any
-jest or earnest concealed under his cousin's speech and the way the
-neighbours took it. He realised, perhaps, that in this wild west country
-the name of Napoleon was not altogether one to conjure with, that he had
-not left the enemies of the Empire behind him in Spain. But he realised,
-too, that this was hardly the place or the time to assert his own
-importance and his master's authority.
-
-"Do you mean that this road is utterly impassable?" he said to Angelot.
-"How then did these gentlemen--"
-
-"They did not come from Lancilly. They drove across the moor from my
-uncle's house, Les Chouettes, and turned into the lane a few hundred
-yards higher up. As to impassable--I think your wheels will come off, if
-you attempt it, and your horses' knees will suffer. Where the ruts are
-not two feet deep, the bare rock is almost perpendicular."
-
-"Still it is not impassable?"
-
-"Not in a case of necessity. But you will not attempt it."
-
-"And why not?"
-
-"Because on this hill Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur d'Ombré cannot
-back out of your way, and you can back out of theirs--and must."
-
-"'Must' to me!" Georges de Sainfoy said between his teeth.
-
-"Let us assure you, monsieur, that we regret the necessity--" Monsieur
-des Barres interfered in his politest manner.
-
-"Enough, monsieur."
-
-De Sainfoy gave his orders. His servants sprang down and helped the
-post-boy to back the horses to the foot of the hill. It was a long
-business, with a great deal of kicking, struggling, scrambling, and
-swearing. Monsieur des Barres' carriage followed slowly, he and Georges
-de Sainfoy walking down together. The Baron d'Ombré lingered to say a
-friendly good-night to Angelot, who was not disposed to wait on his
-cousin any further. That night there was born a kind of sympathy, new
-and strange, between the fierce young Chouan and the careless boy still
-halting between two opinions.
-
-"Old Joubard's son is come back, then?" César asked. "Will that attach
-the old man to the Empire? Your uncle can never tell us on which side he
-is likely to be."
-
-"Dame! I should think not!" said Angelot. "Poor Martin--I saw him just
-now. He has left a leg and an arm in Spain."
-
-"Poor fellow! That flourishing cousin of yours is better off. On my
-word, we are obliged to you, Monsieur des Barres and I. If you had not
-been there to bring him to his senses--Come, Angelot, this country is
-not a place for loyal men. Do you care to stay here and be bullied by
-upstart soldiers? Start off with me to join the Princes; there is
-nothing to be done here."
-
-"Ah!" Angelot laughed, though rather sadly. "Indeed, you tempt me--it is
-true, there is nothing here. But I have a father, and he has a vintage
-coming on. After that--I will consider."
-
-"Yes, consider--and say nothing. I see you are discontented; the first
-step in the right way. Good-night, my friend."
-
-If discontent had been despair, the army of the emigrants might have had
-a lively recruit in those days. But Martin Joubard had come back, so
-that anything seemed possible. Hope was not dead, and his native Anjou
-still held the heart of Angelot.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-HOW CAPTAIN GEORGES PAID A VISIT OF CEREMONY
-
-
-Georges de Sainfoy had always been his mother's image and idol. It was
-not wonderful then that he should take her side strongly in this matter
-of his sister's love affair and marriage.
-
-Hélène, for him, was a poor pretty fool just out of the schoolroom, who
-must learn her duty in life, and the sooner the better. Angelot was a
-country boy, his pretensions below contempt, who yet deserved sharp
-punishment for lifting his eyes so high, if not for the cool air of
-equality with which he had ordered back his superior cousin's carriage.
-General Ratoneau, in a soldier's eyes, was a distinguished man, a future
-Marshal of France. Nothing more was needed to make him a desirable
-brother-in-law. Georges was enthusiastic on that point.
-
-Two things there were, which his mother impressed upon him earnestly and
-with difficulty; one, that Ratoneau's probable triumph was a secret, and
-must seem as great a surprise to herself and to him as it really would
-be to Hélène and his father; the other, that for the sake of Urbain de
-la Marinière, the valuable friend, he must pick no fresh quarrel with
-Angelot, already deep in disgrace with all the family.
-
-"It is as well that you told me, or I should have been tempted to try a
-horse-whipping," said Captain Georges.
-
-Two days after his arrival he rode off to Sonnay-le-Loir. It was the
-right thing for an officer on leave to pay a visit of ceremony to the
-General in command of the division, as well as to the Prefect of the
-department, and this necessity came in very well at the moment.
-
-Madame de Sainfoy spoke confidently, but she was in reality not quite
-easy in her mind. She had seen and heard nothing of General Ratoneau
-since the day when Urbain put his short letter into her hand. Sometimes,
-impatient and anxious, worried by Hélène's pale face and the fear of
-some soft-hearted weakness on Hervé's part, she found it difficult to
-bear day after day of suspense and silence. Suppose the affair were
-going ill, and not well! Suppose that, after all, the Prefect had
-refused to gratify the General, and that no imperial command was coming
-to break down Hervé's resistance, strong enough in that quarter! Georges
-promised her, as he rode away, that the matter should be cleared up to
-her satisfaction.
-
-He found the town of Sonnay-le-Loir, and General Ratoneau himself, in a
-state of considerable agitation. The excellent Prefect was very ill. He
-was never a strong man physically, and the nervous irritation caused by
-such a colleague as Ratoneau might have been partly the cause of his
-present collapse. Sorely against his will he had listened to Ratoneau's
-fresh argument, and had consented to stop a whole string of political
-arrests by forwarding the marriage the General had set his heart upon.
-His own personal danger, if he had defied the General, would have been
-by no means small. Simon was right; Ratoneau could have represented his
-mild measures in such a light as to ruin him, along with those Angevin
-gentlemen whom he was trying by gentle means to reconcile with the
-Empire. At that precise moment he could not even punish the man he
-suspected of betraying him. Ratoneau had protected his tool so far as to
-leave him nameless; but in any case, from the imperial point of view, a
-man who denounced Chouans was doing his duty. As to the fact of sending
-up Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's name to the Emperor and suggesting for her
-the very husband whom her father had refused to accept--the chief sin,
-in the eyes of that day, was the unfriendly action towards her father.
-
-The whole system was odious; it appeared more or less so, according to
-the degree of refinement in the officials who had to work it; yet it
-came from the Emperor, and could not be entirely set aside; also every
-marriage, in one way or another, was an arranged thing; it must suit
-family politics, if not the interests of the Empire. Nothing strange
-from the outside--and all the world would look at it so--in the marriage
-of the Comte de Sainfoy's daughter with the local General of division.
-The lady's unwillingness was a mere detail, of which the laws of society
-would take no cognizance. The sentimental view which called such a
-marriage sacrilege was absurd, after all, and the Prefect knew it.
-Indeed, after the first, the thought of Hélène's face did not trouble
-him so much as that of the _coup de patte_ in store for her father, the
-stealthy blow to come from himself, the old, the trusted
-fellow-countryman.
-
-But the injury to Hervé de Sainfoy weighed lightly, after all, when
-balanced with the arrest and ruin of Joseph de la Marinière and possibly
-his young nephew, as well as of Monsieur des Barres, Monsieur de
-Bourmont, the Messieurs d'Ombré, and other men more or less suspected of
-conspiring against the Empire. Even if this, perhaps deserved, had been
-all! but the Prefect knew very well that an enemy such as Ratoneau would
-not be satisfied without his own degradation.
-
-He had yet one resource, delay. There was the chance that Hervé de
-Sainfoy might arrange some other marriage for his daughter; and the
-Prefect went so far as to consider the possibility of sending him a word
-of warning, but then thought it too dangerous, not quite trusting
-Hervé's discretion, and gave up the idea. From day to day he put off
-sending the necessary papers to Paris. From day to day, after the
-eventful interview, he managed to avoid any private conversation with
-Ratoneau. This was possible, as the General was occupied in reviewing
-the troops in the neighbourhood, and was absent from Sonnay for several
-days. Then a new ally stepped in on Hélène's side, and touched the
-Prefect gently, but effectively. When General Ratoneau returned to
-Sonnay, the very day before Georges de Sainfoy's visit, he was met by
-the news that a slight stroke of paralysis had deprived Monsieur de
-Mauves of his speech, and of the use of his right hand. Going at once to
-the Prefecture, roughly demanding an interview with the Prefect, he
-encountered a will stronger than his own in that of the Sonnay doctor,
-who absolutely refused to let any one into the sickroom.
-
-"But he must have written to Paris--he must--he promised me that he
-would," Ratoneau assured Georges de Sainfoy, who stood before him
-frowning doubtfully. "He dared not disappoint me. I have him under my
-thumb, I tell you--like that--" he crushed a fly on the table.
-
-"I see--but why all this delay?" said the young man.
-
-Ratoneau drummed with his fist and whistled. "Delay, yes--" he said. "I
-meant Monsieur le Préfet to give an account of himself yesterday--I
-suppose I am as impatient as you are--" he grinned. "After all,
-monsieur, this official business takes time. It is only a fortnight
-since I brought the good man to his marrow-bones. Ah, I wish you had
-seen him! the grimaces he made! When I went first he defied me, as bold
-as you please. Your father was his friend, he would do nothing to annoy
-your father. Then, when I went back with a little more information, he
-began to see all his beloved Chouans in prison, as well as himself. I
-had him then. He began to see, perhaps, that a man in my position was
-not such an impossible husband for a young girl of good family. Ha, ha!"
-
-"A fortnight seems to me quite long enough to write to Paris and get an
-answer," said Georges.
-
-He was a little sorry for himself. He wished he had seen Ratoneau for
-the first time on horseback, a smart, correct officer, reviewing his
-troops. Then it would have been easy enough to accept him as a
-brother-in-law. But this red-faced, slovenly creature in careless
-undress, made even more repulsive by his uncanny likeness to
-Napoleon--vulgar in manners, bragging in talk! De Sainfoy had met
-strange varieties of men among his brother officers, but never anything
-quite so forbidding as this. He did not give his sister a thought of
-pity; it was not in him; but he had a moment of sympathy with his
-father, of surprise at his mother. However, he was not the man to be
-conquered by prejudice. If the affair was disagreeable, all the more
-reason to push it through quickly, to reach any advantages it might
-bring. His smooth young brow had a new line across it; that was all.
-
-"You talk of the Prefect's 'beloved Chouans,' Monsieur le Général," he
-said. "It seems to me that in any case he is not fit for his position.
-It sounds like treason, what you say."
-
-"Ah! that is another question," said Ratoneau. "That need not concern us
-just now, you and me. He must do what we want, first of all; later on we
-shall see. Remember, Monsieur le Vicomte, any active measures against
-the Chouans would touch your family--your connections, at least. Very
-complicated, the state of society in this province. I wish for nothing
-better than to sweep out all these tiresome people, but it behoves me to
-move gently."
-
-Georges could not help smiling. "That must be against your principles
-and your inclinations, Monsieur le Général."
-
-"It is against my interests," Ratoneau said, drily enough.
-"Inclinations--well, yes. I should be sorry to annoy Monsieur Urbain de
-la Marinière, who is on my side in these affairs. He is a sensible man.
-His brother's right place is in a state prison. As to that son of
-his--well, he wants a sharp lesson, and one of these days he will have
-it. He is an impudent young scoundrel, that little La Marinière."
-
-Ratoneau lifted his dark eyes and looked straight at Georges, who
-flushed under his gaze.
-
-"But perhaps you think better of your cousin?" the General said.
-
-"No--I dislike him. He is a presumptuous fellow."
-
-"Presumptuous in what way?"
-
-Georges shrugged his shoulders. There were limits to the complaisance he
-found due to this future relation; the family secrets, the family
-confidences, though they might indirectly concern him, should at least
-be kept from him for the present. Georges knew all his sister's story,
-as far as her mother knew it. The story was safe, though out of no
-kindness to Hélène.
-
-"He thinks too much of himself," said Georges, and laughed rather
-awkwardly. "He orders his betters about as if he were the chief
-landowner of the country, instead of a farmer's son. This happened to me
-the other night, Monsieur le Général."
-
-He went on to describe his adventure in the steep lane, and how Angelot
-had ordered his men to back the horses. The General listened with some
-impatience.
-
-"Sapristi! he is a hero of the lanes, this Angelot. I have had my
-experience, too," but he did not describe it. "He will make himself
-plenty of enemies, that cousin of yours. However, let him swagger as he
-likes among horses and cows, till he finds himself between four walls
-with his friends the Chouans. I should like to be assured that his airs
-will carry him no further. To speak plainly, Monsieur le Vicomte, when I
-saw them together at Lancilly, I fancied that he and mademoiselle your
-sister--I see by your face that I was right!"
-
-The General started up with an oath. Georges faced him, cool and
-dignified.
-
-"My sister is safe in my mother's care, Monsieur le Général. Do not
-disturb yourself."
-
-"But do you know, monsieur, that the servants thought the same as I
-did?"
-
-"What can that signify to you or to me, monsieur?"
-
-Ratoneau flung himself back into his chair with an angry laugh. The
-proud disgust of the young captain's tone had a certain effect upon him;
-yet he was not altogether reassured.
-
-"Will you tell me on your honour," he growled, "that you know nothing of
-any love affair between that young cub and your sister? I swear, sir, I
-distrust you all. It is your mother's interest to marry her to me,
-but--"
-
-"The imperial order has not yet been sent down," said Georges, his blue
-eyes flashing like steel.
-
-He would have said more; he did not know what he might have said, for at
-that moment his sympathy with his father was growing by leaps and
-bounds, and his mother's plan began to seem incomprehensible. However,
-to do her justice, she had never seen General Ratoneau as he saw him.
-
-"What do you mean by that?" said Ratoneau, sharply, and Georges found
-himself already repenting.
-
-For the thing had to be carried through, and he knew it.
-
-Further argument was stopped, at that moment, by a gentle tap at the
-door.
-
-"Come in!" roared the General. "What the devil have you got there,
-Simon?"
-
-The police agent stepped lightly across the room. He laid a folded paper
-on the table, and drew out from between its pages an unsealed letter. He
-spread this out with the signature uppermost, "_De Mauves, Préfet du
-Loir._"
-
-Georges de Sainfoy, a silent looker-on, stood by the chimneypiece while
-General Ratoneau eagerly seized the papers. He first read the letter,
-which seemed to give him satisfaction, for he laughed aloud; then he
-snatched up the larger document, which looked like a government report
-of some kind. Simon, in his gendarme's dress, stood grinning in the
-background.
-
-"But--but in the name of thunder what does all this mean?" Ratoneau's
-looks had changed to sudden fury. "Are these copies or originals? Simon,
-you ass, do you mean to tell me--"
-
-Simon shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth.
-
-"Sorry, Monsieur le Général, but no fault of mine! I made sure they had
-gone to Paris by the last courier, if not before. The originals,
-undoubtedly."
-
-"You make sure in a queer sort of way," said Ratoneau. "You told me the
-Prefect's secretary was in your hands, that you had access to his
-bureaux at any time. You lied, then?"
-
-"No, Monsieur le Général," Simon answered, gently and readily. "Or how
-should I have got hold of the papers? We have nothing to do now but to
-get them dispatched at once to the Minister of Police, who will pass
-them on to Monsieur le Duc de Frioul."
-
-"Go downstairs, and wait till I send for you."
-
-Simon went, not without a side-glance at the silent young officer,
-standing tall, fair, and stiff as if on parade, no feeling of any sort
-showing itself through the correctness of his bearing.
-
-"Is that her brother? Curious!" the spy muttered as he slipped away.
-
-General Ratoneau ran his eye once more over the paper in his hand, then
-looked at Georges and held it out to him.
-
-"The delay is vexatious," he said, "and my friend the Prefect shall pay
-for it, one of these days. But at any rate, the thing is now in our own
-hands, and there can be no cheating. Report and letter are what they
-should be--I might have guessed that the old villain would put off
-sending them--hoping for some loophole, I suppose. However, you can tell
-Madame la Comtesse that you have seen the documents, and that they
-start for Paris to-night."
-
-Georges de Sainfoy read the document, truly a strange one, and it was a
-strange sort of man who had the effrontery to put it into his hand. Like
-a flash of blinding light, it showed the revolutionary, the tyrannical
-side of the Empire which had fascinated him on its side of military
-glory.
-
-This paper gave a full description, as officially demanded, of
-Mademoiselle Hélène de Sainfoy, aged nineteen. It mentioned her personal
-attractions, her _éducation distinguée_, her probable dowry, the names
-and position of her parents, the extent and situation of her
-property--in short, every particular likely to be useful in arranging a
-marriage for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. It was all highly complimentary,
-and it was supposed to be a confidential communication from the Prefect
-to Savary, Duc de Rovigo, the Minister of Police. But it was not
-pleasant reading for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's brother, however
-devotedly imperialist he might be.
-
-He stepped forward and laid it on the table without a remark. Ratoneau,
-watching him keenly, smiled, and held out the letter.
-
-"A private letter from Monsieur le Préfet? I do not read it," said
-Georges, shortly.
-
-"As you please, my friend," said Ratoneau. "I only show you these things
-for the satisfaction of Madame la Comtesse. Monsieur Urbain de la
-Marinière may be interested, too. The letter mentions my distinguished
-claims on His Majesty, and suggests me as a husband for mademoiselle.
-That is all. I think it will be effectual. But now, monsieur, you have
-not answered my little question about your cousin Angelot. He is in love
-with your sister, n'est-ce pas?"
-
-"As you put it so, monsieur, I think it is not unlikely," said Georges.
-"But what does that signify? Every one knows it is an impossibility,
-even himself, ambitious fool as he may be."
-
-"And the young lady?" said Ratoneau, his face darkening.
-
-"My mother answers for her," Georges answered coldly, and bowed himself
-out.
-
-He had information enough to carry back to his mother.
-
-He was not too comfortable in his mind, having ideas of honour, at the
-unscrupulous doings by which Hélène's future husband was protecting his
-own interests and bringing his marriage about. He rather wished, though
-he worshipped power, that this powerful General had been a different
-sort of man.
-
-"Still he may make her a good husband," he thought. "He is jealous
-already."
-
-He rode across the square, gay and stately in his Chasseur uniform, and
-dismounted at the Prefecture to leave his card and to enquire for
-Monsieur de Mauves.
-
-Ratoneau watched him from the window with a dissatisfied frown, then
-rang sharply for Simon.
-
-"That young fellow would turn against me on small provocation," he said.
-"Now--as to the seal for these papers--you can procure that, I suppose?"
-
-"Leave that to me, monsieur."
-
-"Another thing: this means further delay, and I am not sure that you
-were entirely wrong about young La Marinière. Listen. He would be better
-out of the way until this affair is settled. He has been met in company
-with known Chouans. A word to the wise, Simon. Devise something, or go
-to the devil, for I've done with you."
-
-"But there is nothing easier, monsieur! Nothing in the world!" Simon
-cried joyfully.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-THE TREADING OF THE GRAPES
-
-
-The weather for the vintage was splendid. A slight frost in the morning
-curled and yellowed the vine-leaves, giving, as it does in these
-provinces, the last touch of ripeness to the grapes, so that they begin
-to burst their thin skins and to drop from the bunches. This is the
-perfect moment. Crickets sing; the land is alive with springing
-grasshoppers; harmless snakes rustle through the grass and bask in the
-warm sand. The sun shines through an air so light, so crystal clear,
-that men and beasts hardly know fatigue, though they work under his
-beams all day long. The evening closes early with hovering mists in the
-low places, the sudden chill of a country still wild and
-half-cultivated. This was the moment, in an older France, chosen for the
-Seigneur's vintage; the peasants had to deal with their own little
-vineyards either earlier or later, and thus their wine was never so good
-as his.
-
-The laws of the vintage were old; they were handed down through
-centuries, from the days of the Romans, but the Revolution swept them
-and their obligations away. Napoleon's code knew nothing of them. Yet
-private individuals, when they were clever men like Urbain de la
-Marinière, were sure by hook or by crook to arrange the vintage at the
-time that suited their private arrangements. The ancient connection,
-once of lord and vassal, now of landlord and tenant, between La
-Marinière and La Joubardière, had been hardly at all disturbed by the
-Revolution. Joubard was not the man to turn against the old friends of
-his family. Besides, he believed in the waning moon. So when Monsieur
-Urbain hit on the precise moment for his own vintage, and summoned him
-and his people, as well as Monsieur Joseph's people, to help at La
-Marinière and to let their own vineyards wait a week or two, he made no
-grievance of it.
-
-"The weather will last," he said, when Martin grumbled, "and the moon
-will be better. Besides, those slopes are always forwarder than ours.
-And we shall lose nothing by helping the master. But if we did, I would
-rather spoil my own wine than disappoint Monsieur Angelot."
-
-"You and the mother are in love with his pretty face," growled the
-soldier. "Why doesn't he go to the war, and fight for his country, and
-come home a fine man like his cousin? Ah, you think there are different
-ways of coming home, do you? Well, if you ask me, I am prouder of my
-lost limbs than the young captain is of his rank and his uniform."
-
-"And Monsieur Angelot honours you, poor Martin, more than he does his
-smart cousin," said Joubard. "Allons! Our vintage will not suffer, now
-that you are at home to see to it. And they will not take you away
-again, my son!"
-
-So, in those first days of October, the vintage was in full swing at La
-Marinière. All the peasants came to help, men and women, old and young.
-Dark, grave faces that matched oddly with a babel of voices and gay
-laughter; broad straw hats as sunburnt as their owners, white caps, blue
-shoulders, bobbing among the long rows of bronzed vines loaded with
-fruit. The vintagers cut off the bunches with sharp knives and dropped
-them into wooden pails; these were emptied into great _hottes_ on men's
-backs, and carried to the carts, full of barrels, waiting in the lane.
-Slowly the patient white horses tramped down to the yard of La
-Marinière. There, in its own whitewashed building with the wide-arched
-door, the stone wine-press was ready; the grapes were thrown in in
-heaps, the barefooted men, splashed red to their waists, trod and
-crushed with a swishing sound; the red juice ran down in a stream,
-foaming into the vault beneath, into the vats where it was to ferment
-and become wine.
-
-Angelot worked in the vineyard like anybody else, sometimes cutting
-grapes, sometimes leading the carts up and down, and feeding the horses
-with bunches of grapes, which they munched contentedly. So did the dogs
-who waited on the vintagers, not daring to venture in among the vines,
-but sitting outside with eager eyes and wagging tails till their portion
-of fruit was thrown to them. And the workers themselves, and the little
-bullet-headed boys and white-capped girls who played about the vineyard,
-all ate grapes to their satisfaction; for the crop was splendid, and
-there was no need to stint anybody.
-
-A festal spirit reigned over all. Though most of these people were good
-Christians, ready to thank God for His gifts without any intention of
-misusing them, there was something of the old pagan feeling about.
-Purely a country feeling, a natural religion much older than
-Christianity, as Urbain remarked to the old Curé, who agreed with Madame
-Urbain in not quite caring for this way of looking at it. But he was
-accustomed to such views from Urbain, who never, for instance, let the
-Rogation processions pass singing through the fields without pointing
-out their descent from something ancient, pagan, devilish.
-
-"But if you have cast out the devil, dear Curé, what does it matter?"
-said Urbain. "The beauty alone is left. And all true beauty is good by
-nature; and what is not beautiful is not good. You want nothing more, it
-seems to me."
-
-"Ah, your philosophies!" sighed the old man.
-
-However, in different ways, the vintage attracted everybody. Monsieur
-Joseph and Henriette were there, very busy among the vines; these people
-would help them another day. A party strolled across from Lancilly;
-Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoy, idly admiring the pretty scene; Captain
-Georges, casting superior glances, Sophie and Lucie hanging on their
-splendid brother's looks and words. They were allowed to walk with him,
-and were very happy, Mademoiselle Moineau having been left behind in
-charge of Hélène. The La Marinière vineyards were not considered safe
-ground for that young culprit. She had to be contented with a distant
-view, and could see from her window the white horses crawling up and
-down the steep hill.
-
-Some patronising notice was bestowed by the people from the château on
-Martin Joubard, who moved slowly about among the old neighbours, a hero
-to them all, whatever their political opinions might be. For, after all,
-he went to the wars against his will; and when there he had done his
-duty; and his enthusiasm for the Emperor was a new spirit in that
-country, which roused curiosity, if nothing more. No one could fail to
-rejoice with old Joubard and his wife. Whatever they themselves thought,
-and hardly dared to say, was said for them by their neighbours. Few
-indeed had come back, of the conscript lads of Anjou. How much better,
-people said, to have Martin maimed than not at all. What was a wooden
-leg? a very useful appendage, on which Martin might limp actively about
-the farms; and the loss of an arm did not matter so much, for, by his
-father's account, he could do everything but hold and fire a gun with
-the one left to him. His mother had dressed him in clean country
-clothes, laying aside his tattered old uniform in a chest, for he would
-not have it destroyed. All the girls in the two villages were running
-after Martin, who had always been popular; all the men wanted to hear
-his tales of the war. He was certainly the hero of Monsieur Urbain's
-vintage, the centre figure of that sunny day.
-
-Angelot felt himself drawn to the soldier, whose return home had touched
-him with so strange a thrill. There was a spark of the heroic in this
-young fellow. Angelot found himself watching him, listening to him,
-perhaps as a kind of refuge from the cold looks of his relations; for
-even Riette dared not run after him as of old.
-
-When purple shadows began to lie long in the yellow evening glow, and
-the crickets sang louder than ever, and sweet scents came out of the
-warm ground--when the day's work was nearly done, Angelot walked away
-with Martin from the vineyard. He wanted some of those stirring stories
-to himself, it seemed. If one must go away and fight, if the old Angevin
-life became once for all impossible, then might it not be better under
-the eagles, as his wise father thought, than with that army and on that
-side for which, in spite of his mother and his uncle, he could not rouse
-in himself any enthusiasm? True, he liked little he knew of the Empire
-and its men, except this poor lamed conscript; but always in his
-whirling thoughts there was that will-o'-the-wisp, that wavering star
-of hope that Hélène's father had seemed to offer him. Could he forsake,
-for any other reason, the sight of the forbidden walls that held her!
-
-He and Martin went away up the lane together, and climbed along the side
-of the moor towards La Joubardière, Martin telling wild stories of
-battles and sieges, of long marching and privation, Angelot listening
-fascinated, as he helped the crippled soldier over the rough ground.
-
-Martin had been wounded under Suchet at the siege of Tortosa, so that he
-had seen little of the more recent events of the war, but his personal
-adventures, before and since, had been exciting; and not the least
-wonderful part of the story was his wandering life, a wounded beggar on
-his way back across the Pyrenees into his own country. As Angelot
-listened, the politics of French parties faded away, and he only
-realised that this was a Frenchman, fighting the enemies of France and
-giving his young life for her without a word of regret. Napoleon might
-have conquered the world, it seemed, with such conscript soldiers as
-this. These, not men like Ratoneau or Georges de Sainfoy, were the
-heroes of the war.
-
-The sun had set, and swift darkness was coming down, before the young
-men reached La Joubardière. The lane, the same in which the two
-carriages had met, ran in a hollow between high banks studded with oaks
-like gigantic toadstools, adding to the deepness of the shadow.
-
-"There are people following us," said Angelot.
-
-He interrupted Martin in the midst of one of his stories; the soldier
-was standing still, leaning on his stick, and laughed with a touch of
-annoyance, for he was growing vain of his skill as a story-teller.
-
-"My father and mother," he said. "And here I am forgetting their soup,
-which I promised to have ready."
-
-"It is not--I know Maître Joubard's step," said Angelot.
-
-"Some of the vintagers--" Martin was beginning, when he and Angelot were
-surrounded suddenly in the dusk by several men, two of whom seized
-Angelot by the shoulders.
-
-"I arrest you, in the Emperor's name," said a third man.
-
-Angelot struggled to free himself, and Martin lifted his stick
-threateningly.
-
-"What is this, rascals? Do you know what you are saying? This is the son
-of Monsieur de la Marinière."
-
-"It is some mistake. You have no business to arrest me. You will answer
-for this, police! You will answer it to Monsieur le Préfet. He is ill,
-and cannot have given the order. Show me your authority."
-
-"Never mind our authority," said the chief. "We don't want Monsieur de
-la Marinière, but we do want his son. Are you coming quietly, young
-gentleman, or must we put on handcuffs? Get out of the way with your
-stick, you one-legged fellow, or I shall have to punish you."
-
-"Keep back, Martin; you can do nothing. Go and tell my father," said
-Angelot. He shook off the men's hands, and stood still and upright in
-the midst of them.
-
-"Why do you arrest me?" he said. "Where are you going to take me?"
-
-"Ah, that you will see," said the police officer.
-
-The snarling malice in his voice seemed suddenly familiar to Angelot.
-
-"Why, I know you--you are--"
-
-"Never mind who I am. It is my business to keep down Chouans."
-
-"But I am not a Chouan!"
-
-"A man is known by his company. Now then--quick march--away!"
-
-"Adieu, Martin! This is all nonsense--I shall soon come back," Angelot
-cried, as they hustled him on.
-
-A few moments, and the very tramp of their feet was lost in the dusk,
-for they had dragged their prisoner out of the lane and were crossing
-the open moor. Martin, in much tribulation, made the best of his way
-back to meet his father and mother, and with them carried the news to La
-Marinière.
-
-Half an hour later, Monsieur Urbain, whistling gaily, came back from a
-pleasant stroll home with his Sainfoy cousins. Everything seemed
-satisfactory; Adélaïde had been kind, the vintage was splendid. If only
-Angelot were a sensible boy, there would be nothing left to wish for.
-
-The moon was up, flooding the old yards that were now empty and still.
-As he came near, he saw Anne waiting for him in the porch, and supposed
-that the moonlight made her so strangely pale.
-
-"My dearest," he said, as he came up, "there is to be a ball this month
-at Lancilly, in honour of Georges. But I do not know whether that
-foolish son of yours will be invited."
-
-Anne looked him in the face; no, it was not the moonlight that made her
-so pale.
-
-"They have arrested Ange as a Chouan," she said.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-HOW ANGELOT CLIMBED A TREE
-
-
-The police had caught Angelot; but they did not keep him long.
-
-They had to do with a young man who knew every yard of that wild country
-far better than they did, and was almost as much a part of it as the
-birds and beasts that haunted it.
-
-"Where are you taking me?" he said, as they walked across the high
-expanse of the _landes_, dimly lighted by the last glimmer of day. "This
-is a very roundabout way to Sonnay-le-Loir."
-
-"It is not the way at all," said the officer who took the lead, "and we
-know that as well as you."
-
-"But I demand to be taken to Sonnay," Angelot said, and stopped. "The
-warrant for my arrest, if you have such a thing, must be from the
-Prefect. Take me to him, and I will soon convince him that there is some
-mistake."
-
-"Monsieur le Préfet is ill, as you know. Walk on, if you please."
-
-"Then take me to the sous-Préfet, or whoever is in his place."
-
-"You are going to a higher authority, monsieur, not a lower one."
-
-"What do you mean by that?"
-
-"You are going to Paris. Monsieur le Comte Réal, the head of our branch
-of the police, will decide what is to be done with you."
-
-"Mon Dieu! The old Jacobin! He nearly had my uncle in his fangs once,"
-said Angelot, half to himself. "But what do they accuse me of?
-Chouannerie? But I am not a Chouan, and you know enough of our affairs
-to know that, Monsieur Simon!"
-
-The Chouan-catcher laughed sourly.
-
-"I believe this is some private devilry," the prisoner went on, with
-careless daring. "The Prefect has nothing to do with it. It is spite
-against my uncle--but you are a little afraid of touching him. Don't
-imagine, though, that you will annoy him particularly by carrying me
-off. We are not on good terms just now, my uncle and I. In truth, I have
-offended all my relations, and nobody will be sorry to have me away for
-a time."
-
-"Tant mieux, monsieur!" said Simon. "Then you won't object to giving the
-Minister of Police a little information about your uncle and the other
-Chouan gentlemen, his friends."
-
-"Ah! that is quite another story! That is the idea, is it? Monsieur le
-Duc de Rovigo, and Monsieur le Comte Réal, flatter themselves that they
-have got hold of a traitor?"
-
-"Pardon, monsieur! It is the Chouans who are traitors."
-
-"I think I could find a few others in our poor France this very night.
-But I am not one of them. Again, whose authority have you for arresting
-me? Is it Monsieur Réal who has stretched his long arm so far?"
-
-"The authority is sufficient, and you are my prisoner," Simon answered
-coolly.
-
-"I suspect you have no authority but your own!"
-
-"They will enlighten you in Paris, possibly."
-
-"Come, tell me, how much are they paying you for this little trick?"
-
-One of the other men laughed suddenly, and Simon became angry.
-
-"Hold your tongue, prisoner, or I shall have you gagged. You need not
-speak again till the authorities in Paris take means to make you. Yes, I
-assure you, they can persuade rather strongly when they like. Now, quick
-march--we have a post-chaise waiting in the road over there."
-
-Angelot saw that his wisest course was to say no more. He was unarmed;
-they had taken away the knife he had used for cutting grapes; his
-faithful fowling-piece was hanging in the hall at La Marinière. He was
-guarded by five men, all armed, all taller and bigger than himself. He
-walked along in silence, apparently resigned to his fate, but thinking
-hard all the while.
-
-His thoughts, busy and curious as they were, did not hit on the right
-origin of his very disagreeable adventure. Knowing a good deal of Simon
-by repute, and a little by experience, and having heard legends of such
-police exploits in the West within the last ten years, though not since
-Monsieur de Mauves took office, he felt almost sure that the spy was
-taking advantage of the Prefect's illness to gain a little money and
-credit on his own account. And of course his own arrest, a young and
-unimportant man, was more easily managed and less likely to have
-consequences than that of his uncle, for instance, or Monsieur des
-Barres. He did not believe that the Paris authorities knew anything of
-it, yet; but he did believe that Simon knew what he was doing; that
-Réal, the well-known head of the police in the western _arrondissement_,
-trained under Fouché in suspicion, cunning and mercilessness, would make
-unscrupulous use of any means of knowing the present state of Royalist
-opinion in Anjou. He would be all the more severe, probably, because the
-mildness of the Prefect of the Loir had more than once irritated him. So
-Angelot thought he saw that Simon might easily drag his chosen victim
-into a dangerous place, from which it would be hard to escape with
-honour.
-
-They reached the north-east edge of the moor just as the moon was
-rising. At first the low light made all things strangely confused,
-marching armies of shadows over the wild ground. Every bush might hide
-a man, and the ranks of low oaks stood like giants guarding the hollow
-black paths that wound between them. Les Chouettes, the only habitation
-near, lay a mile away below the vineyards. The high-road to Paris might
-be reached by one of the narrow roads that crossed the heath not far
-away.
-
-When they came to the edge of the open ground, near a grove of oaks
-plunged in bracken, with a few crumbling walls beyond it where a farm
-had once stood, Simon halted his party and whistled. He seemed to expect
-a reply, but got none. After waiting a few minutes, whistling again,
-exclaiming impatiently, he beckoned one of the other men and they walked
-away together towards the road.
-
-"Something wrong with the chaise?" said Angelot to the three who were
-left. "What will you do if it is not there? You will have to carry me to
-Paris, for I promise you I don't mean to walk."
-
-"Monsieur will not be very heavy," one of the men answered,
-good-humouredly; the same who had laughed before.
-
-"Lift me then, and see!" said Angelot. "All right, my good fellow, I'll
-ride on your shoulders. Voyons! you can carry me down the road."
-
-They were standing in a patch of moonlight, just outside the shadow of
-the oaks. The two other men stepped back for an instant, while their
-comrade stooped, laughing, to lift Angelot. He was met by a
-lightning-like blow worthy of an English training, and tumbled over
-into the bracken. One of the two others fell flat in the opposite
-direction, and the prisoner vanished into the shadows of the grove. The
-third man dashed after him, but came into violent contact, in the
-darkness, with the trunk of a tree, and fell down stunned at the foot of
-it.
-
-By this time the chaise had slowly climbed the hill from a village in
-the further valley, where the post-boy had been refreshing himself and
-his horses. Simon stopped to scold him, then left his companion to keep
-guard over him, and himself mounted again the precipitous bit of stony
-lane which had once been the approach to the farm, and now opened on the
-wild moor. He whistled shrilly as he came, and then called in a subdued
-voice: "All right, men! Bring him down."
-
-There was no answer. He quickened his pace, and coming up under the oaks
-found the two fellows sitting on the ground rubbing their heads, staring
-vacantly round with eyes before which all the moonshiny world was
-swimming.
-
-Simon swore at them furiously. "What has happened, you fools? Where's
-Alexandre? Where is the prisoner? name of all that's--"
-
-"Devil knows, I don't," said the fellow who had paid dear for his
-good-humour. "That little gentleman is cleverer than you or me, Master
-Simon, and stronger too. He knocked us down like ninepins. Where is he?
-Nearly back at La Marinière, I should think, and with Alexandre chasing
-after him!"
-
-"Not so far off as that, I suspect," said Simon. "Up with you. He is
-hidden in this cover, and you have got to beat it till you find him. How
-did you come to let him escape, pair of idiots? You are not fit for your
-work."
-
-He went back a few yards, while the men scrambled to their feet, and
-whistled sharply for the one he had left in charge of the post-boy. Then
-he lighted a lantern, and they pushed at various points into the wood.
-The first discovery was that of Alexandre, lying senseless; they dragged
-him into the road and left him there to come to himself. Then they
-unearthed a wild boar, which rushed out furiously from the depths of the
-bracken and charged at the light, then bolted off across the moor.
-Smaller animals fled from them in all directions; large birds rustled
-and cried, disturbed in the thick foliage of the oaks, impenetrable
-masses of shade.
-
-"If we were to shoot into the trees? He may be hidden in one of them."
-
-The suggestion came from Angelot's friend, whose frivolity had given him
-his chance, and whose anxiety to put himself on the right side by
-catching him again, dead or alive, very nearly brought his young life to
-a speedy end. For foolish François was wise this time, so wise, had he
-only known it, that Angelot was sitting in the very tree he touched
-with his hand as he spoke, a couple of yards above his head.
-
-The boy had courage enough and to spare; but his heart seemed to stop at
-that moment, and he felt himself turning white in the darkness. The men
-could hardly shoot into the trees without hitting him, though he had
-slipped down as far as he could into the hollow trunk. He would be
-horribly wounded, if not killed. It was a hard fate, to be shot as a
-poacher might shoot a pheasant roosting on a bough. An unsportsmanlike
-sort of death, Uncle Joseph would say. He held his breath. Should he
-await it, or give himself back to the police by jumping down amongst
-them?
-
-The moment of danger passed. Angelot smiled as the men moved on, and hid
-himself a little more completely.
-
-"No," Simon said. "No shooting till you are obliged. His uncle lives
-only a mile off, and he will come out if he hears a gun."
-
-"So he would, the blessed little man!" muttered Angelot.
-
-The men went on searching the wood, but with such stealthy movements, so
-little noise, even so little perseverance, as it seemed to him, that he
-was confirmed in his idea of Simon's sole responsibility. These men were
-police, supposed to be all-powerful; but somehow they did not act or
-talk as if Savary and the Emperor, or even Réal, were behind them.
-
-Angelot watched the light as it glimmered here and there, and listened
-to the rustling in the bracken. Presently, when they were far off on the
-other side of the little grove, he climbed out of the trunk and slipped
-down from his tree. Simon might change his mind about shooting; in any
-case it seemed safer to change one's position. Being close to the edge
-of the _landes_, Angelot's first thought was to take to his heels and
-run; then again that seemed risky, and a shot in the back was
-undesirable. He dived in among the bracken, which was taller than
-himself, and grew thick on the ground like a small forest. Half
-crawling, half walking, stopping dead still to watch the wandering
-gleams of light and to hear the steps and voices of the men, then
-pushing gently on again, Angelot reached a hiding-place on the other
-side of the grove. Here the bracken, taller and thicker than ever, grew
-against and partly over the ruined walls of the old farm. In the very
-middle of it, where the wall made a sudden turn, there was a hollow,
-half sheltered by stones, and a black yawning hole below, the old well
-of the homestead. All the top of it was in ruins; a fox had made its
-hole halfway down; there was still water at the bottom of the well.
-Here, plunged in the darkness, Angelot sat on the edge of the well and
-waited. There were odd little sounds about him, the squeaking of young
-animals, the sleepy chirp of easily disturbed birds; a frog dived with a
-splash into the well, and then in a few unearthly croaks told his story
-to his mates down there. The bracken smelt warm and dry; it was not a
-bad place to spend a summer night in, for any one who knew wild nature
-and loved it.
-
-All was so still that Angelot, after listening intently for a time,
-leaned his head against the white stones, fell asleep, and dreamed of
-Hélène. If he had carried her off that night, mad fellow as he was, some
-such shelter might have been all he had to offer her.
-
-He woke with a start, and saw by the light that he must have been asleep
-at least two hours, for the moon was high in the sky. He got up
-cautiously, and crept through the bracken to the edge of the grove
-towards Les Chouettes.
-
-It was fortunate that he took the precaution to move noiselessly, as if
-he were stalking game, for he had hardly reached the edge of the wood
-when he saw Simon standing in the moonlight. Evidently he had been
-sitting or lying on the bank and had just risen to his feet, for one of
-his comrades lay there still.
-
-"He is hidden here. He must be here," said Simon, in a low, decided
-voice. "I will not go away without him. Hungry and thirsty--yes, I dare
-say you are. You deserve it, for letting him escape."
-
-"I tell you, he is not here," said the other man. "We have been all
-round this bit of country; all through it. And look at the moonlight. A
-mouse couldn't get away without our seeing it. What's that? a rabbit?"
-
-"I shall walk round again," said Simon. "Those other fellows may be
-asleep, if they are as drowsy and discontented as you. Look sharp now,
-while I am away."
-
-Simon tramped down the lane. The other police officer stretched himself
-and stared after him.
-
-"I'll eat my cap," he muttered, "if the young gentleman's in the wood
-still. He deserves to be caught, if he is."
-
-At that moment Angelot was standing under an oak two yards away. In the
-broad, deep shadow he was invisible. A longing seized him to knock the
-man's cap off his head and tell him to keep his word and eat it. But
-Simon was too near, and it was madness to risk the chase that must
-follow. Angelot laughed to himself as he slipped from that shadow to the
-next, the officer yawning desperately the while.
-
-There was something unearthly about Les Chouettes in the moonlight. It
-seemed to float like a fairy dwelling, with its slim tower and high
-windows, on a snowy ocean of sand. The woods, dark guarding phalanxes of
-tall oaks and firs, seemed marshalled on the slopes for its defence.
-Angelot came down upon it by the old steep lane, having slipped across
-from the ruined farm to a vineyard, along by a tall hedge into another
-wood of low scrub and bracken, then into the road a hundred yards above
-the house. Before he reached it he heard the horses kicking in the
-stable, then a low bark from the nearest dog which he answered by softly
-whistling a familiar tune.
-
-In consequence of this all the dogs about the place came running to meet
-him, softly patting over the sand, and it was on this group, standing
-under her window in the midnight stillness, that Riette looked out a few
-minutes later.
-
-Something woke her, she did not know what, but this little watcher's
-sleep was always of the lightest, and she had not long fallen asleep,
-her eyelashes still wet with tears for Angelot. The window creaked as
-she opened it, leaning out into the moonlight.
-
-"Is it you, my Ange? But they said--"
-
-"I have escaped," said Angelot. "Quick, let me in! They may be following
-me."
-
-"But go round to papa's window, dearest! And what business have the dogs
-there? Ah--do you hear, you wicked things? Go back to your places."
-
-The dogs looked up, dropped their ears and tails, slunk away each to his
-corner. Only the dog who guarded Riette's end of the house remained; he
-stretched himself on the sand, slapped it with his tail, lolled out his
-tongue as if laughing.
-
-"Don't you think my uncle will shoot me before he looks at me, if I
-attack his window?" said Angelot. "And in any case, I dare hardly ask
-him to take me in. He has not forgiven me. But you could hide me,
-Riette! or at least you could give me something to eat before I take to
-the woods again."
-
-"My boy!" the odd little figure in the flannel gown leaned farther out,
-and the dark cropped head was turned one way and the other, listening.
-"Go round into the north wood and wait as near papa's window as you can.
-I will go down to him. I think he cannot be asleep; he must be thinking
-of you."
-
-"Merci!" said Angelot, and walked away.
-
-But he did not go into the wood. He stole round very gently to where, in
-spite of the moon, he saw a light shining in Monsieur Joseph's
-uncurtained window. The guardian dog rubbed himself against his legs as
-he stood there.
-
-Monsieur Joseph's room was panelled and furnished with the plainest
-wood. His bed was in the alcove at the back; the only ornament was the
-portrait of his wife, a dark, Italian-looking woman, which hung
-surrounded by guns, pistols, and swords, over the low stone mantelpiece.
-It was just midnight, but Monsieur Joseph was not in bed. He looked a
-quaint figure, in a dressing-gown and a tasselled night-cap, and he sat
-at the table writing a long letter. He started when Riette touched the
-door, and Angelot saw that his hand moved mechanically towards a pair of
-pistols that lay beside him. Monsieur Joseph did not trust entirely to
-his dogs for defence.
-
-In she came, with bare white feet stepping lightly over the polished
-floor. Angelot moved back a pace or two that he might not hear what they
-said to each other. When Monsieur Joseph hastily opened the window,
-Riette had been sent back summarily to her room, and Angelot was waiting
-halfway to the wood.
-
-"Come in, Ange! why do you stand there?" the little uncle exclaimed
-under his breath. "Sapristi, how do you know that you are not watched?"
-
-"I think not, Uncle Joseph. And I fancy the fellows who caught me will
-hardly follow me here," said Angelot, stepping into the room. "You will
-forgive me for coming?"
-
-"Where could you go? Come, come, tell me everything. Why--what did those
-devils of police want with you? Shut the window and draw the
-curtain--there, now we are safe. I was just writing to César d'Ombré. Do
-you know--here is a secret--he means to get away to England, and from
-there to the Princes. He is right; there is not much to be done here.
-You shall go with him!"
-
-"Shall I?" said Angelot, vaguely. "Well, Uncle Joseph--it does not much
-matter where I go."
-
-Joseph de la Marinière swore his biggest oath.
-
-"What are you staying here for?" he said. "To be caught on one side by a
-young lady, on the other by the police!"
-
-"Give me something to eat, Uncle Joseph, or I shall die of hunger
-between you all," said Angelot, smiling at him.
-
-The little gentleman shook his head. Angelot was not forgiven, not at
-all; even Riette had hardly been restored to favour, to ordinary meals
-in polite society.
-
-"I will give you something to eat if I can find anything without calling
-Gigot," he said. "Riette thinks there is a pie in the pantry. Come into
-the gun-room; the light will not be seen there. And tell me what you
-have done to get yourself arrested, troublesome fellow! Not even a real
-honest bit of _Chouannerie_, I am afraid."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH FOUND HIMSELF MASTER OF THE SITUATION
-
-
-In the old labyrinth of rooms at Les Chouettes, Monsieur Joseph's
-gun-room was the best hidden from the outside. It had solid shutters,
-always kept closed and barred; the daylight only made its way in through
-their chinks, or through the doors, one of which opened into Monsieur
-Joseph's bedroom, the other into a little anteroom between that and the
-hall. Both doors were generally locked, and the keys safely stowed away.
-
-The gun-room was not meant for ordinary visitors; Angelot himself, as a
-rule, was the only person admitted there. For the amount of arms and
-ammunition kept there, some of it in cupboards cleverly hidden in the
-panelling, some in a dry cellar entered by a trap-door in the floor, was
-very different, both in kind and quality, from anything the most
-energetic sportsman could require.
-
-In this storehouse the amiable conspirator shut up his nephew, and
-Angelot spent the next few days there, well employed in cleaning and
-polishing wood and steel. He slept at night on a sofa in the anteroom,
-but was allowed to go no farther. Monsieur Joseph had reasons of his
-own.
-
-He was a very authoritative person, when once he took a matter into his
-own hands, and his influence with Angelot was great. He took a far more
-serious view of the arrest than Angelot himself did. He was sure that
-his nephew had been kidnapped by special orders from Paris--probably
-from Réal, whom he knew of old--in order to gain information as to any
-existing Chouan plots in Anjou. Thus the authorities meant to protect
-themselves from any consequences of the Prefect's indulgent character.
-It was even possible that some suspicion of the mission to England, only
-lately discussed by himself and his friends, might have filtered through
-to Paris; and in that case several persons were in serious danger.
-
-Monsieur Joseph was confirmed in these ideas by the fact that his
-brother started off to Sonnay to demand of the authorities there the
-reason of his son's arrest, and found that absolutely nothing was known
-of it. Coming back in a state of rage and anxiety, which quite drove his
-philosophy out of the field, Urbain attacked his brother in words that
-Joseph found a little hard to bear, accusing him of having ruined
-Angelot's life with his foolish fancies, and of being the actual cause
-of this catastrophe which might bring the fate of a Chouan on the
-innocent fellow who cared for no politics at all.
-
-"And what a life, to care for no cause at all!" cried Joseph, with
-eloquently waving hands. "But--you say you are going to Paris, to get to
-the bottom of this? Well, my friend, go! And I promise you, if Ange is
-in danger, I will follow and take his place. You and Anne may rely upon
-it, he shall not be punished for my sins."
-
-"Come with me now, then! I start this very night," said Urbain.
-
-"No, no! I will not accuse myself before it is necessary," said Joseph,
-shaking his head and smiling.
-
-Urbain flung away in angry disgust. Joseph had a moment of profound
-sadness as he looked after him--they were standing in the courtyard of
-La Marinière--then stole away home through the lanes, carefully avoiding
-a sight of his sister-in-law.
-
-"I let him go! I let him go, poor Urbain! and his boy safe at Les
-Chouettes all the time. Why do I do it? because the house is watched day
-and night; because neither I, nor Gigot, nor Tobie, can go into the
-woods without seeing the glitter of a police carbine through the leaves;
-because the dogs growl at night, and there is no safe place for Angelot
-outside Les Chouettes, till he is out of France altogether--and that I
-shall have to manage carefully. Because, if his father knew he had
-escaped from the police, all the world would know. Et puis,--I shall
-make a good Royalist of you in the end, my little Angelot. Your mother
-will not blame me for cutting you off from the Empire, and your father
-must comfort himself with his philosophy. And that hopeless passion for
-Mademoiselle Hélène--what can be kinder than to end it--and by the great
-cure of all--time, absence, impossibility! Yes; the matter is in my
-hands, and I shall carry it through, God helping me."
-
-It was not a light burden that he had to carry, the little uncle. Never,
-since his brother's intervention brought him back to France and placed
-him where he and his old friends could amuse themselves with
-conspiracies which, as Joubard said, did little harm to any one, had he
-been in a position of such real difficulty. Riette did not at all
-realise what she was bringing upon her father, when she slipped into his
-room that night with the news that Angelot had escaped from the police.
-He had to keep his nephew quietly imprisoned till he could get him away
-safely; it required all his arguments, all his influence and strength of
-will, to do that; for Angelot was not an easy person to keep within four
-narrow walls, and only love and gratitude restrained him from obeying
-his own instincts, going out into the woods, risking a second
-arrest--hardly to be followed by a second escape--venturing over to La
-Marinière to see his mother. It distressed him far more to think of her,
-terribly anxious, ignorant of his safety, than of his father on the way
-to Paris. He, at any rate, though he would not find him, might come to
-the bottom of the mysterious business.
-
-Monsieur Joseph danced in the air, shrugged his shoulders, waved his
-hands. If Angelot chose to go, let him! His recapture would probably
-mean the arrest and ruin of the whole family. A little patience, and he
-could disappear for the time. What else did he expect to be able to do?
-Would a man on whom the police had once laid their hands be allowed to
-rescue himself and to live peaceably in his own country? What did he
-take them for, the police? were they children at play? or were their
-proceedings grim and real earnest? Had those men behind, who pulled the
-strings of the puppet-show, no other object in view than an hour's
-amusement? Did Angelot know that the woods were patrolled by the police,
-the roads watched? The only surprising thing was, that no domiciliary
-visit had yet been made, either at Les Chouettes or La Marinière.
-
-"However, they know I am a good marksman," said Monsieur Joseph, with
-his sweetest smile. "And even Tobie, with my authority, might think a
-gendarme fair game."
-
-"I don't believe it is fear of you that keeps them away, Uncle Joseph,"
-said Angelot. "As to that, I too can hit a tree by daylight. But these
-stealthy ways of theirs seem to tell me what I have thought all along,
-that it is a private enterprise of our friend Simon's own, without any
-authority whatever. The fellows with him were not gendarmes; they were
-not in uniform. Monsieur le Préfet being laid up, the good man thinks it
-the moment to do a little hunting on his own account with his own dogs,
-and to curry favour by taking his game to Paris. But he is not quite
-sure of himself; he has no warrant to search houses without a better
-reason than any he can give. He will catch me again if he can, no doubt;
-but as you say, Uncle Joseph, as long as I stay here in your cupboard, I
-am safe."
-
-"So safe," laughed his uncle, "that I am going to begin my vintage
-to-morrow under their very noses, leaving Riette and the dogs to guard
-you, mon petit. But you are wrong, you are quite wrong. No police spy
-would dare to make such an arrest without a special order. If they have
-no warrant for searching, they will soon get one as soon as they are
-sure you are here. But at present you have vanished into the bowels of
-the earth. They can see that your father knows nothing of you; they have
-no reason to think that I am any wiser."
-
-So passed those weary days, those long, mysterious nights at Les
-Chouettes.
-
-Outside, with great care to keep themselves out of sight, Simon's
-scratch band searched the woods and lanes. Simon was mystified, as well
-as furious. He hardly dared return and report to his employer, who
-supposed that Angelot had been conveyed safely off to the mock prison
-where he meant to have him kept for a few weeks; then, when the affair
-of the marriage was arranged, to let him escape from it. Simon was
-himself too well known in the neighbourhood to make any enquiries; but
-one of his men found out at Lancilly that the family supposed young Ange
-to have been carried off to Paris, whither his father had followed him.
-Martin Joubard, the only witness of the arrest, had made the most of his
-story. He did not know the police officer by sight, but Monsieur Ange
-had seemed to do so. This had made them all think that the order for the
-arrest had come from Sonnay. But no! And as to any escape, this man was
-assured that the young gentleman had not been seen by any one but Martin
-Joubard, since he left his father's vineyard in the twilight of that
-fatal evening.
-
-At Les Chouettes all went on outwardly in its usual fashion. Monsieur
-Joseph strolled out with his gun, directed the beginnings of his
-vintage; his servants, trustworthy indeed, showed no sign of any special
-watchfulness; Mademoiselle Henriette ordered the dogs about and sang her
-songs as usual. If Monsieur Joseph was grave and preoccupied, no wonder;
-every one knew he loved his nephew. But Simon, in truth, had met his
-match. He was almost convinced that no fugitive from justice, real or
-pretended, was hidden in or about Monsieur Joseph's habitation; and he
-gradually made his cordon wider, still watching the house, but keeping
-his men in cover by day, and searching the woods by night with less
-exact caution. His only satisfaction was being aware of two visits paid
-to Les Chouettes by the Baron d'Ombré, who came over the moor in the
-evening and slept there. The mission to England was as yet beyond police
-dreams, at least on this side of the country; but Simon kept his
-knowledge for future use.
-
-It might naturally be imagined that Angelot would have found a refuge in
-some of the wild old precincts of La Marinière; but Simon soon convinced
-himself that this was not the case. No mother whose son was hidden about
-her home would have spent her time as Anne did, wandering restlessly
-about, expecting nothing but her husband's return, or spending long
-hours before the altar in the church, praying for her son's safety.
-Simon began to suspect that his prisoner had got away to the west, into
-Brittany, among the Chouans who were there so numerous that it was
-better to leave them alone.
-
-"Bien! his absence in any way will suit Monsieur le Général," Simon
-reflected. "As to that, it does not much matter. But I and my fellows
-will not get our promised pay, and that signifies a great deal. I, who
-have given up my furlough to serve that animal!"
-
-So he gnawed his nails in distraction, and still watched with a sort of
-fascination the little square of country where he felt more and more
-afraid that Master Angelot was no longer to be found.
-
-The sympathy that Anne de la Marinière, in her lonely sorrow, might
-have expected from the cousins at Lancilly who owed Urbain so much, she
-neither asked nor found. Once or twice, Hervé de Sainfoy came himself to
-the manor to ask if she had any news; but his manner was a little stiff
-and awkward; and Adélaïde never came; and the messages he brought from
-her were too evidently made by his politeness on the spur of the moment.
-Was it not possible, Anne thought, to be too worldly, too unforgiving?
-Had not her beautiful boy been punished enough for his presumption in
-falling in love with their daughter, and behaving like a lover of the
-olden time? They were even partly responsible for the arrest, she
-thought, for it was to escape them that Ange had walked away with Martin
-up the hill that evening.
-
-Looking over at the great castle on the opposite hill, she accused it
-bitterly of having robbed her not only of Urbain, but of Angelot.
-
-The October days brought wilder autumn weather; the winds began to blow
-in the woods, to howl at night in the wide old chimneys of La Marinière;
-sometimes the cry of a wolf, in distant depths of forest, made sportsmen
-and farmers talk of the hunts of which Lancilly used long ago to be the
-centre. Those days would return again, they hoped, though Count Hervé
-had not the energy or the country training of his ancestors. But his
-son, when the war was over, seemed likely to vie with any seigneur of
-them all. In the meanwhile, this young man's leave was shortened by an
-express from the army--a fact which seemed at first unlikely to have any
-influence on the fate of his cousin Angelot--but life has turns and
-twists that baffle the wisest calculations. Neither Georges nor his
-mother had been displeased at the arrest of Angelot; though they had the
-decency to keep their congratulations for each other. As for Hélène, the
-news had been allowed to reach her through the servants and Mademoiselle
-Moineau. She dared not cry any more; her mother had scolded her enough
-for spoiling her eyes and complexion. Pale and silent, she took this new
-trouble as one more proof that she was never meant to be happy. Her
-fairy prince was a dream; yet, whatever the poets may say, she found a
-little joy and comfort, warmth and peace, in dreaming her dream again,
-and even in this worst time, by some strange instinct of love, Angelot
-seemed never far away from her.
-
-One evening, when it was blowing and raining outside, a wood fire was
-flaming in the salon at La Marinière. For herself, Anne would not have
-cared for it; but the old Curé sat and warmed his hands after dining
-with her and playing a game of tric-trac. Not indeed to please and
-distract her, but himself; for he had long been accustomed to depend on
-her for comfort in all his troubles. After the game was over he had told
-her a piece of news; nothing that mattered very much, or that was very
-surprising, characters and circumstances considered; but Anne took it
-hardly.
-
-"I cannot believe it," she said at first. "Who told you, do you say?"
-
-"My brother at Lancilly told me," said the Curé. "You do not think him
-worthy of much confidence, madame--and it may not be true--he had heard
-the report in the village."
-
-She shrugged her shoulders, with a little contempt for the Curé of
-Lancilly. Her old friend watched her face, pathetically changed since
-all this new sorrow came upon her; thinner, paler, its delicate beauty
-hardened, purple shadows under the still lovely eyes, and a look of
-bitter resentment that hurt him to see. He gazed at her imploringly.
-
-"But, madame," he murmured--"it is nothing--Monsieur de la Marinière
-would say it was nothing--"
-
-"I hope, Monsieur le Curé," Anne said, "that after such cruel hardness
-of heart he will waste his affection there no longer. Ah! who is that?"
-
-There were quick steps outside. Somebody had come in, and might be heard
-shaking himself in the hall; then Monsieur Joseph walked lightly into
-the room, bringing a rush of outside air, a smell of wet leaves, and
-that atmosphere of life which in his saddest moments never left him.
-
-Madame Urbain received him a little coldly; she was cold to every one in
-these days; but in truth his conscience told him that he might have
-visited her more since Urbain went away. But then--how keep the secret
-from Angelot's mother? No, impossible; and so he made his vintage an
-excuse for avoiding La Marinière. To-night, however, he had a mission to
-fulfil.
-
-It was horribly difficult. He sat down between her and the Curé, looked
-from one to the other, drank the coffee she offered him, and blushed
-like a girl as he said, "No news from Urbain, I suppose?"
-
-Anne's brows rose in a scornful arch; her lips pouted.
-
-"News! How should there be any?" she said, as if Urbain had gone to
-Paris to amuse himself. "And your vintage, Joseph?"
-
-"I finished it to-day. It was difficult--the weather was not very
-good--and--I have had distractions," said Monsieur Joseph, and waved
-away the subject. "My dear Anne," he went on, rushing headlong into
-another, "I have had a visitor to-day, who charged me to explain to you
-a certain matter--which vexes him profoundly, by the bye,--Hervé de
-Sainfoy, who for family reasons--"
-
-"Oh, mon Dieu!" Anne cried, and burst out laughing. "You really mean
-that Hervé de Sainfoy has sent you as his ambassador--see our injustice,
-Monsieur le Curé, yours and mine--to announce to me that he is going to
-give a ball while my son is in prison, in danger of his life, or
-already dead, for all I know! Really, that is magnificent! What
-politeness, what feeling for Urbain, n'est-ce pas? He did not wish me to
-hear such interesting news through the gossip of the village--do you
-hear, Monsieur le Curé? You brought it too soon. And my invitation?" she
-held out her hand. "Did he give you a card for me, or will Madame la
-Comtesse take the trouble to send it herself?"
-
-"Ah, bah!" cried Joseph, springing from his chair and pirouetting before
-the fire; "but you are a little too severe on poor Hervé, my dear
-sister! I assure you, I showed him what I thought. But I perceived that
-his vexation is real--real and sincere. The circumstances--he explained
-them all in the most amiable manner--"
-
-Anne interrupted him, laughing again. "I see the facts--the one
-fact--what are the circumstances to me?"
-
-"They are a great deal to Hervé," Monsieur Joseph persisted.
-
-"Hervé, Hervé!" she cried. "But Joseph--mon Dieu, how can you take his
-wretched excuses! I thought you loved Ange! I thought the boy--"
-
-She broke off with a sob, turning white as death. The two men stared at
-her, Monsieur Joseph with wild eyes and trembling lips. Would this be
-more than he could bear?
-
-He took refuge in talking. He talked so fast that he hardly knew what he
-was saying. He poured out Hervé's explanations, his regrets, his
-trouble of mind. Georges was bent upon this ball; it had been proposed
-long before his return; the first invitations had been sent out directly
-he came. He wished to make acquaintance with all the neighbours, old and
-new, official, or friends of the family; he wished to pay a special
-compliment to the officers at Sonnay, his brothers in arms. A formal
-invitation had been sent to General Ratoneau, who had actually accepted
-it, to Hervé's great surprise. He had laughed and said that the dog
-wanted another thrashing. But let him come, if he chose to humble
-himself! He might see even more clearly that Hélène was not for him. In
-Adélaïde's opinion, no private prejudices must have anything to do with
-this ball. It was given chiefly as a matter of politics, under imperial
-colours; it was for the interest of Georges that his family should thus
-definitely range itself with the Empire.
-
-"Poor Hervé said that he had already, more than once, spoilt his wife's
-calculations and failed to support her views. She and Georges, whatever
-private feeling might be, thought it impossible to put off this ball
-because of the misfortune that happened to Angelot. They would be
-understood to show sympathy with the Chouans. Then he abused me well,
-poor Hervé," said Monsieur Joseph, amiably. "He said, as Urbain did,
-that I had ruined Angelot's life, and it was no one's fault but mine.
-'Well, dear cousin,' I said to him, 'I will punish myself by not
-appearing at this fine ball of yours. Not that my dancing days are over,
-but for me, Ange's absence would spoil all.' 'You love that fellow!'
-says Hervé, looking at me. 'Love him!' says I. 'I would cut off my right
-hand to serve him, and that is a good deal for a sportsman.' Hervé
-laughed as I said it. I do not dislike that poor Hervé, though his wife
-rules him. Listen to me, you two. I believe if Ange had been reasonable
-and honest, Hervé might have given him his daughter."
-
-"Heaven forbid!" cried Anne. "But if you love Ange, do not blame him. He
-was young, he was mad, the girl was beautiful--and, after all, Joseph,
-you had something to do with putting that into his head. Ah, we are all
-to blame! We have all been cruel, blind, selfish. You and I thought of
-the King, Urbain thought of his cousins, they thought of themselves. We
-left my boy to find his own way in a time like this, and your Chouan
-friends were as dangerous for him as Hélène de Sainfoy. Ah! and you
-excuse yourself with a laugh from dancing on his grave!"
-
-She wrung her hands, threw herself back in her chair with a passionate
-sigh.
-
-"Madame," said the Curé, suddenly;--his dim but watchful eyes had been
-fixed on Joseph; "Madame, Monsieur Joseph could tell you, if he would,
-what has become of Angelot. He is not dead; I doubt if he is even in
-prison. Ah, monsieur, you do not dissimulate well!" as Joseph made him
-an eager sign to be silent.
-
-But it was too late, for Anne was holding his two hands, and in the
-light of her eyes all his secret doings lay open.
-
-"Why did I come!" he said to himself, in the intervals of a very
-difficult explanation. "There is some magic in those walls of Lancilly,
-which attracts and ruins us all. If we live through this, thousand
-thunders, Hervé de Sainfoy may make his own excuses to our dear little
-Anne in future!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-THE LIGHTED WINDOWS OF LANCILLY
-
-
-There was no way out of it, without telling all. Fortunately Joseph knew
-that his secrets were safe with these two, whose hearts were absolutely
-Royalist, though circumstances held them bound to inactivity. Presently
-Anne rose and left the room.
-
-"Thank God! that is over," Joseph said, half to himself. "I must be
-going. Monsieur le Curé, I leave her to you. Do not let her be too
-anxious. D'Ombré is rough, but a good fellow; he will take care of our
-Angelot."
-
-The old Curé was plunged in gloom. Tall and slight in his long black
-garment, he stood under the high chimneypiece, and leaned forward
-shivering, to warm his fingers at the blaze.
-
-"Ah, monsieur!" he murmured. "Have you thought what you are doing? Can
-you expect good to come out of evil? Your brother, who has done
-everything for us all, how are you treating him? If madame does not see
-it, I do. You are taking Ange, making him a conspirator and a Chouan. If
-you save him from one danger, you plunge him into a greater, for if he
-and Monsieur d'Ombré are caught on this mission, they will certainly
-pay for it with their lives. You are doing all this without his father's
-knowledge--"
-
-"Ah, my dear Curé, I know the police better than you do," Monsieur
-Joseph said hastily. "These young fellows will not be the first who have
-escaped to England; and Ange cannot stay here with their eyes and claws
-upon him. Even his father would not wish that. Leave it to me. What is
-it, Anne? what are you thinking of?"
-
-His sister-in-law had come back into the room, wrapped in a cloak, with
-a hood drawn over her face.
-
-"I am going with you to see Ange," she said.
-
-The wind was howling, the rain was pattering outside. But Monsieur
-Joseph had all the trouble in the world to make her give up this idea.
-At last, after many arguments and prayers, he persuaded her that she
-must not come to Les Chouettes but must absolutely trust Ange to him. He
-promised solemnly that the young man should not start without her
-knowing it, that, if possible, she should see her boy again.
-
-"And if Urbain comes back before they are gone?" she said, looking
-whitely into his face. "I tell you positively, Joseph, I shall not
-dare--"
-
-"My dear friend, owing to Monsieur le Curé's unfortunate second-sight,
-your son's life is in your hands. If Urbain comes back, tell him all, if
-you will. His presence did not save Ange from being arrested before, it
-will not save him from being retaken. My fault, perhaps, as Urbain
-said--all my fault--" He struck his breast as if in church, with his
-fine smile. "But then it is my place to save him, and I will do it, if
-you will let me--in my own way."
-
-They were both trembling, and large tears ran down the old Curé's thin
-cheeks. Joseph, still smiling, bent to kiss her hand. He held it for a
-moment, then looked up with dark imploring eyes.
-
-"Adieu, chère Anne! and think of me with all your charity!" he said.
-
-A minute later he had slipped noiselessly out, and plunged alone into
-the wet, howling darkness.
-
-Through those days of suspense, while Angelot was hidden at Les
-Chouettes, while master and servants alike acted on the supposition that
-the house was watched by gendarmes with all the power of the Ministry of
-Police behind them--through these days, one person alone was happy; it
-was Henriette. She adored her cousin; it was joy to watch over him, to
-scold him, to amuse him, to keep him, a difficult matter, within the
-bounds prescribed by his uncle. Every day Angelot said it was
-impossible; he must be ill, he must die, if he could not stretch his
-legs and breathe the open air. Every day Henriette, when her father was
-out, allowed him to race up and down the stairs, played at hide-and-seek
-with him in the passages, let him dance her round and round the lower
-rooms. Or else she played games with him, cards, chess, tric-trac; or
-he lay and listened to her while she told him fairy tales; listened with
-a dreamy half-understanding, with a certainty, underlying all his
-impatience, that there was nothing to live for now. What did it matter,
-after all? One moment, life and hope and youth made him thrill and
-tremble in every limb; the next, his fate weighed upon him like a
-millstone; he laid his head down on the broad pillow of the sofa, and
-while Henriette chattered his eyelashes were sometimes wet. All was
-settled now. He must be banished to England, to Germany, banished in a
-cause he did not care for, in which he was involved against his will.
-Never again should he walk with his gun and Négo, light-hearted, over
-his own old country. Never again, more certainly, should he see Hélène,
-feel the maddening sweetness of her touch, her kiss. There was to be a
-ball. Henriette told him all about it; he heard of his cousin Hervé's
-visit, and was half amused, half miserable. Hélène would dance; white
-and slender, her eyes full of sadness. She would dance with other men,
-thinking, he knew, of her lost friend, her Angelot. In time, one of them
-would be presented to her as her husband. Not Ratoneau; Angelot had her
-father's word for that, and he drew a long breath when he thought of it.
-But some one else; that was inevitable. Ah! as life must pass, why
-cannot it pass more quickly? Why must every day have such an endless
-number of hours and minutes? What torture is there greater than this of
-waiting, stifled and idle, for a fate arranged in spite of one's self?
-
-Henriette flitted in and out, eager and earnest like her father. After
-Monsieur Joseph's visit to La Marinière, he sent her there one day with
-Marie, and she was embraced by her aunt Anne with a quite new passion of
-tenderness, and trusted with a letter and a huge parcel of necessaries
-for Angelot's journey. Monsieur Joseph laughed a little angrily over
-these.
-
-"Tiens, mon petit! your mother thinks you are going to drive to the
-coast in a chaise and four," he said; but Angelot bent his head very
-gravely over the coats and the shirts that those little thin hands had
-folded together for him.
-
-"You must give me fair notice, Uncle Joseph," he said. "Police or no
-police, I do not go without wishing her good-bye."
-
-Everything came at once, as fate would have it. It was after dark, a
-wild, windy evening, stars looking through the hurrying clouds, no
-moonrise till early morning. With every precaution, Monsieur Joseph
-now allowed his nephew to dine in the dining-room, taking care to place
-him where he could not be seen from outside when Gigot came in through
-the shutters from the kitchen. Angelot had now been kept in hiding for
-ten days, and the police seemed to have disappeared from the woods, so
-that Monsieur Joseph's mind was easier.
-
-Suddenly, as they sat at dinner that evening, all the dogs began to
-bark.
-
-"Go into your den!" said the little uncle, starting up.
-
-"No, dear uncle, this game pie is too good," Angelot said coolly. "I
-heard a horse coming down the lane. It is Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger."
-
-"If it is--very true, you had better eat your dinner," said his uncle.
-
-And to be sure, in a few minutes, Gigot came in with a letter, Angelot's
-marching orders. At five o'clock the next morning César d'Ombré would
-wait for him at the Étang des Morts, a lonely, legend-haunted pool in
-the woods where four roads met, about two leagues beyond the _landes_ by
-way of La Joubardière.
-
-"Very well; you will start at three o'clock," said Monsieur Joseph.
-"Give the man something to eat and send him back, Gigot, to meet his
-master."
-
-"Three o'clock! I shall be asleep!" said Angelot. "Surely an hour will
-be enough to take me to the Étang des Morts--a cheerful rendezvous!"
-
-He laughed and looked at Riette. She was very pale and grave, her dark
-eyes wide open.
-
-"The good dead--they will watch over you, mon petit!" she murmured. "We
-must not be afraid of them."
-
-"This is not a time for talking nonsense, children," said Monsieur
-Joseph; he looked at them severely, his mouth trembling. "Half-past
-three at latest; the boy might lose his way in the dark."
-
-Riette got up suddenly and flung her arms round Angelot's neck.
-
-"Mon petit, mon petit!" she repeated, burying her face on his shoulder.
-
-"What are you doing?" he cried. "How am I to finish my dinner? You come
-between me and the best pie that Marie ever made! Get along with you,
-little good-for-nothing!"
-
-He laughed; then Marie's pie seemed to choke him; he pushed back his
-chair, lifted Riette lightly and carried her out of the room.
-
-"Now I am in prison no longer," he said. "I am going to run across to La
-Marinière; will you come too, little cousin?"
-
-But Monsieur Joseph had something to say to that. He would not let
-Angelot go without sermons so long that the boy could hardly listen to
-them, on the care he was to take that no servant or dog at La Marinière
-saw him, on the things he might and might not say to his mother.
-
-At last Angelot said aside to Henriette: "There is only one thing I
-regret--that I did not go straight home at first to my father and
-mother. That will bring misfortune on us all, if anything does--my uncle
-is absolutely too much of a conspirator."
-
-"Hush, you are ungrateful," said Riette, gravely.
-
-"Ah! It seems to me that I am nothing good or fortunate--everything bad
-and unlucky! My relations and their politics toss me like a ball,"
-Angelot sighed impatiently. "I wish this night were over and we were on
-our way, I and that excellent grumpy César. And the farther I go, the
-more I shall want to come back. Tiens! Riette, I am miserable!"
-
-The child gazed at him with her great eyes, full of the love and
-understanding of a woman.
-
-"Courage!" she said. "You will come back--with the King."
-
-"The King!" Angelot repeated bitterly. "Ask Martin Joubard about that.
-Hear him talk of the Emperor."
-
-"A peasant! a common soldier! What does he know?" said the girl,
-scornfully. "I think my papa knows better."
-
-"Ah, well! Believe in him; you are right," said Angelot.
-
-They talked as they stood outside the house in the dim starlight,
-waiting a few moments for Monsieur Joseph: he chose to go part of the
-way with Angelot, and consented unwillingly to take Riette with him. The
-dead silence of the woods and fields was only broken by the moan of the
-wind; a sadness that struck to the heart brooded over the depths of
-lonely land; far down in the valley cold mists were creeping, and even
-on the lower slopes of Monsieur Joseph's meadow a chilly damp rose from
-the undrained ground. As far as one could tell, not a human being moved
-in the woods; the feet of Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger had passed up the
-lane out of hearing; all was solitary and silent about the quaint
-turreted house with its many shuttered windows and dark guards lying
-silent, stretched on the sand. Only one of these rose and shook himself
-and followed his master.
-
-But the loneliness was not so great as it seemed. Behind a large tree to
-leeward of the house, Simon was lurking alone. He had sent his men away
-for the night, and he ground his teeth with rage when he saw his victim,
-out of reach for the time. For he had not the courage, with no law or
-right on his side, to face the uncle and nephew, armed and together.
-
-Avoiding the open starlit slope, those three with the dog passed at once
-into the shadow of the woods, thus taking the safest, though not the
-shortest way to La Marinière. Simon stole after them at a safe distance.
-They came presently to a high corner in a lane, where, over the bank on
-which the pollard oaks stood in line, they could look across to the
-other side of the valley. As a rule, the Château de Lancilly was hardly
-to be seen after sunset, facing east, and its own woods shadowing it on
-three sides; but to-night its long front shone and glowed and flashed
-with light; every window seemed to be open and illuminated; the effect
-was so festal, so dazzling, that Riette cried out in admiration.
-Monsieur Joseph exclaimed angrily, and Angelot gazed in silence.
-
-"Ah, papa! It is the ball! How beautiful! How I wish I could be there!"
-cried the child.
-
-"No doubt!" said Monsieur Joseph. "Exactly! You would like to dance till
-to-morrow morning, while Ange is escaping. Well, shall I take you across
-there now? One of your pretty cousins would lend you a ball-dress!"
-
-Riette's blushes could not be seen in the dark, but she said no more.
-Monsieur Joseph walked on a few paces and stopped.
-
-"Ange will go quicker without us," he said. "Go, my boy, and God bless
-and protect you. We have given those rascals of police the slip, I
-think, or they have decided that you are not to be caught here. For the
-last day or two Tobie has seen nothing of them. But remember you are not
-safe; go cautiously and come back quickly. Do not let your mother keep
-you long. I believe I am doing very wrong in letting you go to her at
-all!"
-
-"As to that, Uncle Joseph, it is certain that I won't leave the country
-without seeing her," said Angelot.
-
-"Go, then, and don't be long, don't be rash; remember that I am dying
-with impatience. You have the pistols I gave you?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"Don't shoot a gendarme if you can help it. It might make things more
-serious. Away with you! Come, Riette."
-
-As the two walked back along the lane, Simon scrambled out of their way,
-like Angelot out of his, into the thick mass of one of the old
-_truisses_. The dog looked up at the tree and growled as they passed.
-Monsieur Joseph glanced sharply that way, but saw nothing, and called
-the dog to follow him, walking on a little more quickly.
-
-"He will go straight to La Marinière," he was saying to Riette, "stay
-twenty minutes or so with his mother, and be back at Les Chouettes in
-less than an hour"--a piece of information not lost on Simon, who
-climbed down carefully from his tree, looked to his carbine, and
-chuckled as he walked slowly on towards La Marinière.
-
-"Nothing in the world like patience," he said to himself. "Monsieur le
-Général ought to double my reward for this. I was right from the
-beginning; that old devil of a Chouan had the boy hidden in that
-robber's den of his. The fellows thought I was wasting my time and
-theirs. They didn't like being half starved and catching cold in the
-woods. I have had all the trouble in the world to hold them down to it.
-But what does it matter, so that we catch our game after all! I must
-choose a good place to drop on the youngster--lucky for me that he
-couldn't live without seeing his mother. Is he armed? Never mind! I must
-be fit to die of old age if I can't give an account of a boy like that.
-His mother, eh? Why did his father go to Paris, if they knew he was
-here? Perhaps they thought it wiser to keep the good news from Monsieur
-Urbain; these things divide families. They let him go off on a
-wild-goose chase after a pardon or something. Well, so that I catch him,
-tie him up out of the General's way, get my money, start off to Paris to
-see my father, and--perhaps--never come back--for this affair may make
-another department pleasanter--"
-
-So ruminated Simon, as he strolled through the lanes in the starlight,
-following, as he supposed, in the footsteps of Angelot, and preparing to
-lie in wait for him at some convenient corner on his return.
-
-But when his uncle and cousin left him, disappearing into the shadows,
-Angelot leaped up on the bank and stood for a minute or two gazing
-across at Lancilly. To watch till her shadow passed by one of those
-lighted windows--if not to climb to some point where he might see her,
-herself, without breaking his word to her father and attempting to speak
-to her--it might cost an extra half-hour and Uncle Joseph's displeasure,
-perhaps. But after all, what was leaving all the rest of the world
-compared with leaving her, Hélène, and practically for ever? His gentle,
-frightened love, to whom he had promised all the strength and protection
-he had to give, to whom invisible cords drew him across the valley!
-
-"No, I cannot!" Angelot said to himself. He waited for no second
-thoughts, but jumped down into the field beyond the bank, and did not
-even trouble himself to keep in the shadow while with long light
-strides he ran towards Lancilly.
-
-Two hours later Monsieur Joseph was pacing up and down, wildly
-impatient, in front of his house. Over his head, Riette listened behind
-closed shutters, and heard nothing but his quick tramp, and an angry
-exclamation now and then against Angelot. At last Monsieur Joseph
-stopped short and listened. The dogs barked, but he silenced them; then
-came a swinging light and two figures hurrying along the shadowy
-footpath from La Marinière. Another instant, and Urbain's strong voice
-rang through the night that brooded over Les Chouettes.
-
-"Joseph, you incorrigible old Chouan! what have you done with my boy?"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-A DANCE WITH GENERAL RATONEAU
-
-
-All this time, and lately with her son's energetic help, Madame de
-Sainfoy had been arranging her rooms in the most approved fashion of the
-day. The new furniture was far less beautiful than the old, and far less
-suited to the character of the house; still, like everything belonging
-to the Empire, it had a severe magnificence. The materials were mahogany
-and gilded bronze; the forms were classical, lyres, urns, winged
-sphinxes everywhere. In the large salon the walls were hung with yellow
-silk instead of the old, despised, but precious tapestries, the long
-curtains that swept the floor were yellow silk, with broad bands of red
-and yellow and a heavy fringe of red and yellow balls. These fashions
-were repeated in each room in different colours, green, blue, red; a
-smaller salon, Madame de Sainfoy's favourite, was hung with a peculiar
-green flecked with gold; and for the chairs in this room she, Hélène,
-Mademoiselle Moineau, and the young girls were working a special
-tapestry with wreaths of grapes or asters, lyres, Roman heads which
-suggested Napoleon. Certain unaccountable stains on this fine work
-brought a smile long years afterwards into the lovely eyes of Hélène.
-
-Paper and paint, innovations at Lancilly, had much to do in beautifying
-the old place. Dark rooms were well lit up by a white paper with a broad
-border of red and yellow twisted ribbons. Old stone chimneypieces,
-window-sills, great solid shutters, were covered thick with yellow
-paint.
-
-The ideas of Captain Georges were still more modern than those of
-Urbain, and suited his mother better. She was angry with Urbain for
-forsaking her business and hurrying off to Paris in search of his
-worthless son; she was especially angry that he went without giving her
-notice, or offering to do any of the thousand commissions she could
-gladly have given him. However, these faults in Urbain only made Georges
-more valuable; and it was with something not far short of fury that she
-refused to listen to her husband when he suggested that the ball might
-be put off because of the trouble and sorrow that hung over his cousins
-at La Marinière.
-
-The ball was stately and splendid. At the dinner-party a few weeks
-before, only a certain number of notables had been present, and chiefly
-old friends of the family. To the ball came everybody of any pretension
-whatever, within a radius of many miles. Lancilly stood in Anjou, but
-near the borders of Touraine and Maine; all these old provinces were
-well represented. Many of the guests were returned emigrants: old
-sentiment connected with the names of Sainfoy and Lancilly brought them.
-Many more were new people of the Empire; mushroom families, on whom the
-older ones looked curiously and scornfully. There was a brilliant and
-dashing body of officers from Sonnay-le-Loir, with General Ratoneau at
-their head. There were a number of civil officials of the Empire, though
-the Prefect himself was not there.
-
-Ratoneau was in a strange state of mind. In his full-dress uniform, his
-gold lace and plumes, he looked his best, a manly and handsome soldier.
-Every one turned to look at him, struck by the likeness to Napoleon,
-stronger than ever that night, for he was graver, quieter, more
-dignified than usual. He was not at his ease, and oddly enough, the
-false position suited him. There could not be anything but extreme
-coolness and stiffness in the greeting between him and his host. Hervé
-de Sainfoy had refused the man his daughter, and heartily despised him
-for accepting the formal invitation to this ball. Ratoneau knew that he
-was going to be forced as a son-in-law on this coldly courteous
-gentleman, but let no sign of his coming triumph escape him. Not, at
-least, to Hélène's father; her mother was a different story. As the
-General drew himself upright again, after bending stiffly to kiss her
-hand, he met his hostess's eyes with such a bold look of confident
-understanding that she flushed a little and almost felt displeased. He
-was not discreet, she thought. He had no business so to take her
-sympathy for granted. Other people might have caught that glance and
-misunderstood it.
-
-She stood for a moment, frowning a little, the graceful lines of her
-satin and lace, her head crowned with curls, making a perfect picture of
-what she meant to be, a great lady of the Empire. Then her look softened
-suddenly, as Georges came up to her.
-
-"Listen to me a moment, mamma. General Ratoneau wishes to dance with
-Hélène. She told me this afternoon that she would not dance with him. I
-say she must. What do you say?"
-
-Madame de Sainfoy twirled her fan impatiently.
-
-"Where is she?"
-
-"There."
-
-A quadrille was just beginning; the dancers were arranging themselves.
-The Vicomte des Barres, one of the most strongly declared Royalists
-present, was leading Mademoiselle de Sainfoy forward.
-
-He was familiar with the details of the mission to England, on which the
-Baron d'Ombré was to start that very night; but not even to him had been
-confided Angelot's escape and Monsieur Joseph's further plans. He was
-one of the many guests who had been struck by the heartlessness of the
-Sainfoys in giving a ball at this moment, but who came to it for reasons
-of their own. He came with the object of hoodwinking the local police,
-who were watching him and his friends, of scattering the Chouan party
-and giving César d'Ombré more chance of a safe and quiet start.
-
-The manners, the looks, the talk of Des Barres were all of the old
-régime. He had its charm, its sympathetic grace; and it was with a
-feeling of relief and safety that Hélène gave her hand to him for the
-dance, rather than to one of the young Empire heroes whose eyes were
-eagerly following her.
-
-"Your sister is a fool," said Madame de Sainfoy, very low.
-
-"That is my impression," said Georges; and they both gazed for an
-instant at the couple as they advanced.
-
-Hélène's loveliness that night was extraordinary. The music, the lights,
-the wonderful beauty of the scene in those gorgeous rooms, the
-light-hearted talk and laughter all about her, had lifted the heavy
-sadness that lay on her brow and eyes. When every one seemed so gay,
-could life be quite hopeless, after all? The tender pink in her cheeks
-that night was not due to her mother's rouge-box, with which she had
-often been threatened. She was smiling at some pretty old-world
-compliment from Monsieur des Barres. He, for his part, asked himself
-what the grief could be which lay behind that smile of hers, and found
-it easy enough to have his question answered. In a few minutes, in the
-intervals of the dance, they were talking of her cousin Angelot, his
-mysterious arrest, the possible reasons for it. Hélène's story was
-plainly to be read in the passion of her low voice, her darkening eyes,
-the quick changes of her colour. Monsieur des Barres was startled, yet
-hardly surprised; it seemed as natural that two such young creatures
-should be attracted to each other, as that their love should be a
-hopeless fancy; for no reasonable person could dream that Monsieur de
-Sainfoy would give his daughter to a cousin neither rich nor fortunate.
-He did his best to cheer the girl, without showing that he guessed her
-secret. It must be some mistake, he assured her; the government could
-have no good reason for detaining her cousin, who--"unfortunately," said
-Monsieur des Barres, with a smile--"was not a Royalist conspirator at
-all." He had the satisfaction of gaining a look and a smile from Hélène
-which must have brought a young man to her feet, and which even made his
-well-trained heart beat a little quicker.
-
-Georges de Sainfoy was resolved that his sister should not insult her
-family again by dancing with a known Chouan. For the next dance, Hélène
-found herself in the possession of General Ratoneau, clattering sword,
-creaking boots, and all. Monsieur des Barres, looking back as he
-withdrew, saw a cold statue, with white eyelids lowered, making a deep
-curtsey to the General under her brother's stern eyes.
-
-"Poor little thing!" the Vicomte said to himself. "Poor children! The
-pretty boy is impossible, of course. These cousins are the devil. But it
-is a pity!"
-
-General Ratoneau danced very badly, and did not care to dance much. He
-had no intention of making himself agreeable in this way to any lady but
-the daughter of the house, whom in his own mind he already regarded as
-betrothed to him. He had satisfactory letters from his friends in Paris,
-assuring him that the imperial order to the Comte de Sainfoy would be
-sent off immediately. It was difficult for him not to boast among his
-comrades of his coming marriage, but he had just decency enough to hold
-his tongue. According to his calculations, the order might have arrived
-at Lancilly to-day; it could scarcely be delayed beyond to-morrow.
-
-Hélène endured him as a partner, and was a little proud of herself for
-it. She found him repulsive; disliked meeting the bold admiration of his
-eyes. But as no one had mentioned him to her during the last few weeks,
-Madame de Sainfoy and Georges prudently restraining themselves, and as
-he had not appeared at Lancilly since the dinner-party, she had ceased
-to have any immediate fear of him. And all the brilliancy of that
-evening, the triumphant swing of the music, the consciousness of her own
-beauty, delicately heightened by her first partner's looks and words,
-and last, not least, the comfort he had given her about Angelot, had
-raised her drooping spirits so that she found it not impossible to
-smile and speak graciously, even with General Ratoneau.
-
-After dancing, he led her round the newly decorated rooms, and all the
-new fashions in furniture, in dress, in manners, made a subject for talk
-which helped her wonderfully. Ratoneau listened with a smiling stare,
-asked questions, and laughed now and then.
-
-On the surface, his manner was not offensive; he was behaving
-beautifully, according to his standard; probably no young woman had ever
-been so politely treated by him before. In truth, Hélène's fair beauty
-and stateliness, the white dignity of a creature so far above his
-experience, awed him a little. But with a man of his kind, no such
-feeling was likely to last long. Any strange touch of shyness which
-protected the lovely girl by his side was passing off as he swore to
-himself: "I have risked something, God knows, but she's worth it all. I
-am a lucky man--I shall be proud of my wife."
-
-They were in the farther salon, not many people near. He turned upon her
-suddenly, with a look which brought the colour to her face, "Do you
-know, mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!"
-
-Hélène shook her head, a faint smile struggling with instant disgust and
-alarm. She looked round, but saw no one who could release her from this
-rough admirer. She was obliged to turn to him again, and listened to him
-with lowered eyes, a recollection of her mother's words weighing now
-upon her brain.
-
-"The first time I saw you, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, "was in this
-room. You were handing coffee with that cousin of yours--young La
-Marinière."
-
-He saw the girl's face quiver and grow pale. His own changed, and his
-smile became unpleasant. He had not meant to mention that fellow, now
-shut up safely somewhere--it was strange, by the bye, that Simon had
-never come back to report himself and take his money! However, as he had
-let Angelot's name fall, there might be some advantage to be had out of
-it.
-
-"I see his father is not here to-night," he said. "Sensible man, his
-father."
-
-"How should he be here!" said Hélène, turning her head away. "He is gone
-to Paris to find him. How could he be here, dancing and laughing--I ask
-myself, how can anybody--"
-
-She spoke half aside, breaking off suddenly.
-
-"Yourself, for instance?" said Ratoneau, staring at her. "And why should
-you shut yourself up and make the whole world miserable, because your
-cousin is a fool? But you have not done so."
-
-"Because it is impossible, I am not free."
-
-"What would you be doing now, if you were free?"
-
-Hélène shrugged her shoulders. Ratoneau laughed.
-
-"Does Monsieur de la Marinière expect to bring his son back with him?"
-he asked.
-
-His tone was sneering, but Hélène did not notice it.
-
-"I do not know, monsieur," she said. "But my cousin will come back. He
-has done nothing. He has been in no plots. The Emperor cannot punish an
-innocent man."
-
-She looked up suddenly, cheered by repeating what Monsieur des Barres
-had told her. Her pathetic eyes met Ratoneau's for a moment; surely no
-one could be cruel enough to deny such facts as these. In the General's
-full gaze there was plenty of what was odious to her, but no real
-kindness or pity. She blushed as she thought: "How dares this man look
-at me so? He is nothing but the merest acquaintance. He is
-insupportable."
-
-"If we were to go back into the ball-room, monsieur," she said gravely,
-beginning to move away. "My mother will be looking for me."
-
-"No, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, coolly, "I think not. Madame la
-Comtesse saw me take you this way."
-
-He sat down on a sofa, spreading his broad left hand over the gilded
-sphinx of its arm. With his right hand he pointed to the place beside
-him.
-
-"Sit down there," he said.
-
-Hélène frowned with astonishment, caught her breath and looked round.
-There were two or three people at the other end of the room, but all
-strangers to her, and all passing out gradually; no one coming towards
-her, no one to rescue her from the extraordinary manners of this man.
-
-The glance she gave him was as withering as her gentle eyes could make
-it; then she turned her back upon him and began to glide away, alone,
-down the room.
-
-"Mademoiselle--" said Ratoneau; his voice grated on her ears.
-
-Was he laughing? was he angry? in any case she was resolved not to speak
-to the insolent creature again.
-
-"Listen, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, more loudly, and without rising.
-"Listen! I will bring your cousin back."
-
-She wavered, paused, then turned and looked at him. He gazed at her
-gravely, intently; his look and manner were a little less offensive now.
-
-"Yes--I am not an ogre," he said. "I don't eat boys and girls. But I
-assure you there are people in the Empire who do. And you are quite
-wrong if you think that an innocent man is never punished. The police
-may have their reasons--bang--there go the big gates of Vincennes, and
-the stronger reason that opens them again is hard to find. Innocent or
-guilty--after all, that pretty cousin of yours has touched a good deal
-of pitch in the way of _chouannerie_, mademoiselle."
-
-"You said--" Hélène waited and stammered.
-
-"I said I would bring him back. You want to understand me? Sit down
-beside me here."
-
-The girl hesitated. "Courage! for Angelot!" she said to herself.
-
-She did not believe in the man; she dreaded him; shrank from him; but
-the name she loved was even more powerful than Ratoneau had expected.
-
-"Ah, but we will send that little cousin to the wars, or to America," he
-thought, as she came slowly back and let herself sink down, pale and
-cold, in the opposite corner of the sofa.
-
-"Where is my cousin, monsieur?" she said under her breath.
-
-"I suppose, as the police arrested him, that he is in their hands," said
-Ratoneau. "Where he is at this moment I know no more than you do."
-
-"But you said--"
-
-"Yes--I will do it. You can believe, can you not, that I have more
-influence at headquarters than poor Monsieur de la Marinière--a little
-country squire who has saved himself by licking the dust before each man
-in power?"
-
-"It is not right for you to speak so of my father's cousin, who has been
-so excellent for us all," Hélène said quickly; then she blushed at her
-own boldness. "But if you can really do this--I shall be grateful,
-monsieur."
-
-The words were coldly, impatiently said; she might have been throwing a
-bone to a begging dog. Ratoneau bent forward, devouring her with his
-eyes. The delicate line of her profile was partly turned away from him;
-the eyelids drooped so low that the long lashes almost rested on the
-cheek. All about her brow and ears, creeping down to her white neck, the
-fair curls clustered. Soft and narrow folds of white muslin, lace, and
-fine embroidery, clothed her slender figure with an exaggerated
-simplicity. Her foot, just advanced beyond the frills of the gown, her
-white long fingers clasping her fan; every feature, every touch, every
-detail, was as finely beautiful as art and nature could make it; Hélène
-was the perfection of dainty aristocracy in the exquisite freshness of
-its youth.
-
-"I will do it--I will do it--for love of you," Ratoneau said, and his
-voice became suddenly hoarse. "You are beautiful--and you are
-mine--mine."
-
-The girl shuddered from head to foot.
-
-"No!" she said violently.
-
-She did not look at Ratoneau. As to him, he did not speak, but laughed
-and bent nearer. She rose to her feet suddenly.
-
-"You forget yourself--you are mad, Monsieur le Général," she said
-haughtily. "If that is the condition--no! Pray do not concern yourself
-about my cousin's affairs, you have nothing to do with them."
-
-Ratoneau rose too, a little unsteadily.
-
-"Listen one moment, mademoiselle," he said. "If I am mad, you are
-foolish, let me tell you. I said nothing about conditions, I stated
-facts. You will be my wife--therefore you are mine, you belong to me,
-and therefore there is nothing I will not do for love of you. My wife is
-the most beautiful woman in France, and she stands here."
-
-"Never, never!" murmured Hélène. "It has come!" she said to herself.
-
-Her mother had threatened her with this; and now, apparently, all had
-been settled without a word to her. Even her father, once on her side,
-must be against her now. He had been angry with her; not without reason,
-she knew. Yes, this horrible thing had been arranged by her father, her
-mother, Georges, while she was kept a prisoner upstairs. If they had
-been kinder to her in the last few days, it was only that they wished to
-bring their victim smiling to the sacrifice. No wonder Georges had
-insisted on her dancing with General Ratoneau. No wonder her mother had
-taken pains to dress her beautifully for this ball, which she hated and
-dreaded so much.
-
-These thoughts, with a wild desire to escape, rushed through Hélène's
-mind as she stood breathless before this man who laid such a daring
-claim to her. He was smiling, though his lips were white. It is not
-pleasant to be treated as horrible scum of the earth by the woman you
-have arranged to marry; to see scorn, disgust, hatred in a girl's face,
-answering to your finest compliments.
-
-"This young lady has a character--she has a temper--" he muttered
-between his teeth. "But you will be tamed, ma belle. Who would have
-thought with those pale cheeks of yours--well, the Emperor's command
-will bring you to reason. Pity I spoke, perhaps--but a man cannot keep
-cool always. That command--Ah, thousand thunders! what do I see?"
-
-The last words were spoken aloud. As Hélène stood before him, silent,
-rooted with horror to the ground, he watching her with folded arms in a
-favourite imperial attitude, several sets of people strolled across the
-lower end of the room, for this was one of a suite of salons. Suddenly
-came the master of the house alone, walking slowly, his eyes fixed on a
-letter in his hand, his face deathly white in the glimmer of the many
-wax candles. Hélène did not see her father at first, for her back was
-turned to him, but at the General's words she turned quickly, and was
-just aware of him as he passed into the next room. Without another word
-or look she left her partner standing there, and fled away in pursuit of
-him. Ratoneau watched the white figure vanishing, laughed aloud, and
-swore heartily.
-
-"This is dramatic," he said. "Fortunate that I have a friend at Court in
-Madame la Comtesse! Suppose I go and join her."
-
-Hélène searched for her father in vain. By the time she reached the
-other room, he had quite unaccountably vanished. As she flew on rather
-distractedly among the guests, hurrying back to the ball-room, her
-brother's peremptory hand was laid upon her arm.
-
-"What is the matter, Hélène? Where are you running? Are you dancing with
-no one, and why do you look so wild?"
-
-Hélène answered none of these questions.
-
-"Find me a partner, if you please," she said, with a sudden effort at
-collecting herself. "But, Georges--no more of your officers."
-
-Georges looked at her with a queer smile, but only said--
-
-"And no more of your Chouans!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIV
-
-HOW MONSIEUR DE SAINFOY FOUND A WAY OUT
-
-
-If Angelot expected to find the usual woodland stillness, that night,
-about the approaches to the Château de Lancilly, he was mistaken. The
-old place was surrounded; numbers of servants, ranks of carriages, a few
-gendarmes and soldiers. Half the villages were there, too, crowding
-about the courts, under the walls, and pressing especially round the
-chief entrance on the west, where a bridge over the old moat led into a
-court surrounded with high-piled buildings, one stately roof rising
-above another. Monsieur de Sainfoy kept up the old friendly fashion, and
-no gates shut off his neighbours from his domain.
-
-Angelot came through the wood, which almost touched the house and
-shadowed the moat on the north side. He had meant to go in at some door,
-to pass through one of the halls, perhaps, and catch a glimpse of the
-dancing. All this now seemed more difficult; he could not go among the
-people without being recognised, and though, as far as himself was
-concerned, he would have dared anything for a sight of Hélène, loyalty
-to his uncle stood in the way of foolhardiness.
-
-He walked cautiously towards the steps leading down into the moat. This
-corner, far from any entrance, was dark and solitary. The little door in
-the moat was probably still blocked; but in any case the ivy was there,
-and the chapel window--heaven send it open, or at least unbarred!
-
-"I shall do no harm to-night, Cousin Hervé. I shall see her dancing with
-some happy fellow. If I don't know Lancilly well enough to spend ten
-minutes in the old gallery--nobody will be there--well, then--"
-
-"Monsieur Angelot!" said a deep voice out of the darkness.
-
-"Not an inch nearer, or I fire!" Angelot replied, and his pistol was
-ready.
-
-"Tiens! Don't kill me, for I am desperately glad to see you," and Martin
-Joubard limped forward. "You got away from those ragamuffins, then? I
-thought as much, when I heard they had been watching the woods. But
-where are you hiding, and what are you doing here? Take care, there are
-a lot of police and gendarmes about. Are you safe?"
-
-"No, I'm not safe--at least my uncle says so. Did you think I would stay
-with those rascals long?" Angelot laughed. "I'm going out of the country
-to-night. Hold your tongue, Martin. Wait here. I will come back this
-way, and you can warn me if there is any one on the track."
-
-"Going out of the country without seeing madame, and she breaking her
-heart?" said Martin, disapproving.
-
-"No, I am on my way. Pst! I hear footsteps," and Angelot dropped into
-the moat, while the soldier stepped back into the shadow of the trees.
-
-"On his way to La Marinière--from his uncle's! Rather roundabout,
-Monsieur Angelot. Ah, but to have all one's limbs!" sighed Martin,
-smiling, for plenty of gossip had reached him; and he listened to the
-gay music which made the air dance, and to the voices and laughter, till
-he forgot everything else in the thrilling knowledge that somebody was
-scrambling up through the ivy on the opposite wall. There was a slight
-clank and crash among the thick depth of leaves; then silence.
-
-"He ought to be one of us, that boy!" thought Martin. "I'll wait for
-him. I like a spark of the devil. My father says Monsieur Joseph was a
-thorough _polisson_, and almost as pretty as his nephew. He's a pious
-little gentleman now. They are a curious family!"
-
-Angelot slipped through the dark empty chapel, and the wind howled
-behind him. He ran down the passage between rooms that were empty and
-dark, for Mademoiselle Moineau and her pupils had been allowed to go
-down to the ball. He went through stone-vaulted corridors, unlighted,
-cold and lonely, across half the length of the great house. He had to
-watch his moment for passing the head of the chief staircase, for there
-were people going up and down, servants trying to see what they could of
-the gay doings below. Waves of warm and scented air rolled up against
-his face as he darted past, keeping close to the wall, one moving shadow
-more. Music, laughing, talking, filled old Lancilly like a flood, ebbing
-and flowing so; and every now and then the tramping of feet on the
-ball-room floor echoed loudest.
-
-Angelot knew of a little gallery room with narrow slits in the
-stonework, opening out of the further passage that led to Monsieur and
-Madame de Sainfoy's rooms. It used to be empty or filled with lumber; it
-now held several large wardrobes, but the perforated wall remained. He
-found the door open; it was not quite dark, for gleams of light made
-their way in from the chandeliers in the ball-room, one end of which it
-overlooked. There were also a couple of lights in the passage outside.
-
-From this high point Angelot looked down upon the ball. And first it was
-nothing but a whirling confusion of sound and colour and light; the
-flying dresses, the uniforms, jewels, gold lace, glittering necklaces,
-flashing sword hilts. Then--that fair head, that white figure alone.
-
-He could hear nothing of what was said; but he saw her brother come up
-with General Ratoneau, he watched the dance--and if those slits in the
-solid wall had been wider, there might have been danger of a young man's
-daring to drop down by his hands, trusting to fate to land him safely
-on the floor below. For he saw his love walk away with her partner down
-the ball-room, out of his sight, and then he waited in unbearable
-impatience, but saw her no more for what seemed a long time. He began to
-think that he must go, carrying with him the agony of leaving her in
-familiar talk with Ratoneau, when suddenly he saw her again, and forgot
-his mother, his uncle, César d'Ombré, and all the obligations of life.
-She came back alone; her brother was speaking to her; she looked
-troubled, there was something strange about it all, but Ratoneau was not
-there. That, at least, was well; and how divinely beautiful she looked!
-
-Angelot gazed for a minute or two, holding his breath; then a sudden
-step and a voice in the corridor close by startled him violently. He had
-left the door half open, standing where he could not be seen through it.
-He now turned his head to see who was passing. It was the step of one
-person only, a quick and agitated step. Was this person then speaking to
-him? No, it was his cousin Hervé de Sainfoy, and he was talking to
-himself. He was repeating the same words over and over again: "But who
-can save us? What shall I do? What shall I do? Who can save us? A way
-out, he says? My God, there is none."
-
-When his cousin had passed the door, Angelot stepped forward and looked
-after him. It was impossible not to do so. The Comte was like a man who
-had received some terrible blow. His face was white and drawn, and his
-whole frame trembled as he walked. He carried an open letter shaking and
-rustling in his hand, glanced at it now and then, flung his clenched
-fists out on each side of him.
-
-Then he said aloud, "My God, it is her doing!"
-
-Angelot forgot all caution and stepped out into the corridor. His cousin
-seemed to be walking on to his own room at the end; but before he
-reached it he turned suddenly round and came hurrying back. Angelot
-stood and faced him.
-
-He, too, was pale from his imprisonment and the excitement of the night,
-but as he met Hervé de Sainfoy's astonished gaze the colour flooded his
-young face and his brave bright eyes fell.
-
-"_You_ here, Angelot?" said the Comte.
-
-He spoke absently, gently, with no great surprise and no anger at all.
-Angelot knew that he loved him, and felt the strangest desire to kneel
-and kiss his hand.
-
-"Pardon, monsieur"--he began quickly--"I was looking at the ball--I
-leave France to-morrow, and--Can I help you, Uncle Hervé?" For he saw
-that the Comte was listening to no explanations of his. He stared
-straight before him, frowning, biting his lips, shaking the letter in
-his hand.
-
-"It is some diabolical intrigue," he said. "How can you help, my poor
-boy? No! but I would rather see her dead at my feet--for her own
-sake--and the insult to me!"
-
-"But tell me what it all means? Let me do something!" cried Angelot; for
-the words thrilled him with a new terror.
-
-He almost snatched the letter from his cousin's hand.
-
-"Yes, yes, read it. Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" Hervé groaned, and stamped
-his feet.
-
-The letter was written in very shaky characters, and Angelot had to hold
-it under one of the candle sconces on the wall.
-
- "My dear Comte:--
-
- "You will receive to-morrow, I have reason to think, an Imperial
- recommendation--which means a command--to give Mademoiselle your
- daughter in marriage to General Ratoneau. If you see any way out of
- this dilemma, I need hardly advise you to take it. You would have
- been warned earlier of the danger, but circumstances have been too
- strong for me. My part in the affair I hope to explain. In the
- meanwhile believe in my sincere friendship, and burn this letter.
-
- "_De Mauves_."
-
-Angelot drew in his breath sharply. "Ah! The Prefect is good," he said.
-
-While he read the letter, his cousin was staring at him. Slowly,
-intently, yet with a sort of vague distraction, his eyes travelled over
-Angelot; the plain shooting clothes, so odd a contrast in that gay
-house, at that time of night, to his own elegant evening dress; the
-handsome, clear-cut, eager face, the young lips set with a man's
-firmness and energy.
-
-"I thought you were in prison," said Hervé.
-
-"I escaped from the police."
-
-"Why did they arrest you?"
-
-"I do not know. I believe it was a private scheme of that rascal
-Simon's--such things have happened."
-
-"Tell me all--and quickly."
-
-Angelot began to obey him, but after a few words broke off suddenly.
-
-"Uncle Hervé, what is the use of talking about me? What are you going to
-do? Let us think--yes, I have a plan. If you were to call my cousin
-Hélène quietly out of the ball-room to change her dress, I would have
-horses ready in the north wood, and I would ride with you at least part
-of the way to Le Mans. There you could get a post-chaise and drive to
-Paris. Place her safely in a convent, and go yourself to the Emperor--"
-
-"And do you suppose, Angelot, that I have enough influence with the
-Emperor to make him withdraw an order already given--and do you not know
-that this is a favourite amusement of his, this disgusting plan of
-giving our daughters to any butcher and son of a butcher who has
-slaughtered enough men to please him? Your uncle Joseph told us all
-about it. He said it was in the Prefect's hands--I can hardly believe
-that our Prefect would have treated me so. There is some intrigue
-behind all this. I suspect--ah, I will teach them to play their tricks
-on me! A convent--my poor boy, do you expect they would leave her there?
-Even a hundred years ago they would have dragged her out for a political
-marriage--how much more now!"
-
-For a moment there was dead silence; they looked hard at each other, but
-if Angelot read anything in his cousin's eyes, it was something too
-extraordinary to be believed. He flushed again suddenly as he said, "You
-can never consent to such a marriage, for you gave me your word of
-honour that you would not."
-
-"Will they ask my consent? I have refused it once already," said Hervé
-de Sainfoy.
-
-He walked a few steps, and turned back; he was much calmer now, and his
-face was full of grave thought and resolution.
-
-"Angelot," he said, "you are your father's son, as well as your uncle's
-nephew. Tell me, have you actually done anything to bring you under
-imperial justice?"
-
-"Nothing," Angelot answered. "The police may pretend to think so. Uncle
-Joseph says I am in danger. But I have done nothing."
-
-"Did you say you were leaving the country to-morrow? Alone?"
-
-"With some of Uncle Joseph's friends."
-
-"Ah! And your father?"
-
-"I shall come back some day. Life is too difficult," said Angelot.
-
-"You want an anchor," Hervé said, thoughtfully. "Now--will you do
-everything I tell you?"
-
-"In honour."
-
-"Tiens! Honour! Was it honour that brought you into my house to-night?"
-
-"No--but not dishonour."
-
-"Well, there is no time for arguing. I suppose you are not bound in
-honour to this wild-goose chase of your uncle's--or his friends'?"
-
-"I don't know," Angelot said; and indeed he did not, but he knew that
-César d'Ombré looked upon him as an addition to his troubles, and had
-only accepted his company to please Monsieur Joseph.
-
-And now the same power that had dragged Angelot out of his way to
-Lancilly was holding him fast, heart and brain, and was saying to him,
-"You cannot go"; the strongest power in the world. He was trembling from
-head to foot with a wilder, stranger madness than any he had ever known;
-the great decisive hour of his life was upon him, and he felt it, hard
-as it was to realise or understand anything in those dark, confused
-moments.
-
-What wonderful words had Hervé de Sainfoy said? by what way had he
-brought him, and set him clear of the château? he hardly knew. He found
-himself out in the dark on the south, the village side; he had to skirt
-round the backs of the houses and then slip up the river bank till he
-came to the bridge between the long rows of whispering, rustling
-poplars. After that a short cut across the fields, where he knew every
-bush and every rabbit hole, brought him up under the shadow of the
-church at La Marinière.
-
-The Curé lived with his old housekeeper in a low white house above the
-church, on the way to the manor. She was always asleep early; but the
-old man, being very studious and too nervous to sleep much, often sat up
-reading till long after midnight. Angelot therefore counted on finding a
-light in his window, and was not disappointed. He cut his old friend's
-eager welcome very short.
-
-"Monsieur le Curé, come with me at once to the château, if you please.
-Monsieur de Sainfoy wishes to see you."
-
-"At this hour of the night! What can he want with me? I understood the
-whole world was dancing."
-
-"So it is--but he wants you, he wants you. Quick, where is your hat?"
-
-"How wild you look, Angelot! Is any one dying?"
-
-"No, no!"
-
-"Why does he not send for his own priest?"
-
-"Because he wants a discreet man. He wants you."
-
-The Curé began to hurry about the room.
-
-"By the bye, take your vestments," said Angelot in a lower tone. "He
-wants you to say mass in the chapel. Take everything you ought to have.
-I will carry it all for you."
-
-"The chapel is not in a fit state--and who will serve at the mass?"
-
-"I will--or he will find somebody. Oh, trust me, Monsieur le Curé, and
-come, or I shall have to carry you."
-
-"But _you_, Ange--I thought--"
-
-"Don't think! All your thoughts are wrong."
-
-"My dear boy, have you seen your father?"
-
-"No! Has he come back?"
-
-"Two hours ago. He has gone to Les Chouettes with your mother, to find
-you."
-
-"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Angelot, and laughed loudly.
-
-The good old Curé was seriously frightened. He thought that this
-charming boy, whom he had known from his birth, was either crazy or
-drunk with strong wine. Yet, as he really could not be afraid to trust
-himself to Angelot, he did as he was told, collected all he wanted,
-asking questions all the time which the young man did not or could not
-answer, and started off with him into the dim and chilly dampness of the
-night.
-
-Angelot nearly died of impatience. He had run all the way to La
-Marinière, he had to walk all the way back, and slowly. For the Curé was
-feeble, and his sight was not good, and the lanes and fields were
-terribly uneven. Angelot had prudence enough not to take a light, which
-would have been seen a mile off, moving on those slopes in the
-darkness. This precaution also helped to save him from Simon, who, after
-waiting about for some time between Les Chouettes and La Marinière, had
-seen Monsieur and Madame Urbain coming out with their lantern and had
-tracked them half the way, hearing enough of their talk to understand
-that he must lay hands on Angelot that night, or not at all. For it
-sounded as if the young man's protectors were more powerful than General
-Ratoneau, his enemy.
-
-Simon was very uneasy, as he stole back, and turned towards Lancilly,
-shrewdly guessing that those bright windows had attracted Angelot. He
-crept through the lanes like a wolf in winter, searching for some lonely
-colt or sheep to devour. Furious and bewildered, worn out with his long
-watching, he almost resolved that young La Marinière should have short
-shrift if he met him. This, it seemed now, was the only way to remove
-him out of the General's path. None of his relations knew exactly where
-he was that night. If he were found dead in a ditch, the hand that
-struck him would never be known. For his own sake, General Ratoneau
-would never betray the suspicions he might have. At the same time, Simon
-was not such a devil incarnate as to think of cold-blooded murder
-without a certain horror and sickness; and he found it in his heart to
-wish that he had never seen Ratoneau.
-
-He heard footsteps in a deep lane he was approaching, and lying down,
-peered over the bank and saw that two men had already passed him,
-walking cautiously between the ruts of the road. They carried no light,
-and it was so dark in the lane that he could hardly distinguish them.
-One seemed taller than the other, and walked more feebly. There was
-nothing to suggest the idea that one of these men might be Angelot. All
-pointed to the contrary. He would be coming towards La Marinière, not
-going from it towards Lancilly. He would certainly be alone; and then
-his air and pace would be different from that of this shorter figure,
-who, carefully guiding his companion, was also carrying some bundle or
-load. There was a low murmur of talk which the police spy could not
-distinguish, and thus, his game within shooting distance, he allowed him
-to walk away unharmed. He followed the two men slowly, however, till he
-lost them on the edge of the park at Lancilly. There Angelot took the
-Curé by a way of his own into the wood, and led him up by a path soft
-with dead leaves to the north side of the château.
-
-"Monsieur Angelot!"
-
-It was once more Martin Joubard's voice. He was much astonished, not
-having seen Angelot leave the château. He stared at the Curé and took
-off his hat.
-
-"All's well, Martin; you are a good sentry--but hold your tongue a
-little longer," said Angelot.
-
-"Ah! but take care, Monsieur Angelot," said the soldier, pointing with
-his stick to the dark, tremendous walls which towered beyond the moat.
-"I don't know what is going on there, but don't venture too far. There's
-a light in the chapel window, do you see? and just now I heard them
-hammering at the little door down there in the moat. It may be a trap
-for you. Listen, though, seriously. I don't know what sport you may be
-after, but you ought not to run Monsieur le Curé into it, and so I tell
-you. It is not right."
-
-The good fellow's voice shook with anxiety. He did not pretend to be
-extra religious, but his father and mother reverenced the Curé, and he
-had known him ever since he was born.
-
-Angelot laughed impatiently.
-
-"Come, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "We are going down into the moat, but
-the steps are uneven, so give me your hand."
-
-"Do not be anxious, Martin," said the old man. "All is well, Monsieur de
-Sainfoy has sent for me."
-
-The crippled sentry waited. In the deep shadows he could see no more,
-but he heard their steps as they climbed down and crossed the moat, and
-then he heard the creaking hinges of that door far below. It was
-cautiously closed. All was dark and still in the moat, but shadows
-crossed the lighted chapel window.
-
-The wind was rising, the clouds were flying, and the stars shining out.
-Waves of music flowed from the south side of the long mass of building,
-and sobbed away into the rustling woods. An enchanting valse was being
-played. Georges de Sainfoy was dancing with the richest heiress in
-Touraine, and his mother was so engrossed with a new ambition for him
-that she forgot Hélène for the moment, and her more certain future as
-the wife of General Ratoneau.
-
-Madame de Sainfoy had not seen her husband since he received the
-Prefect's letter, and was not aware of his disappearance from the ball,
-now at the height of its success and splendour.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXV
-
-HOW THE CURÉ ACTED AGAINST HIS CONSCIENCE
-
-
-If the old priest had come in faith at Monsieur de Sainfoy's call, not
-knowing, not even suspecting what was wanted of him, Angelot, who knew
-all, yet found it impossible to believe. Therefore he could not bring
-himself to give the Curé any explanation, or even to mention Hélène's
-name. Her father, for whom he now felt a passionate, enthusiastic
-reverence and love, had trusted him in the matter. He had said, resting
-his hand on his shoulder: "Tell Monsieur le Curé what you please. Or
-leave it to me to tell him all;" and Angelot had felt that the Curé must
-be brought in ignorance. Afterwards he knew that there were other
-reasons for this, besides the vagueness in his own mind. The Curé had a
-great sense of the fitness of things. Also, next to God and his Bishop,
-he felt bound to love and serve Urbain and Anne de la Marinière.
-
-When Angelot opened the little door, which he found ajar, there was a
-flickering light on the damp narrow stairs that wound up in the
-thickness of the wall. There stood Hervé de Sainfoy, tall, pale, very
-calm now, with a look of resolution quite new to his pleasant features.
-
-"You are welcome, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "Follow me."
-
-The old man obeyed silently, and the two passed on before Angelot. When
-they reached the topmost winding of the staircase, Hervé led the Curé
-round into the corridor, still carrying his light, and saying, "A word
-alone with you." At the same time he motioned to Angelot to go forward
-into the chapel.
-
-The altar was partly arranged for service, the candles were lighted, and
-one white figure, its face hidden, was kneeling there. Angelot stood and
-looked for a moment, with dazzled eyes. The wind moaned, the distant
-valse flowed on. Here in the old neglected chapel, under the kind eyes
-of the Virgin's statue, he had left Hélène that night, weeks ago. He had
-never seen her since, except in the ball-room this very evening, lovely
-as a dream; but she was lovelier than any dream now.
-
-He went up softly beside her, stooped on one knee and kissed the fingers
-that rested on the old worm-eaten bench. She looked up suddenly,
-blushing scarlet, and they both rose to their feet and stood quite
-still, looking into each other's eyes. They did not speak; there was
-nothing to say, except "I love you," and words were not necessary for
-that. At first there was terror and bewilderment, rather than
-happiness, in Hélène's face, and her hands trembled as Angelot held
-them; but soon under his gaze and his touch a smile was born. All those
-weeks of desolate loneliness were over, her one and only friend stood
-beside her once again, to leave her no more. The horrors of that very
-night, the terrible ball-room full of glittering uniforms and clanking
-swords, the odious face and voice of Ratoneau;--her father had beckoned
-her away, had taken her from it all for ever. He had told her in a few
-words of the Prefect's letter and his resolution, without even taking
-the trouble to ask her if she would consent to marry her cousin. "It is
-the only thing to be done," he said. Neither of them had even mentioned
-her mother. The suspicion that his wife had had something to do with
-this imperial order made Hervé even more furious than the order itself,
-and more resolved to settle the affair in his own way.
-
-"Now I understand," he thought, "why Adélaïde invited the brute to this
-ball. I wager that she knew what was coming. It is time I showed them
-all who is the master of this house!"
-
-And now, when everything was arranged, when the bridegroom and the bride
-were actually waiting in the chapel, when every minute was of importance
-and might bring some fatal interruption--now, here was the excellent old
-Curé full of curious questions and narrow-minded objections.
-
-"Monsieur le Comte, impossible!" he cried in the corridor. "Marry
-mademoiselle your daughter to Ange de la Marinière--and without any
-proper notice, without witnesses, at midnight, unknown to his parents!
-Do you take me for a constitutional priest, may I ask?"
-
-"No, Monsieur le Curé, and that is why I demand this service of you.
-You, an old friend of both families, I send for you rather than for my
-own Curé of Lancilly."
-
-"Ah, I dare say! But do I understand that you are disobeying an order
-from the Emperor? Am I to ruin myself, by aiding and abetting you?
-Besides--"
-
-"No, Monsieur le Curé, you understand nothing of the kind. I explain
-nothing. You run yourself into no danger--but if you did, I should ask
-you all the more. A man like you, who held firm to his post through the
-Revolution--"
-
-"Pardon--I did not hold firm. Monsieur de la Marinière protected me."
-
-"And now I will protect you. Listen. I have had no order from the
-Emperor. I have heard, by means of a friend, that such an order is on
-its way. It would compel me to marry my daughter to a man she hates, a
-degrading connection for me. There is only one way of saving her. You
-know that she and young Ange love each other--they have suffered for
-it--we will legalise this love of theirs. When the order reaches me, my
-Hélène will be already married. The Emperor can say nothing. His
-General must seek a wife elsewhere. Now, Monsieur le Curé, are you
-satisfied? The children are waiting."
-
-"No, monsieur, no, I am not satisfied. I think there is more risk than
-you tell me, but I do not mind that. I will not, I cannot, marry young
-Ange to your daughter without his father's knowledge. Your cousin--God
-bless him!--is not a religious man, but I owe him a debt I can never
-repay."
-
-Count Hervé laughed angrily. "You know very well," he said, "that if
-Urbain is displeased at this marriage, it will be for our sake, not his
-own. How could he hope for such a match for Angelot?"
-
-"His love for you is wonderful, Monsieur le Comte. But I am not talking
-of his likings or dislikings. I say that I will not marry these young
-people without his consent."
-
-"And I say you will. Understand, I mean it. Listen; my cousin Joseph was
-sending Ange to England to-night with some of his friends out of the way
-of the police. I will dress Hélène up as a boy, and send her with him,
-trusting to a marriage when they land. I will do anything to get her off
-my hands to-night, and Angelot will not fail me. The responsibility is
-yours, Monsieur le Curé."
-
-The old man wrung his hands. "Monsieur le Comte, you are mad!" he said.
-
-But these threats were effectual, as no fear of personal suffering
-would have been, and the Curé, though solemnly protesting, submitted.
-
-The delay he caused was not yet over, however. No angry frowns and
-impatient words would induce him to begin the service before the two
-young people had separately made their confession to him. Luckily, both
-were ready to do this, and neither was very long; when at last the Curé,
-properly vested, began with solemn deliberation the words of the
-service, his eyes were full of tears, not altogether unhappy.
-
-"Two white souls, madame," he told Anne afterwards. "Your son and your
-daughter--you may love them freely, and trust their love for you and for
-each other. Never did I join the hands of two such innocent children as
-our dear Ange and his Hélène."
-
-He had, in fact, just joined their hands for the first time, when he
-looked round anxiously at Monsieur de Sainfoy and murmured, "There is no
-one you can trust, monsieur--no other possible witness?"
-
-"None," the Comte answered shortly; and even as he spoke they all heard
-a sharp knocking in the corridor, and the opening and shutting of doors.
-
-"Go on, go on! This comes of all your delay," he muttered, and Angelot
-looked round, alarmed, while Hélène turned white with fear.
-
-Then the person in the corridor, whoever this might be, evidently saw a
-light through some chink in the chapel door, for the latch was lifted,
-and a small but impatient voice cried out, "Hélène--are you there?"
-
-It was not the voice of Adélaïde. Angelot looked at Hélène and smiled;
-the Curé hesitated. Monsieur de Sainfoy walked frowning to the door,
-which he had locked, and flung it open.
-
-"Come in, mademoiselle," he said. "Here is your witness, Monsieur le
-Curé."
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau, flushed, agitated, in her best gown, stood on the
-threshold with hands uplifted.
-
-"What--what is all this?" she stammered; and the scene that met her eyes
-was certainly strange enough to bewilder a respectable governess.
-
-It had occurred to Madame de Sainfoy to miss her daughter from the
-ball-room. Suspecting that the stupid girl had escaped to her own room,
-she had told Mademoiselle Moineau to fetch her at once, to insist on her
-coming down and dancing. And even now, in spite of this amazing,
-horrifying spectacle, in spite of the Comte's presence, and his voice
-repeating, "Come in, mademoiselle!" the little woman was brave enough to
-protest.
-
-"What is happening?" she said, and hurried a few steps forward. "Hélène,
-I am astonished. This must be stopped at once. Good heavens, what will
-Madame la Comtesse say!"
-
-"Let me beg you to be silent, mademoiselle," said Hervé de Sainfoy.
-
-He had already closed and locked the door. He now bent forward with an
-almost savage look; his pleasant face was utterly transformed by strong
-feeling.
-
-"Sit down," he said peremptorily. "You see me; I am here. My authority
-is sufficient, remember--Monsieur le Curé, have the goodness to
-proceed."
-
-Mademoiselle Moineau sank down on a bench and groaned. Her shocked,
-staring eyes took in every detail of the scene; the banished lover, the
-supposed prisoner, in his country clothes, with that dark woodland look
-of his; the white girl in her ball-dress, standing with bent head, and
-not moving or looking up, even at her mother's name. The joined hands,
-white and brown; the young, low voices, plighting their troth one to the
-other; then the trembling tones of the old priest alone in solemn Latin
-words, "_Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium_...."
-
-The service went on; and now no one, not even Monsieur de Sainfoy, took
-any notice of the unwilling spectator. She was a witness in spite of
-herself. She sank on her knees and sobbed in a corner, partly from real
-distress at a marriage she thought most foolish and unsuitable, partly
-from fear of what Madame de Sainfoy might say or do. Her rage must
-certainly find some victim. She would never believe that Mademoiselle
-Moineau could not have escaped and called her in time to interrupt this
-frantic ceremony. As for Monsieur de Sainfoy, his brain must certainly
-have given way. The poor governess hoped little from him, though he
-showed some method in his madness by leaving her locked up in the chapel
-when they all went away and telling her to wait there in silence till he
-came back. At least that was better than being forced to go down alone
-to announce this catastrophe to Hélène's mother. The Comtesse would have
-been capable of turning her out into midnight darkness after the first
-dozen words.
-
-Hélène, her dearest wish and wildest dream fulfilled in this strange
-fashion, seemed to be walking in her sleep. She obeyed her father's
-orders without a word to him or to Angelot, threw on a cloak, and
-followed them and the Curé down the steep blackness of the winding
-stairs. At the door her father put out his light, and it was his hand
-that guided her through the long grass and bushes in the moat, while
-Angelot gave all his care to the old priest. At the top of the steps, as
-the four hastily crossed into the deeper shadows of the wood, the tall
-and strange figure of Martin Joubard appeared out of the gloom. A few
-hurried words to him, and he readily undertook to see the Curé safely
-home. The sight of Monsieur de Sainfoy impressed him amazingly; it was
-evident that Monsieur Angelot had not been acting without authority.
-Martin stared with all his eyes at the cloaked woman's figure in the
-background, but promised himself to have all details from the Curé on
-their way through the lanes.
-
-Hervé de Sainfoy again gave his arm to his daughter, leading her down
-into the darkness of the wood. Angelot, more familiar with the ways,
-walked a yard or two in front of them. Several times--his sporting
-instinct not dulled by the wonderful thing that had happened--he was
-aware of a slight rustling in the bushes on the right, between the path
-where they were and the open ground of the park beyond the wood. He
-listened to this with one ear, while the other was attentive to his
-father-in-law. It did not strike Monsieur de Sainfoy, once away from the
-house, that caution and silence might be necessary; he talked out of the
-relief and gladness of his heart, while affectionately pressing Hélène's
-hand in his arm.
-
-"Make my compliments to your uncle, Angelot. Ask him to forgive me for
-taking his nephew and sending him back a niece. He will see that your
-duty lies in France now. As to that dear father of yours, I shall soon
-make my peace with him."
-
-"Papa!" Hélène spoke for the first time, and Angelot forgot the rustling
-in the bushes. "Cannot we--may not we go to La Marinière?"
-
-"Not at first," said Hervé, more gravely. "Ange must make sure of a
-welcome there--and he knows his uncle Joseph."
-
-"There is another reason," Angelot said eagerly. "My uncle is expecting
-me. He has made arrangements for me--this very night--I must come to an
-understanding with him. You know--" he said, looking at Hélène, "my
-uncle has risked much for me. To-morrow--or to-day, is it? my mother
-shall welcome you. You are not displeased?"
-
-"No, no. Take me anywhere--I will go anywhere you like," Hélène answered
-a little faintly; the thought of Angelot's mother, slightly as she knew
-her, had been sweet and comforting.
-
-For she was a timid girl, and these wild doings frightened her, though
-she loved Angelot and trusted him with all her heart.
-
-Her father laughed.
-
-"Certainly, my poor girl," he said, "no daughter of Lancilly was ever
-before married and smuggled away in such a fashion."
-
-"I am satisfied, papa," said Hélène; and they passed on through the wood
-and came to the crossing of the roads, where he kissed her, and once
-more laid her hand in Angelot's.
-
-"Take care of your wife," he said to him; and he stood a minute in the
-road, watching the two young figures, very close together, as they
-turned into a hollow lane that wound up into the fields and so on
-towards Les Chouettes.
-
-The Curé and Martin Joubard started away from the château by a path that
-crossed the park and reached the bridge without going through the
-village. They were not yet clear of the park, walking slowly, when a man
-came out of the shadows of the wood to the north, and crossed their
-path, going towards the south side of the château. He passed at some
-yards' distance in the confusing darkness of the low ground, where mists
-were rising; but Martin Joubard had the eyes of a hawk, and knew him.
-
-"Pardon, Monsieur le Curé!" he said, dropped the bundle he was carrying
-at the Curé's feet, and sped away at his wooden leg's best pace after
-the man.
-
-"_Hé_, police!" he said, as he came up with him, "what are you spying
-about here? Looking after the Emperor's enemies?"
-
-"You are not far wrong," said Simon. "And you--what are you doing here,
-soldier?"
-
-"My fighting days are done. I look out for amusement now. Did you see
-some people just now, going down through the wood? A young gentleman you
-want--who gave you the slip--was he there?"
-
-"I saw and heard enough to interest me," Simon answered drily. "It is
-time to finish off this business. I can't quite see what is going on,
-but I shall find out at the château. I have been following that young
-man all night, but I shall catch him up now."
-
-"I might help you with a little information," Martin said.
-
-The police agent looked at him suspiciously. "Tell me no lies," he said,
-"or"--he pointed to his carbine.
-
-"Oh, if that is your game--" Martin said.
-
-His heavy-headed stick swung in the air. "Crack!" it came down on the
-side of Simon's head and laid him flat on the turf. Martin stood and
-looked at him.
-
-"Now the saints grant I have not killed him," he said piously, "though I
-think he might very well be spared. But he won't go and catch Monsieur
-Angelot just at present."
-
-He left Simon lying there, and went quietly back to join the Curé.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVI
-
-HOW ANGELOT KEPT HIS TRYST
-
-
-For Hélène, the next wonder in that autumn night's dream was the arrival
-at Les Chouettes, the mysterious house which bore the character of a den
-of Chouans, but the thought of which had always pleased her, as the home
-of Angelot's most attractive uncle.
-
-Angelot hurried her through the lanes, almost in silence. At last he
-stopped under a tall poplar, which gleamed grey in the starlight among
-the other lower trees. It was close to the spot where, coming from Les
-Chouettes in the evening, he had been irresistibly drawn by the lights
-of Lancilly. Here he took Hélène in his arms and kissed her for the
-first time since the Curé had joined their hands.
-
-"Mine!" he said. "My love, Hélène! you are not unhappy, you are not
-afraid, my own?"
-
-"I am with you," the girl said, very low.
-
-"Ah! if only--anyhow, I am the happiest man in the world. Come,
-dearest!"
-
-Hélène wondered at him a little. He was changed, somehow, her gay,
-talkative, light-hearted, single-minded Angelot. He had become grave.
-She longed to ask him many things--how had he escaped or been released
-from prison?--was it his father's doing?--would his father and mother be
-displeased at his marriage?--but in spite of the rapture of knowing that
-they belonged to each other, she felt strangely shy of him. In that
-silent, hurried walk she dimly realised that her boy friend and lover
-had grown suddenly into a man. There was keen anxiety as well as joy in
-the quick, passionate embrace he allowed himself before bringing her to
-his uncle's hands.
-
-They walked up to the house, over the grass and the spreading sand. All
-was silent and dark, except a gleam of light from Monsieur Joseph's
-window. A dog came up and jumped on Angelot, with a little whine of
-welcome; another pressed up to Hélène and licked her hand. She was
-standing between the dog and Angelot when Monsieur Joseph, hearing
-footsteps, suddenly opened the window and stepped out with his gun.
-
-He stared a moment in astonished silence--then: "It is you, Anne! He has
-been home, then, the good-for-nothing! You have seen your father, Ange?
-Well, I told him, and I tell you, that you must go all the same--yes, my
-nephew does not break promises, or fail to keep appointments--but come
-in, Anne! What is the use of racing about the country all night? How did
-you miss him, the worthless fellow?"
-
-"This is not my mother, Uncle Joseph," Angelot said, laughter struggling
-with earnestness, while his arm slid round Hélène. "Let me present you
-to my wife."
-
-"What are you saying?" cried Monsieur Joseph, very sharply and sternly,
-coming a step nearer. "I see now--but who is this lady? None of your
-insolent jokes--who is it? Dieu! What have you done!"
-
-"I have been to the ball at Lancilly," said Angelot. "You see, this is
-my cousin Hélène. She preferred a walk with me to a dance with other
-people. And Uncle Hervé thought--"
-
-"Be silent," said Monsieur Joseph. He walked forward, pushed his nephew
-aside--a touch was enough for Angelot--and gently taking Hélène's hand,
-drew her into the light that streamed from his window. "Mademoiselle,"
-he said, "my nephew is distracted. What truth is there in all this? Are
-you here with your father's knowledge. Something extraordinary must have
-happened, it seems to me."
-
-"It is true, monsieur," Hélène said, blushing scarlet. "It was my
-father's doing. He sent for the Curé, and we were married in the chapel,
-not an hour ago. Do not be angry with us, I beg of you, monsieur. He
-said he must bring me to you first--and he loves you. My father did it
-to save me. Ange will explain. My father sent his compliments to
-you--and he said--he said you will see that your nephew's duty lies in
-France now."
-
-Hélène was astonished at her own eloquent boldness. Angelot watched
-her, smiling, enchanted. Monsieur Joseph listened very gravely, his eyes
-upon her troubled face. When she paused, he bent and kissed her hand.
-
-"I do not understand the mystery," he said. "I only see that my nephew
-is the most fortunate man in France. But I repeat, that he may hear
-me--honour comes before happiness. Go round to the salon, my friends. I
-will bring a light and open the door."
-
-"Is it really myself--or am I dreaming?--yes, it must be all a dream!"
-Hélène murmured, as she sat alone in Monsieur Joseph's salon, beside a
-flaming wood fire that he had lighted with his own hands.
-
-His first shock once over, the little uncle treated his nephew's wife
-like a princess. He made her sit in his largest chair, he put a cushion
-behind her, a footstool under her feet. With gentle hands he lifted the
-cloak that had slipped from her slight shoulders, advising her to keep
-it on till the room had grown warm, for she was shivering, though hardly
-conscious of it. He went himself to fetch wine and cakes, set them on a
-table beside her, tried unsuccessfully to make her eat and drink. Then
-he glanced at his watch and turned in his quick way to Angelot, who had
-been looking on at these attentions with a smile, almost jealous of the
-little uncle, yet happy that he should thus accept the new situation and
-take Hélène to his affectionate heart.
-
-"Come with me, Angelot," said Monsieur Joseph. "Excuse us for a few
-minutes, my dear niece,"--he bowed to Hélène. "Affairs of state"--he
-smiled, dancing on tiptoe with his most birdlike air.
-
-But as Angelot followed him out of the room, his look became as stern
-and secret as that of any fierce Chouan among them all.
-
-Hélène waited; the time seemed long; and her situation almost too
-strange to be realised. Those small hours of the morning, dark and
-weird, brought their own special chill and shiver, both physical and
-spiritual; the thought began to trouble her that Angelot's father and
-mother would be very angry, perhaps--would not receive them,
-possibly--and that Uncle Joseph, in his lonely house, might be their
-only refuge; the thought of her own mother's indignation became a
-thought of terror, now that Angelot's dear presence was not there to
-send it away; all these ghosts crowded alarmingly upon her solitude,
-almost driving before them the one great certainty and wonder of the
-night. She looked round the shadowy, firelit room; she noticed with
-curious attention the quaint coverings of the furniture, the
-bright-coloured churches, windmills, farms, peasants at their work, all
-on a clear white ground, the ancient _perse_ that had been bought and
-arranged by Angelot's grandmother. She thought it much prettier than
-anything at Lancilly. It distracted her a little, as the minutes went
-on; but surely these affairs took a long time to settle; and the wind
-rose higher, and howled in the chimney and whistled in the shutters, and
-she saw herself, white and solitary, in a great glass at the end of the
-room.
-
-When Angelot at last opened the door, she sprang from the chair and ran
-to meet him; the only safe place was in his arms.
-
-"Don't leave me again," she whispered, as soon as it was possible to
-speak.
-
-Angelot was very pale, his eyes were burning. With broken words and
-passionate kisses he put her back into the chair, and kneeling down
-beside her, struggled for calmness to explain.
-
-He was in honour bound to go; he must ride away; the horse was already
-saddled, and he had only a few minutes in which to say good-bye. He must
-leave her in Uncle Joseph's care till he came back. Uncle Joseph said it
-was his duty to go. That very morning he was to have started for
-England; his companion would be waiting for him and running a thousand
-risks; he must meet him at the appointed place and send him on his way
-alone. He did not tell her that Uncle Joseph, after all his chivalrous
-kindness to her, had cordially wished women, love affairs, and marriages
-at the devil, even when perfectly well aware that it was not only
-Hélène, with her soft hands, who was holding his nephew back and keeping
-him in Anjou.
-
-"You know my father went to Paris, sweet?" said Angelot. "He has come
-back--he has been here this very night, looking for me. He would have
-found me at home, if you had not called me across the fields to see you
-dancing, you know! He saw all the authorities, even the Emperor himself.
-Nobody knew anything about that arrest of mine, and I think a certain
-Simon may get into hot water for it--though that is too much to expect,
-perhaps. Anyhow, they say it was a mistake."
-
-"Monsieur des Barres told me so. He said he was sure of it," said the
-girl.
-
-"Hélène--how beautiful you are!"
-
-She had laid her hand on his head, and was looking down at him, smiling,
-though her eyes were wet. He took her hand and held it against his lips.
-
-"How I adore you!" he whispered.
-
-"Then you are free--free to be happy," she said.
-
-"As far as I know--unless that clever father of mine has asked the
-Emperor for a commission for me--but I think, for my mother's sake, he
-would not do that. He has not told Uncle Joseph so, at any rate; the
-dear uncle would not have received an officer of Napoleon's so nicely."
-
-Hélène shuddered; the very word "officer" brought Ratoneau to her mind.
-But she felt safe at least, safe for ever now, from _him_.
-
-"I hate soldiers," she said. "Must every one fight and kill?"
-
-Her bridegroom was still kneeling at her feet when Monsieur Joseph came
-back, bringing Henriette with him. The child's dark eyes were full of
-sleep, her cropped hair stood on end, her small figure was wrapped in
-her little flannel gown; she looked a strange and pathetic creature,
-roused out of sleep, brought down to take her part in these realities.
-But she was equal to the occasion. Riette never failed in the duties of
-love; she was never called upon in vain. She went round to the back of
-Hélène's chair, took her face in her two small hands, leaned forward and
-kissed her forehead under the curls.
-
-"Go, mon petit!" she said to Angelot. "I will keep her safe till you are
-back in the morning."
-
-She spoke slowly, sleepily.
-
-"Riette is always my friend," said Angelot.
-
-"I told you long ago," said the child, "that papa and I would help you
-to the last drop of our blood."
-
-"Ah! we have not reached that point yet," said Monsieur Joseph, laughing
-softly. "Now, my children, say good-bye. After all--for a few hours--it
-is not a tragedy."
-
- * * * * *
-
-The Lancilly ball was the most brilliant, the most beautiful, for many
-hours the most successful, that had taken place in that country-side
-since before the Revolution. Many people arriving late, the crowd of
-guests went on increasing, and they danced with so much energy, the
-music was so beautiful, the whole affair went with such a swing,
-strangely mixed as the company was from a political point of view, that
-Madame de Sainfoy in the midst of her duties as hostess had no time to
-give more than an occasional thought to her own family. She watched
-Georges and his proceedings with satisfaction, but after missing Hélène
-and sending Mademoiselle Moineau to look for her, she forgot her again;
-and she did not miss her husband till he failed to be in his place at
-supper-time, to lead the oldest lady into the dining-room. When time
-went on, and he did not appear, she began to be puzzled and anxious,
-while exerting herself to the full, in order that no one should be aware
-of his absence.
-
-She was passing through the inner salon, alone for the moment, on her
-way to find a servant that she might send in search of Monsieur de
-Sainfoy, when General Ratoneau, having made his bow to the lady he had
-brought back from supper, and who was heartily glad to be rid of him,
-came to meet her with a swaggering air, partly owing to champagne.
-
-Smiling, he told her with an oath that her daughter was confoundedly
-pretty, the prettiest girl in Anjou, and the wildest and most
-unmanageable; that she would not listen to a word of compliment, and had
-run away from him when he told her, in plain soldier fashion--"as I
-always speak, madame"--that she was to be his wife.
-
-"Ah, Monsieur le Général--you are so certain of that?" murmured
-Adélaïde, considering him with her blue eyes a little coldly.
-
-"Certain, madame? I suppose it will not occur to you or to Monsieur de
-Sainfoy to disobey the Emperor! Why, the order might have arrived
-to-day--it certainly will to-morrow--ah, I mean yesterday or to-day, for
-midnight is long passed. Yes, but she is a detestable mixture, that
-daughter of yours, Madame la Comtesse, and it would take all my courage
-to venture on such a wife, without your encouragement. Cold as ice, as
-stately as an old queen of France--upon my soul, it needs a brave man to
-face the possibilities of such a ménage. But I suppose she is timid with
-it all--eh? I must be firm with her, I must show resolution, n'est-ce
-pas?"
-
-"Apparently your compliments frightened her. Yes, she is timid enough,"
-said Madame de Sainfoy. "She not only ran away from you, but from the
-ball. I understand her now. She is a mere child, Monsieur le Général,
-unaccustomed to--to--" Adélaïde broke off, a little absently. "I sent a
-person to find her. I will send again, but--if you will forgive me--"
-with a dazzling smile--"I would advise you not to say much more to
-Hélène till the affair is really decided beyond all question--yes, what
-is it?"
-
-A servant came up to her, hesitating, glancing at the General, who said
-quickly, his face darkening, "I consider it decided now."
-
-"So do I--so it is, of course," she said quickly. "Well?" to the
-servant.
-
-"Monsieur de la Marinière asks if he can see Madame la Comtesse for five
-minutes."
-
-"Ask him to wait--" she was beginning, coldly, when Monsieur Urbain came
-hurrying impatiently across the room.
-
-"Ah--my very good friend, Monsieur de la Marinière," Ratoneau said with
-a grin.
-
-He did not move away. Urbain came up and kissed Adélaïde's hand and
-looked at her with an extraordinary expression. He was plainly dressed
-for travelling, a strange-looking guest in those rooms. His square face
-was drawn into hard lines, his mouth was set, his eyes were staring. She
-gazed at him, fascinated, and her lips formed the words, "What is it,
-Urbain?" Then she suddenly said, turning white, "Something has happened
-to Hervé!"
-
-"To Hervé? I don't know. Yes, he seems to have gone mad," said Urbain.
-"You know nothing of it? I thought as much--but I have come straight to
-you. Where is Hervé? He is here now, surely? I must speak to him."
-
-"What are you talking about? Are you sure it is not _you_ who have gone
-mad? As to Hervé, I have not seen him for the last hour. I was looking
-for him."
-
-"He looked devilish queer when I saw him last," muttered the General.
-"Mademoiselle ran after him; they are a pretty pair."
-
-Urbain and Adélaïde both looked at him vaguely; then again at each
-other.
-
-"Where is he now? Do you know?" she said.
-
-"He left the château, madame, with your daughter and her husband,"
-Urbain said, slowly and indistinctly, grinding his teeth as he spoke.
-
-"Urbain!" she cried.
-
-"_What_ are you saying, monsieur?" growled the General, with his hand on
-his sword.
-
-"Peace, peace, Monsieur le Général, you will know all presently," Urbain
-said more calmly. "Some one has betrayed our plans," he went on, looking
-at Adélaïde, who was white and speechless. "These are my adventures. I
-went to Paris in search of my son, to find out where he was, and why he
-had been arrested. I could hear nothing of him. I saw the Préfet de la
-Police, I saw the Duc de Rovigo, I saw Réal and a dozen more officials.
-No one knew anything. Finally I saw Duroc, an old acquaintance, and he
-introduced me to the Emperor. His Majesty was gracious. He gave me a
-free pardon for Angelot, in case he had been mixed up against his will
-with any Chouan conspiracies. I pledged my honour for him in the future.
-But still the mystery remained--I could not find him."
-
-Adélaïde seemed turned to stone. These two gazed at each other,
-speechless, and did not now give a look or a thought to the third person
-present. He stood transfixed, listening; the angry blood rushed into his
-face, then ebbed as suddenly, leaving him a livid, deathlike yellow.
-
-"But mon Dieu, why all this story?" Adélaïde burst out with almost a
-scream. "What is he to me, your silly Angelot? What did you say just
-now? My daughter and--I must have heard you wrongly."
-
-Urbain gave a short, crackling laugh. "Nevertheless, I shall go on with
-my story. I came home a few hours ago. My wife told me that Angelot was
-safe with his uncle at Les Chouettes." The General started violently,
-but neither of them noticed him. "We went there together, and found that
-the boy was gone to La Marinière, to see his mother--Joseph had planned
-to pack him off out of the way of the police--with his usual
-discretion--but enough of that."
-
-"Urbain, you will madden me! What do I care for all this?"
-
-Adélaïde made a few steps and let herself fall into a chair.
-
-"Patience!" he said; and there was something solemn, almost awful, in
-the way he stretched out his right hand to her. "We hastened back to La
-Marinière, and found no Angelot there. Then I began to think that
-Joseph's fears of the police might not be exaggerated--Angelot escaped
-from them on the very day he was arrested--the man who arrested him,
-why, I cannot discover, was that fellow Simon, the spy, and according to
-Joseph he has been watching the woods ever since. I went out, for I
-could not rest indoors, and as I walked down the road I met Monsieur le
-Curé and Martin Joubard, coming from Lancilly. I turned back with the
-old man, and he told me his story."
-
-He stopped and drew a long breath.
-
-"I hardly listened to the details," he said. "But by some means Hervé
-had heard of the expected order--and--distrusting all the world, it
-seems, even you, his wife, he sent for the Curé at midnight and forced
-him to celebrate the marriage. Ah, Monsieur le Général, you may well
-take it hardly; yet I do not believe you are more angry than I am."
-
-"As to that, monsieur," said Ratoneau, glaring at him with savage fury,
-"I believe you have played me false and arranged the whole affair. Your
-scamp of a son has escaped the prison he richly deserved, and you have
-plotted to marry him to your cousin's daughter. I always thought you as
-clever as the devil, monsieur. But look here--and you too, madame,
-listen to me. I will ruin the whole set of you--and as to that boy of
-yours, let him beware how he meets me. I swear I will be his death."
-
-Urbain shrugged his shoulders and turned from him to Adélaïde, who was
-beckoning feebly and could hardly find voice to speak.
-
-"I am very stupid, I suppose," she said. "I cannot understand clearly.
-My husband has forced on Hélène's marriage with some one. Who is it,
-Urbain? Did the Curé tell you? Do not be afraid to tell me--I can bear
-it--you were always my friend."
-
-There was something so unnatural in her manner, so terrible and stony in
-her look, that Urbain turned pale and hesitated.
-
-"Mon Dieu!" he murmured. "You do not understand!"
-
-"Mille tonnerres, Madame la Comtesse," roared the General, striding up
-to her chair--"they have married this man's son to your daughter. My
-congratulations on the splendid match. Ange de la Marinière and Hélène
-de Sainfoy--a pretty couple--but by all that's sacred their happiness
-shall not last long!"
-
-"Hush, hush! Go away, for God's sake," cried Urbain. "You brute, you are
-killing her."
-
-Adélaïde's eyelids had dropped, and she lay back unconscious.
-
-There were people in the room, a confusion of voices, of wondering
-exclamations. Then, through the thickening crowd, Hervé de Sainfoy and
-Georges pushed their way, white and excited, followed by Mademoiselle
-Moineau, whose trembling limbs could hardly carry her.
-
-The Comte de Sainfoy and General Ratoneau met face to face, and
-exchanged a few low words as Ratoneau walked out.
-
-"You are a pretty host, Monsieur le Comte!"
-
-"I have taught you a lesson, I hope, Monsieur le Général. I shall have
-no more interference with my family affairs."
-
-"Sapristi! it is a new thing for you, is it not, to pose as the head of
-your own family? How did His Majesty's intention come to your knowledge?
-I am curious to know that."
-
-"Let me ask you to leave my house. You shall hear from me. We will
-settle our affairs another day."
-
-"Ah! You had better consult Madame la Comtesse. She is not pleased with
-you."
-
-Ratoneau went out, snarling. Scarcely knowing which way he turned, he
-found himself in an outer vestibule at the foot of the great staircase.
-The autumn wind was blowing in, fresh and cool across the valley; grey
-light was beginning to glimmer, a shiver of dawn to pass over the world
-outside. A group of men were standing in the doorway, and Ratoneau found
-himself surrounded by them. One of them was Simon, with his head bound
-up; the others were some of the police employed to watch Chouan
-proceedings in the province generally.
-
-"What, fool!" the General began furiously to Simon. "And all this time
-you--" he checked himself, remembering the presence of the others, who
-were looking at him curiously.
-
-"We have something to report to Monsieur le Général," Simon said
-hurriedly, with an eager sign of caution. "To save time--as Monsieur le
-Préfet is not here. A new conspiracy has been hatched at Les
-Chouettes--_Les Chouettes_, monsieur! Some of the gentlemen are probably
-there now. Some are to meet at the Étang des Morts, to start for England
-this very morning. They will be caught easily. But Les Chouettes should
-be searched, monsieur--important arrests can be made there."
-
-He came forward, almost pushing the General back against the stairs.
-
-"There are enough of us," he said, "but not enough authority. If
-Monsieur le Général would go himself"--he came up closer and muttered in
-Ratoneau's ear--"I know all--they are there--we can at least arrest the
-men--safe this time--the police have real evidence, and I have seen
-nightly visitors to Monsieur de la Marinière. But _they are there_,
-monsieur--I saw them on their way--I met the priest going back. And on
-my word, Monsieur le Comte managed it neatly."
-
-"Did he give you that broken head, fool? And why did you not come to me
-sooner?"
-
-"That was a gentleman with a wooden leg. Yes, he delayed me half an
-hour."
-
-"More fool you! Come, we must have these Chouans. Say nothing. Get me a
-horse--one that will carry double, mind you. Four of you fellows go on
-and watch the house. I and Simon will overtake you."
-
-He swore between his teeth as he turned away, "I will be the death of
-him, and I will have her yet!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVII
-
-HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH WENT OUT INTO THE DAWN
-
-
-At Les Chouettes, in those early hours of the morning, they were waiting
-for Angelot's return. Monsieur Joseph, the softest-hearted, most
-open-natured man who ever posed as a dark and hard conspirator, could
-not now forgive himself for having sent the boy away. "Why did I not go
-myself?" he muttered. Faithfulness to the cause, honour towards César
-d'Ombré, a touch of severity, really born of love, towards Angelot's
-light-hearted indifference; these had led him into something like
-cruelty towards the girl who had been thrown with such wild and
-passionate haste into Angelot's arms. Monsieur Joseph regarded Hervé de
-Sainfoy's sudden action as a great embarrassment for the family, though
-he himself had once suggested such a marriage, out of indulgence for his
-nephew. He saw that the situation would be terribly awkward for Urbain
-and Anne, that they would hardly welcome such a daughter-in-law; yet,
-though he said sharp words about women to Angelot, he was heartily sorry
-for Hélène.
-
-"Pauvre petite!" he said to himself. "No, it was not right of Hervé.
-Ange is too young for such responsibility; there might have been other
-ways of saving her. But in the meanwhile, she is dreadfully frightened
-and lonely, and I have sent her little lover away. God grant he fall
-into no traps--but the police may be anywhere. Well, Riette must do her
-best--the woman-child--she seemed to me just now older than Angelot's
-wife--Angelot's wife--what an absurdity!"
-
-The child had led the girl away to her own room above; the house was
-still. Monsieur Joseph went back to his room, walked up and down its
-length, from the west to the east window and back again; rather
-nervously examined his arms, and laid a sword and a pair of pistols on
-the table. He knew of no special danger; but for the last fortnight he
-had been living in a state of watchfulness which had sharpened all his
-senses and kept him unusually sleepless. Now he longed for the night to
-be over; for his present charge weighed upon him heavily. It was certain
-that in sending Angelot away to keep the tryst with César he had made
-himself responsible for Hélène. He thought over all the foolish little
-love-story, in which at first he had had some part, though nobody was
-more angry with Angelot when he took things into his own hands and
-climbed the old ivy-tree to visit his love.
-
-"And now--is the fellow rewarded or punished? we shall see!" he
-thought. "In any case, I must stand by him now. He has not always been
-grateful or wise--but there, he is young, and I love the boy. Riette
-talks of 'the last drop of our blood.' Verily, I believe she would give
-it for Angelot--and I--well, I told Hervé and his mother that I would
-cut off my right hand for him. That was saying something! But Anne knew
-I meant it--and God knows the same."
-
-Monsieur Joseph glanced up at the Crucifix hanging over his bed, and,
-presently, seeing a glimmer of dawn through the shutters, knelt down and
-said his morning prayers.
-
-He had scarcely finished when all the dogs began to bark, and there was
-a frightful growling and snarling outside his window. He opened it, and
-pushed back the shutters. The woods were grey and misty in a pale,
-unearthly dawn, and the house threw a shadow from the waning moon, which
-had risen behind the buildings and trees to the east. The howling wind
-of the night had gone down; the air was cold and still.
-
-Monsieur Joseph saw a man with his head tied up, armed with a police
-carbine, making a short cut over the grass from the western wood. It was
-this man, Simon, whom the dogs were welcoming after their manner.
-Monsieur Joseph's voice silenced them. He stepped out, unarmed as he
-was, and met Simon in the sandy square.
-
-"Ah no, no, my friend!" he said. "Your tricks are over, your work is
-done."
-
-"Pardon, monsieur!" said Simon, respectfully enough.
-
-"Do you understand me? Come, now, what authority had you for arresting
-my nephew? You are going to find it was a serious mistake. Be off with
-you, and let him alone in the future."
-
-"I know all about that, monsieur," Simon answered coolly. "Your nephew
-is lucky enough to have a loyal father, who can pull him out of his
-scrapes. Your nephew has plenty of friends--but even his connections
-won't save him, I think, if he is mixed up in this new plot of yours. I
-must search your house at once, if you please."
-
-"What do you mean, you scoundrel? You will not search my house," said
-Monsieur Joseph, fiercely.
-
-"By order, monsieur."
-
-"Whose order? The Prefect's? Show it me."
-
-"Pardon! There has not been time to apply to Monsieur le Préfet. We have
-intelligence of a plot, hatched here in your house, a plan for a rising.
-We know that certain gentlemen are starting this very morning on a
-mission to England, to bring back arms and men. They will be caught--are
-caught already, no doubt--at their rendezvous. There was not time to go
-to Sonnay for orders and warrants; we had to strike while the iron was
-hot. We applied to General Ratoneau, who was at the ball at Lancilly. He
-not only gave us authority to search your house for arms and
-conspirators--he accompanied us himself. He is there, beyond the wood,
-with enough men to enter your house by force, if you refuse to let us
-enter peaceably."
-
-For a moment Monsieur Joseph said nothing. Simon grinned as well as his
-stiff and aching head would let him, as he watched the little
-gentleman's expressive face.
-
-"We have got them, Monsieur le Général!" he said to himself. He added
-aloud and insolently: "An unpleasant experience for the young gentleman,
-so soon after his wedding, but a final warning, I imagine. If he comes
-free and happy out of this, he will have done with Chouannerie!"
-
-"Silence!" said Monsieur Joseph. "If you want conspirators, there is one
-here, and that is myself. I will go to Sonnay with you--though your
-accusations are ridiculous, and there is no plan for a rising. But I
-will not allow you to search my house, if there were ten generals and an
-army behind the wood there. I will shoot down any one who attempts it."
-
-"So much the worse for you, monsieur," said Simon.
-
-"Go back to General Ratoneau and tell him what I say," said Monsieur
-Joseph. "He will not doubt my word. Wait. I will speak to him myself.
-Tell him I will meet him in ten minutes under the old oaks up there. I
-wish for a private word with him."
-
-"Ten minutes, monsieur,"--Simon hesitated.
-
-"Do as you are told," said Monsieur Joseph; and he stepped back into his
-room, pulled the shutters sharply to, and shut the window.
-
-Simon lingered a minute or two, looking round the house, giving the
-growling dogs a wide berth, then went back with his message to the wood,
-and took the precaution of sending a man to watch the lanes on the other
-side. He did not, of course, for a moment suppose that there was any one
-there, except, most probably, Ange de la Marinière and his bride; but it
-would not do to let him once again escape the General. What his plans
-might be, Simon only half guessed; but he knew they were desperate, and
-he knew that the man who balked him would repent it. And besides all
-this, he had not yet received a sou for all the dirty work he had lately
-done. But in the bitter depths of his discontented mind, Simon began to
-suspect that he had made a mistake in committing himself, body and soul,
-to General Ratoneau.
-
-Monsieur Joseph took a small pistol from a cabinet, loaded it, then ran
-lightly upstairs and called Riette, who came flying to meet him. He took
-her in his arms and kissed her shaggy pate.
-
-"Your hair wants brushing, mademoiselle," he said. "You are a contrast
-to your beautiful cousin."
-
-"Oh, papa, isn't it glorious to think that Hélène has married Angelot?
-They do love each other so. She has been telling me that if only he
-were back safe from the Étang des Morts, she would be the very happiest
-woman in the world."
-
-"I hope she will be, and soon," said Monsieur Joseph. But he trembled as
-he spoke, for if Simon was right, Angelot and César might be even now in
-the hands of the police.
-
-"Listen, Riette," he said. "There are some men outside, police and
-officials--General Ratoneau is with them. Once again there are fancies
-in these people's heads about me and my friends. They want to search the
-house. There is no reason for it, and I will not have it done. I am
-going out now to speak to the General. Look at the clock. If I am not
-back in ten minutes, go out at the back with your cousin, take the path
-behind the stables, and make all the haste you can to La Marinière. It
-will be light, you cannot lose your way. Only keep in the shelter of the
-trees, that those people over in the wood may not see you."
-
-Riette gazed at him with dark large eyes which seemed to read something
-behind his words.
-
-"Why do you think you will not come back, papa? Because General Ratoneau
-is a wicked man?"
-
-"Because Imperial justice may carry me to Sonnay. But the Prefect is my
-friend," said Monsieur Joseph, gravely. "Go back, and do as I tell you.
-Remember, Angelot's wife is in your care. Take this pistol, and defend
-her if necessary."
-
-He left her without another word and ran downstairs. In the ground-floor
-rooms he found the servants waiting, the two men armed, Marie wildly
-excited, all talking at once, for they had heard from an upper window
-their master's conversation with Simon.
-
-Before he could give them any orders, two tall shadows came across the
-white sand in that unearthly light of moon and dawn, and old Joubard and
-his son, pushing at the window, were immediately let in by Gigot. They
-explained that Monsieur Angelot, on his way to the Étang des Morts, had
-stopped at La Joubardière. He had found Martin, not long returned from
-Lancilly, busy telling his father the events of the night. He had begged
-them both to go down to Les Chouettes, to watch quietly about there till
-his return. They understood very well that his greatest treasure in life
-was there, and they had started off, Joubard with his gun, not intending
-to go to the house or disturb Monsieur Joseph. But coming down they
-found the man Simon had just sent to keep the eastern road, who told
-them the place was besieged by police and the house to be searched
-immediately. They took the liberty of depriving him of his carbine,
-tying him to a tree, and setting a dog to watch him there. Old Joubard
-explained this to Monsieur Joseph with an air of apology.
-
-"Thank you. You could not have done better, Joubard. Listen, I am going
-out to speak to General Ratoneau. I have told Mademoiselle Henriette, if
-I am not back in ten minutes, to take Madame Ange to La Marinière. If
-the General insists on my going off to Sonnay, this will not be a place
-for ladies. Perhaps, Marie, you had better go with them. The police will
-try to insist on searching the house. I will not have it searched,
-without a warrant from Monsieur le Préfet. You four men, I leave it in
-your care. Defend the house, as you know I should defend it."
-
-Tobie chuckled. "Spoil their beauty, eh!" and went on loading his gun.
-Old Joubard's face had lengthened slightly. "Anything within the law,"
-he muttered. "But I am not a Chouan, dear little monsieur, nor is
-Martin--no!"
-
-"Chouan or not, you are my friends, all of you," said Monsieur Joseph;
-and he turned and left them.
-
-He went back to his room, wrote a short letter to his brother Urbain,
-and left it on the table. Then he took his sword, crossed himself, and
-went out into the slowly lightening day.
-
-Ratoneau was waiting for him under the trees, just out of sight of the
-house, and they were practically alone. A groom held the General's horse
-at some little distance; Simon waited in the background, skulking behind
-the trees, and the other men were watching the house from various
-points. The road which passed Les Chouettes on the north crept on
-westward, and skirted that same wood of tall oaks, chestnuts, and firs
-where Monsieur Joseph's Chouan friends had been hidden from the Prefect
-and the General. The wood, with little undergrowth, but thickly carpeted
-with dead leaves, sloped down to the south; on its highest edge a line
-of old oaks, hollow and enormous, stood like grim sentinels. It was
-under one of these, hidden from the house by a corner of the wood, that
-Monsieur Joseph met the General.
-
-Ratoneau was considerably cooler than when he had left Lancilly. His
-manner was less violent, but even more insolent than usual. He looked at
-his watch as Monsieur Joseph came up, walking over the rough grass with
-the light step of a boy.
-
-"What do you mean, monsieur, by keeping an Imperial officer waiting?" he
-said. "Ten minutes? I have been standing here twenty, and you had no
-right to ask for one. You forget who you are, monsieur, and who I am."
-
-"Kindly enlighten me on these points, Monsieur le Général," said
-Monsieur Joseph, smiling cheerfully.
-
-"I will enlighten you so far--that you are twice a traitor, and the
-worst of a whole band of traitors."
-
-"Et puis, monsieur? Once--it is possible from your point of view, but
-how twice?" said Monsieur Joseph, with that air of happy curiosity
-which had often, in earlier years, misled his enemies to their undoing.
-
-Ratoneau stared at him, muttered an oath, and stammered out: "Not
-content with plotting against His Majesty's government--why you--you,
-monsieur--are aiding and abetting that nephew of yours in this
-scandalous affair of his marriage. Sapristi! you look as innocent as a
-new-born child! You laugh, monsieur! Do you suppose the Emperor will not
-learn the truth about this marriage? Yes, I can tell you, you will
-bitterly repent this night's work--Monsieur de Sainfoy and all of you.
-And to begin with, that accursed nephew of yours will spend his
-honeymoon in prison. I have not yet seen my way through the ins and outs
-of the affair--I do not know how Monsieur de Sainfoy heard of the
-Emperor's intention--but at least I can have my revenge on your nephew
-and I will--I will!"
-
-"Ah!" Monsieur Joseph laughed slightly. "I would not be too sure,
-monsieur. You can prove nothing against Ange. His father, let me tell
-you, has set him right with the Emperor. He is in no danger at all,
-unless from your personal malice. The prize you intended to have has
-been given to him. It is no doing of his family. I do not believe the
-Emperor will punish him or them. And--unless he values your services
-more highly than I should think probable, I fancy he will see excuses
-for Monsieur de Sainfoy!"
-
-"No doing of his family! The intrigue has been going on for weeks,"
-cried Ratoneau. "When have I not seen that odious boy pushing himself at
-Lancilly? Detestable little hound! as insolent as yourself, and far more
-of a fool. I have always hated him--always--since the day I first saw
-him in your house, the day when we met a herd of cattle in the lane, and
-he dared to laugh at my horse's misbehaviour. Little scum of the earth!
-if I had him under my heel--What are we losing time for? What do you
-want to say to me? It is my duty to arrest you, and to search your house
-for conspirators and arms, in the name of the Emperor."
-
-"Yes; I know all that," said Monsieur Joseph, gently, with his head a
-little on one side.
-
-He was wondering, as he wondered on first acquaintance with this man,
-for how long he would be able to refrain from striking him in the face.
-He was afraid that it would not, at this juncture, be a wise thing to
-do. The two girls in the house were much on his mind; perhaps a
-presentiment of something of this sort had made him arrange for their
-escape.
-
-"I told that police fellow," he went on very mildly, "that I was ready
-to go with you to Sonnay, where the Prefect, of course, is the right
-person to deal with any suspected conspiracy. I also told him, and I
-tell you, that I will not have my house searched without the Prefect's
-warrant."
-
-"And pray, how are you going to prevent it?" said Ratoneau, staring at
-him.
-
-"Try it, and you will see," said Monsieur Joseph.
-
-"Your nephew is shut up there, I know. He is taking care of his bride,
-and is afraid to come out and face me," said Ratoneau, with a frightful
-grin. "He will not dare to resist by force--miserable little coward!"
-
-"All this shall be paid for by and by," Monsieur Joseph said to himself,
-consolingly. Aloud he said, "It happens that my nephew is not there,
-Monsieur le Général."
-
-"Not there! where are they gone then? I believe that is a lie."
-
-Monsieur Joseph bowed politely, with his hand on his sword.
-
-"Allow me to remark, Monsieur le Général Ratoneau, that you are a cheat
-and a coward."
-
-Ratoneau turned purple, and almost choked.
-
-"Monsieur! You dare to use such words to me! I shall call my men up,
-and--"
-
-"Call the whole of the usurper's army," said Monsieur Joseph, with
-unearthly coolness. "As they follow him they may follow you, his
-pasteboard image. But I am quite of your opinion, my words need
-explanation. I see through you, Monsieur le Général. You tried to cheat
-the Comte de Sainfoy out of his daughter, whom he had refused you. And I
-am sure now, that my nephew's arrest the other day was a scoundrelly
-piece of cheating, a satisfaction of your private spite, a means of
-getting him out of your way. Yes, I see through you now. A fine specimen
-of an Imperial officer, bribing police spies to carry out his private
-malice. Coward and cheat! Defend yourself!"
-
-Both swords were out, and the fight began instantly. The steel clashed
-and darted lightly, flashing back the rising day. It was no ordinary
-duel, no mere satisfaction of honour, though each might have had the
-right to demand this of the other. It was a quarrel of life and death,
-personal hatred that must slay or be slain.
-
-Monsieur Joseph, with all his grace and amiability, had the passionate
-nature of old France; his instincts were primitive and simple; he
-longed, and his longing had become irresistible, to send a villain out
-of the world. Perhaps, too, in Ratoneau's overbearing swagger, he saw
-and felt an incarnation of that Empire which had crushed his native
-country under its iron feet. But all mixed motives were fused together
-and flamed up in the fighting rage that drew that slight hand to the
-sword-hilt, and darted like lightning along the living blade.
-
-Monsieur Joseph was a splendid swordsman. But Ratoneau, too, had perfect
-command of his weapon; and besides this, he was a taller and heavier
-man. And the fury of disappointment, of revenge, the dread of being
-found out, of probable disgrace, if Joseph de la Marinière could prove
-his keen suspicions true; all this added to his caution, while he never
-lacked the bull-dog courage of a fighting soldier. Though foaming with
-rage, he was at that moment the cooler, the more self-possessed of the
-two.
-
-Simon tried at first to interfere. He stepped out from among the trees,
-exclaiming, "Messieurs--messieurs!" but then withdrew again, for the
-very sight of the two men's faces, the sound of their breath, the quick
-clash of the swords, showed that this was a quarrel past mending. Simon
-watched. He was conscious, in the depths of his mind, of a knowledge
-that he would not mourn very deeply if General Ratoneau should be the
-one to fall. He hastily made his own plans. In that case he would slip
-away behind the trees, take the horse from the groom without a word, and
-ride away to Paris, trusting that he might never be called to account
-for any dark doings in Anjou. For there was not only the false arrest of
-Angelot; there were also certain dealings with the Prefect's secretary;
-there were tamperings with papers and seals, all to set forward that
-marriage affair that had failed so dismally, he hardly understood how.
-But he had hoped that the Prefect would die, and the news of his rapid
-recovery seemed strangely inopportune. It appeared to Simon that General
-Ratoneau's star was on the wane; and so, for those entangled in his
-rascally deeds, a lucky thrust of Monsieur de la Marinière's swiftly
-flashing sword--Ah, no! the fortune of war was on the wrong side that
-morning. A few passes; a fight three or four minutes long; a low cry,
-then silence, and the slipping down of a light body on the grass.
-General Ratoneau had run his adversary through the heart, had withdrawn
-his sword and stood, white but unmoved, looking at him as he lay.
-
-[Illustration: "MONSIEUR LE GÉNÉRAL, YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!"]
-
-Monsieur Joseph turned himself once, and stretched his slight limbs, as
-if composing himself to sleep. His face was towards his house and the
-rising dawn, and he gazed that way with dark eyes wide open. His lips
-moved, but no one heard what he said. All the fighting fury was gone
-from his face, and as a thin thread of blood trickled down from his side
-and began to redden the grass beneath, his look, at first startled and
-painful, became every moment more peaceful, more satisfied. His eyelids
-slowly drooped and fell; he died smiling, his whole attitude and
-expression so lifelike that the two witnesses, Ratoneau and Simon, could
-scarcely believe that he was dead.
-
-The General stood immovable. Simon, after a minute, knelt down and felt
-the pulse and examined the wound. It had been almost instantly fatal,
-the pulse was still.
-
-"Mon Dieu, Monsieur le Général, you have killed him!" Simon said, under
-his breath.
-
-Ratoneau glared at him for a moment before he spoke.
-
-"He tried to kill me," he said. "You were there, you can bear witness,
-he challenged and attacked me, the little fighting-cock. I wish it had
-been his nephew. But now for him! Come, leave the body there; the
-servants will fetch it in presently."
-
-He started to walk towards the house, carrying his drawn sword in his
-hand. In the middle of the slope he turned round with a furious look to
-his follower.
-
-"Those who insult me, and stand in my way--you see the lessons I teach
-them!" he said hoarsely, and walked on.
-
-The western front of Les Chouettes, the tower rising into the slowly
-lightening sky, presented a lifeless face to the woods where its master
-lay. All the windows were closed and shuttered; dead silence reigned.
-When the General shouted an order to open, beating with his sword-hilt
-at a window, he was only answered by the growling and barking of the
-dogs, whom the defenders had called in. He walked round by the south to
-the east front; the same chorus accompanied him, but of human voices
-there were none. He whistled up the rest of the gendarmes, and ordered
-them to force the dining-room window. Then the shutters of a window
-above it were pushed open, and a white-haired man looked out into the
-court.
-
-"Now, old Chouan, do you hear me?" shouted Ratoneau, in his most
-overbearing tones. "Come down and open some of these windows."
-
-"Pardon, monsieur," old Joubard answered quietly. "I have Monsieur de
-la Marinière's orders to keep them shut."
-
-"Have you, indeed? Well, it makes no difference to him whether they are
-shut or open. Tell his nephew, Monsieur Ange, with my compliments, to
-come down and speak to me. Tell him I want to see his pretty wife, and
-to congratulate him on his marriage. Tell him to bring a sword, if he
-knows how to use one, and to revenge his uncle."
-
-There was a dead pause. The two Joubards and the servants, all together
-in that upper room, looked strangely at each other.
-
-"Tiens, Maître Joubard, let me come to the window and I'll shoot that
-man dead!" groaned Tobie in the background.
-
-"No, you fool, Tobie," Joubard said angrily. "Do you want us all to be
-massacred? Anyhow, let us first know what he means."
-
-"I wonder where the master is!" said Gigot, and his teeth chattered.
-
-"He has killed him," Martin whispered, looking at his father.
-
-"This will be the ruin of us all," said old Joubard aside to him. "You,
-at least, keep out of the way. Those men have carbines. You have not
-come home from Spain to be shot by mistake for a Chouan. I will try to
-speak civilly. Monsieur le Général," he said, leaning out of the window,
-"your worship is mistaken. There are no Chouans here, and no ladies. And
-Monsieur Angelot is not here. Only we, a few harmless servants and
-neighbours, taking care of the house, left in charge while Monsieur de
-la Marinière went to speak to you, waiting till he comes back. We can do
-nothing without his orders, Monsieur le Général."
-
-"Then you will do nothing till doomsday," said Ratoneau. "Don't you
-understand that he is dead, old fool, whoever you may be?"
-
-"Dead! Impossible!" old Joubard stammered. "Monsieur Joseph
-dead--murdered! And the gendarmes on your side, monsieur! Why, he was
-here giving us our orders, a quarter of an hour ago."
-
-In the horrified look he turned on Martin, there was yet the shadow of a
-smile. For Martin's eager persuasions had sent Hélène and Riette away
-with Marie Gigot through the woods to La Marinière, almost before
-Monsieur Joseph's appointed time.
-
-Joubard leaned again out of the window, his rugged face in the full
-light of the morning.
-
-"This is a bad business, Monsieur le Général," he said. "If it is true
-that you have killed Monsieur Joseph, you have done enough for one day.
-Take my advice, draw your men off and go away. Justice will follow you;
-and you have no right here. I am not a Chouan. I am Joubard, of La
-Joubardière, Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière's best tenant, and my only
-son lost his limbs fighting for the Emperor."
-
-Simon drew near, with his bandaged head, and looked up at the window.
-"Ah! He has limbs enough left to do some mischief," he growled savagely.
-"Is he there, your precious cripple of a son? I shall have something to
-say to him, one of these days."
-
-"Begone with you all," cried old Joubard, "for a pack of thieves and
-murderers! You are a disgrace to the Emperor, his police and his army!"
-
-"Silence, old fool!" shouted Ratoneau. "What do you say about murder,
-you idiot? Did you never hear of a man being killed in a duel? Come
-down, some of you, I say, or I force my way in."
-
-He would have done so, and easily, but for a sudden interruption.
-
-There was a wild howl of pain from among the trees beyond the kitchen,
-where one of Monsieur Joseph's faithful dogs followed him to the land
-where all faithfulness is perhaps rewarded; and then the gendarme whom
-Joubard had tied to a tree came running down to the house with the
-comrade who had freed him and killed his guard. He was eager to tell the
-General what he had seen while every one but himself was away in the
-western wood. He had seen two women and a child escape from the house,
-and hurry away by the footpath under the trees towards La Marinière. One
-of the women was dressed in white; he could see it under her cloak; she
-spoke, and it was a lady's voice; they had passed quite near him. How
-long ago? Well, perhaps a quarter of an hour. General Ratoneau stamped
-his foot and ground his teeth.
-
-"Bring my horse!" he said; and then he looked up again at the window, at
-old Joubard's stern face watching him.
-
-"Monsieur Ange de la Marinière!" he shouted in tones of thunder. "Come
-out of your hole, little coward, if you are there. I will teach you to
-marry against the Emperor's commands! You shall meet me before you see
-your wife again. I will give account of you, and I will have what is my
-own. What! you dare not come out? Then follow me to Sonnay, monsieur, by
-way of La Marinière."
-
-He flung himself into the saddle and rode off at a furious pace, turning
-round to shout back to Simon, "I shall overtake her! Go on--shoot them
-all--burn the house, if you must."
-
-His horse plunged down into the shadows of the narrow lane, and they
-heard the heavy thud of its hoofs as it galloped away.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVIII
-
-HOW GENERAL RATONEAU MET HIS MATCH
-
-
-Within and without Les Chouettes the men all listened till those sounds
-died away. Then Simon turned to the little group of gendarmes and said:
-"Come along, fellows, make a rush for that window. If there are any
-Chouan gentlemen here, we must not let them escape."
-
-Then the oldest of the gendarmes, a man well accustomed to hunting this
-sort of game, hung back and looked at him queerly.
-
-"There are none--I'll answer for that," he said. "Certainly not Monsieur
-Ange de la Marinière, or he would have been out long ago--and none of us
-ever felt sure that he was mixed up in Chouannerie--"
-
-"What are you talking about?" cried Simon. "Hold your tongue, and do
-your duty. The General ordered us to break into the house and search it.
-Why, you know yourself that it is the headquarters of this plot."
-
-"If so, if I hear rightly, the master of it has paid for his Chouannerie
-with his life," said the man gravely, still holding back, and watching
-Simon with a dogged steadiness. "Our mates have caught the other
-gentlemen--they could not fail--and as for me, Monsieur Simon, I don't
-feel inclined to take any more orders from that General of yours. To me,
-he seems like a madman. There's private malice behind all this. It is
-not the sort of justice that suits me--to kill a gentleman and shoot his
-servants and burn his house down. I tell you, fellows, I don't like
-it--there are limits to what the police ought to do, and we shall find
-ourselves in the wrong box, if we go further without the Prefect's
-warrant."
-
-"Obey your orders, or you'll pay for it!" shouted Simon. "Come on, men!"
-and he ran towards the house.
-
-"Be off, or we fire!" cried a voice from the window above.
-
-"All right, Maître Joubard, don't fire; we know you are a loyal man,"
-said the spokesman of the gendarmes. "I am going straight back to
-Sonnay, to see what Monsieur le Préfet says to all this. Do you agree?"
-he turned to his comrades, who had drawn up behind him, and who
-answered, even the man who had been tied to the tree, by a quick murmur
-of assent. "Come, Monsieur Simon, I advise you to cast in your lot with
-us; you have had too much to do with that madman. Everybody hates him.
-They sent him down here because they could not stand him in the army."
-
-As Simon turned his back and walked sulkily away, the gendarme added:
-"Come down, some of you, and look for your master. He may be still
-alive."
-
-The men in the room above looked at each other. They could not and did
-not believe that Monsieur Joseph was dead. To his old servants, it was
-one of those shocks too heavy for the brain to bear; the thought stunned
-them. Large tears were rolling down old Joubard's cheeks, but his brain
-and Martin's were active enough.
-
-"What do you think?" he said to his son. "Are they safe at La
-Marinière?"
-
-"I'll wager my wooden leg they are," Martin said cheerfully. "They had a
-good start, and that lumbering brute with his big horse would not know
-the shortest path. And once with Monsieur Urbain--"
-
-"Ah, poor man! Well, let us go down and look for him, the little uncle.
-Ah, Martin, all the pretty girls in the world will take long to comfort
-Monsieur Angelot--and as to Mademoiselle Henriette!"
-
-"The gendarme said he might be still alive," said Martin. "See, they are
-gone round to him."
-
-"He is dead," said Joubard. "Come, Gigot, you and I must carry him in.
-As to you, Tobie, just keep watch on this side with your gun--that
-poisonous snake of a Simon is prowling about there. Don't shoot, of
-course, but keep him off; don't let him get into the house."
-
-Martin lingered a moment behind his father. "Tobie," he said, "that
-Simon has been Monsieur Angelot's enemy all through. I thought I had
-finished him with my stick, two or three hours ago, but--"
-
-"I know--I have my master's orders," said Tobie. He smiled, and lifted
-his gun to his shoulder.
-
-The sun was rising when they found Monsieur Joseph on his bed of soft
-grass and leaves, at the foot of his own old oak just bronzed by the sun
-of August and September. Up above the squirrels were playing; they did
-not disturb his sleep, though they scampered along the boughs and
-squeaked and peeped down curiously. The birds cried and chirped about
-him in the opening day; and one long ray of yellow sunshine pierced the
-eastern screen of trees, creeping all along up the broad slope where the
-autumn crocuses grew, till it laid itself softly and caressingly on the
-smiling face turned to meet it once more. The sportsman had gone out for
-the last time into his loved fields and woods; and perhaps he would have
-chosen to die there, rather than in a curtained room with fresh air and
-daylight shut out. No doubt the manner of his death had been terrible;
-but the pain was momentary, and he had gone to meet it in his highest
-mood, all one flame of indignation against evil, and ready, generous
-self-sacrifice. He had died for Angelot, fighting his enemy; he had
-carried out his little daughter's words, and the last drop of that good
-heart's blood was for Angelot, though indeed his dear boy's enemy was
-also the enemy of the cause he loved, to which his life had been given.
-No more conspiracies now for the little Royalist gentleman.
-
-They all came and stood about him, Joubard, Martin, Gigot, and the party
-of gendarmes. At first they hardly liked to touch him; he lay so
-peacefully asleep under the tree, his thin right hand pressed over his
-heart, where the sword had wounded him, such a look of perfect content
-on the face that death had marked for its own. His sword lay on the
-grass beside him, where it had fallen from his dying hand. Martin picked
-it up, saying in a low voice, "This will be for Monsieur Angelot."
-
-Sturdy Gigot, choking with sobs, turned upon him fiercely.
-
-"It belongs to mademoiselle."
-
-They lifted Monsieur Joseph--old Joubard at his head, Gigot at his
-feet--and carried their light burden down to his house, in at his own
-bedroom window. They laid him on his bed in the alcove, and then were
-afraid to touch him any more. All the group of strong men stood and
-looked at him, Gigot weeping loudly, Joubard silently; even the eyes of
-the gendarmes were wet.
-
-"We must have women here," said Joubard.
-
-Turning round, he saw Monsieur Joseph's letter to his brother lying on
-the table; he took it up and gave it to Gigot.
-
-"Take this letter to La Marinière," he said, "and tell Monsieur Urbain
-what has happened. And you," to the gendarmes, "be off to Sonnay, and
-make your report at once to Monsieur le Préfet. I doubt if he will
-justify all that is done in his name."
-
-"We will do as you say, Maître Joubard," said the gendarme.
-
-A few minutes later the only one of the General's party left at Les
-Chouettes was Simon. He skulked round behind the buildings, but could
-not persuade himself to go away. It seemed to him that there was a good
-deal of danger in escaping on foot; that the country people, enraged by
-Monsieur Joseph's death, delighted, as they probably would be, by
-Monsieur Angelot's marriage, would all be his enemies. He was half
-terrified by General Ratoneau's desperation. Suppose he had overtaken
-Angelot's young bride and her companions! suppose he had swung her up on
-his horse and carried her away, forgetting that he was not campaigning
-in a foreign country, but living peaceably in France, where the law
-protected people from such violent doings. It might be very
-inconvenient, in such a case, to appear at Sonnay as a friend and
-follower of General Ratoneau. Any credit he still had with the Prefect,
-for instance, would be lost for ever. And yet, if he deserted the
-General entirely, washed his hands, as far as possible, of him and his
-doings, what chance was there of receiving the large sums of money so
-grudgingly promised him!
-
-"A hard master, the devil!" Simon muttered to himself.
-
-He peeped cautiously round the corner of the kitchen wall, where the
-silver birches had scattered their golden leaves in the wind of the
-night. He watched the little band of gendarmes as they started down the
-road towards Sonnay. It struck him that his best plan would be to slip
-away across the _landes_ towards the Étang des Morts, and to put himself
-right with the authorities by helping to capture a few Chouan gentlemen
-and conveying them to prison.
-
-But first--how still all the place was! The men were busy, he supposed,
-with their dead master. Surely those windows were not so firmly fastened
-but that he could make his way in, and perhaps find some evidence to
-prove Monsieur Joseph's complicity in the plots of the moment. He walked
-lightly across the sand. A dog barked in the house, and Martin Joubard
-looked out from an upper window.
-
-All the evil passions of his nature rose in Simon then. That was the man
-who knew he had arrested Angelot; that was the man who had knocked him
-down in the park and lost him half an hour of valuable time. As Angelot
-himself, in some mysterious way, was out of reach, here was this man on
-whom he might revenge himself. Both for his own sake and the General's,
-this man would be better out of the way; Simon raised his loaded carbine
-and fired.
-
-Martin stepped back at the instant, and he missed him. The shot grazed
-Tobie's cheek as he knelt inside the room, resting his long gun-barrel
-on the low window-sill.
-
-"Ah, Chouan-catcher, your time is come!" muttered Tobie, and his gun
-went off almost of itself.
-
-Simon flung up his arms in the air, and dropped upon the sand.
-
- * * * * *
-
-While these things were happening at Les Chouettes, Angelot was hurrying
-back from his mission to the Étang des Morts. He was full of wild
-happiness, a joy that could not be believed in, till he saw and touched
-Hélène again. His heart was as light as the air of that glorious
-morning, so keen, clear, and still on the high moorlands as he crossed
-them.
-
-He had done all and more than the little uncle expected of him. In the
-darkness before dawn, as he rode through the deep lanes beyond La
-Joubardière, he had met a friendly peasant who warned him that a party
-of police and gendarmes was watching the country a little farther south,
-towards the Étang des Morts. He therefore left his horse in a shed, took
-to the fields and woods, and intercepted César d'Ombré on his way to the
-rendezvous. Explanations were not altogether easy, for César cared
-little for the private affairs of young La Marinière. He had never
-expected much from the son of Urbain. He took his warning, and gave up
-his companionship easily enough. Striking off across country, avoiding
-all roads likely to be patrolled by the police, he made his way alone to
-Brittany and the coast, while Angelot returned by the way he had come.
-
-For the sake of taking the very shortest cut across the _landes_, he
-brought his horse up to La Joubardière and left him there. For no horse
-could carry him through the lanes, rocky as they were, at the pace that
-he could run and walk across country, and it was only because Uncle
-Joseph insisted on it that he had taken a horse at all.
-
-The golden light of sunrise spread over the moor as he ran. He took long
-leaps through the heather, and coveys of birds scuttled out of his way;
-but their lives were safe that morning, though his eyes followed them
-eagerly. Far beyond the purple _landes_, the woods of Lancilly lay
-heaped against the western sky, a billowy dark green sea of velvet
-touched with the bright gold of autumn and of sunrise; and the château
-itself shone out broad in its glittering whiteness. The guests were all
-gone now; the music was still; and for Angelot the place was empty, a
-mere shell, a pile of stones. Other roofs covered the joy of his life
-now.
-
-This shortest cut from La Joubardière did not bring him to Les
-Chouettes by the usual road, but by a sharp slope of moorland, all
-stones and bushes and no path at all, and then across one or two small
-fields into a narrow lane, a bridle-path between high straggling hedges,
-one way from Les Chouettes to La Marinière. The poplars by the manor
-gate, a shining row, lifted their tall heads, always softly rustling, a
-quarter of a mile farther on.
-
-Angelot ran across the fields, jumped a ditch, reached the lane at a
-sharp corner, and was turning to the right towards Les Chouettes,
-thinking in his joyful gladness that he would be back before even Hélène
-expected him, when something struck his ear and brought him to a sudden
-stand. It was a woman's scream.
-
-"Help, help!" a voice cried; and then again there was a piteous shriek
-of pain or extreme terror.
-
-For one moment Angelot hesitated. Who or what could this be? Some one
-was in trouble, some woman, and probably a woman he knew. Or could it be
-a child, hurt by some animal? One of the bulls at La Marinière was very
-fierce; there had been trouble with him before now. Ah! he must turn his
-back on Hélène and see what it meant, this cursed interruption. What
-were they doing to let that beast roam about alone? And even as he
-turned the shriek tore the air again, and now he could hear a man's
-voice, rough and furious, a confusion of voices, the stamping of a
-horse, the creaking of harness. No! Bellot the bull was not the
-aggressor here.
-
-Angelot loosened his hunting knife as he ran along the lane. It turned
-sharply once or twice between its banks, dipping into the hollow, then
-climbing again to La Marinière. At its lowest point it touched the elbow
-of a stream, winding away under willows to join the river near Lancilly,
-and overflowing the lane in winter and stormy weather. Now, however, the
-passage was dry, and at that very point a group of figures was
-struggling. Angelot had the eyes of a hawk, and at that distance knew
-them all.
-
-General Ratoneau was on horseback; his gold lace flashed in the
-sunlight. Before him on the horse's neck lay a girl's white figure,
-flung across the front of the saddle, struggling, shrieking, held down
-by his bridle hand which also clutched her dress, while with the
-butt-end of a pistol he threatened Marie Gigot, who screamed for help as
-she hung to the horse's head. He, good creature, not being one of the
-General's own chargers, but a harmless beast borrowed without leave from
-the Lancilly stables, backed from Marie instead of pushing and trampling
-her down in obedience to his desperate rider. Little Henriette did her
-best by clinging tightly to the white folds of her cousin's gown as they
-fell over the horse's shoulder, and was in great danger of being either
-pushed down or kicked away by Ratoneau, as soon as he should have
-disposed of Marie.
-
-"Let go, woman!" he shouted, with frightful oaths. "Let go, or I'll kill
-you! Do you see this pistol? A moment more, and I'll dash your brains
-out--send you after your master, do you hear?--Ah, bah! keep still,
-beauty!" as Hélène almost struggled away from him. "I don't want to hurt
-you, but I will have what is my own. Get away, child, we don't want you.
-Morbleau! what's that?"
-
-It was a sound of quick running, and Riette's keen ears had heard it
-already. It had, indeed, saved Ratoneau from being shot dead on the
-spot, for the child had let go her hold on her cousin's dress with one
-hand and had clutched the tiny, beautiful pistol with which her father
-had trusted her, and which she had hidden inside her frock. True, she
-was shaking with the terrible excitement of the moment, she was nearly
-dragged off her feet by the horse's plunging backwards, and a correct
-aim seemed almost impossible--but her father had told her to defend
-Angelot's wife, and Riette was very sure that this wicked man should not
-carry away Hélène, as long as she had life and a weapon to prevent it.
-And if she could have understood those words to Marie,--"send you after
-your master"--there would have been no hesitation at all.
-
-At the same moment, she and the General turned their heads and looked up
-the lane. Something wild and lithe, bright and splendid, came flying
-straight down from the east, from the heart of the sunrise. The
-swiftness with which Angelot darted upon them was almost supernatural.
-He might have been a young god of the Greeks, flashing from heaven to
-rescue his earthly love from an earthly ravisher.
-
-Ratoneau was not prepared for such a sudden and fiery onslaught. It was
-easy, the work he expected--to tear Hélène from the company of a woman
-and child, to carry her off to Sonnay. He considered her his own
-property, given to him by the Emperor, stolen from him by her father and
-Angelot. It would be easy, he told himself, to have the absurd midnight
-ceremony declared illegal; or if not, he would soon find means to put
-Angelot out of his way. By fair means or by foul, he meant to have the
-girl and to marry her. If his method was that of the ancient
-Gauls--well, she would forgive him in time! Women love a hero, however
-roughly he may treat them. He thought he had learnt that from
-experience; and if Hélène de Sainfoy thought herself too good for him,
-she must find her level. The man swore to himself that he loved her, and
-would be good to her, when once she was his own. As he lifted her on the
-horse he knew he loved her with all the violent instincts of a coarse
-and unrestrained nature.
-
-And now came vengeance, darting upon him like a bolt from the shining
-sky. Before his slower senses even knew what was happening, before,
-encumbered with his prey, he could fire a pistol or draw his sword,
-Hélène had been snatched from him into Angelot's arms. No leave asked of
-Ratoneau; a spring and a clutch; it might have been a tiger leaping at
-the horse's neck and carrying off its victim. The girl screamed again
-and again, as Angelot set her on the ground, and trembled so that she
-could not stand alone. As her lover supported her for an instant, saying
-to Marie Gigot, who ran forward from the horse's head, "Take her--take
-her home!" Ratoneau fired his pistol straight at the two young heads so
-near together. The bullet passed actually between them, touching
-Hélène's curls. Then the sturdy peasant woman threw a strong arm round
-her, and dragged her away towards La Marinière.
-
-Angelot, with a flushed face and blazing eyes, turned to the General,
-who sat and glared in speechless fury. Then the young fellow smiled,
-lifted his hat, and set it jauntily on again. He had not drawn his
-hunting knife, and stood empty-handed, though this and a pair of pistols
-were in his belt.
-
-"And now, Monsieur le Général!" he said, a little breathlessly.
-
-Ratoneau stared at him, struck, even at that moment, by his
-extraordinary likeness to his uncle. There was the same easy grace, the
-same light gaiety, the same joy in battle and fearless confidence, with
-more outward dash and daring. Ah, well! as the other insolent life had
-ended, so in a few minutes this should end. It would be easy--a slip of
-a boy--it was fortunate indeed, that it happened so.
-
-"Mille tonnerres! you can be buried together!" said Ratoneau.
-
-"Merci, monsieur, I hope so--a hundred years hence," Angelot answered
-with a laugh.
-
-"You are mistaken--I am not talking of your wife," growled Ratoneau.
-"She will be a widow in ten minutes, and married to me in a month. I
-mean that you and your precious uncle can be buried together."
-
-"Indeed! Is my uncle going to die?" Angelot said carelessly; but he
-looked at the madman a little more steadily, with the sudden idea that
-he was really and literally mad.
-
-"He is dead already. I have killed him," said Ratoneau.
-
-Angelot turned pale, and stepped back a pace, watching him cautiously.
-
-"When? Where? I don't believe it," he said.
-
-"We had a disagreement," said Ratoneau. "It was about you that we
-quarrelled, a worthless cause. He chose to take your part, and to insult
-me. I ran him through the body."
-
-Saying this, he slowly dismounted and drew his sword. Angelot stood
-motionless, looking at him. The words had stunned him; his heart and
-brain seemed to be gripped by icy hands, crushing out all sensation.
-Henriette, who had not followed the others, came up and stood beside
-him, her great dark eyes, full of horror, fixed upon General Ratoneau.
-She was motionless and dumb; under the folds of her frock, her fingers
-gripped the little pistol. As long as she remained silent, neither of
-the men saw that she was there.
-
-"Look!" said Ratoneau. He held out his sword, red and still wet, as he
-had thrust it back into the scabbard after killing Monsieur Joseph.
-"Give up the girl to me or you follow your uncle," he said, after a
-moment's frightful pause.
-
-Henriette came a step nearer, came quite close and looked at the sword.
-Every drop of her own blood had forsaken her small face, always delicate
-and pale. Suddenly she stretched out her hand and touched the sword,
-saying in a low voice, "That was why he did not come back!"
-
-"Oh, good God! Go away, child!" cried Angelot, suddenly waking from his
-trance of horror, and pushing her violently back.
-
-Then he drew his knife and sprang furiously upon the General.
-
-"Villain! murderer!" he shouted as he closed with him; for this was no
-formal fight with swords.
-
-"Keep off, little devil, or I'll tear you to pieces!" shrieked Ratoneau.
-"What! You will have it? Come on then, plague upon you, cursed wild
-cat!"
-
-It was an unequal struggle; for Angelot, though strong, was slender and
-small, and Ratoneau had height and width of chest, besides great
-muscular power. And he hated Angelot with all the intensity of his
-violent nature. It was a case in which strength told, and Angelot had
-been unwise in trusting to his own. A duel with pistols, as he had no
-sword, would have been better for him. Still, at first, his furious
-attack brought him some advantage. He wrenched Ratoneau's sword from his
-hand and flung it into the stream. Twice he wounded him slightly with
-his knife, but Ratoneau, hugging him like a bear, made it difficult to
-strike, and the fight became a tremendous wrestling match, in which the
-two men struggled and panted and slipped and lurched from side to side,
-from the grassy bank to the willows by the water, each vainly trying to
-throw the other.
-
-The issue of such a combat could not long be doubtful. Courage and
-energy being equal, the taller and heavier man was sure to have the
-better of it. Several times Angelot tried to trip his enemy up, but
-failed, for his wrestling skill, as well as his strength, was not equal
-to Ratoneau's. The General was more successful. A twist of his leg, and
-both men were dashed violently down upon the stones, Angelot underneath.
-
-His knife had already dropped from his hand. Ratoneau snatched it up,
-and knelt over him, one knee on his chest, one hand on his throat, the
-knife in the other. Looking up into the dark, furious eyes bent upon
-him, watching the evil smile that broadened round the handsome, cruel
-mouth, Angelot felt that his last moment was come. That face leaning
-over him was the face of death itself. The little uncle would not be
-long alone in the unknown country to which this same hand had sent him.
-
-"How about your pretty wife now, Monsieur Angelot?" the snarling voice
-said, and the sharp knife trembled and flashed in the sunshine.
-
-Angelot set his teeth, and closed his eyes that he might not see it.
-Ratoneau went on saying something, but he did not hear, for in those few
-moments he dreamed a dream. Hélène's face was bending over his, her soft
-hair falling upon him, her lips touching his. Was death already over,
-and was this Paradise?
-
-He came back to life with a violent start, at the discharge of a pistol
-close by; and then the weight on his chest became suddenly unbearable,
-and the knife dropped from his enemy's hand, and the cruel face fell
-aside, changing into something still more dreadful. In another minute he
-had dragged himself out from under Ratoneau's dead body, and staring
-wildly round, saw Riette holding a pistol.
-
-"Ah! do not look at me so!" she cried, as she met her cousin's horrified
-eyes. "I had to save you! Papa will not be angry."
-
-"He is avenged. You are a heroine, Riette!" he said, and held out his
-arms to her; but the child flung away her little weapon which had done
-so great a deed, and threw herself upon the ground in a passionate agony
-of tears.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIX
-
-THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF MONSIEUR URBAIN
-
-
-It was an afternoon late in November. A wild wind was blowing, and
-shadows were flying across the country and the leafless woods which
-rushed and cried like the sea. A great full moon shone in the sky,
-chased over and constantly obscured by thin racing clouds, silver and
-copper-coloured on the blue-black depths of air.
-
-Madame de la Marinière was alone in her old room. The candles were
-lighted on her work-table, her embroidery frame stood beside it, the
-needle carelessly stuck in; a fire of logs was flaming up the wide black
-chimney. Anne was not working, but wandering restlessly up and down the
-room. Once she went to a window and dragged it open; the moonlight
-flowed in, and with it a soft rough blast that blew the candles about
-wildly and made smoke and flames fly out from the fire. Anne hastily,
-with some difficulty, closed the window and fastened it again.
-
-She had not waited very long when slow heavy feet came tramping through
-the stone court, the house door opened and shut with a clang, and
-Monsieur Urbain came into the room. As he took Anne's hand and kissed
-it in the old pretty fashion, she looked anxiously into his face, a very
-sad face in these days. Urbain's philosophy had been hardly tried of
-late. And his wife was not mistaken in fancying that something new had
-happened that day to deepen the hollows round his eyes, the lines on his
-rugged brow. She would not, even dared not ask, for reasons of her own.
-It might well be that his grief and her joy should run on the same
-lines. Anne had been praying for something; she was half afraid, though
-she fully expected, to hear that her prayer was granted.
-
-Urbain sat down by the fire, and stretched out his feet and hands to the
-blaze.
-
-"Where are the children?" he said.
-
-Anne smiled very sweetly. "Out somewhere in the moonlight. Ange thinks
-there is nothing for Hélène like fresh air."
-
-"From her looks, he is right."
-
-"It is not only the fresh air--" Anne broke off, then went on again.
-"Well, my friend, you went to Sonnay--you took the child to the
-convent?"
-
-"Yes--she will be very safe there for a time--the reverend mothers
-received her excellently. I do not care for convents, as you know, but I
-am not sure that Henriette, even at this early age, has not found her
-vocation. Till to-day, I do not think I had seen the child smile
-since--"
-
-"Ah, yes--" Anne murmured something under her breath. "Did you see
-Monsieur de Mauves?"
-
-"For a few minutes. I talked so long with the Prioress that it was late
-before I reached the Prefecture. He had been to Paris. He explained all
-that tissue of rascality to the Emperor, so that no blame might fall on
-the wrong shoulders. Luckily His Majesty disliked Ratoneau; the man
-smoked and swore too much to please him."
-
-"But after all," Anne said thoughtfully, "the Prefect drew up those
-papers himself, if he did not send them. And you, Urbain--"
-
-He waved his hand sadly, impatiently. "No more of me, I am punished
-enough," he said. "I thought I was acting for everybody's good--but
-alas!--Yes, De Mauves drew up the papers, and then repented. He threw
-them into a drawer, and determined at least to delay sending them till
-circumstances and Ratoneau should force his hand further. Then came his
-illness; recovering, he believed the papers to be safe in his bureau,
-and left this affair, with many others, to arrange itself later. In the
-meanwhile, the rascal Simon had corrupted his foolish young secretary
-and stolen the papers--you know the rest. I suppose we should be glad
-that he found out in time--"
-
-"Can any one be otherwise than glad?" Anne said gravely.
-
-"Yes, my dear, there are those who are very sorry. And--before you blame
-them too hardly, remember that Angelot's marriage was the immediate
-cause of Joseph's death."
-
-"The wickedness of a wicked man is alone to be blamed for that," said
-Anne. "Hélène's marriage with such an unspeakable wretch would have been
-a worse thing still."
-
-Urbain sighed, and did not answer. Presently, gazing into the fire,
-while Anne watched him with intent, questioning eyes, he said, "It
-appears that the Emperor is a little angry with Hervé for his hurried
-action, though he does not object to its consequence, being good enough
-to say that he values me and my influence in this country. But he does
-not like to be treated as a tyrant. De Mauves thinks that Adélaïde will
-not have the post of lady-in-waiting. It is a pity; she had set her
-heart on it."
-
-Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly; it was beyond her power, being a
-truthful woman, to express any sympathy with Adélaïde. It was her
-coldest little voice that said, "Have you been to Lancilly to-day?"
-
-"Yes," her husband answered.
-
-"Did you see Adélaïde?"
-
-"No."
-
-A bitter smile curled Anne's still beautiful mouth as she stood near his
-chair and looked at him. Was it only or chiefly Adélaïde's unforgiving
-anger that weighed on his broad shoulders, bent his clever brow, drove
-the old contented smile from his face? True, Joseph's death might well
-have done all this; but she knew Urbain, and he was not the man to cower
-under the inevitable. It was his way to meet the blows of fate with a
-brave front, if not a gay one; he was a Frenchman, and had lived and
-laughed through the great Revolution. And yet Anne was puzzled; for she
-respected Urbain too much to acknowledge that Adélaïde's anger could
-have so great an effect upon him.
-
-After a short silence he spoke, and told her all; told her of the
-disappointment of his dearest hopes, the failure of the schemes and
-struggles of a lifetime. And as he talked, Anne came gradually nearer,
-till at last, with a most unusual demonstrativeness, her arm was round
-his neck, and her cheek pressed against his whitening hair. Large tears
-ran down the man's face and dropped across his wife's hand and splashed
-on the tapestried arm of the chair.
-
-The Sainfoys were about to leave Lancilly, and probably for ever.
-Adélaïde could not endure it; since her daughter's marriage it had
-become odious to her. Neither did Georges like it; and before going back
-to the army he had become engaged to the heiress with whom he had danced
-so much at the ball, who had a castle and large estates of her own in
-Touraine, and who considered Lancilly far too wild and old-fashioned to
-be inhabited, except perhaps for a month in the shooting season. Thus it
-was not unlikely that Lancilly would be sold; and for the present it
-was to be dismantled and shut up; once more the deserted place, the
-preservation of which, the restoring to its right inhabitants, had been
-the dream and ambition of Urbain de la Marinière's life. For his cousin
-Hervé he had spent all his energies and a considerable part of his
-fortune; and to no purpose and worse than none. Even Hervé's love and
-gratitude failed him now; the knowledge that Hervé could never quite
-forget or forgive his plotting with Adélaïde and Ratoneau, was the
-sharpest sting of all; worse even, as his wife felt with a throb of
-rapturous joy, than the fact that Adélaïde would smile on him no more.
-
-"My poor Urbain!" she murmured.
-
-Her sympathy was tender and real, though she felt that her prayer had
-been answered, that she and her house had been delivered from the
-crushing weight of Lancilly, that the great castle on the hill would
-henceforth be a harmless pile of stones, to be viewed without the old
-dislike and jealousy. It seemed to her now that she had not known a
-happy day since the Sainfoys came back, or even for long before, while
-Urbain's whole soul was wrapped up in preparing for them. Yet she was
-very sorry for Urbain.
-
-"All for nothing, and worse than nothing," he sighed; and she found no
-words to comfort him.
-
-The fire crackled and blazed; outside, the wind rolled in great
-thundering blasts over the country. It roared so loudly in the chimneys
-that nothing else was to be heard. Urbain went on talking, so low that
-his wife, stooping over his chair, could hardly hear him; but she knew
-that all he said had the one refrain--"I have worked for twenty years,
-and this is the end of it all. I might have left poor Joseph in exile. I
-might have allowed Lancilly to tumble into ruins. What has come of it
-all! Nothing, nothing but disappointment and failure. Is it not enough
-to break a man's heart, to give the best of his whole life, and to
-fail!"
-
-The wind went on roaring. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not hear
-the house door open and shut, then the door of the room, then the light
-steps of Angelot and Hélène across the floor.
-
-"Look up, Urbain!" his wife said with a sudden inspiration. "_There_ is
-your success, dear friend!"
-
-There was a bright pink colour in Hélène's cheeks; her eyes and lips,
-once so sad, were smiling in perfect content; her fair curls were blown
-about her face; she was gloriously beautiful. Angelot held her hand, and
-his dark eyes glowed as he looked at her.
-
-"We have been fighting the elements," he said.
-
-Urbain and Anne gazed at them, these two splendid young creatures for
-whom life was beginning. The philosopher's brow and eyes lightened
-suddenly, and he smiled.
-
-"And by your triumphant looks, you have conquered them!" he said. "Is
-that my doing, Anne? Is that my success, my victory?" he added after a
-moment in her ear. "Yes, dearest, you are right. Embrace me, my
-children!"
-
- * * * * *
-
-Les Chouettes was shut up for seven years, and the country people were
-shy of passing it in the dusk, for they said that under the old oaks you
-might meet Monsieur Joseph with his gun and dog as of old, coming back
-from a day's shooting. When old Joubard heard that, he said--and his
-wife crossed herself at the saying--that he would rather meet Monsieur
-Joseph, dead, than any living gentleman of Anjou.
-
-But there came a time when young life took possession again of Les
-Chouettes, and lovely little children played in the sandy court and
-picked wild flowers and ran after butterflies in the meadow; when Madame
-Ange de la Marinière wandered out in the soft twilight, without fear of
-ghosts or men, to meet her husband as he walked down the rugged lane
-from the _landes_ after a long day's shooting.
-
-And there were no plots now in Anjou, and neither Chouans nor police
-haunted the woods; for Napoleon was at St. Helena, and France could
-breathe throughout her provinces, for the iron bands were taken off her
-heart, and the young generation might grow up without being cut down in
-its flower.
-
-It was at this time that Henriette de la Marinière decided to give Les
-Chouettes to her cousin Angelot, and finally to enter the convent where
-she had spent much time since her father's death, and where she died as
-Prioress late in the nineteenth century, having seen in France three
-Kings, a second Empire, and a Republic.
-
-She remained through all, of course, a consistent Royalist like her
-father. But to some minds, such an ebb and flow may seem to justify the
-philosophy of Urbain, and even more, perhaps, the light and happy
-indifference of Angelot.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Transcriber's note:
-
-There is some inconsistency in placing of accents, all are as in the
-original.
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Angelot, by Eleanor Price
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30072 ***
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30072 *** + +ANGELOT +A Story of the First Empire + +By +ELEANOR C. PRICE + +_Author of +"The Heiress of the Forest"_ + +NEW YORK +Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. +PUBLISHERS + +_Copyright, 1902, by_ THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. + +[Illustration: "YOU FORGET YOURSELF--YOU ARE MAD," SHE SAID HAUGHTILY.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. In the Depths of Old France 1 + + II. How the Owls hooted in the Daytime 13 + + III. "Je suis le Général Bim-Bam-Boum!" 26 + + IV. How the Breakfast cooked for Those was eaten by These 41 + + V. How Angelot made an Enemy 59 + + VI. How La Belle Hélène took an Evening Walk 78 + + VII. The Sleep of Mademoiselle Moineau 95 + + VIII. How Monsieur Joseph met with Many Annoyances 112 + + IX. How Common Sense fought and triumphed 129 + + X. How Angelot refused what had not been offered 147 + + XI. How Monsieur Urbain smoked a Cigar 160 + + XII. How the Prefect's Dog snapped at the General 173 + + XIII. How Monsieur Simon showed himself a little too Clever 187 + + XIV. In which Three Words contain a Good Deal of Information 202 + + XV. How Henriette read History to Some Purpose 223 + + XVI. How Angelot played the Part of an Owl in an Ivy-bush 242 + + XVII. How Two Soldiers came Home from Spain 266 + + XVIII. How Captain Georges paid a Visit of Ceremony 285 + + XIX. The Treading of the Grapes 299 + + XX. How Angelot climbed a Tree 309 + + XXI. How Monsieur Joseph found himself Master of the Situation 324 + + XXII. The Lighted Windows of Lancilly 340 + + XXIII. A Dance with General Ratoneau 353 + + XXIV. How Monsieur de Sainfoy found a Way Out 369 + + XXV. How the Curé acted against his Conscience 385 + + XXVI. How Angelot kept his Tryst 398 + + XXVII. How Monsieur Joseph went out into the Dawn 416 + + XXVIII. How General Ratoneau met his Match 437 + + XXIX. The Disappointment of Monsieur Urbain 456 + + + + + +ANGELOT + +A Story of the First Empire + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN THE DEPTHS OF OLD FRANCE + + +"Drink, Monsieur Angelot," said the farmer. + +His wife had brought a bottle of the sparkling white wine of the +country, and two tall old treasures of cut glass. The wine slipped out +in a merry foam. Angelot lifted his glass with a smile and bow to the +mistress. + +"The best wine in the country," he said as he set it down. + +The hard lines of her face, so dark, so worn with perpetual grief and +toil, softened suddenly as she looked at him, and the farmer from his +solemn height broke into a laugh. + +"Martin's wine," he said. "That was before they took him, the last boy. +But it is still rather new, Monsieur Angelot, though you are so amiable. +Ah, but it is the last good wine I shall ever have here at La +Joubardière. I am growing old--see my white hair--I cannot work or make +other men work as the boys did. Our vintage used to be one of the sights +of the country--I needn't tell you, for you know--but now the vines +don't get half the care and labour they did ten years ago; and they feel +it, like children, they feel it. Still, there they remain, and give us +what fruit they can--but the real children, Monsieur Angelot, their +life-blood runs to waste in far-away lands. It does not enrich France. +Ah, the vines of Spain will grow the better for it, perhaps--" + +"Hush, hush, master!" muttered the wife, for the old man was not +laughing now; his last words were half a sob, and tears ran suddenly +down. "I tell you always," she said, "Martin will come back. The good +God cannot let our five boys die, one after the other. Madame your +mother thinks so too," she said, nodding at Angelot. "I spoke to her +very plainly. I said, '_They_ cannot be unjust--and surely, to take all +the five children of a poor little farmer, and to leave not one, not +even the youngest, to do the work of the farm--come, what sort of +justice is that!' And she said: 'Listen, maîtresse: the good God will +bring your Martin back to you. He cannot be unjust, as you say. If my +Angelot had to go to the war--and I always fear it--I should expect him +back as surely as I expect my husband back from Lancilly at this +moment.'" + +Angelot smiled at her. "Yes, yes, Martin will come back," he said. But +he shrugged his shoulders, for he could not himself see much comfort for +these poor people in his mother's argument. If you have lost four, it is +surely more logical to expect to lose a fifth. His father, a +philosopher, would not have said so much as this to the Joubards, but +would have gone on another tack altogether. He would have pointed out to +them that the glory of France depended on their sons; that this +conscription, which seemed to them so cruel, which now, in 1811, was +becoming really oppressive, was the means of making France, under her +brilliant leader, the most powerful and magnificent nation in the world. +He would have waved the tricolour before those sad eyes, would have +counted over lists of victories; and so catching was his enthusiasm that +Joubard's back would have straightened under it, and he would have gone +home--it happened more than once--feeling like a hero and the father of +heroes. But the old fellow's sudden flame of faith in his landlord and +Napoleon was not so lasting as his wife's faith in Madame and the +justice of God. + +Angelot wished the maîtresse good-day, left a brace of birds on the +table, and stepped out from the grimy darkness of the farm kitchen into +the dazzling sunshine of that September morning. The old white farm, +with crumbling walls about it, remnants of attempts at fortification +long ago, looked fairly prosperous in its untidiness. The fresh stacks +of corn were golden still; poultry made a great clatter, a flock of +geese on their way out charging at the two men as they left the house. +An old peasant was hammering at barrels, in preparation for the vintage; +a wild girl with a stick and a savage-looking brindled dog was starting +off to fetch the cows in from their morning graze. + +All the place was bathed in crystal air and golden light, fresh and +life-giving. It stood high on the edge of the moors, the ground falling +away to the south and east into a wild yet fertile valley; vineyards, +cornfields not long reaped, small woods, deep and narrow lanes, then +tall hedges studded with trees, green rich meadows by the streams far +below. On the slope, a mile or two away, there was a church spire with a +few grey roofs near it, and the larger roofs, half-hidden by trees, of +the old manor of La Marinière, Angelot's home. On the opposite slope of +the valley, rising from the stream, another spire, another and larger +village; and above it, commanding the whole country side, with great +towers and shining roofs, solid lengths of wall gleaming in newly +restored whiteness, lines of windows still gold in the morning sun, +stood the old château of Lancilly, backed by the dark screen of forest +that came up close about it and in old days had surrounded it +altogether. Twenty years of emptiness; twenty years, first of revolution +and emigration, then of efforts to restore an old family, which the +powerful aid of a faithful cousin and friend had made successful; and +now the Comte de Sainfoy and his family were at last able to live again +at Lancilly in their old position, though there was much yet to be done +by way of restoration and buying back lost bits of property. But all +this could not be in better hands than those of Urbain de la Marinière, +the cousin, the friend, somewhat despised among the old splendours of a +former régime, and thought the less of because of the opinions which +kept him safe and sound on French soil all through the Revolution, +enabling him both to save Lancilly for its rightful owners, and to keep +a place in the old and loved country for his own elder brother Joseph, a +far more consistent Royalist than Hervé de Sainfoy with all his grand +traditions. For the favour of the Emperor had been made one great step +to the restoration of these noble emigrants. Therefore in this small +square of Angevin earth there were great divisions of opinion: but +Monsieur Urbain, the unprejudiced, the lover of both liberty and of +glory, and of poetry and philosophy beyond either, who had passed on +with France herself from the Committee of Public Safety to the +Directory, and then into the arms of First Consul and Emperor--Monsieur +Urbain, the cousin, the brother, whose wife was an ardent Royalist and +devout Catholic, whose young son was the favourite companion of his +uncle Joseph, a more than suspected Chouan--Monsieur Urbain, Angelot's +father, was everybody's friend, everybody's protector, everybody's +adviser, and the one peacemaker among them all. And naturally, in such a +case, Monsieur Urbain's hardest task was the management of his own +wife--but of this more hereafter. + +"Your father's work, Monsieur Angelot," said old Joubard, pointing +across the valley to Lancilly, there in the blaze of the sun. + +Angelot lifted his sleepy eyelids, his long lashes like a girl's, and +the glance that shot from beneath them was half careless, half uneasy. + +"We have done without them pretty well for twenty years," the farmer +went on, "but I suppose we must be glad to see them back. Is it true +that they are coming to-day?" + +"I believe so." + +"Your uncle Joseph won't be glad to see them. The Emperor's people: they +may disturb certain quiet little games at Les Chouettes." + +"That is my uncle's affair, Maître Joubard." + +"I know. Well, a still tongue is best for me. Monsieur Urbain is a good +landlord--and I've paid for my place in the Empire, _dame_, yes, five +times over. Yet, if I could choose my flag at this time of day, I should +not care for a variety of colours. Mind you, your father is a wise man +and knows best, I dare say. I am only a poor peasant. But taking men and +their opinions all round, Monsieur Angelot, and though some who think +themselves wise call him a fool,--with respect I say it,--your dear +little uncle is the man for me. Yes--I would back Monsieur Joseph +against all his brother's wisdom and his cousin's fine airs, and I am +sorry these Sainfoy people are coming back to trouble him and to spoil +his pretty little plots, which do no harm to any one." + +Angelot laughed outright. "My uncle would not care to hear that," he +said. + +"Nevertheless, you may tell him old Joubard said it. And what's more, +monsieur, your father thinks the same, or he would not let you live half +your life at Les Chouettes." + +"He has other things to think of." + +"Ah, I know--and Madame your mother to reckon with." + +"You are too clever," said Angelot, laughing again. "Well, I must go, +for my uncle is expecting me to breakfast." + +"Ah! and he has other guests. I saw them riding over from the south, +half an hour ago." + +"You have a watch-tower here. You command the country." + +"And my sight is a hawk's sight," said the old man. "Good-day, dear boy. +Give my duty to Monsieur Joseph." + +Angelot started lightly on his way over the rough moorland road. The +high ridge of tableland extended far to the north; the _landes_, purple +and gold with the low heather and furze which covered them, unsheltered +by any tree, except where crossed in even lines by pollard oaks of +immense age, their great round heads so thick with leaves that a man +might well hide in them. These _truisses_, cut every few years, were +the peasants' store of firewood. Their long processions gave a curious +look of human life to the lonely moor, only inhabited by game, of which +Angelot saw plenty. But he did not shoot, his game-bag being already +stuffed with birds, but marched along with gun on shoulder and dog at +heel over the yellow sandy track, loudly whistling a country tune. There +was not a lighter heart than Angelot's in all his native province, nor a +handsomer face. He only wanted height to be a splendid fellow. His +daring mouth and chin seemed to contradict the lazy softness of his dark +eyes. With a clear, brown skin and straight figure, and dressed in brown +linen and heavy shooting boots, he was the picture of a healthy +sportsman. + +A walk of a mile or two across the _landes_ brought him into a green +lane with tall wild hedges, full of enormous blackberries, behind which +were the vineyards, rather weedy as to soil, but loaded with the small +black and white grapes which made the good pure wine of the country. + +Angelot turned in and looked at the grapes and ate a few; this was one +of his father's vineyards. The yellow grapes tasted of sunshine and the +south. Angelot went on eating them all the way down the lane; he was +thirsty, in spite of Joubard's sparkling wine, after tramping with dog +and gun since six o'clock in the morning. The green lane led to another, +very steep, rough, and stony. Corners of red and white rock stood out +in it; such a surface would have jolted a strong cart to pieces, but Les +Chouettes had no better approach on this side. + +"I want no fine ladies to visit me," Monsieur Joseph would say, with his +sweet smile. "My friends will travel over any road." + +Down plunged the lane, with a thick low wood on one side and a sloping +stubble field edged by woods on the other; here again stood a row of old +pollard oaks, like giant guards of the solitude. Then the deep barking +of many dogs, Monsieur Joseph's real protectors, and a group of Spanish +chestnuts sending their branches over the road, announced the strange +hermitage that its master called by the fanciful name of Les Chouettes. +There had indeed been a time, not long before, when owls had been its +chief inhabitants. Now, if report was to be believed, night-birds of a +different species were apt to congregate there. + +The lane opened suddenly on Monsieur Joseph's out-buildings, with no +gates or barriers, things unknown in Anjou. Tall oaks and birches, +delicate and grey, leaned across the cream-coloured walls and the high +grey stone roofs where orange moss grew thickly. Low arched doorways +with a sandy court between them led into the kitchen on one side, the +stables on the other. Beyond these again, in the broad still sunshine, +standing squarely alone in a broad space of yellow sand, was Monsieur +Joseph's house, not very old, for the kitchens and stables had belonged +to a little château long since pulled down. It also was built of +cream-coloured stone, with a little tower to the west of it, with +playful ironwork and high mansard windows. An odd feature was that it +had no actual door. All the lower windows opened down to the ground, +with nothing but a stone step between them and the sandy soil, so that +the house could be entered or left at any point, through any room. + +Two rough roads or country tracks, continuing the lane, passed the house +to the north and south, the northern road wandering away westward under +a wild avenue of old oaks on the edge of a wood into high fields beyond, +the southern crossing broad green slopes that descended gradually into +the valley towards Lancilly, past low copses and brimming streams, +leaving to the east the high moors and La Marinière with its small +village and spire. + +Thus Les Chouettes had a view of its own to the west and south, but +could be seen far off from the south only; woods covering the upper +slope against the sunset. Woods and high land sheltered it again from +the north and east, and the only roads near it were little better than +cart-tracks. + +There were long hours at Les Chouettes when no sound was to be heard but +the hooting of owls or screaming of curlews or the odd little squeak of +the squirrels as they darted up and down and about the oak trees. + +"He mews like a cat, the little _fouquet_," Monsieur Joseph used to say; +and passionate sportsman as he was, he would never shoot the squirrels +or allow them to be shot by his man, who lamented loudly. Angelot had +caught his uncle's liking for that swift red spirit of the woods, and so +the squirrels had a fine time all over the lands of La Marinière. + +Evidently there was a good deal going on at Les Chouettes, when Angelot +came down from the moors that morning. He was not surprised, after old +Joubard's report, to see his uncle's outdoor factotum, a bullet-headed +creature with scarcely anything on but his shirt, leading the last of +several horses into the shadowy depths of the stable. Opposite, the cook +looked out smiling from the kitchen, where she lived with her solemn +husband, the valet-de-chambre. He, in apron and sabots, was now in the +act of carrying the first dishes across to the dining-room window. + +"Just in time, Monsieur Angelot!" cried the cook. + +Four large black dogs came barking and leaping to meet the young man and +his dog, an intimate friend of theirs. Then a small slender figure, with +a cropped head and a clinging dark blue frock, flashed across from the +wood, ordered the dogs back in a voice that they obeyed, and clinging to +Angelot's arm, led him on towards the corner of the house. + +"Ah, my Ange! I began to think you were not coming," she said. "There +are four of them in the salon with papa, and I was afraid to go in till +you came." + +"What! Mademoiselle Riette afraid of anything on earth--and especially +of four old gentlemen!" + +"They are not very old, and they look so fierce and secret this morning. +But come, come, you must put down your game-bag and wash your hands, and +then we will go in together." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HOW THE OWLS HOOTED IN THE DAYTIME + + +The sun poured into the little salon, all polished wood and gay-coloured +chintz, where Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière and his four friends were +talking at the top of their voices. + +The four guests sat in more or less tired attitudes round the room; the +host stood poised on the hearth-rug, a dark, dandy little gentleman with +a brilliant smile. He had a way of balancing himself on one foot and +slightly extending both arms, as if he were going to fly off into space. +This, and his gentle, attractive manner, sometimes touched with +melancholy, gave him a sort of angelic, spiritual air. It was difficult +to imagine him either a soldier or a conspirator, yet he had been one +and was still the other. More than once, only a politic indulgence not +often extended by Napoleon's administrators, and the distinguished +merits of his younger brother, had saved Monsieur Joseph from sharing +the fate of some of his friends at Joux, Ham, or Vincennes. + +These fortress prisons held even now many men of good family whom only +the Restoration was to set free. They, as well as plenty of inferior +prisoners, owed their captivity in most cases to a secret meeting +betrayed, a store of arms discovered, a discontented letter opened, or +even to an expression of opinion, such as that France had been better +off under the Bourbons. Napoleon kept France down with an iron hand, +while the young men and lads in hundreds of thousands shed their blood +for him, the women wept, and the old men sometimes raged: but yet France +as a whole submitted. The memory of the Terror made this milder tyranny +bearable. And genius commands, as long as it is victorious, and till +this year of the Spanish war, there had been no check to Napoleon. He +had not yet set out to extinguish the flame of his glory in Russian +snows. + +The police all over France obeyed his orders only too well--"_Surveillez +tout le monde, excepté moi!_" To a great degree it was necessary, for +French society, high and low, was honeycombed with Royalist plots, some +of them hardly worthy of a cause which called itself religious as well +as royal. Leaders like Cadoudal and Frotté were long dead; some of their +successors in conspiracy were heroes rather of scandal than of loyalty, +and many a tragic legend lingers in French society concerning the men +and women of those days. + +To a great extent, the old families of La Vendée, the La +Rochejacqueleins at their head, refrained from mixing themselves up in +the smaller plots against the Empire in which hundreds of Chouans, +noble and peasant, men and women, were constantly involved during these +years with probable loss of life and liberty. It was not till later that +the general feeling became intensified so that Napoleon had to weaken +his army, in the Waterloo campaign, by sending some thousands of men +against a new insurrection in the West, under Louis de la +Rochejaquelein, a second La Vendée war, only stopped by the final return +of the Bourbons. + +Monsieur Joseph's gay little room looked like anything but a haunt of +conspirators; but his friends were earnestly discussing with him the +possibility of raising the country, arming the peasants, marching on the +chief town of the department, capturing the Prefect, as well as the +General in command of the division, and holding them as hostages while +the insurrection went on spreading through Anjou and the neighbouring +provinces. + +The most eager, the most original of the plotters was the Baron d'Ombré, +a dark, square young man with frowning brows. He turned quite fiercely +on a milder-looking person, a Monsieur de Bourmont, a distant cousin of +the well-known leader of that name, who doubted whether the peasants +would rise as readily as César d'Ombré expected. + +"I tell you," he said, "they hate, they detest the Empire. Look at their +desolate homes, their deserted fields! I tell you, the women of France +alone, if they had a leader, would drive the usurper out of the +country." + +"There is your mission, then, dear César," said the Vicomte des Barres, +a delicate, sarcastic-looking man of middle age. "March on Paris with +your phalanx of Amazons." + +"César is right, nevertheless, gentlemen," growled the Comte d'Ombré, +the young man's father, the oldest of the party. "It is energy, it is +courage, that our cause wants. And I go farther than my son goes. Take +the Prefect and the General by all means--excellent idea--" + +"If you can catch them--" murmured Monsieur des Barres, and was frowned +upon furiously by César d'Ombré. + +The Comte was rather deaf. "What? What?" he asked sharply, being aware +of the interruption. + +"Nothing, monsieur, nothing!" cried their host, with one spring from the +fireplace to the old man's chair--"and what would you do, monsieur, with +the Prefect and the General? I am dying of curiosity." + +Monsieur d'Ombré stared up into the sweet, birdlike face, which bent +over him with flashing eyes and a delighted smile. + +"Do? I should shoot them on the spot," he said. "They are traitors: I +would treat all traitors the same. Yes, I know the Prefect is a friend +of your brother's--of your own, possibly. I know my son and I are your +guests, too. Never mind! Any other conduct would be cowardly and +abominable. No member of my family would ever be guilty of opportunism, +and remain in my family. Those two men have done more harm in this +province than Napoleon Buonaparte and all his laws and police. They +never tried to make his government popular. The Prefect, at least, has +done this--I know nothing about the General." + +"A wooden image of his master," said Monsieur des Barres. + +Monsieur Joseph returned, rather sobered, to his hearth rug. "Shoot +them, well, well!" he muttered. "A strong measure, but possibly politic. +It is what one would _like_ to do, of course, officially. Not +personally--no--though Monsieur d'Ombré may be right. It is a crime, no +doubt, to make the Empire popular. I am afraid my poor brother has tried +to do the same, and succeeded--yes, succeeded a little." + +"My father is quite wrong," César d'Ombré muttered in the ear of +Monsieur de Bourmont, who listened with a superior smile. "Such mad +violence would ruin the cause altogether. Now as hostages, those two men +would be invaluable." + +"Time enough to discuss that when you have got them," said Monsieur de +Bourmont. "To me, I must confess, this plan of a rising sounds premature +and unpractical. What we want first is money--money from England, and +stronger support, too--as well as a healthier public opinion all through +this part of the country." + +"Ah! but none of your waiting games for me," cried the young Baron. +"_'De l'audace'_--you know--that is the motto for Frenchmen." + +"Boldness and rashness need not be the same thing," said Monsieur de +Bourmont, drily. "And remember whom you are quoting, my dear César. A +dangerous person, to say the least." + +A grim smile lightened d'Ombré's hard face. "It was the right thing to +say, if the devil said it," he answered. + +The Vicomte des Barres rose from his chair and lounged into the middle +of the room. + +"To be practical, friends," he said, "the feeling among the peasants is +the question. In this country side, Monsieur de la Marinière ought to +know pretty well what it is. And I fear he will tell us that a good deal +of exertion will be necessary, before they will take up their guns and +pikes, and march where they are led. It goes without saying that he, +himself, is the one man to lead them. I believe, though he chooses to +live like a hermit, he is the most popular man in Anjou." + +"But no--no, dear Vicomte," said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his head +violently. "It is true there are some of them who love me--but their +interest, you see, is on the other side. My brother is more popular than +I am, and he deserves it, in spite of his lamentable opinions." + +"Ah, monsieur, forgive me, but do you understand your peasants?" cried +César d'Ombré. "Are you doing them justice? Would they set a good farm +against their king, their religion, the salvation of their country? +Bleeding from the loss of their sons--will they think more of money and +corn-stacks and vintages than of that true peace and freedom which can +only be won by driving out tyranny? Nobody wants to put them back as +they were before 1789. The feudal ages are gone--we have given up our +rights, and there is an end of it--but we want our own kings again, and +we want peace for France, and time to breathe and to let her wounds +heal. We want to be rid of this accursed usurper who is draining her +life blood. That, I say, is what the peasants feel, most of them, as +strongly as we do. But they are of course uneducated. They need stirring +up, drilling, leading. And I can hardly believe, monsieur, that the +weight of one man in the other scale--even of your learned and +distinguished brother--would outweigh all the claims of faith and +affection and loyalty. No--delay and hesitation are useless. Trust the +peasants, I say." + +"You may be right--I hope you are--" said Monsieur Joseph, more gravely +than usual. "But my brother will not now be alone in the left-hand +scale. Lancilly, under his care, has given the people work and wages for +years, remember. And now, with Hervé de Sainfoy's return--" + +A howl from César d'Ombré, a groan from his father, a grimace of disgust +from Monsieur de Bourmont, who had reason, for his own cousin, once a +Chouan, was now an Imperial officer--a laugh from Monsieur des Barres; +all this greeted the name of the owner of Lancilly. + +"Although that renegade is your cousin, monsieur," old d'Ombré growled, +"I hope the country side may soon be made too hot to hold him." + +Monsieur Joseph shrugged his shoulders, smiled, looked on the floor. He +did not take up the old man's words; he could not very well have done +so. But there was something about him which reminded his guests that the +slender little boyish man was a dead shot and a perfect swordsman, and +that once, long ago, in old La Vendée days, he had challenged a man who +had said something insulting of his brother Urbain, and after one or two +swift passes had laid him dead at his feet. + +There was a moment of rather awkward silence. Then Monsieur des Barres +took up the word again. + +"To be practical, my friends," he repeated, "the first step to action, +it seems to me, is to sound and encourage the peasants. Each of us must +be responsible for his own neighbourhood." + +"We will answer for ours," said César d'Ombré. + +Monsieur de Bourmont, the most cautious of the party, murmured something +to the same effect, and Monsieur Joseph nodded gravely. + +The Vicomte's eyes dwelt on him, a little anxiously. It seemed as if +that word "renegade," applied to his cousin and neighbour, might have a +tendency to stick in his throat. Des Barres, who admired and loved the +little gentleman, was sorry. He wanted to remind him how the old Comte +d'Ombré was universally known for bad manners, stupidity, and violence. +He would have liked to reason with him, too, on the subject of that +cousin, and to point out kindly, as a friend, how Monsieur de Sainfoy +had had absolutely no real and good excuse for going over to the +Emperor. Nothing but ambition and worldiness could have led him into the +course he had taken. Urbain de la Marinière, known even before 1789 as a +philosophical Republican, held a very different place in the estimation +of honest men. + +"That farmer on the _landes_"--said the Vicomte, looking at his host--"a +good example of a superior peasant, is he not? We passed near his farm +this morning. What line does he take?" + +"Joubard? He is a fine old fellow, that. His fifth son was taken by the +conscription a year ago. Four are dead. I think his heart is in the +right place. But he is my brother's best tenant. Yes--I don't know. Old +Joubard is made of good stuff, and he loves me." + +"And probably he loved his sons, and their mother loved them too," said +César d'Ombré. + +"Here are my children," said Monsieur Joseph, looking out of the window. +"Breakfast will be ready immediately. With your leave we will finish +our discussion afterwards." + +All the faces lightened, except that of the Baron d'Ombré, whose soul +was too much in earnest to be glad of a bodily interruption. But the +ride had been long, over difficult roads and under a hot sun, and +breakfast was later than usual. The three elder conspirators were not +sorry to lay aside their plotting for an hour, and they knew by +experience that Monsieur Joseph's cook was an artist. On an occasion +such as this, dishes of the rarest distinction crossed the sandy court +from that quaint high-roofed kitchen. + +The children, as Monsieur Joseph called them, came to the glass door and +opened it gently. They were Angelot and Henriette, first cousins, and +alike enough to be brother and sister, in spite of the ten years between +them. + +The girl, with her fearless eyes, walked first; it seemed natural to +her. All the men rose and bowed as she came in. She made a formal +curtsey to each one separately, and smiled when Monsieur des Barres, the +man of the world, bent gracefully to kiss her hand as if she had been a +grown-up woman. + +"Good morning, my dear uncle," said Angelot, and kissed Monsieur Joseph +on both cheeks; then bowed deeply to the company. + +They looked upon him with not altogether friendly eyes; the Comte +d'Ombré even muttered something between his teeth, and hardly returned +the young fellow's salutation. The son of Urbain de la Marinière, a +notorious example of two odious things, republicanism and opportunism! +the mutual affection of him and his uncle Joseph only made him more of a +possible danger. To Monsieur d'Ombré Angelot seemed like a spy in the +camp. His son, however, knew better, and so did the other two. Angelot's +parentage was not in his favour, certainly, but they tried to take him +at his uncle's valuation, and that was a high one. And Monsieur Joseph's +judgment, though romantic, was seldom wrong. + +Gigot, the dark-faced valet, having kicked off the sabots which covered +his felt shoes, but still wearing his large apron, set open the door +into the long narrow hall which ran through the back of the house, +widening in the middle where the tower and staircase branched from it. + +"Monsieur est servi!" + +The hungry guests marched willingly to the dining-room, their heavy +boots creaking, the noise of tread and voices echoing through the bare +boarded house. + +"You do not join us, mademoiselle?" said Monsieur des Barres, seeing +that Henriette lingered behind in the drawing-room. + +"No, monsieur," the child answered. "My father thinks I am too young to +listen. Besides, I am the _guetteuse_. It is our business to watch--the +dogs and I." + +"Indeed! Is that how you spend your life? A curious employment for a +young lady!" + +"When there is danger abroad, I am more to be trusted than any one +else." + +"I quite believe it. You know, then, that our visit to-day is not +entirely one of pleasure? Monsieur your father has taken you so far into +his confidence, though you are too young to listen?" + +"I know everything, monsieur," said Henriette. + +"Then we may eat in peace. We are safe in your care. That is charming, +mademoiselle." + +"Yes, monsieur. I will let you know at once, if Monsieur le Préfet and +his gendarmes are riding down the lane." + +"Good heavens, what an idea! I have not the smallest wish to meet +Monsieur le Préfet. I believe that gentleman keeps a black book, in +which I am quite sure my name is written. Yes indeed, mademoiselle, if +he should happen to pass, send him a little farther. Tell him he will +find a nest of Chouans at Vaujour, or anywhere else your fancy +suggests." + +Henriette laughed and nodded. "Trust me, monsieur," she said. + +"Your little cousin is charming," said Monsieur des Barres to Angelot, +who was politely waiting for him in the hall. + +The six men were soon sitting at Monsieur Joseph's hospitable round +table. As they dispatched their plates of steaming soup they saw the +slim blue figure of Henriette, with two dogs at her heels, flit past the +window in the direction of the steep lane down which Angelot had come +not very long before. This lane led not only to the _landes_, but by +other lanes to one of the rare high roads of the country, and on to the +chief town of the department. It was partly for this reason that +Monsieur Joseph, who valued privacy and independence, left it in its +present break-neck condition, more like the dry course of a torrent than +a civilised road. + +A large dish of eggs followed the soup. But only half the guests had +been helped, when all the dogs about the place began to bark savagely. +And then, out of the shadow of the wood, darting down past the back of +the kitchen, Henriette came flying to the dining-room window, almost +upsetting Gigot and his dish as she sprang over the step. + +"Papa, papa, there is a party riding down the lane. I believe it is +Monsieur le Préfet and an officer with him, and three servants. I ran up +the wood. They had only just turned into the lane, and they are coming +down very slowly; their horses don't like it." + +Monsieur Joseph rapped out a tremendous oath, and looked round at his +guests, whose faces were a study. + +"The Prefect and the General!" he said. "Now is your moment, +gentlemen!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"JE SUIS LE GÉNÉRAL BIM-BAM-BOUM!" + + +All the men rose to their feet, except the elder d'Ombré, who had taken +a very long draught of his host's good wine, and now stared stupidly at +the others. César d'Ombré's eyes flamed with excitement. He seized the +arm of Angelot, who was next to him, in such a grip that the young +fellow flinched and frowned. + +"It is our moment!" he cried. "Six to two"--then savagely, and +tightening his grasp--"unless we are betrayed--" + +"What do you mean, sir?" cried Angelot, his uncle, and Monsieur de +Bourmont, all in a breath. + +Monsieur des Barres laughed as he looked at Henriette. + +"The idea is absurd," he said--"and yet," in a lower tone--"mademoiselle +has proved herself an amazingly true prophetess. However, it is +absurd--" + +There was a moment or two of uproar. Angelot, having impatiently shaken +off the Baron's hand, was demanding that he should withdraw his words. +He, having apparently at once forgotten them, was insisting that now +indeed was the time to prove a man's loyalty, that they must stand all +together and dare all things, that the Prefect and the General, once at +Les Chouettes, must never leave it but as prisoners, that the Government +would be instantly demoralised, and the insurrection would catch and +flame like a fire in dry grass-- + +"And be put out as easily," shouted Monsieur de Bourmont. "Madness, +madness! Mere midsummer foolery. Go and hide yourself, firebrand!" + +"Shoot them on the spot! Where are my pistols?" stammered the old Comte, +beginning to understand the situation. + +Monsieur des Barres laughed till he held his sides. Henriette gave him +one or two angry and scornful glances, while Gigot, under her orders, +whisked glasses and plates and dishes into a cupboard, pushed back +chairs against the wall, took away every sign of the good meal just +begun. In the midst of all this clatter Monsieur Joseph said a few words +with eager nods and signs to Monsieur de Bourmont, and they two, taking +the old man by each arm, led him forcibly out towards the west side of +the house. + +"Bring the others!" said Monsieur Joseph to his nephew, who was +listening as if fascinated to César d'Ombré's ravings. + +The little uncle was angry, Angelot perceived. He stamped his foot, as +if he meant to be obeyed. Angelot had never seen him in such a state of +anxiety and excitement, or heard such words as his sincerely pious mouth +had let fall two minutes before--in Riette's presence, too! Old Joubard +was wrong: these plots were not exactly to be laughed at. Angelot, +realising that the Prefect and the General were really in danger of +their lives from men like the Messieurs d'Ombré, thought rather +seriously of his own father. At the same time, he longed to punish César +for what he had dared to say about betrayal. Yes, he was his father's +son; and so the sight of him was enough to make these wild Chouans +suspect far better Royalists than themselves. There was an account to +settle with Monsieur des Barres, too. His polite manners were all very +well, but his words to Henriette just now were insulting. Angelot was +angry with his uncle's guests, and not particularly inclined to help +them out of their present predicament. He stood gloomily, without +attempting to obey his uncle, till Henriette came up to him suddenly. + +"Ange--the horses into the hiding-place! Do you hear--quick, quick!" + +It might be possible to hesitate in obeying Uncle Joseph, but Cousin +Henriette was a far more autocratic person. And then her good sense +never failed, and was always convincing; she was never in doubt as to +her own right course or other people's: and Angelot, who had no +sisters, loved her like a little sister, and accepted her tyrannous +ways joyfully. + +She had hardly spoken when he was out of the window, and with a few +strides across the sunshine had disappeared into the dark and cavernous +archway of the stables. + +Henriette turned to the two remaining guests, César d'Ombré still +arguing in favour of instant action with Monsieur des Barres, who looked +serious enough now, and stood shrugging his shoulders. + +"Follow me, gentlemen," said the child. "I know where my papa is waiting +for you." + +"Mademoiselle, we are in your hands," said the Vicomte, bowing. "We have +never for an instant lost confidence in you." + +She bent her head, with the air and smile of a woman who rather +scornfully accepts an apology. She went out of the dining-room and along +the hall, the two men following her. César d'Ombré lingered as far as he +dared, and grumbled between his teeth. + +At that very moment the Prefect of the department, with the newly +appointed General in command of the troops stationed there, only +escorted by three men in the dress of gendarmes, rode slowly and gently +round the back of the kitchen into the sandy courtyard of Les Chouettes. + +"Monsieur de la Marinière's hermitage," said the Prefect to his +companion. + +"It looks like one, sapristi!" said the General. + +Nothing could seem stiller, more fast asleep, than Les Chouettes in the +approaching noon of that hot September day. The dogs barked and growled, +it was true, but only one of them, the youngest, troubled himself to get +up from where he lay in the warm sand. No human creature was to be seen +about the house or buildings; the silence of the woods lay all around; +the dry air smelt delicately of wood smoke and fir trees; the shadows +were very deep, cutting across the broad belts of glowing sunshine. + +"Every one is asleep," said the Prefect. "I am afraid breakfast is over; +we ought to have arrived an hour ago." + +"Caught them napping!" chuckled the General. + +The voices, and the clinking of bridles, as the little cavalcade passed +towards the house at a walking pace, brought the cook to the kitchen +door. She stared in consternation. She was a pretty woman, Gigot's wife, +with a pale complexion and black hair; her provincial cap was very +becoming. But she now turned as red as a turkey-cock and her jaw +dropped, as she stared after the horsemen. No one had warned her: there +had not been time or opportunity. She was just dishing up the roast meat +for the hungry appetites of Messieurs les Chouans, when behold, the +gendarmes! Who the gentlemen were, she did not know; but imperial +gendarmes were never a welcome sight to Monsieur Joseph's household. + +"The place is like a city of the dead," said the Prefect, drawing rein +in front of the salon windows. "See if you can find any one, Simon, and +ask for Monsieur de la Marinière." + +One of the gendarmes dismounted. Wearing the ordinary dress of these +civil soldiers, he yet differed in some indefinable way from his two +companions. He had the keen and wary look of a clever dog; his eyes were +everywhere. + +"City of the dead, eh! Plenty of footprints of the living!" he muttered, +as he turned back towards the outbuildings and noticed the trampled +sand. + +Marie Gigot saw him coming, and dived back into her kitchen. + +"Ah! it is that demon!" she said to herself. "Holy Virgin, defend us! I +thought that wretch was gone. All of them in the dining-room--the stable +full of their horses, and no one there but that ignorant Tobie! We are +done for at last, that's sure. Eh! there's Monsieur Angelot talking to +him. But of course it is hopeless. That must be the Prefect. To be sure +they say he is better than the last--and it may be only a friendly +visit--and why should not my master have his friends to breakfast? But +then, again, what brings that Simon, that Chouan-catcher, as they call +him! Why, Gigot told me of half-a-dozen fellows who had sworn to shoot +him, and not a hundred miles from here." + +She ran to the door again and looked out. Angelot, cool and quiet, had +come out of the stable and met the gendarme face to face, returning his +salutation with indifference. + +"It is Monsieur le Préfet? Certainly, my uncle is at home," he said. "I +am not sure that he is in the house," and he walked on towards the group +of horsemen. + +"Not in the house!" breathed the cook. "They are hiding, then! They must +have heard or seen them coming--ah, how stupid I am! I saw mademoiselle +run past the window." + +Angelot came bareheaded, smiling, to represent his uncle in welcoming +the Prefect to Les Chouettes. He would not have been his father's son if +the droll side of the situation had not struck him. He thought it +exquisite, though he was sorry for his uncle's annoyance. The Chouan +guests had irritated him, and that they should lose their breakfast +seemed a happy retribution, though he would have done all he could to +save them from further penalties. Angelot looked up at the Prefect, his +handsome sleepy eyes alight with laughter. + +"Do my uncle the pleasure of coming in, monsieur," he said. "He will be +here immediately; he has been out shooting. It is exactly breakfast +time." + +"We shall be very grateful for your uncle's hospitality; we have had a +long ride in the heat," said the Prefect. + +His eyes as they met Angelot's were very keen, as well as very kind and +gentle. He was a singularly good-looking man, and sat his horse +gracefully. His manners were those of the great world; he was one of the +noblest and most popular of the men of old family who had rallied to the +Empire, believing that Napoleon's genius and the glory of France were +one. + +"Monsieur le Général," he said, turning to his companion, "let me +present Monsieur Ange de la Marinière, the son of Monsieur Urbain de la +Marinière, one of my truest friends in the department." + +The rough and mocking voice that answered--"Happy to make his +acquaintance"--brought the colour into Angelot's face as he bowed. + +The Prefect, who for reasons of his own watched the lad curiously, saw +the change, the cloud that darkened those frank looks suddenly, and +understood it pretty well. The new military commander, risen from the +ranks in every sense, had nothing to justify his position except +courage, a talent for commanding, and devotion to the Emperor. That he +was not now fighting in Spain was due partly to quarrels with other +generals, partly to wounds received in the last Austrian campaign, which +unfitted him for the time for active service. In sending him to this +Royalist province of the West, Napoleon might have aimed at providing +the Prefect with an effective foil to his own character and connections. +The great Emperor by no means despised the trick of setting his +servants to watch one another. + +One personal peculiarity this General possessed, which had both helped +and hindered him in his career. As Monsieur des Barres said, he was +exceedingly like his master. A taller, heavier man, his face and head +were a coarse likeness of Napoleon's. There were the lines of beauty +without the sweetness, the strength without the genius, the ingrained +selfishness unveiled by any mask, even of policy. General Ratoneau was +repulsive where Napoleon was attractive. He had fought under Napoleon +from the beginning, and had risen by his own efforts, disliked by all +his superiors, even by the Emperor, to whom the strange likeness did not +recommend him. But it had a great effect on the men who fought under +him. Though he was a brutal leader, they were ready to follow him +anywhere, and had been known to call him _le gros caporal_, so strong +and obvious was this likeness. He was a splendid soldier, though +ill-tempered, cruel, and overbearing. He was a man to be reckoned with, +and so the amiable Prefect found. Having himself plenty of scruples, +plenty of humanity, and a horror of civil war, he found a colleague with +none of these difficult to manage. Nothing, for instance, was further +from the Prefect's wish than to spy upon his Royalist neighbours and to +drive them to desperation. The very word _Chouan_ represented to General +Ratoneau a wild beast to be trapped or hunted. + +Angelot looked at this man, and from the first glance hated him. There +was something insolent in the stare of those bold dark eyes, which were +bloodshot, too, matching the redness and coarseness of the face; +something mocking, threatening, as much as to say: "Very fine, young +fellow, but I don't believe a word of it. I believe you, baby as you +are, and your father, and your uncle, and the whole boiling of you, are +a set of traitors to the Emperor and ought to be hanged in a row on +those trees of yours. So take care how you behave, young man!" + +The Prefect read Angelot's looks, and saw what kind of instant +impression the General had made. No girl, at the moment, could have +shown her feelings more plainly. Angelot might have said aloud, "What +odious wretch is this!" such proud disgust was written on his face. But +he recovered himself instantly, and again laughter was very near the +surface as he begged these new guests to dismount. For the outwitting +and disappointing of such a horrible official was even a richer piece of +fun than the disturbance of the poor Chouans at their breakfast table. + +Nothing could have been more agreeable than the manner in which Monsieur +Joseph received his unexpected visitors. They were hardly in the salon +when he came lightly along the hall, step and air those of a much +younger man. All smiles, he shook hands affectionately with the Prefect +and bowed ceremoniously to the General. They had done him the greatest +honour, caused him the keenest delight, by this friendly visit of +surprise. Only he must beg them to pardon the deficiencies of his +household. He really could not say what sort of breakfast they were +likely to find. Plenty, he hoped--for his nephew had come in from a long +morning's sport, half-an-hour ago, and the cook knew how to a measure a +young man's appetite. But as to quality--he could only throw himself on +the kind indulgence of his friends. + +"As for me," said the General, "I am as hungry as a wolf, and I could +eat a lump of brown bread, and wash it down with a quart of sour wine." + +"Ah, ah! a true soldier, monsieur!" said Monsieur Joseph, and clapped +his hands gently. + +"My uncle's wine is not sour, as Monsieur le Général will find," said +Angelot. + +The General replied, with a scowl and a shrug, "I don't suppose you mean +to compare your wine from this poor soil with the wine of the South, for +instance." + +"Ah, pardon, but I do!" cried the boy. "This very morning, our farmer on +the _landes_ gave me a glass of wine, white sparkling wine, which you +would hardly match in France, except, of course, in the real champagne +country. And even as to that, our wine is purer. It tastes of sunshine +and of the white grapes of the vineyard. There is nothing better." + +"Nothing better for children, I dare say," said General Ratoneau, with +a laugh. "Men like something stronger than sunshine and grapes. So will +you, one of these days." + +Angelot looked hard at the man for a moment. He sat squarely, twisting +his whip in his hands, on one of Monsieur Joseph's old Louis Quinze +chairs, which seemed hardly fit to bear his weight. The delicate +atmosphere of old France was all about him. Angelot and his uncle were +incarnations of it, even in their plain shooting clothes; and the +Prefect, the Baron de Mauves, was worthy in looks and manners of the old +régime from which he sprang. The other man was a son of the Revolution +and of a butcher at Marseilles. With his glittering uniform, his look of +a coarse Roman, he was the very type of military tyranny at its worst, +without even the good manners of past days to soften the frank insolence +of a soldier. + +"Voilà l'Empire! I wish my father could see him!" Angelot thought. + +Monsieur Joseph looked at his nephew. His sweet smile had faded, a +sudden shadow of anxiety taking its place. How would Angelot bear with +this man? Would he remember that in spite of all provocation he must be +treated civilly? The Prefect also glanced up a little nervously at +Angelot as he stood. Had the handsome, attractive boy any share at all +of his father's wisdom and faultless temper? + +Angelot was conscious of both these warnings. He answered the little +uncle's with a smile, and said easily--"It is possible--I cannot tell. +As to the wine--I will ask your opinion after breakfast, monsieur." + +The Prefect's face cleared up suddenly. Angelot was a worthy son of his +father. + +"It is quite unnecessary, my dear friend," he said to Monsieur Joseph, +"for you to attempt to alarm us about our breakfast. Your cook can work +miracles. This is not the first time, remember, that I have taken you by +surprise." + +"And you are always welcome, my dear Baron," Monsieur Joseph answered +gently, but a little dreamily. + +"I shall now have a fresh attraction in this country," the Prefect said. +"With your cousin, De Sainfoy, at Lancilly, your neighbourhood will +indeed leave nothing to be desired." + +"Hervé is an agreeable man," said Monsieur Joseph. "I have not seen him +for many years; I do not know his wife and family. My brother is charmed +to welcome them all." + +"Of course, and they must feel that they owe everything to him. Monsieur +your brother is a benefactor to his country and species," said the +Prefect, with a smile at Angelot. "Madame de Sainfoy is an exceedingly +pretty woman. She made quite a sensation at Court in the spring, and I +should think there will not be much difficulty in her getting the +appointment I understand she wishes--lady in waiting to the Empress. +Only they say that the Emperor does not quite trust De Sainfoy--finds +him a little half-hearted." + +"That is possible," said Monsieur Joseph, gently. + +"Well, it is a pity," said the Prefect. "If you accept the new régime at +all, you should do it loyally." + +"My cousin has a son fighting in Spain. That ought to be placed to his +credit." + +"And no doubt it is. His daughter, too, may do something. There is only +one grown up, and she has not been brought much into society--her +father's fault, they say; he has ideas of his own about marrying her. +But I am telling you what you know already?" + +"Not at all, monsieur. I have heard nothing of it. When my cousins live +at Lancilly, the family councils may include me; so far they have not +done so. I did not even realise that Mademoiselle Hélène was old enough +to be married. And what match is arranged for her?" + +"None that I know of. Her father's action has been negative, not +positive, I understand. He has simply refused to consider one or two +suggested marriages, either of which would have been good politically." + +"Reasons of birth, I suppose," said Monsieur Joseph. "He has my cordial +sympathy." + +The Prefect coughed; the General scraped his chair; Angelot nearly +laughed aloud. + +"You will find it very agreeable to have your cousins at Lancilly," the +Prefect said, looking at him kindly. + +"I don't know, monsieur," Angelot answered. "Young girls are hardly +companions for me." + +"Indeed! As to that--" began the Prefect, still smiling as he looked at +the lad; but his remark was cut short and his attention pleasantly +distracted. + +Gigot, with unshaken solemnity, set open the doors for the second time +that morning. + +"Monsieur est servi!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOW THE BREAKFAST COOKED FOR THOSE WAS EATEN BY THESE + + +The Prefect and the General enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly. They sat +over it long; so long that Angelot, his hunger satisfied, began to +suffer in his young limbs from a terrible restlessness. It was as much +as he could do to sit still, listening first to the Prefect's political +and society talk, then to stories of the General's campaigns. Under the +influence of the despised wine of Anjou, Monsieur de Mauves, whose +temper needed no sweetening, became a little sleepy, prosy, and +long-winded. General Ratoneau on his side was mightily cheered, and +showed quite a new animation: long before the meal ended, he was talking +more than the other three put together. It was he who had been the hero +of Eylau, of Friedland, of Wagram; the Emperor and the Marshals were +nowhere. All the great movements were in consequence of his advice. And +then his personal courage! The men he had killed with his own hand! As +to the adventures which had fallen to his lot in storming and plundering +towns, burning villages, quartering his men on country houses, these +often belonged so much to the very seamiest side of war that Monsieur +Joseph, soldier as he was, listened with a frown, and the Prefect +coughed and glanced more than once at Angelot. For some of these stories +were hardly suited to young and innocent ears, and Angelot looked, and +indeed was, younger than his age. + +He was listening, not curiously, but with a kind of unwilling +impatience. The man seemed to impress him in spite of himself, in spite +of disgust at the stories and dislike of the teller. Once or twice he +laughed, and then General Ratoneau gave him a stare, as if just reminded +of his existence, and went on to some further piece of coarse bragging. + +Monsieur Joseph became paler and graver, Angelot more restless, the +Prefect sleepier, as the rough voice talked on. Angelot thought +breakfast would never be over, and that this brute would never have done +boasting of his fine deeds, such as hanging up six brothers in a row +outside their own house, and threatening the mother and sisters with the +same fate unless they showed him the way to the cellar, where he knew +they had hidden plate and jewellery, as well as a quantity of good wine. + +"You would not have done it, monsieur?" said Angelot, quickly. + +The General assured him with oaths that he certainly would. + +"And they knew it, and did as they were told," he said. "We did not hurt +them, as it happened. We stripped the house, and left them to bury their +men, if they chose. What had they to expect? Fortune of war, my boy!" + +Angelot shrugged his shoulders. + +"You should send that nephew of yours to learn a few things in the +army," the General said to Monsieur Joseph, when they at last rose and +left the dining-room. "He will grow up nothing but an ignorant, womanish +baby, if you keep him down here among your woods much longer." + +"I am not his father," Monsieur Joseph answered with some dryness. "He +is a friend of the Prefect's; you can easily remonstrate with him, +Monsieur le Général. But you are mistaken about young Ange. He is +neither a girl nor a baby, but a very gallant young fellow, still humane +and innocent, of course--but your stories might pierce a thicker skin, I +fancy." + +The General laughed aloud, as they strolled out at the back of the house +into the afternoon sunshine. + +"Well, well, a soldier has the right to talk," he said. "I need not tell +a man who knows the world, like you, that I should never have hanged +those women--poor country rubbish though they were, and ugly too, I +remember. But the men had tried to resist, and martial law must be +obeyed." + +Some reassurance of the same kind was given to Angelot by the Prefect, +who lingered behind with him. + +"And our conscripts go for this, monsieur!" Angelot said. + +"My dear boy," said Monsieur de Mauves, lazily, "you must take these +tales _cum grano_. For instance, if I know the Emperor, he would have +shot the man who hanged those women. And our friend Ratoneau knew it." + +Les Chouettes seemed stiller than ever, the sun hotter, the atmosphere +more sleepy and peaceful. The dogs were lying in various directions at +full length on the sand. The sleeping forms of the Prefect's gendarmes +were also to be seen, stretched on the grass under the southern belt of +fir trees. One moving figure came slowly into sight on the edge of the +opposite wood, and strolled into the sunshine, stooping as she came to +pick the pale purple crocuses of which the grass was full--little +Henriette, a basket on her arm, her face shaded by a broad straw bonnet. + +The General shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared at her. + +"Who is that young girl, monsieur?" he asked. + +The question itself seemed impertinent enough, but the insolence of the +tone and the manner sent a quiver through Monsieur Joseph's nerves. His +face twitched and his eyes flashed dangerously. At that moment he would +have forgiven any rashness on the part of his Chouan friends; he would +have liked to see Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol within a few inches of the +General's head, and if it had gone off, so much the better. He wondered +why he had not encouraged César d'Ombré's idea of making these men +prisoners. Perhaps he was right, after all; the boldest policy might +have been the best. Perhaps it was a splendid opportunity lost. Anyhow, +the imperial officials would have been none the worse for cooling their +heels and starving a little, the fate of the Royalists now. As to the +consequences, Monsieur Joseph in his present mood might have made short +work of them, had it not been for that young girl in the meadow. + +"It is my daughter, Monsieur le Général." + +A person with finer instincts could not have failed to notice the angry +shortness of the reply. But the General was in high good humour, for +him, and he coolly went on adding to his offences. + +"Your daughter, is it! I did not know you were married. I understood +from Monsieur le Préfet that you were a lonely hermit. Is there a Madame +de la Marinière hidden away somewhere? and possibly a few more children? +This house is a kind of beehive, I dare say--" he walked on to the +grass, and turned to stare at the windows. "Was madame afraid to +entertain us? My stories would have been too strong for her, perhaps? +but I assure you, monsieur, I know how to behave to women!" and he +laughed. + +"I hope so, monsieur, especially as you are not now in Germany," said +Monsieur Joseph, thinking very earnestly of his own sword and pistols, +ready for use in his own room. + +He need only step in at that window, a few yards off. A fierce word, a +blow, would be a suitable beginning--and then--if only Riette were out +of sight, and the Prefect would not interfere--there could not be a +better ground than the sand here by the house. Must one wait for all the +formalities of a duel, with the Prefect and Angelot to see fair play? +However, he tried hard to restrain himself, at least for the moment. + +"My wife is dead, monsieur, and I have but that one child," he said, +forcing the words out with difficulty: it was a triumph of the wise and +gentle Joseph over the fiery and passionate Joseph. + +He thought of Urbain, when he wanted to conquer that side of himself; +Urbain, who by counsel and influence had made it safe for him to live +under the Empire, and who now, hating vulgarity and insolence as much as +he did himself, would have pointed out that General Ratoneau's military +brutality was not worth resenting; that there were greater things at +stake than a momentary annoyance; that the man's tongue had been +loosened, his lumbering spirit quickened, by draughts of sparkling wine +of Anjou, and that his horrible curiosity carried no intentional insult +with it. Indeed, as Monsieur Joseph perceived immediately, with a kind +of wonder, the man fancied that he was making himself agreeable to his +host. + +"Ah, sapristi, I am sorry for you, monsieur, and for the young lady +too," he said. "I am not married myself--but the loss of wife and mother +must be a dreadful thing. Excuse a soldier's tongue, monsieur." + +Monsieur Joseph accepted the apology with a quick movement of head and +hand, being as placable as he was passionate. The General continued to +stare at Henriette, who moved slowly, seeming to think of nothing, to +see nothing, but the wild flowers and the crowd of flitting butterflies +in the meadow. + +During this little interlude, one of the gendarmes, who had seemed +asleep, got up and moved towards the Prefect, who turned to speak to +him, and after the first word walked with him a few yards, so as to be +out of hearing of the others. Angelot, who had been standing beside the +Prefect, glanced after them with a touch of anxiety. He did not like the +looks of that gendarme, though he had not, like Marie Gigot, recognised +him as specially dangerous. He walked forward a few steps and stood +beside his uncle. Suppose the meeting of that morning, risky if not +unlawful, were to come to the Prefect's knowledge; suppose his uncle's +dangerous friends were ferreted out of their hiding-place in the wood; +what then was he, his father's son, to do? His mother's son, though far +enough from sharing her enthusiasms, had an answer ready: whatever it +might cost, he must stand by the little uncle and Riette. + +"Your daughter is still young,"--it was the General's hoarse voice--"too +young yet to be reported to the Emperor. Monsieur le Préfet must wait +three or four years. Then, when she is tall and pretty--" + +Angelot's brow darkened. What was the creature saying? + +"You were pleased to mean--" Monsieur Joseph was asking, with extreme +civility. + +"Ah, bah, have you heard nothing of the new order? Well, as I say, it +will not affect you at present. But ask Monsieur le Préfet. He will +explain. It is rather a sore subject with him, I believe, he has the +prejudices of his class--of your class, I mean." + +"You are talking in riddles, indeed, monsieur," said Monsieur Joseph. + +They looked round at the Prefect. He had now finished his short talk +with the gendarme, and as he turned towards the other group, Angelot's +young eyes perceived a shadow on his kind face, a grave look of awakened +interest. Angelot was also aware that he beckoned to him. As soon as he +came up with him, the Prefect said, "That is mademoiselle your cousin, +is it not, gathering flowers in the meadow? I should like to pay her my +compliments, if she is coming this way." + +"I will go and tell her so, Monsieur le Préfet," said Angelot. + +"Do, my friend." + +His eyes, anxious and thoughtful, followed the young man as he walked +across towards the distant edge of the wood, whose dark shadows opened +behind Riette and the crocuses. She looked up, startled, as her cousin +came near, and for a moment seemed to think of disappearing into the +wood; but a sign from him reassured her, and she came with a dancing +step to meet him. + +"I have been rousing curiosity, Monsieur le Préfet," said the General, +smiling grimly, as the Prefect rejoined the other men. "I have been +telling Monsieur de la Marinière that one of these days you will report +his daughter to the Emperor." + +The Prefect looked angry and annoyed. His handsome face flushed. With an +involuntary movement he laid his hand on Monsieur Joseph's shoulder; +their eyes met, and both men smiled. + +"I sometimes think," said Monsieur de Mauves, "that His Majesty does not +yet quite know France. His ideas have great spirit and originality, but +they are not always very practical." + +"They are generally put into practice," growled the General. + +"Yes--but I do not think this one will go far. Certainly, it will have +died out long before Mademoiselle de la Marinière is grown up." + +"But explain, my dear friend!" cried Monsieur Joseph. "Is the Emperor +going to raise a regiment of Amazons, to fight Russia? I am dying with +curiosity." + +"Some people would find your idea less disagreeable than the fact," said +the Prefect, smiling, while the General shook with laughter. + +"Amazons! ha! ha! capital! I should like to lead them." + +It seemed that the Prefect, for once, was ashamed of his great master. +He went on to explain, in a hurried fashion, how he and his brother +Prefects had received this very singular command from the Emperor--that +they were to send him, not a mere list, but a _catalogue raisonné_, of +all the well-born girls in their several departments; their personal +appearance, their disposition, their dowries, their prospects in the +future; in short, every particular regarding them. And with what object? +to arrange marriages between these young women of the best blood in +France and his most favoured officers. It was one way, an original way, +of making society loyal to the Empire; but the plan savoured too much of +the treatment of a conquered country to please men like the Baron de +Mauves. He might speak of it with a certain outward respect, as coming +from the Emperor; and the presence of General Ratoneau was also a check +upon his real sentiments; but he was not surprised at Monsieur Joseph's +evident disgust, and not out of sympathy with it. + +The reign of the soldier! They were heroes, perhaps, many of these men +whom Napoleon delighted to honour. It was not unnatural that he should +heap dukedoms and pensions and orders upon them. But it seemed a +dangerous step forward, to force such men as this Ratoneau, for +instance, into the best families of France. No doubt he, in spite of his +Napoleonic looks, was a bad specimen; but Monsieur Joseph might be +excused if he looked at him as he said: "My dear Baron, it is tyranny. I +speak frankly, gentlemen; it is a step on the road to ruin. Our old +families will not bear it. What have you done?" + +"Nothing," said Monsieur de Mauves. "I think most of the Prefects agree +with me; it is an order which will have to be repeated." + +On which the General turned round with a grin, and quoted to him his own +words--"Monsieur le Préfet--if you accept the new régime, you should +accept it loyally." + +"Pardon--nothing of this before the children, I beg," exclaimed Monsieur +Joseph in haste, for Angelot and Henriette were coming across the +meadow. + +The Prefect's delicate brows went up; he shrugged his shoulders, and +moved off with a somewhat absent air to meet the young people. + +The sunshine, the flowery meadow, the motionless woods all about in the +still afternoon: no background could be more peaceful. Nor could any +unwelcome visitor with official power be more gentle and courteous than +the Prefect as he took off his hat and bowed low to the slim child in +her old clinging frock, who curtseyed with her hands full of crocuses +and a covered basket on her arm. But little Riette and her cousin +Angelot watched the amiable Prefect with anxious, suspicious eyes, and +she took his kind words and compliments with an ease of reply which was +not quite natural. She was a responsible person in her father's house at +all times; but the fates of men had never, perhaps, been hung round her +neck before. Why, the very fact of their concealment would be enough to +condemn the four in government eyes looking out for conspiracies. And +Monsieur des Barres, always lively, had said to Riette ten minutes ago: +"Now, mademoiselle, you have sheltered us, you have fed us; we depend on +you to keep all inconvenient persons out of the wood." + +"Stay where you are till they are gone, and have no fear," the child +answered, and went back to meet the enemy. + +And presently the Prefect said, "You have gathered some very pretty +flowers, mademoiselle." + +"Pray take some, monsieur," said Riette. + +The Prefect took two crocuses in his fingers, and cleverly slipped them +into a buttonhole, for which they were not very well suited. Then he +went on talking about flowers for a minute or two, but the subject was +soon exhausted, for his knowledge lay among garden flowers, and Riette +knew none but those that grew among her own woods and fields. Then +suddenly and without warning, those pointed fingers of his had lifted +the cover of the basket. It was done with a smile, as one might do it, a +little mischievously, to a child trying to hide something, and with the +words--"More flowers, mademoiselle?" At the bottom of the basket lay two +corks and a small roll of bread. St. Elizabeth's miracle was not +repeated for Henriette. + +Angelot smiled and bit his lip; then looked at the faces of his two +companions. In the Prefect's there was plainly a question. Riette +flushed crimson; for a moment her dark eyes were cast down; then there +was something both roguish and pathetic in them, as she looked up at the +man on whom so much depended. + +"Monsieur," said the sweet, childish voice, "I often eat my breakfast +out-of-doors--I did to-day." + +The Prefect smiled, but gravely. Angelot hardly thought that he was +deceived. + +"It is an agreeable thing to do, when one is young," the Prefect said. +"Young, and with a clear conscience. But most people, if they had the +choice, would prefer your father's hospitable dining-room." + +He turned with a wave of his hand and walked towards the house. + +"What have you done, child?" said Angelot, half laughing, half solemn. + +"I did not tell a lie," said Riette. "Marie gave me something for myself +too: she and papa both said I must not have breakfast with you. Oh, they +were hungry, Angelot! They devoured what I took, especially the Baron +d'Ombré. I am sorry there was a bit of bread left, and I don't know how +the corks got there. But, my dear, he knows nothing!" + +"Hush. I am not so sure. Now keep out of the way till they are gone." + +This was a counsel of perfection, which Henriette did her best to +follow; but it was difficult, for the time was long. All the household +at Les Chouettes became very restless and impatient as the afternoon +wore on, but none of them dared show it. Poor Monsieur Joseph summoned +up all his powers of general conversation, which were a little rusty, to +entertain the Prefect, who went on talking politics and society as if +life, for him, had no more immediate and present interest. Angelot +marched about with an uneasy sense of keeping guard; knowing, too, that +his father was expecting him to help to receive the distinguished +cousins at Lancilly. He did not mind that much; the idea of the Sainfoy +family was not very attractive to him: he thought they might interfere +with the old freedom of the country-side; and even to please his father +he could not desert his little uncle in a difficulty. He poured out some +of his irritation on the Prefect's pet gendarme, whom he caught stealing +round by the wood where, hidden behind a pile of logs in an old stone +hovel, the four Royalist gentlemen were finding this official visit +considerably more than a joke. + +"What are you doing on my uncle's land?" Angelot said sharply to the +man. + +"Nothing, monsieur. Is it not allowed to take a little exercise?" said +Simon, the Chouan-catcher. + +There was such a keen look in the man's eyes, such a veiled insolence in +his tone, that Angelot suddenly felt he must say no more. He muttered +something about disturbing the game, and passed on. Simon grinned as he +looked after him. + +All this time the General was fast asleep, stretched on a sofa in the +salon. Angelot looked in upon him as he lay snoring. With his eyes shut, +he was more like the Emperor than ever; and as with Napoleon, there was +a sort of fascination in the brow, the chin, the shape of the head, +though here there was coarseness instead of refinement, the power of +will without the genius. + +"He is a handsome beast, but I hate him!" the young man thought as he +looked through the window. "Now if our excellent Chouans were here, what +would they do? Probably nothing. And what can anybody do? Nothing. Fate +has brought the Empire, as my father says, and he does not agree with +Uncle Joseph that it does much more harm than good. For my part, I would +as soon live in peace--and it does not please me to be ruled by +overbearing soldiers and police spies. However, as long as they leave me +my dog and gun and the freedom of the woods, they may have their +politics to themselves for me.--Here I am, dear uncle." + +He turned from the window with a shrug. Monsieur Joseph and the Prefect +had been strolling about the meadow, and the Prefect now expressed a +wish to walk round the woods, and to see the view of Lancilly from the +high ground beyond them. + +Angelot went with the two men. They walked right through the wood. The +Prefect stopped and talked within twenty yards of the hovel where the +four conspirators lay hidden. It was a grand opportunity for old +Monsieur d'Ombré's pistol-shot; but not a movement, not a sound broke +the stillness of the wood. There was only the rustling of the leaves, +the squeak of the squirrels as they raced and scampered in the high +branches of the oaks. + +The two La Marinières stood on each side of Monsieur de Mauves: they +were a guard to him, though he did not know it, as his eyes wandered +curiously, searchingly, down the glade in which he chose to linger. + +A rough whitewashed corner of the hovel, the mass of its dark roof, +were actually visible beyond an undergrowth of briars. + +"What have you there?" said the Prefect, so quietly that his companions +did not even suspect him of a suspicion. + +"A shelter--an old hovel where wood is stored for the winter," Monsieur +Joseph answered truthfully; but his cheeks and eyes brightened a little, +as if prepared for something more. + +"Ah!" the Prefect only said, looking rather fixedly that way. "And where +is this view of Lancilly?" + +Both the uncle and nephew breathed more freely as they led him up the +hill, through higher slopes of wood, then under some great branching +oaks, here allowed to grow to their full size, and out into a rugged +lane, winding on through wild hedges festooned with blackberries. Here, +at the top, they looked straight across the valley to Lancilly, as it +lay in the sunshine. Its high roofs flashing, it looked indeed the +majestic centre of the country-side. Angelot gazed at it indifferently. +Again the Prefect turned to him with his kind smile. + +"It will be charming for you to have your cousins there. They will +reconcile you to the powers that be." + +Angelot answered: "I have no quarrel with the powers that be, monsieur, +as long as you represent them. As to life, I want no change. Give me a +gun and set me on a moor with my uncle. There we are!" + +"If I thought your uncle was quite so easily satisfied!" the Prefect +said, and his look, as he turned to Monsieur Joseph, was a little +enigmatical. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HOW ANGELOT MADE AN ENEMY + + +The sun was near setting when the Prefect and his companions rode away +from Les Chouettes, their visit having resulted, as it seemed, in +nothing worse than annoyance and anxiety. + +Joseph de la Marinière drew a long breath as he saw them go. The Prefect +looked back once or twice and saw him standing near his house, a small +black figure in the full blaze of the west. He seemed to be alone with +his dogs, though in fact Riette and the three servants were peeping +round the corner of the house beyond him, waiting for the final +disappearance of the visitors. He had asked Angelot to guide them +through the labyrinth of woods and lanes to a road leading to a town +which the Prefect wished to reach before nightfall. As Angelot was on +foot, their progress was slow; and it seemed an age to Monsieur Joseph +till they had crossed his broad meadow to the south, and instead of +going on towards Lancilly, had struck into a wood on the left through +which a narrow path ran. + +When the last gendarme had passed from bright sunshine into shadows, +when the tramp of the last horse had died away, Monsieur Joseph made a +little joyful spring into the air and called, "Riette, my child, where +are you?" + +"Here I am, papa!" cried the girl, darting forward. "Ah, what a day we +have had!" + +"And what an evening we will have now!" said Monsieur Joseph. + +He seized her two hands, and they danced round together. In the shadow +behind the house Gigot and Marie followed their example, while Tobie, +having no partner, jumped up and down with his arms akimbo. Mademoiselle +Riette, catching sight of him, laughed so exhaustingly that she could +dance no longer. Then the whole family laughed till the tears ran down +their faces, while the dogs sat round and wagged their tails. + +"The good God has protected us," said Gigot, coming forward to his +master. "Does monsieur know that one of those gendarmes was Simon, the +police agent, the Chouan-catcher, they call him? When I saw him, my +heart died within me. But we were too clever for him. He went smelling +about, but he found nothing." + +"He smelt something, though," growled Tobie the groom. "He would have +searched the stable and found the inner place if I had not stood in +front of him: luckily I was the biggest man of the two. It is not so +easy, do you see, to make a way past me." + +"I gave them enough good food and wine to send them to sleep for the +afternoon," said Marie the cook. "It was a sad waste, but the only way +to keep such creatures quiet." + +"What a terrible man, that General!" said Gigot. "How he slept and +snored and kicked the sofa! you can see the marks of his boots now. And +how he resembles the Emperor! I know, for I saw his Majesty once--" + +"Stop your recollections, Gigot," said Monsieur Joseph; for Gigot, like +many solemn and silent people, was difficult to check when once set +talking. "We have something else to think of now. Make haste with +dinner, Marie. We must console our poor friends for their captivity. +Come, Riette, we will go and fetch them." + +So that evening was a merry one at Les Chouettes, and the moon was high +before the second batch of guests climbed slowly to the moor on their +homeward way. The day's experience had not heightened their courage, +somehow, or advanced their plans for a rising. Even the Comte d'Ombré +agreed that the time was hardly ripe; that five or six men might throw +away their own lives or liberties, but could not make a new revolution; +that the peasants must be sounded, public opinion educated; and that the +Prefect's courteous moderation was an odious quality which made +everything more difficult. + +And in the meanwhile, Monsieur de Mauves was justifying their +conclusions in a way that would have startled them. + +Beyond the wood, Angelot led the party across stubble-fields, where blue +field flowers with grey dusty leaves clustered by the wayside, and +distant poplars, pointing high into the evening air, showed where his +home lay. Then they turned down into one of the hollow lanes of the +country, its banks scooped out by winter rains and treading of cattle, +so that it was almost like three sides of a cylinder, while the thick +pollard oaks, leaning over it, made twilight even in the lingering +sunshine. + +The General was riding in front, the gendarmes some yards behind; +Angelot, with his dog and gun, kept close beside the Prefect, who talked +to him with his usual friendliness. Presently he said, "I love your +uncle, Angelot, much better than he loves me, and I am sorry that he +should run such useless risks." + +"What risks, monsieur?" the young man said, glancing up quickly; and +somehow it was difficult to meet the Prefect's eyes. + +"Ah, you know very well. Believe me, your father is right, and your +uncle is wrong. The old régime cannot be reëstablished. The path of +France is marked out for her; a star has arisen to guide her, and she is +foolish, suicidal, not to follow where it leads. I do not defend or +admire the Emperor in everything: but see what he has done for France. +She lay ruined, distracted. She took the mountain path of liberty, made +a few wrong turns, and was dashed over the precipice. See how the +Emperor has built her up into a great nation again; look at the laws and +the civilisation; look at the military glory which has cost much blood, +it is true, but has raised her so high in Europe that the nations who +were ready to devour her are mostly crouching at her feet. Would our +Bourbons have done all this for us, Angelot? Are they, after all, worth +the devotion of men like your uncle and--for instance--Monsieur des +Barres? Does not true patriotism lead a man to think of his country's +good and glory, not of the advantage of one special family? Your uncle +can hardly believe in that mediæval fiction of divine right, I suppose?" + +Angelot smiled. "My uncle belongs to the days of Saint Louis," he said. + +"But you do not," the Prefect replied. "I find it hard to forgive him. +He is free, of course, to put his own neck in danger. One of these days +he will drive me to extremities, and will find himself and his friends +in a state prison--lucky if nothing worse happens. But he has no right +to involve you in these treasonous tricks of his. It is selfish and +immoral. Your father should see to it. You ought not to have been there +to-day." + +The Prefect spoke low and earnestly. It was impossible to misunderstand +him. Angelot felt something like a cold shiver running over him. But he +smiled and answered bravely. + +"If my uncle has been foolish, so have I, and I will share the +consequences with him. But as to to-day, monsieur?" + +"I know all," the Prefect said. "Your uncle had visitors this morning, +who were spirited away out of our sight. Their horses were hidden in an +inner stable; they themselves in a hovel in the wood--and if they have +waited there till we were gone, they must be tired of it. That famous +breakfast we enjoyed was not prepared on such miraculously short notice. +Your little cousin, poor child, was employed to carry food to the +fugitives hidden in the wood. With all my heart I pity her; a life of +political plots is not happiness. But if Monsieur de la Marinière does +not hesitate to sacrifice his daughter, it is no wonder that he lightly +runs his nephew into danger! You acted well, you and he. But I almost +think it might have been safer to carry on that first breakfast-party, +and not show its character by absurd attempts at concealment. You cannot +contradict a word I have been saying, Angelot. I do not ask you to tell +me the names of your uncle's guests." + +"If you did, monsieur," the young fellow answered, "I should consider +that an uncomfortable day had punished them enough, and so I should +respectfully decline to answer you. I don't know how you made all these +wonderful discoveries." + +The Prefect looked at him and laughed. "You take it lightly!" + +"I am speaking to a friend," Angelot said. + +"That is all very well. Yes--too good a friend, I fear, from the point +of view of duty. But I shall not repent, if you will be warned into +prudence yourself, and will warn your uncle." + +"I am rather afraid, monsieur, that my father has all the prudence of +the family." + +The Prefect would have argued further, but suddenly a sound like low +thunder, still distant, echoed down the lane. + +"What is that?" he said, looking round. + +"Cattle, monsieur. Pull right into the bank and give them room to pass," +said Angelot. + +The gendarmes, who knew the country, had already taken this precaution. +They were drawing up in single file by the side of the road, close under +the steep bank, pressing into it, in the dark shadow of the pollards. +But General Ratoneau, in advance, was riding stolidly forward, clanking +along at a quick foot's pace in the very middle of the narrow lane, with +all that swaggering air of a conqueror, which was better suited to +German fields than to the quiet woody ways of France. Angelot hurried +forward. + +"Monsieur le Général!" he called out; but Ratoneau, though he must have +heard, did not turn his head or take any notice. + +"Insolent animal! I might as well leave him to fight it out with the +cows," the young fellow muttered; but for the Prefect's sake he ran on, +his dog scampering after him, caught up the General, and stretched out +a hand to his bridle. + +"What the devil do you want!" said the General, lifting his whip. + +"There is a herd of cows coming," Angelot shouted, though the blood +rushed into his face at the man's involuntary movement. "You must get +out of their way, or they will knock you down and trample on you. This +is their way home. Draw up under the bank at once." + +"I shall get out of nobody's way," roared the General. "But you had +better get out of mine, little ape of a Chouan, or--" + +The whip quivered in the air; another moment would have brought it down +on Angelot's bare hand. He cried out, "Take care!" and in that moment +snatched the whip and threw it over the horse's head. It fell into a +mass of blackberry briars which made a red and green thicket under the +bank just here. The lane turned slightly and was very narrow at this +place, with a stony slope upwards. It was a little more than usual like +the dry bed of a torrent. Only under the right-hand bank there was a +yard of standing-room, where it was possible to draw aside while the +crowd of horned beasts rushed past. The thunder of their hoofs was +drawing near. The Prefect, fifty yards behind, called out advice to his +angry colleague, which fell on deaf ears. Angelot was pelted with some +choice specimens of a soldier's vocabulary, as he seized the bridle and +tried to pull the horse to the side of the road. But the rider's +violent resistance made this impossible. The horse plunged: the General, +swearing furiously, did his best to throw Angelot down under its feet. +For a minute the young fellow did his best to save the obstinate man in +spite of himself, but then he was obliged to let the bridle go, and +stepped to the shelter of the bank, while man and horse filled up the +roadway with prancing and swearing. + +"Give me back my whip, you--" the various epithets which followed were +new to Angelot's country ears, but their tone made them serious. + +Still, there was something so ridiculous in the General's fury that +Angelot could scarcely help laughing in his face as he called out in +answer, "When the cows are gone, monsieur, if you ask me civilly! I had +to take it, or you would have struck me, and that was out of the +question." + +Even as he spoke, the cattle were coming. The lane was filled with a +solid mass of padding feet, panting hides, low heads, and long fierce +horns. An old bull of unfriendly aspect led the way, and one or two +younger bulls came pushing and lowing among the quieter cows. Behind the +large horned creatures came a few goats and sheep; then a dog, sharply +barking, and a woman, shouting and flourishing her stick. But in this +narrow space she had no control over the herd, which poured along like +water in a stream's bed, irresistible, unresisted. They knew their own +way home from pasture to the yards at La Marinière. This was their own +road, worn hollow by no trampling but theirs and that of their +ancestors. Anything or anybody they happened to meet always drew aside +to let them pass, and they were not as a rule ill-tempered. + +General Ratoneau thought he could ride through them, and spurred his +restless horse, fresh from Monsieur Joseph's corn, straight at the +wedged heads and shoulders of the advancing herd. The horse plunged, +shied, tried to bolt; and there were a few moments of inextricable +confusion. Angelot shouted to the woman in charge of the cows; she +screamed to the dog, which dived among them, barking. Frightened, they +scrambled and crushed together so that Angelot was pressed up by their +broad sides against the bank, and only lifted himself out of their way +by climbing to the trunk of a tree. The sun was setting; the dazzling +light, in a sky all gold and red and purple, lay right across the lane: +the General's uniform, his horse's smart trappings, flashed and swayed +above the brown mass for a moment or two as it pushed down the slope. +Then the horse fell, either slipping on a stone or pushed over by the +cattle, but fortunately not under their feet. He and his master rolled +over together into the briars on the farther side of the lane, and there +lay struggling till the beasts had crowded by, hurrying on past the rest +of the party, drawn prudently aside in the shelter of the bank. + +As soon as they were gone, the Prefect and the gendarmes rode up to help +Angelot, who had already pulled the General out of the briars, unhurt, +except by scratches. The horse had at once struggled to its feet, and +stood trembling in the road. + +It was impossible for any one but the sufferer to take such an adventure +seriously. Two of the gendarmes were convulsed with laughter; it was +only Simon whose native cleverness and keen sense of his own advantage +kept his face grave and sympathising, as he handed the General his hat +and the other objects which his tumble had sent flying. The Prefect was +smiling as he asked anxiously whether any bones were broken. Angelot +trembled with hardly restrained laughter. It had seized him with an +overpowering force, when he saw the General's fat figure rise in the air +with a most undignified jerk, then being deposited in the thicket with a +fine pair of riding boots and shining spurs uppermost. This was so +exactly the accident that suited the man's swaggering airs of +superiority, Angelot felt that he could almost forgive him his insolent +words and looks, could almost bear the incomprehensible language of five +minutes ago, the threatened stroke with the whip--ah, by the by, here +lay the precious whip, with its silver handle, safely deposited in the +bushes out of the cows' way. Angelot magnanimously picked it up and +presented it to the General with a bow. He grunted a word meant for +thanks, but the eyes that met Angelot's flashed with a dark fury that +startled the careless boy and came back to his mind afterwards. + +"Whose beasts were those?" the General asked hoarsely. + +"They were my father's beasts, monsieur," Angelot answered. "They did +not realize, unfortunately--" He broke off under a warning look from the +Prefect, who went on with the sentence for him--"No one would regret +such a tiresome accident more than your father, I am sure." + +"I was going to say so," Angelot murmured softly. "Now if they had been +my uncle's cattle--" + +The General turned his back and mounted his horse. "The owner does not +signify," he growled. "He cannot be punished. But it was either +foolishness or malice that brought us along such a road." + +"Come, come, General, that was my fault, after all!" the Prefect said +pleasantly. "And you must acknowledge that our young friend did his best +to save you. We all knew this country and its ways better than you +did--it is a pity, but there is no more to be said." + +The General seemed to be of the same opinion, for he rode off without a +word. Angelot, looking after him, thought that one of these days there +might be a good deal more to be said. + +But now the Prefect was asking a last direction as to the road, and +wishing Angelot good-night, for the sun was actually setting. His last +words were: "Adieu, my friend! Be prudent--and make my best compliments +to your parents. No doubt we shall meet soon at Lancilly." + +"And perhaps without Monsieur le Général!" said Angelot, smiling. + +"Possibly! We are not inseparable," the Prefect replied, and waved his +hand kindly as he rode away. + +"How was it that I did not strike that reptile? he tried to strike me," +Angelot reflected as he walked down the quiet lane. "Well! the Prefect +and my father would have been vexed, and he had his little punishment. +Some day we shall meet independently, and then we shall see, Monsieur +Ratoneau, we shall see! But what a somersault the creature made! If the +bushes had not broken his fall, he would have been hurt, or killed, +perhaps." + +He laughed at the remembrance of the scene, and thought how he would +describe it to his mother. Then he became grave, remembering all that +had gone before. The Prefect was a friend, and a gentleman, neither of +which the General could ever be. But it was a serious thought that the +Prefect was at present by far the most dangerous person of the two. +Uncle Joseph's life and liberty were in his hands, at his mercy. +Angelot frowned and whistled as he strode along. How did the Prefect +find out all that? Why, of course, those men of his were not mere +gendarmes; they were police spies. Especially that one with the +villanous face who was lurking round the woods! + +"We are all in their hands; they are the devil's own regiment," Angelot +said to himself. "How can Monsieur de Mauves bring himself to do such +work among his old friends, in his old country! It is inconceivable." + +Another rough lane brought Angelot into the rough road that led past the +Manor of La Marinière to the church and village lying beneath it, and so +on into the valley and across the bridge to Lancilly. + +The home of his family was one of those large homesteads, half farm, +half castle, which are entirely Angevin in character; and it had not yet +crumbled down into picturesque decay. Its white walls, once capable of +defence, covered a large space on the eastern slope of the valley; it +was much shaded all about by oak, beech, and fir trees, and a tall row +of poplars bordered the road between its gateway and the church spire. + +The high white arch of the gateway, where a gate had once been, opened +on a paved road crossing the lower end of a farmyard, and up to the +right were lines of low buildings where the cows, General Ratoneau's +enemies, were now being safely housed for the night, and a dove-cote +tower, round which a few late pigeons were flapping. To the left another +archway led into a square garden with lines of tall box hedges, where +flowers and vegetables grew all together wildly, and straight on, +through yet a third gate, Angelot came into a stone court in front of +the house, white, tall, and very ancient, with a quaint porch opening +straight upon its wide staircase, which seemed a continuation of the +broad outside steps where Madame de la Marinière was now giving her +chickens their evening meal. + +In spite of the large cap and apron that smothered her, it was plain to +see where Angelot got his singular beauty. His little mother, once upon +a time, had been the loveliest girl in Brittany. Her small, fine, +delicate features, clear dark skin, beautiful velvet eyes and cloud of +dusky hair that curled naturally,--all this still remained, though youth +and freshness and early happiness were gone. Her cheeks were thin, her +eyes and mouth were sad, and yet there was hardly a grey hair in that +soft mass which she covered and hid so puritanically. She had been +married as almost a child, and was still under forty. Her family, very +old but very poor, had married her to Urbain de la Marinière, quite +without consulting any wishes of hers. He was well off and well +connected, though his old name had never belonged exactly to the _grande +noblesse_. The Pontvieux were too anxious to dispose of their daughter +to consider his free opinions, which, after all, were the fashion in +France before 1789, though never in Brittany. And probably Madame de la +Marinière's life was saved by her marriage, for she was and remained +just as ardently Catholic and Royalist as her relations who died one by +one upon the scaffold. + +She lived at La Marinière through the Revolution, in outward obedience +to a husband whose opinions she detested, and most of whose actions she +cordially disapproved, though it was impossible not to love him +personally. Gratitude, too, there might very well have been; for +Urbain's popularity had not only guarded his wife and son; it had +enabled her to keep the old Curé of the village safe at La Marinière +till some little liberty was restored to the Church and he was able to +return to his post without danger. When madame used hard words of the +Empire--and she was frank in her judgments--monsieur would point to the +Curé with a smile. And the old man, come back from mass to breakfast at +the manor, and resting in the chimney corner, would say, "Not so +bad--not so bad!" rubbing his thin hands gently. + +"Little mother!" Angelot said, and stepped up into the porch among the +chickens. + +His eyes, quick to read her face, saw a shadow on it, and he wondered +who had done wrong, himself or his father. + +"Enfin, te voilà!" said Madame de la Marinière. "Have you brought us +any game? Ah, I am glad--" as he showed her his well-filled bag. "Your +father came home two hours ago; he expected to find you here; he wanted +you to do some service or other for these cousins." + +"I am sorry," said Angelot. "I could not leave Uncle Joseph. I have a +hundred things to tell you. Some rather serious, and some will make you +die of laughing, as they did me." + +"Mon Dieu! I should be glad to laugh," said his mother. + +Angelot had taken the basket from her hand, and was throwing the +chickens their last grain. She stood on the highest step, with a little +sigh which might have been of fatigue or of disgust, and her eyes, as +she gazed across the valley, were half angry, half melancholy. The sun +had gone down behind the opposite hills, and the broad front of the +Château de Lancilly, in full view of La Marinière, looked grey and cold +against the woods, even in the warm twilight of that rosy evening. + +"Strange, that it should be inhabited again!" Angelot had emptied the +basket, and stood beside his mother; the chickens bustled and scrambled +about the foot of the steps. + +"Yes, and as I hear, by all the perfections," said Madame de la +Marinière. "Hervé de Sainfoy is more friendly than ever--and well he may +be--his wife is supremely pretty and agreeable, his younger girls are +most amiable, and as for Hélène, nothing so enchantingly beautiful has +ever set foot in Anjou. Take care, my poor Ange, I beseech you." + +Angelot laughed. "Then I suppose my father's next duty will be to find a +husband for her. I hear she is difficult--or her parents for her, +perhaps." + +"Who told you so?" + +"Monsieur de Mauves." + +"What? the Prefect?" + +"Yes. He sent his respectful compliments to you. I have been spending +the day at Les Chouettes with him and the new General. He--oh, mon Dieu, +mon Dieu!" + +Angelot burst into a violent fit of laughing, and leaned, almost +helpless, against a pillar of the porch. + +"Are you mad?" said his mother. + +"Ah--" he struggled to say--"if only you had seen the cows--our +cows--and the General in the air--oh!" + +A faint smile dawned in the depths of her eyes. "You have certainly lost +your senses," she said, and slipped her hand into his arm. "Come down +into the garden: I like it in the twilight--and that pile of stones over +there will not weigh upon our eyes; the trees hide it. Come, my Ange: +tell me all your news, serious and laughable. I am glad you were helping +your uncle; but I do not like you to be away all day." + +"I could not help it, mother," Angelot said. "Yes; I have indeed a great +deal to tell you." + +They strolled down together into the garden, where the vivid after-glow +flushed all the flowers with rose. His mother leaned upon his arm, and +they paced along by the tall box hedges. The serious part of the story +was long, and interested her far more than the General's comic +adventure, at which Angelot could only make her smile, though the +telling of it sent him off into another fit of laughter. + +"Poor Monsieur de Mauves, to go about with such a strange animal!" she +said. "As for you, my child, you grow more childish every day. When will +you be a man? Now be serious, for I hear your father coming." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HOW LA BELLE HÉLÈNE TOOK AN EVENING WALK + + +Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière was always amiable and indulgent. He did +not reproach his son for his long absence or ask him to give any account +of himself; not, that is, till he had talked to his heart's content, all +through the evening meal, of the coming of the Sainfoys, their +adventures by the way, their impressions on arrival. + +He was glad, on the whole, that he had not organised any public +reception. Hervé had decided against it, fearing some jarring notes +which might prejudice his wife against the place and the country. As it +was, she was fairly well pleased. A few old people in the village had +come out of their doors to wave a welcome as the carriages passed; +groups of children had thrown flowers; the servants, some sent on from +Paris, others hired by Urbain in the neighbourhood, had stood in lines +at the entrance. Urbain himself had met them at the door. The Sainfoys, +very tired, of course, after their many hours of rough driving, were +delighted to find themselves at last within the old walls, deserted +twenty years ago. Only the son, now fighting in Spain, had been born at +Lancilly; the three girls were children of emigration, of a foreign +land. + +The excellent Urbain had indeed some charitable work to pride himself +upon. Even he himself hardly knew how it had all been managed: the +keeping of the château and its archives, the recovery of alienated +lands, so that the spending of money in repairing and beautifying was +all that was needed to set Lancilly in its place again as one of the +chief country houses of Anjou, a centre of society. Urbain had worked +for his cousin all these twenty years, quietly and perseveringly. To +look at his happy face now, it would seem that he had gained his heart's +desire, and that his cousin's gratitude would suffice him for the rest +of his life. His eyes were wet as he looked at his wife and said: "There +was only one thing lacking--I knew it would be so. If only you and +Joseph had gone with me to welcome them! I never felt so insignificant +as when I went out alone from that doorway to help my cousins out of the +coach. And I saw her look round--Adélaïde--she was surprised, I know, to +find me alone." + +"Did she ask for me--or for Joseph?" said Madame de la Marinière, in her +dry little voice. + +"Not at the moment--no--afterwards, of course. She has charming manners. +And she looks so young. It is really hard to believe that she has a son +of twenty-two. My dear old Hervé looks much older. His hair is grey. He +has quite left off powder; nearly everybody has, I suppose. I wish you +had been there! But you will go to-morrow, will you not?" + +"Whenever you please," said Madame de la Marinière. "In my opinion, +allow me to say, it was much better that I should not be there to-day. +You had done everything; all the credit was yours. Madame de Sainfoy, +tired and nervous, no doubt,--what could she have done with an +unsympathetic old distant cousin, except wish heartily for her absence? +No, no, I did not love Adélaïde twenty years ago. I thought her worldly +and ambitious then--what should I think her now! I will be civil for +your sake, of course,--but my dear Urbain, what have I to do with +emigrants who have changed their flag, and have come back false to their +old convictions? No--my place is not at Lancilly. Nor is Joseph's--and I +hardly believe we should be welcome there." + +"My dear, all this is politics!" cried Monsieur Urbain, flourishing his +hands in the air. "It is agreed, it is our convention, yours and mine, +that we never mention politics. It must be the same between you and our +cousins. What does it matter, after all? You live under the Empire, you +obey the laws as much as they do. Why should any of us spoil society by +waving our private opinions. It is not philosophical, really it is not." + +"I did not suppose it was," she said. "I leave philosophy to you, my +dear friend." + +She shrugged her shoulders and looked at Angelot, who was sitting in +silence, watching his father with the rather puzzled and qualified +admiration that he usually felt for him. This admiration was not unmixed +with fear, for Urbain, so sweet and so clever, could be very stern; it +was an iron will that had carried him through the past twenty years. Or +rather, perhaps, a will of the finest steel, a character that had a +marvellous faculty for bending without being broken. + +"And you--" said Monsieur Urbain to his son--"you had a long day's sport +with the uncle. Did you get a good bag?" + +Angelot told him. "But that was only by myself till breakfast time," he +said. "Since then I have been helping my uncle in other ways. I am +afraid you wanted me, monsieur, but it was an important matter, and I +could not leave him." + +"Ah! Well, the other was not a very important matter--at least, I found +another messenger who did as well. It was to ride to Sonnay, to tell the +_coiffeur_ there to come to Lancilly early to-morrow. Madame de +Sainfoy's favourite maid was ill, and stayed behind in Paris. No one +else can dress her hair. It was she herself who remembered the old +hairdresser at Sonnay, a true artist of the old kind. I had a strong +impression that he--well, that he died unfortunately in those unhappy +days--you understand--but she thought he had even then a son growing up +to succeed him, and it seemed worth while to send to enquire." + +Angelot smiled; his mother frowned. "I am glad you were not here!" she +murmured under her breath. + +Later on they were sitting in the curious, gloomy old room which did +duty for salon and library at La Marinière. Nothing here of the simple, +cheerful, though old-time grace of Les Chouettes. Louis Quatorze chairs, +with old worked seats, stood in a solemn row on the smooth stone floor; +the walls were hung with ancient tapestry, utterly out of date and out +of fashion now. A large bookcase rose from the floor to the dark painted +beams of the ceiling, at one end of the room. It contained many books +which Madame de la Marinière would gladly have burnt on the broad +hearth, under her beautiful white stone chimney-piece--itself out of +date, old and monstrous in the eyes of the Empire. But Madame de la +Marinière was obliged to live with her husband's literary admirations, +as well as with his political opinions, so Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, +Helvétius, with many earlier and healthier geniuses, such as Montaigne, +looked down in handsomely gilt bindings from the upper shelves. High up +they were: there was a concession. In the lower shelves lived Bousset, +and other Catholic writers; the modern spirit in religion being +represented by Chateaubriand's five volumes of _Le Géne du +Christianisme_ and two volumes of _Les Martyrs_. Corneille and Racine, +among poets, had the honour of accessibility. When Monsieur Urbain +wanted one of his own books, he had to fetch a little ladder from a +cupboard in the hall. Angelot, from a child, was forbidden to use that +ladder. The prohibition was hardly necessary. Angelot seldom opened a +book at all, or read for more than five minutes at a time. He followed +his uncle in this, as in so much else. The moors, the woods, the +riverside, were monsieur Joseph's library: as to literal books, he had +none but a few volumes on sport and on military history. + +In this old room Madame de la Marinière would sit all the evening long, +working at her tapestry frame; Urbain would read, sometimes aloud; +Angelot would draw, or make flies and fishing tackle. On this special +evening the little lady sat down to her frame--she was making new seats +in cross-stitch for the old chairs against the wall. Two candles, which +lighted the room very dimly, and a tall glass full of late roses, stood +on a solid oak table close to her chair. + +She made a charming picture as she sat there, seemingly absorbed in her +work, yet glancing up every instant to listen to the talk of the two +men. Angelot was giving his father an account of the day's adventures, +and Monsieur Urbain was as much annoyed as his easy-going temper would +allow. + +"Is he not mad and bad, that brother of mine!" he cried. "But what was +it all about? What were they plotting and planning, these foolish men? +Why could he not have two more places laid at table and entertain the +whole party together? That would have been the clever thing to do. The +Prefect has nothing special against any of those gentlemen--or had not, +before this. What were they plotting, Angelot?" + +Angelot knew nothing about that. He thought their consciences were bad, +from the readiness with which they scuttled off into the woods. And from +things they said as they went, he thought they and the imperial officers +were best apart. The Messieurs d'Ombré especially, from their talk, +would have been dangerous companions at table. Pistols, prisons, a +general insurrection and so forth. + +"My poor brother will be punished enough," said Urbain, "if he has to +spend his time in Purgatory with these d'Ombrés." + +He glanced at his wife, who did not like such allusions as this; but she +bent over her frame and said nothing. + +"Go on, tell me all," he said to his son. + +Angelot told him the whole story. He was an emotional person, with a +strong sense of humour. The Prefect's generosity brought tears into his +eyes; the General's adventure made him laugh heartily, but he was soon +grave again. + +"I have not seen General Ratoneau," he said. "But I have heard that he +is a very revengeful man, and I am sorry you should have offended him, +my boy." + +"He offended me!" said Angelot, laughing. "I tried to save him; he swore +at me and would not be saved. Then he tried to strike me and I would not +be struck. And it was I who pulled him out of the bushes, and a clumsy +lump he was, too. I assure you, father, the debt is on his side, not +mine. One of these days he shall pay it, if I live." + +"Nonsense! forget all about it as soon as you can," said his father. "As +to his language, that was natural to a soldier. Another time, leave a +soldier to fight his own battles, even with a herd of cows. To run +between a soldier and his enemy is like interfering between husband and +wife, or putting your hand between the bark and the tree. Never do it +again." + +"You do not practise what you preach," said Madame de la Marinière, +while Angelot looked a little crestfallen. "I wonder who has run between +more adversaries than yourself, in the last few years!" + +"My dear friend, I never yet differed with an imperial officer, or +presumed to know better than my superiors, even on Angevin country +subjects," said her husband, smiling. + +"Ah!" she sighed. Her brows wrinkled up a little, and there was a touch +of scorn in the pretty lines of her mouth. "Ah! Ange and I will never +reach your philosopher's level," she said. + +"I wish--I wish--" Monsieur Urbain muttered, pacing up and down, "that +Joseph would grow a little wiser as he grows older. The Prefect is +excellent--if it were only the Prefect--but the fellows who were with +him--yes, it would be disagreeable to feel that there was a string round +Joseph's neck and that the police held the end of it. A secret meeting +to-day--at Joseph's house--and Joseph's and Angelot's the only names +known!" + +"Ange was not at the meeting!" cried Madame de la Marinière. + +"I know--but who will believe that?" + +Angelot was a little impressed. He had very seldom seen his father, so +hopeful, so even-tempered, with a cloud of anxiety on his face. The very +rarity of such uneasiness made it catching. A sort of apprehensive chill +seemed to creep from the corners of the dark old room, steal along by +the shuttered windows, hover about the gaping cavern of the hearth. It +became an air, breathing through the room in the motionless September +night, so that the candle-flames on madame's table bent and flickered +suddenly. + +Then the dogs out in the yard began to bark. + +"They are barking at the moon," said Monsieur Urbain. "No, at somebody +passing by." + +"Somebody is coming in, father," said Angelot, "I hear footsteps in the +court--they are on the steps--in the porch. Shall I see who it is?" + +"Do, my boy." + +The mother turned pale, half rose, as if to stop him. "Not the police!" +were the words on her lips; but her husband's calmness reassured her. + +Angelot went out into the hall, and reached the house-door just as +somebody outside began to knock upon it. He opened it, and saw two +figures standing in the half-darkness: for the moon was not yet very +high, and while she bathed all the valley in golden light, making +Lancilly's walls and windows shine with a fairy beauty, the house at La +Marinière still cast a broad shadow. The figures were of a man and a +woman, strangers to Angelot; he, standing in the dark doorway, was +equally strange to them and only dimly visible. The stranger lifted his +hand courteously to his hat, and there was a touch of hesitation in his +very musical voice, as if--which was the fact--he did not know to whom +he was speaking. + +"Madame de la Marinière is at home? She receives this evening?" + +"Certainly, monsieur," said Angelot. "One moment, and I will fetch a +light--madame--" and he bowed low to the stranger's companion. + +"What? Are you Angelot? Shake hands: there is light enough for that," +said the visitor with sudden friendliness. "Let me present you to my +daughter Hélène--your cousin, in fact." + +The slender, silent girl who stood by Monsieur de Sainfoy might have +been pretty or ugly--there was no light to show--but Angelot seemed to +know by instinct at once all that he was to discover afterwards. He +bowed again, and kissed Hélène's glove, and felt a most unreasonable +dizziness, a wildfire rushing through his young veins; all this for the +first time in his boyish life and from no greater apparent cause than +the sweetness of her voice when she said, "Bonjour, mon cousin!" + +Then, before he could turn round, his father was there, carrying one of +the heavy candlesticks, and all the porch was full of light and of +cheerful voices. + +"I am triumphant," cried the Comte de Sainfoy. "My wife said I could not +find my way. I felt sure I had not forgotten boyish days so completely, +and Hélène was ready to trust herself to me, and glad to wait upon +madame her cousin." + +"She is most welcome--you are both most welcome," the beaming master of +the house assured him. "Come in, dear neighbours, I beg. What happiness! +What an end to all this weary time! If a few things in life were +different, I could say I had nothing left to wish for." + +"A few things? Can we supply them, dear Urbain?" said the Comte, +affectionately. + +"No, Hervé, no. They do not concern you, my beloved friend. On your side +all is perfection. But alas! you are not everybody, or everywhere. Never +mind! This is a joy, an honour, indeed, to make one forget one's +troubles." + +Angelot had taken the candlestick from his father as they crossed the +hall. He carried it in before the party and set it down in its place, +then stepped back into the shadow while Monsieur Urbain brought them in, +and his mother, still pale, and a little shy or stiff in manner, went +forward to receive them. + +"After twenty years!" The Comte de Sainfoy bowed low over the small hand +that lay in his, thin, delicate, if not so white and soft as a court +lady's hand. His lips touched it lightly; he straightened himself, and +looked smiling into her face. He had always admired Anne de Pontvieux. +He might himself have thought of marrying her, in those last days of old +France, from which so great a gulf now parted them, if her family had +been richer and more before the world. As a young man, he had been +surprised at Urbain's good fortune, and slightly envious of it. + +"Utterly unchanged, belle cousine!" he said. "What does he mean, that +discontented man, by finding his lot anything short of perfection! Here +you have lived, you and he, in that quietest place that exists in the +very heart of the storm. Both of you have kept your youth, your +freshness, while as for me, wanderings and anxieties have turned me as +grey as a badger." + +"Your wife is still young and beautiful, I hear," said Madame de la +Marinière. "And your hair, cousin, is the only thing that proves you +more than twenty. At any rate, you have not lost a young man's genius +for paying compliments." + +"My compliments are simple truth, as they always were, even before I +lived in more plain-spoken countries than this," said the Comte. "And +now let me ask your kindness for this little eldest girl of mine--the +eldest child that I have here--you know Georges is with the army." + +"I know," said Madame de la Marinière. + +Her look had softened, though it was still grave and a little distant. +It was with a manner perfectly courteous, but not in the least +affectionate, that she drew Hélène towards her and kissed her on the +cheek. "She is more like you than her mother," she said. "I am charmed +to make your acquaintance, my dear." + +Words, words! Angelot knew his mother, and knew that whatever pretty +speeches politeness might claim, she did not, and never could rejoice in +the return of the cousins to Lancilly. But it amused and astonished him +to notice the Comte's manner to his mother. Did it please her? he +wondered. Gratitude to his father was right and necessary, but did she +care for these airs of past and present devotion to herself, on the part +of a man who had outraged all her notions of loyalty? It began to dawn +on Angelot that he knew little of the world and its ways. + +Standing in the background, he watched those four, and a more +interesting five minutes he had never yet known. These were shadows +become real: politics, family and national, turned into persons. + +There stood his father beside the man to whose advantage he had devoted +his life; whom he had loved as that kind of friend who sticks closer +than a brother, almost with the adoration of a faithful dog, ever since +the boys of the castle and of the old manor played together about the +woods of La Marinière and Lancilly. + +They were a contrast, those two. Urbain was short and broad, with quick +eyes, a clever brow, a strong, good-tempered mouth and chin. He was +ugly, and far from distinguished: Joseph had carried off the good looks +and left the brains for him. Hervé de Sainfoy was tall, slight, elegant; +his face was handsome, fair, and sleepy, the lower part weak and +irresolute. A beard, if fashion had allowed it, would have become him +well. His expression was amiable, his smile charming, with a shade of +conscious superiority. + +But Angelot understood, when he remembered it, the Prefect's remark that +the Emperor found Monsieur de Sainfoy "a little half-hearted." + +However, from that evening, Angelot ceased to think of Monsieur de +Sainfoy as the unknown cousin, his father's friend, the master of +Lancilly; he was Hélène's father, and thus to be, next to herself, the +most important personage in poor Angelot's world. For it is not to be +imagined that those few minutes, or even one of them, were spent in +noting the contrast between the cousins, or in considering the Comte's +manner to Madame de la Marinière, and hers to him. There in the light of +the candles, curtseying to the unknown cousin with a simple reverence, +accepting her kiss with a faint smile of pleasure, stood the loveliest +woman that young Angelot had ever seen, ever dreamed of--if his dreams +had been occupied with such matters at all! Hélène was taller than +French women generally; taller than his mother, very nearly as tall as +himself. She was like a lily, he thought; one of those white lilies that +grew in the broad border under the box hedge, and with which his mother +decked the Virgin's altar, not listening at all to the poor old Curé +when he complained that the scent made his head ache. Hélène had thrown +off the hooded cloak that covered her white gown; the lovely masses of +fair hair seemed almost too heavy for her small, bent head. + +"No wonder they wanted a _coiffeur_! Oh, why was I not here to fetch +him!" thought Angelot. + +The beauty of whiteness of skin and perfect regularity of feature is +sometimes a little cold; but Hélène was flushed with her walk in the +warm night, her lips were scarlet; and if her grey eyes were strangely +sad and wistful, they were also so beautiful in size, shape, and +expression that Angelot felt he could gaze for ever and desire no +change. + +He started and blushed when his own name roused him from staring +breathlessly at Mademoiselle Hélène, who since the lights came had +given him one or two curious, half-veiled glances. + +"And now let me congratulate you on this fine young man," said Monsieur +de Sainfoy in his pleasant voice. "The age of my Georges, is he not? +Yes, I remember his christening. His first name was Ange--I thought it a +little confiding, you know, but no doubt it is justified. I forgot the +rest--and I do not know why you have turned him into Angelot?" + +Madame de la Marinière smiled; this was a way to her heart. + +"Yes, it is justified," she said proudly. "Ange-Marie-Joseph-Urbain is +his name. As to the nickname, it is something literary. I refer you to +his father." + +"It is a name to keep him true to his province," said Monsieur Urbain. +"Read Ronsard, my friend. It was the name he gave to Henry, Duc d'Anjou. +But I must fetch the book, and read you the pretty pastoral." + +"My dear friend, you must excuse me. I am perfectly satisfied. A very +good name, Angelot! But to read or listen to that ancient poetry before +the flood--" + +They all laughed. "What a wonderful man he is!" said the Comte to Madame +Urbain. "As poetical as he is practical." + +It all seemed pleasant trifling, then and for the rest of the evening. +The young countryman of Ronsard's naming was rather silent and shy, and +the Comte's daughter had not much to say; the elders talked for the +whole party. This, they thought, was quite as it should be. + +But the boy who had said that morning, "Young girls are hardly +companions for me," and had talked lightly of his father's finding a +husband for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, lay down that night with a girl's +face reigning in his dreams; and went so far as to tell himself that it +was for good or evil, for time and for eternity. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SLEEP OF MADEMOISELLE MOINEAU + + +"We must make the best of it," said Madame de Sainfoy. "To be practical +is the great thing. I know you agree with me." + +She had a dazzling smile, utterly without sweetness. Madame de la +Marinière said it was like the flashing of sunbeams on ice; but it had a +much more warming and inspiring effect on Urbain. + +"It is one of the few consolations in life," he said, "to meet with +supreme good sense like yours." + +They were standing together in one of the deep windows of the Château de +Lancilly; a window which looked out to the garden front towards the +valley and La Marinière. A deep dry moat surrounded the great house on +all sides; here, as on the other front, where there were wings and a +courtyard, it was approached by a stiff avenue, a terrace, and a bridge. +But this ancient and gloomy state of things could not be allowed to +continue. An army of peasants was hard at work filling up the moat, +laying out winding paths in the park, making preparations for the +"English garden" of a thousand meaningless twists leading to nowhere, +which was the Empire's idea of beauty. Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoy +would have no rest till their stately old château was framed in this +kind of landscape gardening, utterly out of character with it. It was +only Monsieur Urbain's experience which had saved trees from being cut +down in full leaf, to let in points of view, and had delayed the +planting in hot September weather of a whole forest of shrubs on the +sloping bank, where the moat had once been. + +The interior of the house, too, was undergoing a great reformation. +Madame de Sainfoy had sent down a quantity of modern furniture from +Paris, the arrangement of which had caused the worthy Urbain a good deal +of perplexity. He had prided himself on preserving many ancient +splendours of Louis XIV, XV, XVI, not from any love for these relics of +a former society, but because good taste and sentiment alike showed him +how entirely they belonged to these old rooms and halls, where the +ponderous, carved chimney-pieces rose from floor to painted ceiling, +blazoned with arms which not even the Revolution had cut away. But +Madame de Sainfoy's idea was to sweep everything off: the tapestries, +which she considered grotesque and hideous, from the walls; the rows of +solemn old chairs and sofas, the large screens and heavy oak tables, the +iron dogs from the fireplace, on which so many winter logs had flamed +and died down into a heap of grey ashes. All must go, and the old +saloon must be made into a modern drawing-room of the Empire. + +Madame de la Marinière, being old-fashioned and prejudiced, resented +these changes, which seemed to her both monstrous and ungrateful. She +was angry with her husband for the angelic patience with which he bore +them, throwing himself with undimmed enthusiasm into the carrying out of +every wish, every new-fangled fancy, that Hervé and Adélaïde de Sainfoy +had brought from Paris with them. If he was disappointed at the bundling +off into garret and cellar of so much of Lancilly's old and hardly-kept +glory, he only showed it by a shrug and a smile. + +"If one does not know, one must be content to learn," he said. "A modern +fish wants a modern shell, my dear Anne. I may have been foolish to +forget it. The atmosphere that you enjoy gives Adélaïde the blues. Come, +I will quote Scripture. 'New wine must be put into new bottles.'" + +"Then, on the whole, it was a pity Lancilly was not burnt down," said +his wife. + +"Ah, Lancilly! Lancilly will see a few more fashions yet," he said. + +And now he stood, quite happy and serene, in the cold sunshine of +Adélaïde's smile, and together they watched the earthworks rising +outside, and he agreed with her as to the necessity of being modern in +everything, of marching with one's time, regretting nothing, using the +present and making the best of it. She was utterly materialist and +baldly practical. Her manners were frank and simple, she had suffered, +she had studied the world and knew it, and used it without a scruple for +her own advantage. The time and the court of Napoleon knew such women +well: they had the fearless dignity of high rank, holding their own, in +spite of all the Emperor's vulgarity; and the losses and struggles of +their lives had given them a hard eye for the main chance, scarcely to +be matched by any _bourgeois_ shopkeeper. And with all this they had a +real admiration for military glory. Success, in fact, was their God and +their King. + +Far down below in the park, within sight of the windows, Monsieur de +Sainfoy was strolling about, watching the workmen, and talking to them +with the pleasant grace which always made him popular. With him was +young Angelot, who had walked across with his father on that and several +other mornings. It seemed as if Uncle Joseph and Les Chouettes had lost +a little of their attraction, since Lancilly was inhabited. Angelot +brought his gun, and Cousin Hervé, when he had time and energy, took +his, and they had an hour or two's sport round about the woods and +marshes and meadows of Lancilly. Once or twice Monsieur de Sainfoy +brought the young man in to breakfast; his father was often there, in +attendance on the Comtesse and her alterations. She took very little +notice of Angelot, beyond a smile when he kissed her hand. He was of no +particular use, and did not interest her; she was not fond of his +mother, and thought him like her; it was not worth while to be kind to +him for the sake of his father, whose devotion did not depend, she knew, +on any such attentions. + +Angelot was rather awed by her coldness, though he said nothing about +it, even to his mother. And after all, he did not go to Lancilly to be +entertained by Madame de Sainfoy. He went for the sake of a look, a +possible word, or even a distant sight of the girl whose lovely face and +sad eyes troubled him sleeping and waking, whose presence drew him with +strong cords across the valley and made the smallest excuse a good +reason for following his father to Lancilly. But he never spoke to +Hélène, except formally and in public, till that day when he lingered +about with his cousin in the park, watching the men as they dug the +paths for the English garden, while Madame de Sainfoy and Monsieur +Urbain talked good sense high up in the window. + +Presently two figures approached the new garden, crossing the park from +the old avenue, and Monsieur de Sainfoy went to meet them with an air of +cordial welcome. + +"Who are those people?" said the Comtesse, putting up her eyeglass. + +"It is my brother Joseph and his little daughter," Urbain answered. "He +has his gun, I see, as usual. I suppose he was shooting in this +direction." + +"Does he take the child out shooting with him? He is certainly very +eccentric." + +Urbain shrugged his shoulders. "Poor dear Joseph! A little, perhaps. +Yes, he is unlike other people. To tell you the truth, I am only too +glad when his odd fancies spend themselves on the management of +Henriette." + +"Or mis-management! He will ruin the child. He brought her here the +other day, and she appeared to me quite savage." + +"Really, madame! Poor Henriette! She is a sociable child and clever, +too. My wife and Angelot are very fond of her. I think she must have +been shy in your presence." + +"Oh, not at all. She talked to Hervé like a grown-up woman. I was +amused. When I say 'savage,' I mean that she had evidently been in no +society, and had not the faintest idea how a young person of her age is +expected to behave. She was far more at her ease than Hélène, for +instance." + +"Ah, dear madame! there is something pleasing, is there not, in such a +frank trust in human nature! The child is very like her father." + +"Those manners may be pretty in a child of six," said Madame de Sainfoy, +"but they are quite out of place in a girl of her age--how old is she?" + +"I don't exactly know. Twelve or thirteen, I think." + +"Then there is still some hope for her. She may be polished into shape. +I shall suggest to your brother that she come here every day to take +lessons with Sophie and Lucie. I dare say she is very ignorant." + +"I am afraid she is. What a charming idea! How like your kindness! My +brother will certainly accept your offer with enthusiasm. I shall insist +upon it." + +"He will, if he is a wise man," said Madame de Sainfoy. They both +laughed: evidently the wisdom of Monsieur Joseph was not proverbial in +the family. "Mademoiselle Moineau is an excellent governess, though she +is growing old," she went on. "I have known her make civilised women out +of the most unpromising material. I shall tell your brother that I +consider it settled. It will be good for Sophie and Lucie, too, to have +the stimulus of a companion." + +"You are not afraid that--You know my brother's very strong opinions?" + +"Do you think a child of twelve is likely to make converts?" she said, +with an amused smile. "No, cousin. The influence will be the other way, +but your brother will not be foolish enough, I hope, to consider that a +danger." + +Urbain shook his head gently: he would answer for nothing. He murmured, +"A charming plan! The best thing that could happen to the child." + +"A pity, too," said Madame de Sainfoy, looking out of the window, "that +she should grow up without any young companions but your son. Where are +they going now?" + +"I don't know," said Urbain. + +For a moment they watched silently, while Angelot and Henriette left the +others in the garden, and walked away together, turning towards the +château, and then disappearing behind a clump of trees. + +"I know," said the Comtesse. "I told Hervé something of this plan of +mine, and he approved highly: he has an old family affection for your +brother. He is sending the young people to find Sophie and Lucie; they +are out walking in the wood with Mademoiselle--Hélène is reading Italian +in her own room." + +She seemed to add this as an after-thought, and the faintest smile +curled Monsieur Urbain's lips as he heard her. "No danger, dear +Comtesse," he felt inclined to say. "My boy's heart is in the woods and +fields--and he is discreet, too. You might even trust him for five +minutes with that beautiful, silent girl of yours." + +Had Madame de Sainfoy made some miscalculation as to her daughter's +hours of study? or was it Hélène's own mistake? or had the sunshine and +the waving woods, the barking of dogs, the chattering of workmen, all +the flood of new life outside old Lancilly, made it impossible to sit +reading in a chilly, thick-walled room and tempted the girl irresistibly +to break her mother's strict rules. However it may have happened--when +Angelot and Riette, laughing and talking, entered the wood beyond the +château, not only square Sophie and tall Lucie and their fat little +governess, but Mademoiselle Hélène herself, were found wandering along +the soft path, through the glimmering maze of green flicked with gold. + +Sophie and Lucie were good-natured girls, enchanted to see the new +little cousin. They admired her dark eyes, the delicate smallness of her +frame, a contrast with their own more solid fairness. In their family, +Hélène had taken all the beauty; there was not much left for them, but +they were honest girls and knew how to admire. Riette on her side, +untroubled with any shyness or self-consciousness, quite innocent of the +facts that her dress was old-fashioned and her education more than +defective, was delighted to improve her acquaintance with the new +cousins. She could tell them a thousand things they did not know. To +begin with, Lancilly itself, the woods, the walled gardens and courts, +even the staircases and galleries of the house--all was more familiar to +her than to them. She and Angelot had found Lancilly a splendid +playground, ever since she was old enough to walk so far; they had spent +many happy hours there in digging out rabbits, catching rats, +birds-nesting, playing _cache-cache_, and other charming employments. +She enlarged on these in the astonished ears of Sophie and Lucie, +walking between them with linked arms, pulling them on with a dancing +step, while they listened, fascinated, to the gay little spirit who led +them where she pleased. It did not seem so certain, to look at the three +young girls, that Madame de Sainfoy was right as to influence. But no +political talk, no party secrets, escaped from the loyal lips of Riette. +A word of warning from Angelot--a word which her father would not have +dreamed of saying--had closed her mouth on subjects such as these. She +could be friendly with her cousins, yet true to her father's friends. + +"Let us go to the great garden," she said. "Have you seen the sundial, +and the fish-ponds? You don't know the way? Ah, my dear children, but +what discoveries you are going to make!" + +"Sophie--Lucie--where are you going? Come back, come back!" cried +Mademoiselle Moineau, who was pacing slowly behind with Angelot and +Hélène. + +But Sophie and Lucie could not stop if they wished it; an impetuous +little whirlwind was carrying them along. + +"To the garden--to the garden!" they called out as they fled. +Mademoiselle Moineau was distracted. She was fat, she was no longer +young; she could not race after the rebellious children; and even if she +could, it was impossible to leave Hélène and Angelot alone in the wood. + +"Where are they going?" she said helplessly to the young man. + +He explained amiably that they were perfectly safe with his little +cousin, who knew every corner of the place, and while Mademoiselle +Moineau groaned, and begged that he would show her the way to the +garden, he ventured a look and smile at Hélène. A sudden brightness came +into her face, and she laughed softly. "Henriette might be your little +sister," she said. "You are all alike, I think--at least monsieur your +uncle, and madame your mother, and Henriette, and you--" + +"Yes--I've often thought Uncle Joseph ought to be my mother's brother, +not my father's," said Angelot. + +He dared not trust himself to look very hard at Hélène. He kept his +lightness of tone and manner, the friendly ease which was natural to +him, though his pulses were beating hard from her nearness, and though +her gentle air of intimacy gave him almost a pang of passionate joy. How +sweet she was, how simple, when for a moment she forgot the mysterious +sadness which seemed sometimes to veil her whole nature! Angelot knew +that she liked and trusted him, the strange young country cousin who +looked younger than he was. She thought him a friendly boy, perhaps. Her +eyes, when she looked at him, seemed to smile divinely; they were no +longer doubtful and questioning, as at first. He longed to kneel down on +the pine-needles and kiss the hem of her gown; he longed, he, the +careless sportsman, the philosopher's son, to lay his life at her feet, +to do what she pleased with. But Mademoiselle Moineau was there. + +They walked on in the vast old precincts of Lancilly, following the +children. It was all deep shade, with occasional patches of sunshine; +great forest trees, wide-spreading, stretched their arms across sandy +tracks, once roads, that wandered away at the back of the château: +through the leaves they could see mountains of grey moss-stained roof +and the peaked top of the old _colombier_. All the yards and buildings +were now between them and the house itself. Along by a crumbling wall, +once white, and roofed with tiles, they came to the broken-down gate of +the garden. It was not much better than a wilderness; yet there were +loaded fruit-trees, peaches, plums, figs, vines weighed down with masses +of small sweet grapes, against the ancient trellis of the wall. +Everywhere a forest of weeds; the once regular paths covered with burnt +grass and stones and rubbish; the fountain choked and dry. + +Mademoiselle Moineau groaned many times as she hobbled along; the +walking was rough, the way seemed endless, and the garden, when they +reached it, a sun-baked desert. Angelot guided them to the very middle, +where the old sundial was, and while he showed it to Hélène, the little +governess sat down on a stone bench that encircled a large mulberry +tree, the only shady place in the garden. They could hear the children's +voices not far off. Hélène sat down near Mademoiselle Moineau. Angelot +went away and came back with a leaf filled with fruit, to which Hélène +helped herself with a smile. As he was going to hand it to Mademoiselle +Moineau, she put out a hand to stop him. + +"She is asleep," she whispered. + +It was true. The warmth, the fatigue, the sudden rest and silence, had +been too much for the little lady, who was growing old. Her eyes were +shut, her hands were folded, her chin had sunk upon her chest; and even +as Angelot stared in unbelieving joy, a distinct snore set Hélène +suddenly laughing. + +"I must wake her," she said softly. "We must go, we must find the +children." + +"Oh no, no!" he murmured. "Let the poor thing rest--see how tired she +is! The children are safe--you can hear them. Do not be so cruel to +her--and to me." + +"_I_ cruel?" said Hélène; and she added half to herself--"No--other +people are cruel--not I." + +Angelot did not understand her. She looked up at him rather dreamily, as +he stood before her. Perhaps the gulf of impossibility between them kept +her, brought up and strictly sheltered as she had been, from realising +the meaning of the young man's face. It was very grave; Angelot had +never before felt so utterly in earnest. His eyes were no longer sleepy, +for all the strength of his nature, the new passion that possessed him, +was shining in them. It was a beautiful, daring face, so attractive that +Hélène gazed for a speechless moment or two before she understood that +the beauty and life and daring were all for her. Then the pale girl +flushed a little and dropped her eyes. She had had compliments enough in +Paris, had been told of her loveliness, but never with silent speech +such as this. This conquest, though only of a young cousin, had +something different, something new. Hélène, hopeless and tired at +nineteen, confessed to herself that this Angelot was adorable. With a +sort of desperation she gave herself up to the moment's enjoyment, and +said no more about waking Mademoiselle Moineau, who snored on +peacefully, or about finding the children. She allowed Angelot to sit +down on her other side, and listened to him with a sweet surprise as he +murmured in her ear--"Who is cruel, then, tell me! No, you are not, you +are an angel--but who are you thinking of?" + +"No one in particular, I suppose," the girl answered. "Life itself is +cruel--cruel and sad. You do not find it so?" + +"Life seems to me the most glorious happiness--at this moment, +certainly." + +"Ah, you must not say those things. Let us wake Mademoiselle Moineau." + +"No," Angelot said. "Not till you have told me why you find life sad." + +"Because I do not see anything bright in it. Books tell one that youth +is so happy, so gay--and as for me, ever since I was a child, I have had +nothing but weariness. All that travelling about, that banishment from +one's own country--ill tempers, discontent, narrow ways, hard +lessons--straps and backboards because I was not strong--loneliness, not +a friend of my own age--and then this horrible Paris--and things that +might have happened there, if my father had not saved me--" She stopped, +with a little catch in her breath, and Angelot understood, remembering +the Prefect's talk at Les Chouettes, a few days before. + +This was the girl they talked of sacrificing in a political marriage. + +"But now that you are here--now that you have come home, you will be +happy?" he said, and his voice shook a little. + +"Perhaps--I hope so. Oh, you must not take me too much in earnest," +Hélène said, and there was an almost imploring look in her eyes. She +added quickly--"I hope I shall often see madame your mother. What a +beautiful face she has--and I am sure she is good and happy." + +This was a fine subject for Angelot. He talked of his mother, her +religion, her charity, her heroism, while Hélène listened and asked +childish questions about the life at La Marinière, to which her evening +visit had attracted her strangely. And the minutes flew on, and these +two cousins forgot the outside world and all its considerations in each +other's eyes, and the shadows lengthened, till at last the children's +voices began to come nearer. Mademoiselle Moineau snored on, it is true, +but the enchanting time was coming to an end. + +"Remember," Angelot said, "nothing sad or cruel can happen to you any +more. You are in your own country; your own people will take care of you +and love you--we are relations, remember--my father and mother and my +uncle and Riette--and I, Hélène!" + +He ended in the lowest whisper, and suddenly his slight brown hands +closed on hers, and his dark face bent over her. + +"Never--never be sad again! I adore you--my sweet, my beautiful--" + +Very softly their lips met. Hélène, entirely carried out of herself, let +him hold her for a moment in his arms, then started up with flaming +cheeks in consternation, and began to hurry towards the gate. + +At the same moment the three young girls came down the path towards the +sun-dial, and Mademoiselle Moineau, waking with a violent start, got up +and hobbled stiffly forward into the sunshine. + +"Where are you, my children?" she cried. "Sophie, Lucie, it is quite +time to go back to your lessons--see, your sister is gone already. Say +good-by to your cousins, my dears--" + +[Illustration: SUDDENLY HIS SLIGHT BROWN HANDS CLOSED ON HERS.] + +"We may all go back to the château together, madame, may we not?" +said Angelot with dancing eyes, and he hurried the children on, all +chattering of the wonderful corners and treasures that Henriette had +shown them. + +But Mademoiselle Hélène flew before like the wind, and was not to be +overtaken. + +In the meanwhile, Madame de Sainfoy consulted Cousin Urbain about her +new silk hangings for the large drawing-room, and also as to a list of +names for a dinner, at which the chief guests were to be the Baron de +Mauves, the Prefect of the Department, and Monsieur le Général Ratoneau, +commanding the troops in that western district. + +"And I suppose it is necessary to invite all these excellent cousins?" +Madame de Sainfoy asked her husband that evening, when the cousins were +gone. + +"Entirely necessary, my dear Adélaïde!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH MET WITH MANY ANNOYANCES + + +Dark clouds were hanging over Les Chouettes. In the afternoon there had +been a thunderstorm, with heavy rain which had refreshed the burnt +slopes and filled the stream that wound through the meadows under the +lines of poplars and willows, and set great orange slugs crawling among +the wet grass. The storm had passed, but the air was heavy, electric, +and still. The sun had set gloriously, wildly, like a great fire behind +the woods, and now all the eastern sky was flaming red, as if from a +still more tremendous fire somewhere beyond the moors and hills. + +Two men were sitting on a bench under Monsieur Joseph's south wall; +himself and white-haired Joubard, the farmer; before them was a table +with bottles and glasses. Joubard had been trying a wine that rivalled +his own. Monsieur Joseph had entertained him very kindly, as his way +was; but the shadow of the evening rested on Monsieur Joseph's face. He +was melancholy and abstracted; he frowned; he even ground his teeth with +restrained irritation. Joubard too looked grave. He had brought a +warning which had been lightly taken, he thought; yet looking sideways +at Monsieur Joseph, he could not help seeing that something, possibly +his words, was weighing on the little gentleman. There were plenty of +other things to talk about; the farm, the vintage, the war in Spain, the +chances of Martin's return, the works at Lancilly. Monsieur Joseph and +Joubard were both talkers; they were capable of chattering for hours +about nothing; but this evening conversation flagged, at least on +Monsieur Joseph's side. Perhaps it was the weather. + +At last the old man was ready to go. He stood up, staring hard at +Monsieur Joseph in the twilight. + +"Monsieur forgives me?" he said. "Perhaps I should have said nothing; +the police have their ways. They may ask questions without malice. And +yet one feels the difference between an honest man and a spy. Well, I +could have laughed, if I did not hate the fellow. As if the talk of a +few honest gentlemen could hurt the State!" + +"Some day I hope it will," said Monsieur Joseph, coolly. "When the +rising comes, Joubard, you will be on the right side--if only to avenge +your sons, my good man!" + +Joubard opened his eyes wider, hesitated, pushed his fingers through his +bushy hair. + +"Me, monsieur! The rising! But, monsieur, I never said I was a Chouan! I +am afraid of some of them, though not of you, monsieur. They are people +who can be dangerous. A rising, you said! Then--" + +"Don't talk of it now," said Monsieur Joseph, impatiently. + +As he spoke, little Henriette came round the corner of the house with +some blue feathers in her hand. Tobie had been out shooting, making +havoc among the wild birds, large and small, and sparing the squirrels, +with regret, to please his master. Owls, kites, rooks, magpies, jays, +thrushes, finches; those that were eatable went into pies, and the +prettiest feathers were dressed and made into plumes for Mademoiselle +Henriette. She was fond of adorning her straw bonnet with jay's +feathers, which, as her uncle Urbain remarked, gave her the appearance +of one of Monsieur de Chateaubriand's squaws. "See, papa, what Tobie has +brought me," she cried. "Good evening, Maître Joubard! How are your +chickens? and when will the vintage begin?" + +Joubard would gladly have entered on a lengthy gossip with Mademoiselle +Henriette, but Monsieur Joseph, with a shortness very unlike him, +brought the interview to an end. + +"You must not keep Maître Joubard now," he said. "It is late, and he +must get back to the farm. Bonsoir, Joubard." + +The farmer waved his large hat. "Bonsoir, la compagnie!" and with a +smile departed. + +As he passed the stables, Tobie, still carrying his gun, slipped out and +joined him. + +"Anything wrong with the master, Tobie?" said the old man, curiously. +"His tongue has an edge to it this evening; he is not like himself." + +"I think I know," said Tobie, and they strolled together up the lane. + +"Go to bed, my child," said Monsieur Joseph to his little daughter. "It +is too damp now for you to be out-of-doors. Yes, very pretty feathers. +Good night, mon petit chou!" + +Riette flung herself upon him and hugged him like a young bear. + +"Ah," he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "and is this the way to +behave to one's respected father? Do you suppose, now, that +Mesdemoiselles de Sainfoy crush their parents to death like this?" + +"I dare say not," said Riette, with another hug and a shower of kisses. +"But their parents are grand people. They have not a little bijou of a +papa like mine. And as for their mamma, she is a cardboard sort of +woman." + +"All that does not matter. Manners should be the same, whether people +are tall or short, great or humble. You know nothing about it, my poor +Riette." + +"Nor do you!" + +"It is becoming plain to me that you must be sent to learn manners." + +"Where?" + +"Go to bed at once. I must think about it. There, child--enough--I am +tired this evening." + +"Ah, you have had so many visitors to-day, and that old Joubard is a +chatterbox." + +"And he is not the only one in the world. Go--do you hear me?" + +The child went. He heard her light feet scampering upstairs, clattering +merrily about on the boards overhead. He sat very still. The glow in the +east deepened, spreading a lurid glory over the dark velvety stillness +of the woods. Crickets sang and curlews cried in the meadow, and the +long ghostly hoot of an owl trembled through the motionless air. Joseph +de la Marinière leaned his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his +hands, and gazed up thus into the wild autumnal sky. + +"What would become of her!" he said to himself. + +He was not long alone. Angelot and his dog came lightly up through the +shadows, and while the dog strayed off to join his favourites among the +dark guards who lay round the house, the young man sat down beside his +uncle. + +Though with a mind full of his own matters, Angelot was sympathetic +enough to feel and to wonder at the little uncle's depression. After a +word or two on indifferent things--the storm, the marvellous sky--he +said to him, "Has anything happened to worry you?" + +Monsieur Joseph did not answer at once, and this was very unlike him. + +"It is the thunder, perhaps?" said Angelot, cheerfully. "A tree was +struck near us. My mother is spending the evening in church." + +"And your father?" + +"He is at Lancilly, playing boston." + +"Why are you not with him?" + +"Why should I be? I--I prefer a talk with my dear uncle." + +"Ah! you ask if anything worries me, Angelot. Three or four things. +First--I had a visit this morning from César d'Ombré. He had his +breakfast in peace this time, poor fellow." + +Angelot smiled, rather absently. "What had he to say?" + +"Nothing special. The time is not quite ripe--I think they realised that +the other day." + +"I hope so," murmured Angelot. + +"Hope what you please," said his uncle, with sudden irritation. "The +time will come in spite of you all, remember. I, for one, shall not long +be able to endure this abominable system of spying." + +"What do you mean?" said Angelot, staring at him. + +"This is what I mean. The instant d'Ombré was gone--while he was here, +in fact--that fellow, the Prefect's jackal, was prowling round the +stables and asking questions of Tobie. Some silly excuse--pretended he +had lost a strap the other day. Asked which of my friends was +here--asked if they often came, if they were generally expected. +Suggested that Les Chouettes was well provided with hiding-places, as +well for arms as for men. I don't think he made much out of Tobie; he is +as solid as an old oak, with a spark of wit in the middle of his thick +head. From his own account, he very nearly kicked him off the premises." + +"What? that man Simon? I don't like him either, but was it not a little +dangerous to treat him so? He is more than a gendarme, I think; he is an +_agent de police_." + +"I don't care what he is, nor does Tobie. He had better come to me with +his impertinent questions. And I am angry with De Mauves. I suppose the +rascal would not prowl about here without his orders. Of course it was +he who found out everything the other day. I did not notice or know him +at the time, but the servants tell me he is, as you say, a well-known +police spy. Well, after what De Mauves said to you, I should have +expected him to leave me in peace. I would rather have one thing or the +other--be arrested or let alone. I say, this spying system is +ungentlemanly, ungenerous, and utterly contemptible and abominable." + +Monsieur Joseph rapped hard on the table, then took a pinch of snuff +with much energy, folded his arms, and looked fiercely into Angelot's +downcast face. + +"I can hardly think the Prefect sent him," the young man said. + +"Why should he act without his master's orders? In any case I shall have +it out with De Mauves. Well, well, other annoyances followed, and I had +half forgotten the rascal, your father being here, and the rain coming +in at the roof and running down the stairs, when behold Joubard, to tell +me the story over again!" + +"What story?" + +"Mille tonnerres! Angelot, you are very dull to-day. Why, the Simon +story, of course. The fellow paid Joubard a visit on his way to us, it +seems, and asked a thousand questions about me and my concerns--what +visitors of mine passed La Joubardière on their way here, and so forth. +He tried to make it all appear friendly gossip, so as to put Joubard off +his guard, though knowing very well that the old man knew who he was." + +"Does Joubard think the Prefect sent him?" + +"I did not consult Joubard on that point," said Monsieur Joseph with +dignity. "That is between De Mauves and myself." + +"Oh, my little uncle," Angelot said with a low laugh, "you are a very +gem among conspirators." + +"None of you take me in earnest, I know," said Monsieur Joseph, and he +smiled for the first time. "Your father scolds me, Joubard does not half +believe in me, Riette takes liberties with me, you laugh at me. It is +only that scoundrel of a Prefect who thinks me worth watching." + +"I don't believe he does," said Angelot. + +"Then pray tell me, what brought that police rascal here to-day?" + +"Some devilry of his own. Don't you know, Uncle Joseph, these fellows +gain credit, and money too, by hunting out cases of disloyalty to the +Empire. It is dirty work; officials like the Prefect do not always care +to soil their hands with it. I have heard my father tell of cases where +whole families were put in prison, just on the evidence of some police +spy who wormed himself into their confidence and informed against them." + +Monsieur Joseph sat in silence for a minute. + +"Peste! France is not fit to live in," he said. "To change the +subject--your excellent father proposed to-day that I should send Riette +every morning to Lancilly, to learn lessons with Mesdemoiselles de +Sainfoy. It seems that Madame de Sainfoy herself proposed this obliging +plan. The governess, it seems, is a jewel of the first water. Is that +the lady I saw with the children the other day?" + +"Yes; Mademoiselle Moineau." + +Angelot's breath came a little short; his heart seemed to beat +unreasonably in his throat. How could he express with sufficient +restraint his opinion of that sleepy old angel, Mademoiselle Moineau! + +He felt himself colouring crimson; but it was growing dark, the gorgeous +sunset had faded, the clouds hung blacker and heavier as the oppressive +night closed in. + +"No doubt a charming lady and a very good woman," said Monsieur Joseph, +with his usual politeness, "but she has not the air of a genius. In any +case, even if I saw any advantage for Riette in the plan, which I do +not, I am too selfish to consent to it. Well, well, I have other +reasons; I will tell them to your mother one of these days. I am sorry +Madame de Sainfoy should have thought of it, as it seems ungracious to +refuse. But I was miserable enough without Riette last year, when she +spent those weeks at the Convent at Sonnay. By the by, the good nuns did +not find her so ignorant. She knows her religion, she can dance and +sing, she can make clothes for the poor, she understands the animals, +and has read a little history. Pray what more does a girl want?" + +"Nothing, I dare say," said Angelot, dreamily. "I did not think you +would like it." + +"I do not like it," said Monsieur Joseph. "Your father was astonished +when I told him so. We did not discuss it long; the storm interrupted +us. But how could I let my child be brought up in a household devoted to +the Empire! It is unreasonable." + +Angelot started suddenly to his feet. + +"Are you going? It will rain again soon," said Monsieur Joseph. + +"No, I am not going yet," said Angelot. + +He marched up and down two or three times in front of the bench. + +"Uncle Joseph," he burst out, "I have something to say to you. I came +here to-night on purpose to consult you. You can help me, I think, if +anybody can." + +"What, what? Are they sending you into the army?" Monsieur Joseph was +all interest, all affection. His own annoyances were forgotten. He +started up too, standing in his most inspired attitude, with a sweet +smile on his face. "Declare yourself, my boy!" he said. "Yes, I will +stand by you. You cannot fight for that bloodthirsty wretch. Escape, +dearest, if there is nothing else for it. Go and join the Princes. Your +mother will agree with me. I will lend you money for the journey." + +"Ah, a thousand thanks, Uncle Joseph!" cried the young man. "But no, it +is not that at all." He lowered his voice suddenly. "I want to marry," +he said. + +"To marry! Angelot! You! In heaven's name, why?" + +"Because I am in love." + +"What a reason!" + +Monsieur Joseph sat down again. + +"This is serious," he said. "Sit down beside me on the bench, and tell +me all about it. It sounds like madness, and I always thought you were a +reasonable boy." + +"It is madness in one way, I suppose," said Angelot. "And yet stranger +things have happened. In fact, of course, nothing else could happen." + +Monsieur Joseph frowned and stared. His quick brain was running round +the neighbourhood and finding nobody; then it made an excursion at +lightning speed into the wilds of Brittany, where Angelot had sometimes +visited his mother's relations; but there again, as far as he knew, no +likely match was to be found. He was sure that Urbain and Anne had not +yet taken any steps to find a wife for Angelot; he also thought it was a +subject on which they were likely to disagree. And now the young rascal +had hit on somebody for himself. Might Heaven forbid that he had +followed modern theories and was ready to marry some woman of a rank +inferior to his own--some good-for-nothing who had attracted the +handsome, simple-hearted boy! + +"No! He would not dare to tell me that," Monsieur Joseph said to +himself, and added aloud, "Who is the lady?" + +There was a touch of severity in his tone; a foretaste, even from the +dear little uncle, of what was to be expected. + +"But, dear uncle," Angelot said slowly, "it could only be one person." + +"No--no, impossible!" said Monsieur Joseph, half to himself. "Angelot, +my boy--not--not there?" and he waved his hand in the direction of +Lancilly. + +Angelot nodded. "You have seen her," he murmured; "you ought not to be +surprised. You have never seen any one half so beautiful." + +Monsieur Joseph laughed outright. "Have I always lived at Les +Chouettes?" he said. "However, she is a pretty girl, fair, graceful, +distinguished. Riette had more to tell me about the younger ones; that +was only natural. Of course I have only exchanged a compliment with +Mademoiselle Hélène. She looked to me cold and rather haughty--or +melancholy, perhaps. When have you spoken to her, Angelot? or is it +merely the sight of her which has given you this wild idea?" + +"Yes, she is melancholy," Angelot said, "but not cold or haughty at all. +She is sad; it is because she is alone, and her mother is hard and +stern, though her father is kind, and she has had no peace in life from +all their worldly ways. They wanted to marry her to people she +detested--her mother did, at least--" + +"Yes, yes, I have heard something of that," said Monsieur Joseph. "They +expect a great deal from her. She is to make an advantageous +marriage--it is necessary for her family. It will happen one of these +days; it must. My dear little Angelot, you know nothing of the +world--how can you possibly imagine--Besides, I do not care for the +Sainfoys." Monsieur Joseph sighed. "I would rather you went to Brittany +for a wife, and so would your mother." + +"But you will help me, Uncle Joseph?" said Angelot. + +"Help you! How can I? Anyhow, you must tell me more. How did you find +out all this? When did those people give you an opportunity of speaking +to her? From their own point of view, they are certainly very imprudent. +But I suppose they think you harmless." + +It is unpleasant to be thought harmless. Angelot blushed angrily. + +"They may find themselves mistaken," he muttered. "I will tell you, +Uncle Joseph;" and he went on to give a slight sketch of what had +happened. + +It seemed necessary to convince his uncle that he was not talking +nonsense, that the fates had really allowed him a few minutes' talk with +Hélène. He could only give half an explanation, after all; the old +mulberry tree had been the only witness of what was too sacred to be +told. He said that Mademoiselle Moineau's fortunate nap had given them +time to understand each other. + +"And this is the fine governess to whom they expect me to confide my +Riette!" said Monsieur Joseph, laughing; but he became serious again +directly. "And in this interview under the tree, my poor Angelot," he +said very gravely, "you made up your mind to propose yourself as a +husband for Mademoiselle Hélène?" + +"It sounds solemn, Uncle Joseph, when you say it. But yes, I suppose you +are right," said Angelot. + +"It _is_ solemn. Most solemn and serious. Something more than a +flirtation, an amourette. For life, as I understand you. A real marriage +à l'Anglais," said Monsieur Joseph. + +For answer, Angelot raved a little. His uncle listened indulgently, with +a charming smile, to all the pretty lunacies of the young man's first +love, poured into an ear and a heart that would never betray or +misunderstand him. + +"And did you tell Mademoiselle Hélène all this? Did you ask her what she +thought of you?" Monsieur Joseph said at last. + +"She knows enough, and so do I," said Angelot. + +It seemed like sacrilege to say more; but as his uncle waited, he added +hastily--"She is sad, and I can make her happy. But I cannot live +without her--voila! Now will you help me?" + +"It does not occur to you, then, that you are astonishingly +presumptuous?" + +"No." + +"Diable, my Angelot! It would occur to my cousins De Sainfoy!" + +"We are not so poor. As to family, we have not a title, it is true, but +we are their cousins--and look at my mother's descent! They can show +nothing like it. And then see what they owe to my father. Without him, +what would have become of Lancilly? They can make imperialist marriages +for their two other daughters. You must help me, dear little uncle!" + +"Do you suppose they would listen to me, an old Chouan? Where are your +wits, my poor boy? All flown in pursuit of Mademoiselle Hélène!" + +"Not they, no; they are too stupid to appreciate you. But speak to my +father and mother for me. They love and honour you; they will listen. +Tell them all for me; ask them to arrange it all. I will do anything +they wish, live anywhere. Only let them give me Hélène." + +Monsieur Joseph whistled, and took another large pinch of snuff. It was +almost too dark now to see each other's face, and the heavy clouds, with +a distant rolling of thunder, hung low over Les Chouettes. + +Suddenly a child's voice from a window above broke the silence. + +"Ah, forgive me, papa and Angelot, but I have heard all, every word you +have been saying. It was so interesting, I could not shut the window and +go to sleep. Well, little papa, what do you say to Angelot? Tell him you +will help him, we will both help him, to the last drop of our blood." + +Angelot sprang from his seat with an exclamation, to look up at the +window. A small, white-clad figure stood there, a round dark head +against the dim light of the room. The voice had something pathetic as +well as comical. + +"Mille tonnerres!" shouted Monsieur Joseph, very angry. "Go to bed this +instant, little imp, or I shall come upstairs with a birch rod. You will +gain nothing by your dishonourable listening. I shall send you to +Mademoiselle Moineau to-morrow, to learn lessons all day long." + +"Ah, papa, if you do, I can talk to Hélène about Angelot," said +Henriette, and she hastily shut the window. + +The two men looked at each other and laughed. + +"Good night, dear uncle," said Angelot, gently. "I leave my cause in +your hands--and Riette's!" + +"You are mad--we are all mad together. Go home and expect nothing," said +Monsieur Joseph. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOW COMMON SENSE FOUGHT AND TRIUMPHED + + +General Ratoneau found himself a hero at Madame de Sainfoy's dinner +party, and was gratified. A new-comer, he had hardly yet made his way +into provincial society, except by favour of the Prefect. Even the old +families who regarded the Prefect as partly one of themselves, and for +his birth and manners forgave his opinions, found a difficulty in +swallowing the General. The idea that he was unwelcome, when it +penetrated Ratoneau's brain, added to the insolence of his bearing. To +teach these ignorant provincial nobles a lesson, to show these poor and +proud people, returned from emigration, that they need not imagine the +France of 1811 to be the same country as the France of 1788, to make +them feel that they were subjects of the Emperor Napoleon and inferior +to his officers--all this seemed to General Ratoneau part of his mission +in Anjou. And at the same time it was the wish of his heart to be +received as a friend and an equal by the very people he pretended to +despise. + +Lancilly enchanted him. Though the stately halls and staircases were +bare, the great rooms half-furnished and dark--for Madame de Sainfoy +had not yet carried out her plans of decoration--though there were few +servants, no great display of splendid plate, no extravagance in the +dinner itself, no magnificence in the ladies' dresses, for at this time +simplicity was the fashion--yet everything pleased him, because of the +perfections of his hostess. Madame de Sainfoy laid herself out to +flatter him, to put him in a good humour with himself. Rather to the +disgust of various old neighbours who had not dined at Lancilly for more +than twenty years, she placed the Prefect and the General on her right +and left at dinner, and while the Prefect made himself agreeable to an +old lady on his right, whose satin gown was faded and her ancient lace +in rags, she devoted all her powers of talk to the General. + +In a way she admired the man. His extraordinary likeness to his master +attracted her, for she was a hearty worshipper of Napoleon. She talked +of Paris, the Empress, the Court; she talked of her son and his +campaigns, asking the General's opinion and advice, but cleverly leading +him off when he began to brag of his own doings; so cleverly that he had +no idea of her tactics. He was a little dazzled. She was a very handsome +woman; her commanding fairness, her wonderful smile, the movements of +her lovely hands and arms, the almost confidential charm of her manner; +she was worthy to be an Empress herself, Ratoneau thought, and his +admiration went on growing. He began to talk to her of his most private +affairs and wishes, and she listened more and more graciously. + +It was a large party; many of the old provincial families were +represented there. All the company talked and laughed in the gayest +manner, though now and then eyes would light on the hostess' left-hand +neighbour with a kind of disgusted fascination, and somebody would be +silent for a minute or two, or murmur a private remark in a neighbour's +ear. One lady, an old friend and plain of speech, turned thus to Urbain +de la Marinière:-- + +"Why does Adélaïde exert herself to entertain that creature?" + +"Because, madame," he answered, smiling, "Adélaïde is the most sensible +and practical woman of our acquaintance." + +"Mon Dieu! But what does she expect to get by it?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +Angelot, the youngest man present, had been allowed to take his cousin +Hélène in to dinner. Two minutes of happiness; for the arrangement of +the table separated them by its whole length. But it had been enough to +bring a smile and a tinge of lovely colour to Hélène's face, and to give +her the rare feeling that happiness, after all, was a possibility. Then +she found herself next to a person who, after Angelot, seemed to her +the most delightful she had ever met; who asked her friendly questions, +told her stories, watched her, in the intervals of his talk with others, +with eyes full of admiration and a deep amusement which she did not +understand, but which set her heart beating oddly and pleasantly, as she +asked herself if Angelot could possibly have said anything to this dear +uncle of his. + +Poor Angelot! he looked unhappy enough, there in the distance, sitting +in most unusual sulks and silence. + +There was an opportunity for a word, as he led her back from the +dining-room, through the smaller salon, into the large lighted room +where all the guests had preceded them. + +"I don't wonder that you love your uncle," she said to him. + +"I don't love him, when I see him talking to you. I am too jealous." + +"How absurd!" + +"Besides, I am angry with him. He has not done something that I asked +him. Delay is dangerous, and I live in terror." + +"What?" she asked, turning a little white. + +"If you would give me the Empire, I could not tell you now." + +They were in the salon. He put his heels together and bowed; she swept +him a curtsey. + +"Help me to hand the coffee," she said under her breath. + +So it came to pass, when the coffee-table was brought in, that they +walked up together to the new sofa, polished mahogany and yellow satin, +finished with winged Sphinxes in gilded bronze, where Madame de Sainfoy +and General Ratoneau were sitting side by side. + +The Prefect, of course, had brought his hostess back from the +dining-room and had stood talking to her for a few minutes afterwards. +But the General, having deposited his lady, came clanking up almost +immediately to rejoin Madame de Sainfoy. + +"Allow me, my dear Prefect," he said. "I have not finished an +interesting talk with Madame la Comtesse." + +Monsieur de Mauves looked at him, then glanced at her with a questioning +smile. + +"Yes, it is true. We had just touched on a subject of the very deepest +interest," she said. + +Her look, her smile, seemed to glide over the Prefect's tall figure and +pleasant face, as if he was merely a not disagreeable obstacle, to rest +thoughtfully, with satisfaction, on Ratoneau in his gorgeous uniform. + +"Listen! I will confide in you, and then you will understand," said the +General, seizing the Prefect's arm. "I am going to consult Madame la +Comtesse on the subject of a marriage." + +He showed his teeth in a broad smile, staring into the Prefect's face, +which did not change in its expression of easy good-humour. + +"Whose marriage, may I ask? Your own?" + +"You have said it, monsieur. My own. Could I do better?" + +"You could not have a better counsellor. I retire at once," said the +Prefect. + +Then an idea crossed his mind, for just as he was met, with a friendly +greeting--"A word with you, Monsieur le Préfet"--from Joseph de la +Marinière, his eyes fell on Hélène de Sainfoy as she turned away from +Angelot at the door. He had already admired her at a distance, so far +the most beautiful thing at Lancilly, in spite of the oppressed and +weary air that suited so ill with her fresh girlhood. + +"Mon Dieu, what a sacrilege! But no, impossible!" said the Prefect to +himself. + +Several young people were carrying the coffee-cups about the room, +Sophie and Lucie in white frocks among them. It was generally the part +of the young girls; the men did not often help them, so that Madame de +Sainfoy looked at Angelot with surprise, and a shade of displeasure, +when he approached her with Hélène. + +Angelot was perfectly grave and self-possessed. On his side, no one +would have known that he had ever met General Ratoneau before, certainly +not that he regarded him as an enemy. He hardly changed colour, even +when Ratoneau waved him aside with a scowl, and stretched across him, +without rising, to take his cup from Hélène. + +"Come," he said, "I'll have my coffee from those pretty hands, or not at +all." + +Hélène looked up startled, and met the man's bold eyes. Angelot turned +away instantly, and in a few seconds more she had joined him, and they +were attending to other guests. Angelot commanded himself nobly; his +time for punishing the General would come some day, but was not yet. As +he and his cousin walked together along the room, the Vicomte des +Barres, Monsieur Joseph's friend, pointed them out to Madame de la +Marinière. + +"A pretty pair of cousins, madame!" + +"Ah, yes," she said a little sadly. "I cannot always realise that Ange +is grown up. To see him, a man, in the salon at Lancilly, makes me feel +very old." + +The Vicomte murmured smiling compliments, but they soon turned to talk +which was more serious, if not a little treasonable. + +And in the meanwhile other eyes followed the two young people: Madame de +Sainfoy's, while she doubted whether it might be necessary to snub +Monsieur Ange de la Marinière; General Ratoneau's, with a long, steady, +considering gaze, at the end of which he turned to his hostess and said, +"You advise me to marry, madame! Give me your daughter." + +For the moment, even the practical Madame de Sainfoy was both startled +and shocked; so much so that she lifted her fan to hide the change in +her face. But she collected herself instantly, and lowered it with a +smile. + +"Indeed, Monsieur le Général, you do us great honour"--she began. "But +you were good enough to ask my advice, and I should not, I think--in +fact, my daughter is still rather young, rather unformed, for such a +position--and then--" + +"She is nineteen, I know," said General Ratoneau. "Too young for me, you +think? Well, I am forty-two, the same age as the Emperor, and he married +a young wife last year." + +"You wish to resemble His Majesty in every way," said Madame de Sainfoy, +smiling graciously; it was necessary to say something. + +"I am like him, I know--sapristi, it is an advantage. But I am a better +match in one way, madame. I have never been married. I have no wife to +get rid of, before offering myself to Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. She looks +like a good girl, and she is devilish pretty. I dare say she will do +what she likes with me. Anyhow, it is a good marriage for her, and for +me. I am well off, I shall not expect much money." + +In Adélaïde de Sainfoy's heart there was amazement at herself for having +listened even so long and so patiently. This was indeed a trial of her +theories. But after all, common sense was stronger than sentiment. + +"We must live in our own times," she reminded herself. "These are the +people of the future; the past is dead." + +Her eyes wandered round the room. Every man she saw there was a +gentleman, with ancestors, with manners, with traditions. Whether they +were returned emigrants or people who had by _force majeure_ accepted +the Revolution and the Empire, all bore the stamp of that old world +which they alone kept in memory. Differences of dress, a new simplicity, +ease and freedom, a revolt against formalities, these things made a +certain separation between the new country society and the old. But +gentlemen and ladies all her guests were, except the man who sat beside +her and asked for Hélène as coolly as if he were asking for one of her +dog's puppies. + +Yet Madame de Sainfoy repeated to herself, "The past is dead!" + +"You do us great honour," she repeated; for so strong-minded a person, +the tone and words were vague. + +"That is precisely what you do not think, madame," said Ratoneau, +looking her straight in the face with a not unpleasant smile. + +She was very conscious of the resolute will, the power to command, which +the man possessed in common with his master. Who could refuse Napoleon +anything? except a man or woman here and there with whom the repulsion +was stronger than the attraction. Adélaïde de Sainfoy was not one of +these. + +"You are mistaken; I do," she said, and smiled back with all her +brilliancy. + +"It is true," he said, "I am not yet a Duke, or a Marshal of France, +like the others. I have had enemies--envious people: my very wounds, +marks of honour, have come between me and glory. But next year, madame, +when I have swept the Chouans out of the West, you will see. I have a +friend at Court, now, besides. One of the Empress's equerries, Monsieur +Monge, is an old brother-in-arms of mine. The Emperor has ennobled him; +he is the Baron de Beauclair--a prettier name than Monge, n'est-ce pas?" + +"But that is charming! Tell me more about this friend of yours," said +Madame de Sainfoy, rather eagerly. + +This was a new view, a new possibility. Ratoneau knew what he was doing; +he had not forgotten the Prefect's remark at Les Chouettes, some days +before, as to Madame de Sainfoy's ambition of a place at Court for +herself, as lady-in-waiting to the Empress. For a minute or two he +swaggered on about his friend Monge; then suddenly turned again upon the +Comtesse. + +"But my answer, madame! There, you must excuse me; I am a rough soldier; +I am not accustomed to wait for anything. When I want a thing, I ask for +it. When it is not given at once--" + +"You take it, I suppose? Yes: the wonder is that you should ask at all!" +said Madame de Sainfoy. + +Her look and smile seemed to turn the words, which might have been very +scornful, into an easy little jest; but none the less they were a +slight check on the airs of this conquering hero. He laughed. + +"Well, madame, you are right, I withdraw the words. If you refuse my +request, I shall have to make my bow, I suppose. But you will not." + +She leaned back with lowered eyelids, playing with her fan. + +"At this moment," she said, "I can only give you a word of +advice--Patience, Monsieur le Général. For myself I will speak frankly. +I am entirely loyal to the Empire and the Army; they are the glory of +France. I think a brave soldier is worthy of any woman. Personally, this +sudden idea of yours does not at all displease me. But I am not the only +or the chief person concerned. Monsieur de Sainfoy, too, has his own +ideas, and among them is an extreme indulgence of his daughter's +fancies. You observe, I am speaking to you in the frankest confidence. I +treat you as you treat me--" she glanced up and smiled. "Only this year, +in Paris, plans of mine have been spoilt in this way." + +"But fortunately for me, madame!" exclaimed Ratoneau. "We will not +regret those plans, if you please. Shall I speak to Monsieur de Sainfoy +this evening?" + +"No, I beg! Say nothing at all. Leave the affair in my hands. I promise, +I will do my best for you." + +She spoke low and hurriedly, for her husband was walking up to the +retired corner where she and the General were sitting, and she, knowing +his humours so well, could see that he was surprised and a little angry +at the confidences which had been going on. + +It was one of Hervé's tiresome points, unworthy of a man of the world, +that he did not always let her go her own way without question, though +he ought to have learnt by this time to trust her in everything. + +He now came up and asked General Ratoneau if he would play a game of +billiards. Most of the men had already left the salon. The General +grunted an assent, and rose stiffly to follow his host, with a grave bow +to Madame de Sainfoy. The Comte walked with him half across the room, +then suddenly turned back to meet his wife, whose preoccupation he had +noticed rather curiously. + +"You have other guests, Adélaïde!" he said, so that she alone could +hear. + +"I have," she answered. "And I must talk to you presently. I have +something to say." + +He gazed an instant into her eyes, which were very blue and shining, but +he found no answer to the question in his own, and hurried at once away. +Without the Prefect's scrap of information or his wider knowledge of +men, he did not even guess what those two could have been talking about. +Something political, he supposed; Adélaïde loved politics, and could +throw herself into them with anybody, even such a lump of arrogant +vulgarity as this fellow Ratoneau. She thought it wise, no doubt, to +cultivate imperial officials. But in that case why did she not bestow +the lion's share of her smiles on the Prefect, a greater man and a +gentleman into the bargain? Why did she let him waste his pleasant talk +on the dowagers of Anjou, while she sat absorbed with that animal? + +The guests, thirty or more, were scattered between the billiard-room, +the smaller drawing-room, where card-tables were set out, and the large +drawing-room, given up to conversation and presently to the acting of a +proverb by several of the younger people and Mademoiselle Moineau, who +played the part of a great-grandmother to perfection. + +Angelot so distinguished himself as a jealous lover that Hélène could +hardly sit calmly to look on, and several people told him and his mother +that his right place was at the _Français_. + +"It is part of our life at La Marinière," Anne said with a shade of +impatience to the Prefect, who was talking to her. "When we are not +singing or playing or dancing or shooting, we are acting. It does not +sound like a very responsible kind of life." + +"Ah, madame," Monsieur de Mauves said softly, in his kind way, "we +French people know how to play and to work at the same time. All these +little amusements do not hinder people from conspiring against the +State." + +A flush rose in her thin face; she threw herself eagerly forward. + +"Are you speaking of my son, Monsieur le Préfet? Do not blame him for +loyalty to his uncle. He is not a conspirator. Sometimes--" she +laughed--"I think Ange has not character enough." + +"Yes, he has character," the Prefect answered. "But you are right in one +way, madame; he does not yet care enough for one cause or the other. +Something will draw him--some stronger love than this for his uncle." + +"Heaven forbid!" sighed Madame de la Marinière. + +For her eyes followed his. They fell on Hélène near the door, white and +fair, her face lit up with some new and sweet feeling as she laughed +with the little old governess dressed up in ancient brocades from a +chest in the garret, the dowager Marquise of the proverb just played. +And a little further, in the shadow of the doorway, stood Angelot in +powdered wig, silk coat, and sword, looking like a handsome courtier +from a group by Watteau, and his eyes showed plainly enough what woman, +if not what cause, attracted him at the moment. As to causes, Monsieur +Joseph and the Vicomte des Barres were deep in talk close by; two +Chouans consulting in the very presence of the Prefect. + +Monsieur de Mauves smiled, took a delicate pinch of snuff, and stroked +his chin. + +"Sometimes I congratulate myself, madame," he said, "on having no young +people to marry. Yet, with a sense of duty, which, thank God, they +generally have, they are more manageable than their elders. Look, for +instance, at your dear and charming brother-in-law. There he is hatching +fresh plots, when I have just assured him that the police are not +supervising him by my orders, and never shall, if I can trust him to +behave like a peaceable citizen." + +"Ah, you are very good, Monsieur le Préfet," said Madame de la +Marinière. She went on talking absently. "Whatever we may think of your +politics," she said, "it seems a crime to annoy or disappoint you. +Indeed you do much to reconcile us. But as to Ange--his father's son is +never likely--" + +"It is a world of surprises, dear madame," said the Prefect, as she did +not finish her sentence. "I wish him all that is good--and so I wish +that you and Monsieur de la Marinière would send him into the army. He +should serve France--should make her his only mistress, at least for the +next ten years. Then let him marry, settle down amongst us here--turn +against the Emperor, if he chooses--but by that time there will be no +danger!" + +Thus flattering himself and his master, the Prefect wished her an almost +affectionate good night. + +In a few minutes more, nearly all the guests were gone. Angelot, still +in his quaint acting costume, went out to the court with Monsieur de +Sainfoy to see the ladies into their carriages. He then went to change +his clothes, his cousin returning to the salon. Hurrying back into the +long hall, now empty of servants, vast and rather ghostly with its rows +of family portraits dimly lighted, while caverns of darkness showed +where passages opened and bare stone staircases led up or down, he saw +Hélène, alone, coming swiftly towards him. + +She flew up the stairs, the last landing of which he had just reached on +his way down, where it turned sharply under a high barred window. +Meeting Angelot suddenly, she almost screamed, but stopped herself in +time. He laughed joyfully; he was wildly excited. + +"Ah, belle cousine!" he said softly. "Dear, we shall say good night here +better than in the salon!" + +Never once, since that hour in the garden ten days ago, had these two +met without witnesses. Hélène, as a rule, was far too well guarded for +that. She tried even now, but not successfully, to keep her rather +presumptuous lover at a little distance, but in truth she was too much +enchanted to see him, her only friend, for this pretence of coldness to +last long. Standing with Angelot's arms round her, trembling from head +to foot with joy and fear, she tried between his kisses and tender +words to tell him how indeed he must not stop her, for in real prosaic +truth Madame de Sainfoy had sent her off to bed. + +"But why, why, dear angel, before we were all gone! It was the best +thing that could happen--but why?" + +"That is what I do not know, and it frightens me a little," said Hélène. + +"Frightened here with me!" + +"Yes, Angelot!" She tried to speak, but he would hardly let her. She +held him back with both hands, and went on hurriedly--"It was mamma's +look--she looked at me so strangely, she spoke severely, as if I had +done wrong, and indeed I have, mon Dieu! but she does not know it, and I +hope she never may. If she knew, I believe she would kill me. Let me go, +I must!" + +"One moment, darling! Come away with me! I will fetch a horse and carry +you off. Then it won't matter what any one knows!" + +"You are distracted!" Hélène began to laugh, though her eyes were full +of tears. "Listen, listen," she said. "Your father and mother and uncle +were just going, when mamma called them back. She said to papa and them +that she wished to consult the family. Oh, what is it all about? What +can it be?" + +"That matters very little as long as they don't want us. Let them talk. +What are you afraid of, my sweet?" + +"I can't tell you. I hardly know," murmured Hélène; and in the next +instant she had snatched herself from him and flown upstairs. + +There were quick steps in the hall below, and Monsieur Joseph's voice +was calling "Angelot!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +HOW ANGELOT REFUSED WHAT HAD NOT BEEN OFFERED + + +Madame de Sainfoy herself hardly knew why she wished to consult the +family, there and then, on the fate proposed for Hélène. The truth was, +she relied on Urbain, and wanted his support against her husband, with +whom the subject was a difficult one. As to Anne de la Marinière, no +particular sympathy was to be expected from her, certainly; but one +could not detain Urbain at that hour without detaining her too. It was +the same with Joseph, in a less degree. Neither to him nor to Madame +Urbain did it matter in the least what marriage was arranged for Hélène +de Sainfoy; they had even no right to an opinion; they were neither aunt +nor uncle, they had no special place in the world, and the girl had +nothing to expect from them. But Madame de Sainfoy knew that her husband +took a different view of all this, that he made a certain fuss with +these old cousins, considered them as his family, and would not endure +that they should be in any way shut out or slighted. + +"He likes to be surrounded by these country admirers," Madame de +Sainfoy would have said. "If I do not talk to them about this, he will; +and it will please him that I should consult them. Urbain is different, +of course. Urbain is a sensible man; he will be on my side." + +So she put Madame Urbain, rather grave, indifferent, and tired, into a +chair on her right, smiled brilliantly upon her, and turned her +attention upon the two men standing before the fireplace, Hervé and +Urbain, one troubled and curious, for he knew her well, and her drift +puzzled him, the other gay, serene, and waiting her commands with ready +deference. Monsieur Joseph, not much interested, thinking of his talks +with the Prefect and Monsieur des Barres, impatient to hurry home and +say good night to Riette, sat a little in the background. + +With all her eagerness, with all her ambition and policy, Adélaïde de +Sainfoy flushed and hesitated a little before she set forth her plan. + +"My friends," she said, "this is a family council. Hervé and I are +fortunate, here at Lancilly. We need no longer decide family affairs by +our unassisted wits." + +She smiled on Hervé's cousins, and Urbain bowed; he, at least, +recognised the honour that was done them. + +"A proposal of marriage has been made to me for our daughter Hélène." + +She spoke to the company, but looked at her husband; there was fear as +well as defiance in her eyes. He returned her gaze steadily, slightly +frowning. Urbain bowed again, and looked at the floor with an +inscrutable countenance. Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly, as if to +say, "How does that concern me?" Joseph jumped suddenly from his chair, +the colour rushing into his thin brown face, and stood like a point of +exclamation. Nobody spoke, not even Hélène's father. + +"Let me announce to you," said Madame de Sainfoy, still looking at him, +"that the personage who has done us this honour is--Monsieur le Général +Ratoneau." + +The moment of dead silence that followed this was broken by a short +laugh from the Comte. + +"Was it worth while to consult a family council?" he said. "I should +have thought, my dear Adélaïde, that a word from you might have settled +that matter on the spot." + +Monsieur Joseph said aside: "Honour! It is an insult!" + +Anne opened her eyes wide with horror, and even Urbain was startled, but +he prudently said nothing. + +"It might--it certainly might--" said Madame de Sainfoy, "if I could +have been sure that you would take my view, Hervé." + +"I imagine that we could hardly differ on such a point!" he said, +shrugging his shoulders. + +"What is your opinion, then? Think well before you speak." + +"On my honour, no thought is necessary. To speak very mildly, a man of +that birth, manners, appearance, is not worth considering at all as a +husband for Hélène. Come, it is ridiculous! You cannot have encouraged +such an idea, Adélaïde! Was that the subject of all your long +conversation? Waste of time, truly!" + +"Pardon, it is not ridiculous," said Madame de Sainfoy. "Your prejudices +will end by sending Hélène into a convent; this, I believe, is the +fourth good proposal that you have laughed at. Yes, a good +proposal--listen, Urbain, I know you will agree with me, for every +sensible man must. You talk of General Ratoneau's birth! All honour to +him, that his talents and courage have raised him above it. As to his +manners, they are those of a soldier; frank and rough, of course, but he +seems to me both intelligent and sincere. Manners! It is a little late +in the day to talk of them, when most of the Marshals of France and the +new nobility have none better. Do you fancy yourself back in the +eighteenth century, my poor Hervé?" + +"Very well--but you would not like Georges to bring such manners home +from Spain!" + +"If Georges distinguishes himself, and gains the Emperor's favour, he +may bring home what he likes," said Madame de Sainfoy, scornfully. +"However, there is no danger; he is our son." + +"I should have thought that our son-in-law mattered at least as much." + +"We are not responsible for him. By the bye, as to the General's +appearance, you can hardly object to that without bordering on treason. +For my part, I call him a handsome man." + +"A handsome butcher!" said Anne de la Marinière, under her breath. + +"He is--he is a butcher's son," cried Joseph, suddenly. "I know it--the +Prefect told me. His father is still alive--old Ratoneau--a wholesale +butcher at Marseilles. He was one of the foremost among the +Revolutionists there--a butcher, indeed. Oh, madame, Hervé is right! But +it is more than ridiculous--it is impossible. Why, the very name is +enough! Ratoneau!" + +Madame de Sainfoy hardly seemed to hear him. She put him on one side +with the slightest movement of her hand. + +"Next year, probably," she said, "General Ratoneau will be a Marshal of +France and ennobled. He will be the equal of all those other men who +have already married into our best families. At this moment a friend of +his, the Baron de Beauclair, formerly his equal, is an equerry to the +Empress. General Ratoneau has only to do the Emperor's work here, to--to +pacify and reconcile the West, and his turn will come." + +She gave herself credit for not repeating Ratoneau's own words as to +sweeping out the Chouans. Joseph de la Marinière did not deserve such +consideration, but she wished to be careful and politic. + +"After all, do you not see how inconsistent we are?" she said to the +company generally. "We take all the benefits of the Empire, we submit to +a successful soldier, accept a new régime for ourselves, and refuse it +for our children. Is it not unreasonable?" + +"On the face of it, yes," said Urbain, speaking for the first time. "And +there is nothing, they say, that pleases the Emperor so much as the +marriage of his officers with young ladies of good family. I have no +doubt at all, if my friend Hervé could reconcile himself, that +Mademoiselle Hélène would further the fortunes of her family by such a +marriage as this. General Ratoneau is a fine soldier, I believe. I agree +with you, madame, he is handsome. He rubs our instincts a little the +wrong way, but after all, this is not the time to be sensitive. As to +Mademoiselle Hélène herself, I am sure she is most dutiful. I could +imagine marriages more obnoxious to her. She would soon reconcile +herself to a husband chosen for her by all the authorities." + +"Poor Hélène!" sighed Madame de la Marinière. + +"Come, Urbain, you friend of liberty!" exclaimed Joseph. "You advise +internal tyranny, it seems; what would you say to the external? If I +were in my cousin's place, I would wait for that before making such a +sacrifice." + +"What do you mean, Joseph?" said his brother. + +"I mean that our dear Prefect has the fates of all our young daughters +in his hands. He has only to report them to the Emperor, and a marriage +to please His Majesty will be at once arranged. Is not that enough +obedience? Cannot we wait for that necessity, instead of running +beforehand to give a beautiful girl to the first brutal soldier who asks +for her?" + +And after that the argument waxed loud and strong. Monsieur Joseph was +called upon for his authority, for particulars as to this new power +given to the Prefects, which was hardly yet known, their own good +Prefect being heartily ashamed of it. Hervé de Sainfoy declared that it +was stupid and intolerable, but also impracticable, and in this he and +his Royalist cousin agreed. No one would bear it, they were sure; but +they were also convinced that De Mauves would never make use of it. +Urbain shrugged his shoulders, and was of a different opinion. He +thought the idea quite of a piece with many of Napoleon's other +administrative plans; it seemed to him far-reaching and clever, the +foundation of a new Imperialist nobility. Madame de Sainfoy, her cheeks +flushed, her blue eyes shining, applauded Urbain as he spoke. It seemed +to her, as to him, common sense put into practice. If the foolish old +families of France would not swallow and assimilate the new order of +things, it must be forced down their throats. The Emperor, and no one +else, had the power to do this. His resolute will had the task of making +a new society, and it was useless to complain of his means. But, +evidently, the way to the Emperor's favour was not to wait for coercion, +but to accept this fine opportunity of ranging one's family definitely +on his side. Georges an officer, Hélène married to an officer, herself a +lady-in-waiting to Marie Louise; thus everything would be arranged for +floating down the great river of the Empire into the ocean of a new +world. And immediate action seemed all the more advisable, if the +Prefect's false delicacy was likely to leave the Sainfoy family stranded +on a reef of old-fashioned manners. + +At last, when every one had ceased to talk at once and the clamour was a +little stilled, Hervé de Sainfoy stepped forward and made his wife a low +bow. + +"Madame," he said, "I have heard all your arguments, and my +old-fashioned prejudices remain the same. I have made some sacrifices to +keep our country and position, and may have to make more; but when you +ask me to give my eldest daughter to a man who is not even a poor +imitation of a gentleman, you ask too much. I will choose a husband for +Hélène myself, or she shall take the veil. That life, at least, has its +distinction. Aunts, great-aunts, cousins, have chosen it before her. One +of our best and most beautiful ancestors was a Carmelite nun." + +Madame de la Marinière clapped her hands gently. Hervé smiled at her, +and Madame de Sainfoy frowned. + +"A convent! No, no!" cried Urbain, while Joseph muttered breathlessly, +"But there is a better alternative, dear cousins!" + +He flew out of the room. The rest of the council looked at each other, +puzzled and smiling, except Madame de Sainfoy, whose irritation +deepened. Who was this tiresome, old-fashioned little man, that he +should interfere in her plans! and what _lubies_ might possess him now! + +The curtains at the door, flung back by Joseph, had hardly settled once +more into their places when he came back again, clutching Angelot by the +arm. + +Coming from the darkness, from the presence of Hélène, Angelot was +dazzled and slightly out of breath when his uncle dragged him into the +salon. He had not had time to ask a question; he came utterly unprepared +into the presence of the family, and the faces that received him were +not encouraging. Three at least were flushed with anger or confusion; +his father's, his mother's, Madame de Sainfoy's. It was at her that he +looked most intently; and he had never seen anything more unfriendly +than the gleam of her eyes, the flash of her white teeth between lips +suddenly drawn back like those of a fierce animal, while her flush +faded, as Monsieur Joseph spoke, to a whiteness even more threatening. +He understood Hélène's words, "If she knew, she would kill me." No, +this woman would not have much mercy on anything that crossed her +will--and Hélène was in her power. + +Monsieur Joseph's slight hands, like Angelot's, were strong. The young +fellow tried instinctively to wrench himself from his uncle's grasp on +his arm, but it only tightened. + +"Here, dear friends, I bring you the alternative!" cried Monsieur +Joseph, in his joyfullest tone. "Why not marry Mademoiselle Hélène to +the best and handsomest boy in Anjou--in France, for that matter--a boy +we have all known from his cradle--who will have a good fortune, a +prudent father's only child--who would, no doubt, though I grieve to say +it, serve under any flag you please for such a prize. Yes, I am safe in +saying so, for--" + +The romantic little gentleman was stopped in his wild career. Angelot, +his eyes blazing, with a white face and teeth set as furiously as Madame +de Sainfoy's own, turned round upon him, seized him with his free hand +by the other arm, and shook him with all his young strength, hissing +out: "Will you be quiet, Uncle Joseph! Will you hold your tongue, if you +please, and leave me to manage my own affairs." + +"Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Urbain, stepping forward. + +"It means that my uncle is mad--mad--you know you are!" Angelot said in +a choked voice. + +Still holding Monsieur Joseph with a dog's firm grip, he stared into his +eyes and shook his head violently. + +"What, ungrateful--" the little uncle tried to say, but Angelot's face, +his totally unexpected rage, seemed to suggest such unknown mysteries +that the words died in his throat. + +Suddenly released, he dropped into a chair and swore prodigiously under +his breath, quite forgetting the presence of ladies in the unnatural, +awful change that had come over his nephew. He stared at Angelot, who +was indeed the centre of all eyes; his mother sitting upright in +consternation; his father with angry brow and queerly smiling mouth; +Hervé de Sainfoy very grave, with elevated eyebrows; the Comtesse +leaning back in her chair, hard, fierce, watchful, yet a shade less +angry than before. If this was only a fancy of that ridiculous Joseph, +it might not signify--yet who knew? She was ready to suspect any one, +every one, even the young man's father. The name of La Marinière was +odious to her. + +Angelot drew himself very upright, folded his arms, and turned to face +the family council. + +"See what it is to have an uncle!" he said, and his voice, though clear +enough, was not quite so proud and convincing as his attitude. "He +treats me like a child crying for the moon. If he could, he would fetch +the moon out of the sky for me. But his kind pains are quite thrown +away, mesdames et messieurs, for--I do not want the moon, any more than +the moon wants me!" + +He almost laughed; and only the quick change of colour in his young face +showed that any feeling lay behind the words which sounded--in Monsieur +Joseph's ears at least--heartlessly playful. + +Angelot stepped up to Madame de Sainfoy and respectfully kissed her +hand. "Bonsoir, madame!" + +"Bonsoir, Angelot." + +She spoke coldly; she was still uneasy, still suspicious; she gave him a +keen look, and his eyelids were not lifted to meet it. In another moment +he was gone. + +Then the others gathered round poor Monsieur Joseph, and tried to make +him explain his wild behaviour. At first he stared at them vaguely, then +in a few quick words took all the blame upon himself. Yes, it was an +idea that had suddenly seized him. His love for Angelot, the beauty and +sweetness of Hélène, a dream of happiness for them both! A pastoral +poem, in short! but it seemed that the young man was not worthy of his +place as its hero. + +"It seems, after all, I am more poetical than you," he said rather +bitterly to Urbain. + +"My dear," his brother said, "poetry at its best is the highest good +sense. Now your idea, as the boy himself let us know, is moonstruck +madness." + +"Ah, moonstruck madness! Ah, the boy! Yes, yes," said Monsieur Joseph, +dreamily, and he also took his leave. + +Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had not +waited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on across +the valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as they +drove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor, +their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturb +him. + +"I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband for +Hélène," Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired of +the business." + +"I don't think there will be much difficulty. We must look further +afield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, and +Hélène is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! I +rather like that boy." + +"Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid--and he put an effectual stop +to his uncle's absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. I +wish the Chouans joy of him." + +"Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, it +is amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic." + +"I find it tiresome," said Adélaïde. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +HOW MONSIEUR URBAIN SMOKED A CIGAR + + +These days before the vintage were very peaceful at La Marinière. +Monsieur and Madame Urbain were practical people, and idleness, as a +rule, had a bad time of it with them; but September was a holiday month, +and there was little work going on, except the hammering of barrels in +the yard, and other preparations for busy October. September was usually +the month when Angelot could shoot and ramble to his heart's content, +when Urbain had leisure to sit down with a book at other times than +evening, when Anne, her poor people visited, nursed, comforted, her +household in quiet old-fashioned order, could spend long hours alone +praying and meditating in the little old church. + +Lancilly had brought disturbance into September. It occupied Urbain's +thoughts and time, it seemed now to be throwing its net over Angelot. +Anne longed still more for peace and refuge under the low white arches +of the church, in her visits to _le bon Dieu;_ and even here her +thoughts distracted her. + +She came back from early mass, the morning after the dinner party, to +find Angelot already gone out with his gun, and her husband just +starting for Lancilly. + +"He is not gone that way, I hope?" she said quickly. + +"No, no, he is gone across the fields towards Les Chouettes. I told him +to bring back some partridge and quail, and a hare or two, if possible. +I think he is gone to make his peace with Joseph." + +"I should like to know the meaning of all that. I must talk to him when +he comes in." + +"My dear Anne, do nothing of the sort. Let the boy alone. If he has a +fancy for his cousin, and if Joseph guessed it, which I suspect, it is +better for us to ignore it altogether." + +"I am afraid he has, do you know. I did not think so till last +night--but then I saw something. So did Monsieur de Mauves. He said as +much. He advised sending Ange into the army--but you will never do that, +Urbain!" + +A gold mist filled the valley, hiding Lancilly, and through it rose the +glittering points of the poplars. She walked with him to the garden +gate, past the trim box hedges, and then down the lane towards the +church. Apple-trees, heavy with red fruit, bent over the way, as safe on +that village road as in any fenced orchard. + +"I do not want to send him into the army," Urbain said, and he looked at +her tenderly. + +He had long doubted whether, to please her, he was not spoiling and +wasting the boy's life. He was sometimes angry with himself for his +weakness; then again philosophy came to his aid: he laughed and shrugged +his shoulders. It had always been so: on one side the bringing up of his +son according to his own mind; and on the other, domestic peace. For his +little Anne, with all her religion, perhaps because of it, was anything +but meek as a wife and mother. It was fortunate for all parties, he now +thought, that the present slight anxiety found her and himself on the +same side, though for different reasons. + +"Hélène is an astonishingly pretty girl," he said, "and the sooner she +is married the better. Young men will be foolish." + +"More than pretty--beautiful, I think. A little lifeless--I don't know +that I should fall in love with her. Yes--but a good marriage, poor +girl. Not to that monster! Adélaïde amazes me." + +Urbain's ugly face curled up in a rather sardonic smile. He took his +wife's hand and kissed it. + +"My little lady, Adélaïde is to be admired. You are to be adored. Go and +say your prayers for us all." + +He disappeared into the morning mist, which just then moved and swept +away under a light wind, opening to view all the opposite slope and the +gorgeous, sun-bathed front of Lancilly. + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" murmured Anne. "To lose both of them to Lancilly--come, +it is too much. You shall not have Ange, you horrible old walls--no!" + +By this time Urbain had disappeared round the corner of the church, and +was hurrying down the hill. She slipped in at her own little door, to +her place near the altar, so lately left. All was silent now, the Curé +was gone; she knelt there alone and prayed for them all, as Urbain had +said. His words were mockery, she knew; but that only made her prayers +more earnest. + +The misty autumn morning grew into a cloudless day. Urbain came home to +breakfast between ten and eleven, but Angelot did not appear. Urbain was +grave and full of business. A short talk with Hervé, who was going out +shooting, a much longer and more interesting talk with Adélaïde, had the +consequence of sending him off that very day to the town of +Sonnay-le-Loir, the Prefect's residence and General Ratoneau's +headquarters. + +It was not exactly a pleasant errand, to convey Monsieur and Madame de +Sainfoy's refusal of his offer to a man like the General. It could have +been done quite as easily by the post, thus sparing trouble and +annoyance to the faithful cousin who had borne so much. But there were +complications; and a careful talking over of these with Adélaïde, after +Hervé was gone, had led Urbain to suggest going himself. He had a double +reason for wishing to soften the effect of his cousin's rather short and +haughty letter. It must go, of course, whatever his own and Madame de +Sainfoy's disapproval; but there were things that diplomacy might do, +without, as it seemed, any serious consequences to recoil on the +diplomatists. Madame de Sainfoy might gain imperial favour, Monsieur de +la Marinière might help her and save his foolish boy, and no one in the +family, except themselves, need know what they were doing. + +It was not an uncommon thing for Urbain to drive over to Sonnay, though +he generally started much earlier. On this occasion he said nothing of +his real errand to his wife, only telling her when she mentioned +Hélène's marriage that Hervé continued in the same mind. Many things +wanted for the house and the farm had come conveniently to his memory. +He started with his groom at twelve o'clock, in the high, hooded +carriage, with a pair of strong horses, which made short work of the +rocky lanes about La Marinière. The high road towards Sonnay was smooth +compared with these, running between belts of dark forest, and along it +Monsieur Urbain drove at a good rattling pace of twelve miles an hour. + +Sonnay-le-Loir was a beautiful and picturesque town, once strongly +defended, both by walls and a deep river which flowed round below them. +There was a good deal left of the old ramparts; the gates still stood, +the narrow streets of tall old white houses, each with its court and +carriage entrance and shady garden behind, went climbing up the hill to +the large square where the Cathedral towered on one side, the town-hall +and public offices filled up another, the Prefecture a third, and an old +hotel, now used as military quarters, the fourth. + +Though it was not market-day, the white cobbled square was cheerful +enough; a few stalls of fruit and vegetables, sheltered by coloured +umbrellas from the strong sunshine, were lodged about the broad steps of +the Cathedral; peasants and townspeople were clattering about in their +sabots, soldiers were being drilled in front of the hotel. The bells +were chiming and clanging; high up into the blue air soared the tall +pinnacles of the Cathedral, delicate stone lacework still fresh and +young at five hundred years old, spared by the storm which twenty years +ago had wrecked so much down below that was beautiful. A crowd of +blue-grey pigeons flapped and cooed about the towers or strutted softly +on the stones in the square. + +Monsieur Urbain put up his horses at an old posting hotel in the street +near the gateway, and walked up into the square. Finding that General +Ratoneau was at home, he left Monsieur de Sainfoy's letter with his own +card, and a message that he would have the honour of calling to see the +General, later in the afternoon. He then went away to do his +commissions. At the appointed time he returned to the hotel, and was at +once shown upstairs to a large room at the back, looking on a broad, +paved court surrounded by barracks. + +Neither the room nor its inmate was attractive, and Urbain's humorous +face screwed itself into a grimace of disgust as he walked in; but he +did not, for that, renounce the errand with which Madame de Sainfoy had +entrusted him. The floor was dusty and strewn with papers, the walls +were stained, the furniture, handsome in itself, had been much ill-used, +and two or three chairs now lay flung where it was tolerably evident +that the General had kicked them. The western sun poured hotly in; the +atmosphere was of wine, tobacco, and boots; dirty packs of cards were +scattered on the table among bottles and glasses, pipes and cigars. +General Ratoneau lay stretched on a large sofa in undress uniform, with +a red face and a cigar in his mouth. Hervé de Sainfoy's letter, torn +across, lay on the floor beside him. + +He got up and received his visitor with formal civility, though his +looks said plainly, "What the devil do you want here?" + +Urbain was cool and self-possessed. He acted the _rôle_ of an ordinary +visitor, talking of the country and the news from Spain. The General, +though extremely grumpy, was still capable of ordinary conversation, and +his remarks, especially on the Spanish campaign, were those of an +intelligent soldier who knew his subject. + +"If the Emperor would send me to Spain," he growled, "I would teach +those miserable Spaniards a lesson. As to the English, it is the desire +of my life to fight them. They are bull-dogs, they say--sapristi, I am +something of a bull-dog myself--when I lay hold, I don't often let go. +You don't know me yet, monsieur, but you will find that that is my way. +I am not easily thwarted, monsieur." + +"A fine quality, Monsieur le Général!" said Urbain, calmly. "It is true, +I hardly know you. I had heard of you from my brother, Joseph de la +Marinière--" + +"Your Chouan brother, ha, ha!" + +"My Royalist brother, suppose we say. Every one has a right to his own +private opinions, Monsieur le Général." + +"A dangerous doctrine, that!" + +"As long as he keeps them to himself, and does not disturb the public +peace. I have acted successfully on that principle for the last thirty +years, and it has carried me comfortably through various changes." + +"What are you, monsieur?" + +"A philosopher. I take life as it comes. That way happiness lies." + +The General laughed. "I think differently. My idea is to make life come +as I want it." + +"That is a fine idea, too," Urbain said serenely. "Only it does not +always seem to be within the limits of the possible." + +"Ah, there I agree with the Emperor. He will not have the word +'impossible' in the dictionary." + +"The Emperor is a great man," said Urbain, with his inscrutable smile. + +It was certainly on Ratoneau's tongue to answer, "So am I!" but he only +laughed again and muttered something about strength of will. + +The dark, watchful eyes followed his visitor's to the floor, where +Monsieur de Sainfoy's letter lay; that letter which seemed to belie his +bull-dog boasting. Something he wanted in life had been refused him +point-blank; in ceremonious terms, but with uncompromising plainness. +The Comte de Sainfoy did not even trouble himself to find reasons for +declining the offer of marriage that General Ratoneau had done +Mademoiselle de Sainfoy the honour to make. + +"We met last night at Lancilly, monsieur," said Ratoneau, "but I did not +expect the politeness of a visit from you--at any rate so soon. But I +understand that you are your cousin's messenger. You brought me that +letter--neither did I expect that so soon." + +He pointed to the fragments on the floor. His manner was insolent, and +La Marinière felt it so; even to his seasoned cheek a little warmth +found its way. Something of him was on Hervé's side, while he was +prepared and resolved to serve Adélaïde in this matter. + +"My own affairs brought me to Sonnay," he said. "My cousin wished you to +receive his letter as soon as might be. I therefore took charge of it." + +"Do you know what it is about?" + +To this abrupt question Urbain answered by a bow. + +The General frowned angrily. "Then what brought you here, monsieur? Do +you want to report my disappointment to your aristocratic fool of a +cousin? Merci!" and he swore a few hearty oaths. "There are plenty more +pretty girls in France, and plenty of their fathers who would gladly be +linked with the Empire. Take that message back to your cousin, if you +please." + +"But no, Monsieur le Général," said Urbain, smiling and shaking his +head. "If I were to repeat all you have just said, my cousin might send +me back to you with a challenge. And I am a man of peace, a philosopher, +as I tell you. No, I did not come to report your disappointment. And +indeed, to tell you the truth, my cousin did not know that I was going +to visit you at all. And I do not think he will ever be wiser." + +Ratoneau stared at him. "May I be extinguished if I understand you!" + +"However," said Urbain, rising from his chair, "I am glad, personally, +that you take the matter so well. As you say, the young ladies of +France, and their _fathers_, will not all be so shortsighted." + +"Thousand thunders! Sit down again, monsieur. Take one of these +cigars--I had them from Spain--and try this Château Latour. Rather a +different sort of thing from the stuff that son of yours expected me to +enjoy at Les Chouettes, the other day. That's right. I like you, +monsieur. You are a man without prejudices; one can talk frankly with +you. Your health, monsieur!" and glasses were clinked together, for +Urbain did not refuse the soldier's hospitality. + +"Now tell me all about it!" cried the General, in a much better humour. +"I understand your emphasis just now, sapristi! That was what puzzled +me, that Madame la Comtesse should seem to have played me false. Last +night, I assure you, she encouraged me to the utmost. At first, it's +true, she muttered something about her daughter being too young, but I +very soon convinced her what a foolish argument that was. I tell you, +monsieur, when I left her, I considered the promise as good as made. She +said her husband had a way of indulging his daughter's fancies--but +after all, I took her to be a woman who could turn husband and daughter +and everybody else round her little finger, if she chose. So this rag of +a letter came upon me like a thunderbolt. Is that it? Has the young girl +taken a dislike to me? Why, mille tonnerres, she has not even spoken to +me, nor I to her!" + +"No, Monsieur le Général," said Urbain, "Mademoiselle de Sainfoy has not +been asked for her opinion. The decision comes from her father, and +from him alone. Madame de Sainfoy was loyal to you; she urged your +cause, but unsuccessfully. My cousin, I must say, much as I love him, +showed a certain narrowness and obstinacy. He would hear nothing in +favour of the marriage." + +"Were you present when they discussed it?" + +"I was. I am always on the advanced, the liberal side. I spoke in your +favour." + +"I am obliged to you. Your glass, monsieur. How do you find that cigar?" + +"Excellent." + +"Now, monsieur, give me your advice, for I see you are a clever man. +First, is any other marriage on the tapis for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy?" + +"Decidedly no, monsieur. None." + +"Shall I then insist on seeing her, and pleading my cause for myself?" + +"I should not advise that course," said Urbain, and there was something +in his discreet smile which made the General's red face redder with a +touch of mortification. + +"Well, I should not eat her," he said. "Her mother found me agreeable +enough, and a shy young girl rather likes a man who takes her by storm." + +"Nevertheless, I think that plan would not answer. For one thing, my +cousin would object: he considers his refusal final. In fact--after much +thought--for I agree with Madame de Sainfoy as to the probable +advantages of a connection with a distinguished man like yourself--in +fact, there is only one faint possibility that occurs to me." + +"What is that, monsieur?" + +Urbain hesitated. He sat looking out of the window, frowning slightly, +the tips of his fingers pressed together. + +"I wonder," he said--something, perhaps conscience, made the words long +in coming--"I wonder if some day, in the course of the reports that he +is bound, I believe, to make to the Emperor, it might occur to Monsieur +le Préfet to mention--" + +General Ratoneau stared blankly. "Monsieur le Préfet?" + +"Well, am I wrong? I heard something of an imperial order--a list of +young ladies--marriages arranged by His Majesty, without much consulting +of family prejudices--" + +General Ratoneau brought down his heavy fist on the table, so that the +glasses jumped and clattered. His language was startling. + +"Monsieur de la Marinière, you are the cleverest man in Anjou!" he +shouted. "And Madame la Comtesse would not be angry?" + +"I think not. But a command from the Emperor--a command coming +independently from the highest quarter--would naturally carry all before +it," said Urbain. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HOW THE PREFECT'S DOG SNAPPED AT THE GENERAL + + +The shadows were lengthening when Urbain de la Marinière at last left +the General's hotel, and walked thoughtfully across the square, past the +Prefecture, down the street to find his carriage. + +He had resisted the temptation of dining with the officers and playing +cards afterwards, though he by no means disliked either a game of chance +or a good dinner. It seemed to him that he had done as much in Madame de +Sainfoy's interests as she could reasonably expect. Though there might +be worse men, General Ratoneau could not be called a pleasant companion. +His loud voice and swaggering manners could not be agreeable to a person +of Monsieur Urbain's measured mind and self-controlled ways. He was a +type, and in that way interesting. The strange likeness to his master +lent him a touch of character, almost of distinction, neither of which +really belonged to him; yet, somehow, by a certain appeal to the +imagination, it made him a just possible husband for a girl of good +family. Not a gentleman, or anything like one; yet not quite the +ordinary _bourgeois_. Considering the times, it appeared to Urbain that +his cousin de Sainfoy need not be actually ashamed of such a son-in-law. +Anyhow, he had done his best to further the matter, with an earnest +recommendation to the General to keep his name out of the affair. + +"Why not?" said Ratoneau. "You only reminded me of what I knew before. +In fact, it was through me you heard of it. I startled your brother with +it; our dear Prefect would never have said a word on the subject--ha, +ha! So I owe you no gratitude, monsieur. You have done nothing." + +"Ah, but just a little gratitude, if you please," said Urbain, smiling. +"Enough to shut your ears to any reports that may reach you about my +brother Joseph." + +Ratoneau looked at him sharply, and frowned. + +"I can make no bargains as to my duty, monsieur. Let your brother be +loyal." + +"I do my utmost to make him so," said Urbain, still smiling, and they +parted. + +"He is right--the man is right--and by heaven, I respect him!" Urbain +said to himself as he crossed the square. + +Passing near the great gate of the Prefecture, he noticed a police +officer loitering on the pavement, whose dark, keen, discontented face +seemed not unknown to him. + +As Urbain came nearer, this man raised his hand to his cap, and spoke +with an impudent grin. + +"Monsieur de la Marinière has been making peace with Monsieur le Général +Ratoneau? It was a difficult matter, I bet! Monsieur has been +successful?" + +Urbain looked at the man steadily. He was not easily made angry. + +"Who are you, my friend? and what do you mean?" he said. + +"I am Simon, the police agent, monsieur. The affair rather interested +me. I was there." + +"What affair?" + +"Your son's affair with the General. That droll adventure of the cattle +in the lane--your cattle, monsieur, and it was your son's fault that the +General was thrown. Monsieur heard of it, surely?" + +"You are mistaken," Monsieur Urbain replied quietly. "It was an +accident; it was not my son's fault. Nobody has ever thought of it or +mentioned it since. It was nothing." + +"General Ratoneau did not think it nothing. All we who were there, we +saw the droll side of it, but he did not. He swore he would have his +revenge on Monsieur Angelot, as they call him. He has not forgotten it, +monsieur. Only last night, his servant told me, when he came back from +dining at Lancilly, he was swearing about it again." + +"Let him swear!" said Urbain, under his breath. + +Then his eyes dwelt a moment on Simon, who looked the very incarnation +of malice and mischief, and he smiled benignly. + +"Merci, Monsieur Simon," he said. "We are fortunate in having you to +watch over us. But do not let this anxiety trouble you. I have just been +spending some time with General Ratoneau, as you appear to know. We are +the best of friends, and if my son irritated him the other day, I think +he has forgotten it." + +"So much the better," grinned Simon, "for Monsieur le Général would not +be a pleasant enemy." Then, as Urbain was walking on, he detained him. +"Everybody must respect Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière," he said. "He +has a difficult position. If certain eyes were not wilfully shut, +serious things might happen in his family. And we sometimes ask +ourselves, we of the police, whether closed eyes at headquarters ought +to mean a silent tongue all round. How does it strike you, monsieur?" + +Urbain hesitated a moment. He had done a certain amount of bribery in +his day, for the sake of those he loved, but his native good sense and +obstinacy alike arose against being blackmailed by a police spy, a +subordinate official at best. The fellow could not do Joseph much harm, +he thought, the Prefect being friendly, and the General likely to be a +connection. And Joseph must in the future be loyal, as the General said. +No; he might as well keep his napoleons in his pocket. + +"I really have no time to discuss the subject," he said. "The police, +like every one else, must do their duty according to their lights. +Good-day, Monsieur Simon." + +He touched his hat and walked on. Simon looked after him, muttering +viciously. + +After some minutes, a clash of arms from the opposite hotel archway drew +his attention. The sentries were saluting the General as he came out, +now in full uniform, and followed by two orderlies, while a third went +before to announce him at the Prefecture. + +Ratoneau looked every inch a soldier, broad, sturdy, and swaggering, as +he clanked across the square. Simon noticed with surprise that his face +was bright with most unusual good-humour. + +"Why, what can that grinning monkey have been saying to him?" Simon +asked himself. "Licking the dust off his boots somehow, for that is what +he likes, the parvenu! They are like cats, those La Marinières! they +always know how to please everybody, and to get their own way. It seems +to me they want a lesson." + +He moved a little nearer to the great gates, and watched the General as +he walked in. The bell clanged, the sentries saluted, the gates were set +open ceremoniously. With all his frank, soldierly ways, Ratoneau was +extremely jealous of his position and the respect due to it. The +Prefect, on the contrary, aimed at simplicity and liked solitude. His +wife had died some years before, not surviving the death of her parents, +guillotined in the Terror. If she had lived, her influence being very +great, Monsieur de Mauves might never have held his present appointment; +for her royalism was quite as pronounced as that of Anne de la Marinière +and might have overpowered her husband's admiration for Napoleon. And +this would have been a pity, for no part of France, at this time, had a +wiser or more acceptable governor. + +On that calm and sunny autumn afternoon, the Prefect was sitting in a +classically pillared summerhouse near the open windows of his library. +Late roses climbed and clustered above his amiable head; lines of orange +trees in square green boxes were set along the broad gravel terrace +outside, and there was a pleasant view down a walk to a playing fountain +with trees about it, beyond which some of the high grey roofs of Sonnay +shone in the sunlight. + +The Prefect never smoked; his snuff-box and a book were enough for him. +Monsieur de Chateaubriand's _Itinéraire de Paris a Jérusalem_, just +published in three volumes, lay on a marble table beside him, and he was +enjoying an hour of unusual peace and quietness, his only companions two +little greyhounds sleeping at his feet. + +[Illustration: "AN ORDER FROM THE EMPEROR!" HE REPEATED.] + +It was with a touch of mental annoyance, therefore, that he received the +announcement of General Ratoneau's visit. But he was far too well +bred to show a sign of such feeling. He left that to the little dogs, +who barked their disapproval. He closed his book, went to meet the +General in the library, and invited him out to his favourite seat in the +summer-house. They were an odd contrast as they sat there together; the +quiet, graceful gentleman in ordinary morning dress of an easy +description, the soldier, impatient and rough in manner, flashing at +every point with gold lace and polished leather. + +"Monsieur le Préfet, I have a favour to ask," Ratoneau began. + +He did not often speak so civilly, and the Prefect felt relieved, for he +had had more than one bad quarter of an hour with this colleague of his. + +"How can I oblige you, Monsieur le Général?" he asked, smiling. + +"By doing your duty," said Ratoneau, with a grin. + +The Prefect shrugged his shoulders slightly, raised his eyebrows and +looked at him. + +"I ought not," he said, "to need the additional inducement of doing you +a favour. I was not aware of having neglected any duty. To what, pray, +do you refer?" + +"I refer to an order from the Emperor which you have not obeyed." + +"Indeed?" + +The Prefect's smile had now quite faded. "An order from the Emperor!" he +repeated. + +"Yes. His Majesty ordered you to report to him the names and +particulars of all young girls of good family in the department." + +"And what of that, monsieur?" + +"I am quite sure you have not done so." + +Something in the General's tone was so displeasing to one of the +Prefect's little dogs, that it suddenly sprang up and snapped at him. +Its master just saved it from a kick by catching it up on his knee. + +"A bas, Toutou!" he said, softly stroking it, and took a pinch of snuff, +regarding the General with a curiously patient expression. + +"I know you have done nothing of the sort!" Ratoneau repeated. + +"And how, may I ask, does the matter interest you?" + +The Prefect spoke slowly and gently; yet something in his manner +irritated the General. He made an impatient movement and rattled his +sword. + +"It does interest me," he said. "How can you disobey an order from the +Emperor?" + +"As to that, my dear colleague, I am responsible. You know the view I +take of that order. I am not alone. Several of my brother Prefects agree +with me. It is impolitic, and worse, offensive. The Emperor is +reasonable, and does not expect a blind obedience which would really do +harm to the Empire." + +"Do not make too sure of that, Monsieur le Préfet." + +"If the old provincial families are to be brought round _en masse_ to +the Empire, it must be done by diplomacy, not by a tyrannical domestic +legislation." + +"At that rate, Monsieur le Préfet, the work will take a hundred years. +They laugh at your diplomacy, these infernal old families. Propose a +soldier as a husband for one of their daughters, and you will see." + +"I have not done so," the Prefect said very drily, and the glance that +shot from under his quiet eyelids might have made a thin-skinned person +uncomfortable. + +"And nothing would make you do so, I suppose," sneered the General. +"Come, monsieur, you should forget your aristocracy now and then, and +remember that you are a servant of the Emperor. People will begin to say +that His Majesty might be better served." + +Monsieur de Mauves shrugged his shoulders, and reflected that if the +Emperor had wished to punish him for some crime, he could not have done +it better than by giving him this person for a colleague. Fortunately he +had a splendid temper; Urbain de la Marinière himself was not endowed +with a larger share of sweet reasonableness. Most men would not have +endured the General's insolence for five minutes. The Prefect's love of +peace and sense of public duty, united with extreme fairness of mind, +helped him to make large allowances for his fellow-official. He knew +that Ratoneau's vapouring talk was oftener in coarse joke than in sober +earnest. He had, in truth, a very complete scorn of him, and hardly +thought him worthy of a gentleman's steel. As to veiled threats such as +that which had just fallen from his lips, the Prefect found them +altogether beneath serious notice. + +"Let us arrive at understanding each other, General," he said coldly, +but very politely. "You began by asking me to do you a favour. Then you +branched off to a duty I had neglected. You now give me a friendly +warning. Is it, perhaps, because you fear to lose me as a colleague, +that you have become anxious about my reports to His Majesty?" he +smiled. "Or, how, I ask again, does the matter interest you?" + +"In this way, Monsieur le Préfet," said Ratoneau. He pulled himself +together, keeping his bullying instincts in check. After all, he knew he +would be a fool to quarrel with the Prefect or to rouse his active +opposition. "No offence?" he said gruffly. "You know me--you know my +rough tongue." + +The Prefect bowed courteously, and handed him his snuff-box. + +"You saw last night at Lancilly," said Ratoneau, much more quietly, +"that I had a long talk with Madame la Comtesse." + +"A charming woman," said Monsieur de Mauves. "Certainly--you told me the +subject of your talk, if you remember. Did you arrive then at any +conclusion? What was our hostess's advice on that interesting subject? +Did she suggest--the name of any lady, for instance?" + +He noticed with a touch of amusement that the General looked slightly +confused. + +"_I_ made a suggestion; and Madame de Sainfoy accepted it very kindly. +In fact, Monsieur le Préfet, I asked her for her daughter, Mademoiselle +Hélène." + +Monsieur de Mauves knew that he ought to have been prepared for this +answer; yet, somehow, he was not. Fixing his eyes on the yellow marble +mosaic under his feet, he realised once more the frightful contrast that +had struck him a few hours before in the lighted salon at Lancilly. "La +belle Hélène," as everybody called her; the pale, beautiful girl with +the sad eyes and enchanting smile, walking through the long room with +her boy cousin, himself in his slender _élancé_ beauty a perfect match +for her, so that the eighteenth century might have painted them as two +young deities from the Court of Olympus, come down to earth to show +mortals a vision of the ideal! And General Ratoneau, the ponderous bully +in uniform, the incarnation of the Empire's worst side! + +"Sacrilege!" + +Last night, the Prefect had thought the same. But he had then added +"Impossible!" and now it seemed that the girl's mother did not agree +with him. Could ambition carry a woman through such a slough as this? +did she really mean to gain imperial favour by such a sacrifice? + +For a moment or two the Prefect was lost in a dream; then he suddenly +recovered himself. + +"Pardon--and you say that Madame de Sainfoy accepted--" + +"She thanked me for the honour," said the General, a little stiffly. +"She expressed herself favourably. She only asked me to have patience +till she could consult her husband. Between ourselves, madame knows that +I could be of use to her at Court." + +"Could you?" + +"Certainly, Monsieur le Préfet. My friend, the Baron de Beauclair, is an +equerry to Her Majesty the Empress." + +"Oh!" Evidently the Prefect knew and cared little about the Baron de +Beauclair. "But, Monsieur le Général," he said, with a puzzled frown, "I +am still at a loss to understand you. Your course is apparently smooth. +Why do you want the help of an imperial order which, if it did no other +harm, would almost certainly set Monsieur de Sainfoy against you?" + +Ratoneau's dark face flushed crimson. "Mille tonnerres, Monsieur le +Préfet," he growled out, "Monsieur de Sainfoy is against me already, +confound him! This afternoon he sent me a letter, flatly declining my +proposal for his daughter." + +"Is it possible!" + +The Prefect had some difficulty in hiding the sincere, if inconsistent, +joy that this news gave him. + +"Well done!" he thought. "I should have expected nothing less. Ah! I +see, I see," he said aloud. "Monsieur de Sainfoy does not quite share +his wife's ambitions. It is unfortunate for you, certainly. But if you +wish to marry into an old family, there are others--" + +Ratoneau stared at him and laughed. + +"What do you take me for? Am I beaten so easily? No, monsieur! +Mademoiselle de Sainfoy is the woman I mean to marry. I admire that +white skin, that perfect distinction. You will not put me off with some +ugly little brown toad out of Brittany, I assure you!" + +The Prefect laughed. + +"But what is to be done? Unless you can gain her father's consent--" + +"That is the favour you will do me, Monsieur le Préfet. You will write +to headquarters, do you see, and an order will be sent down--yes, an +order which her father would not disobey if he were a dozen dukes rolled +into one, instead of being what he is, a poor emigrant count helped back +into France by wiser men than himself! Voilà, monsieur! Do you +understand me now?" + +"Ah--yes, General, I understand you," said Monsieur de Mauves. + +He leaned back in the corner of the marble seat, calm and deliberate, +gently stroking the little dog on his knee. Those long white fingers had +lifted the lid of Henriette's basket, those keen eyes, now thoughtfully +lowered, had seen the hiding-place of the Chouans in Monsieur Joseph's +wood; yet no harm had come to the Royalist conspirators. And now, when +an official of the Empire asked his help in a private matter, help +strictly legal, even within the limits of an imperial command, again +this blameworthy Prefect would not stir a finger. He was running himself +into greater danger than he knew, in the satisfaction of his gentle +instincts, when he glanced up into the bold, angry, eager face beside +him, and said with uncompromising clearness: "Do not deceive yourself, +monsieur. I shall not write to headquarters on any such subject, and no +such order will be sent down through any action or influence of mine. +The Comte de Sainfoy is my friend, remember." + +Ratoneau was choking with rage. + +"You defy me, monsieur!" he snarled. + +"Why--if such a desperate course is necessary," the Prefect murmured. +"But I would rather reason with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HOW MONSIEUR SIMON SHOWED HIMSELF A LITTLE TOO CLEVER + + +General Ratoneau had gone into the Prefecture in a good humour; he came +out in a bad one. The change was not lost on the police agent, still +loitering under the shade of the high white wall. + +Simon was a malcontent. He had talent, he wanted power. No one was +cleverer at hunting out the details of a case; he was a born detective. +It was hard on such a man, who intended to rise high in his profession, +and found the spying and chasing of state criminals an agreeable duty, +to be under the orders of so weak-kneed an official as the Baron de +Mauves. What was the use of giving in reports that were never acted on! +In other departments there were substantial money rewards to be had, if +a police spy, at his own risk, hunted out treason against the Empire. In +other departments a Prefect made it worth while, in every sense, for his +subordinates to do their duty. In this one, since the present Prefect +came into office, there was neither rising pay nor quick promotion. He +drove with a slack rein; his weapons were trust and kindness. He had to +be driven to extremities before he would treat anybody, even a proved +Chouan, with the rigour of the law. Simon tried to do a little +terrorising on his own account, and had made some money by blackmailing +less wide-awake men than Urbain de la Marinière; but, on the whole, he +earned more hatred than anything else in his prowlings round the +country. + +Ratoneau, coming out with a sulky, scowling face from his interview with +the Prefect, happened to look up as he passed Simon, and the fellow's +expression struck him oddly. It was full of intelligence, and of a queer +kind of sympathy. He had noticed it before. Simon had made himself +useful to him in several underhand ways. + +"What do you want?" he said, stopping suddenly. + +Simon stepped up close to him, so that neither sentries nor passers-by +might hear. + +"Me? I want nothing. I was only thinking that Monsieur le Général had +been annoyed. A thousand pardons! I was only wondering--well, I have my +provocations too, plenty of them!" + +"I'll be bound you have, in such a service as yours," said the General, +staring at him. "Come to the hotel this evening, and I'll talk to you." + +The officers who dined that day with their chief found his company less +attractive than ever. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts, and to +judge by his face, they were anything but agreeable. The whole mess was +glad to be relieved of his scowling presence unusually early. He had +drunk little, and went away unusually sober; but that was not always a +good sign with him. If he chose to keep a clear brain, it was generally +for his own ends, and they were seldom virtuous or desirable. + +The General was scarcely in his own room when Simon presented himself, +sneaking upstairs with a light tread and slipping noiselessly through +the door, his dark face full of eager expectation. He had often wondered +whether there might not be some special dirty work to be done for the +General, and had taken pains to keep himself under his eye and in his +good looks. If the civil power chose to let the Chouans have it all +their own way, the military power might one of these days step in +effectively. But Simon was not particular. Whatever the work might be, +public or private, he was at the service of the authorities. If only the +authorities would take his view of their interest and duty! + +It was a little difficult to stand unmoved under General Ratoneau's +bullying stare. Simon did so, however, his mouth only working a little +at the corners. How far might he go with this man? he was asking +himself. Ratoneau did not keep him long in suspense. He suddenly took +his cigar from his mouth, swore a tremendous oath, and kicked a chair +across the room. + +"Are you to be trusted, fellow?" he said. + +"I have kept a few secrets, monsieur," Simon answered discreetly. + +"Then here is another for you. I wish that chair was Monsieur le Baron +de Mauves." + +"Ah! Indeed! There has been some disagreement. I saw it, when Monsieur +le Général came out of the Prefecture this afternoon." + +"You saw it, did you? No wonder! I try to hide nothing--why should I? +But tell me, I beseech you, why are we in this miserable department +cursed with a feather-bed for a governor?" + +"If I might venture in this presence to say so," murmured Simon, "I have +often asked the same question. A feather-bed, yes--and it would be +softer and quieter to kick than that arrangement of wood and nails!" He +muttered the last sentence between his teeth with an amused grin, for +General Ratoneau, striding round the room in a whirlwind of kicks and +oaths, was making far too much noise to hear him. + +At last, his wrath having exploded, the General flung himself back on +his sofa and said, "The Prefect is a fool, and I hate him." + +"Tiens!" Simon whistled softly and long. "This is something new--and +serious!" he murmured. + +The General turned upon him instantly, with a severe air. + +"What is your grievance against the Prefect?" + +"Ah--well, monsieur, when you come to grievances--a grievance is a +valuable thing--yes, sometimes a small fortune lies in a grievance." + +"I believe you are a liar!" + +"Pardon, monsieur--what lie have I told?" + +"You said you had had provocations. You called Monsieur le Préfet a +feather-bed, meaning that he had smothered and stifled you. I don't +believe a word of it!" + +"Oh! Monsieur le Général is very clever!" Simon ventured on a small +laugh. + +"Come, don't play with me, you rascal. What complaint have you to make?" + +"Monsieur le Général may have had a slight difference to-day with +Monsieur le Préfet, but they will be reconciled to-morrow. Why should I +give myself away and put myself in their power for nothing?" + +"You are a fool! What complaint have you to make against Monsieur le +Préfet?" + +"I am not a fool, monsieur. That is just it. Therefore, I will not tell +you--not yet, at least." + +"Then why did you come here? What did you suppose I wanted you for?" + +"To do some work, for which I might possibly be paid." + +"Is it a question of pay?" + +"Partly, monsieur. I made some valuable discoveries a week or two ago, +and they have turned out of no use whatever. Here am I still an ordinary +police officer, my work not acknowledged in any way, by praise, pay, or +promotion. I tried on my own account to verify my discoveries and to +find out more. This day, this very morning, I am warned to let the whole +thing alone, to say nothing, even to the commissary of police." + +The General hesitated. He was grave and thoughtful enough now. + +He took out five napoleons and pushed them across the table to Simon, +who picked them up quickly and greedily. + +"Merci, Monsieur le Général!" + +"Chouannerie?" said Ratoneau. + +Simon grinned. + +"Ah, monsieur, this is not enough to make me safe. I must have five +thousand francs at least, to carry me away out of the Prefect's reach, +if I tell his little secrets to Monsieur le Général." + +"Five thousand devils! Do you think I am made of money? What do I want +with your miserable secrets? What are the Chouans to me? The Prefect may +be a Chouan himself, I dare say: stranger things have happened." + +Simon shrugged his shoulders. His face was full of cunning and of secret +knowledge. + +"If Monsieur le Général wants a real hold over Monsieur le Préfet," he +said, with his eyes fixed on Ratoneau's face--"why then, these secrets +of mine are worth the money. Of course, there is another thing for me to +do. I can go to Paris and lay the whole thing before the Minister of +Police or Monsieur le Comte Réal. I had thought of that. But--the +Government is generally ungrateful--and if there were any private +service to be done for Monsieur le Général, I should like it better. +Besides, it is just possible that I might be doing harm to some of your +friends, monsieur." + +"My friends? How?" + +"Ah! voilà! I can mention no names," said Simon. + +The General took out his pocket-book and gave him a note for a thousand +francs. + +"Out with it, fellow. I hate mysteries," he said. + +"Pardon, Monsieur le Général! I said _five_ thousand." + +"Well, there are two more. Not another penny till you have explained +yourself. And then, if I am not satisfied, I shall turn you over to my +guard to be flogged for theft and lying. And I doubt if they will leave +much in your pockets." + +"You treat me like a Jew, monsieur!" + +"You are a Jew. Go on. What are these grand discoveries that Monsieur le +Préfet will have nothing to do with?" + +"A Chouan plot, monsieur. The conspirators have met, more than once, I +believe, at Monsieur de la Marinière's house, Les Chouettes. They were +there that day, when Monsieur le Préfet and Monsieur le Général +breakfasted with him. That day when we met a herd of cows in the +lane--" + +"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel. You are telling me a pack of lies. The +place was quiet and empty, no one there but ourselves. Why, we strolled +about there the whole afternoon without seeing a single living creature +except a little girl gathering flowers in the meadow." + +"Ah, monsieur! See what it is to be an agent de police. To have eyes and +ears, and to know how to use them! Worth a reward, is it not? I had not +been an hour at Les Chouettes before I knew everything." + +And five minutes had not passed before General Ratoneau was in +possession of all that Simon knew or suspected. Every one was +implicated; master, servants, the four guests, whose voices he had +recognised as he prowled in the wood, Angelot, and even the child +Henriette. + +"Gathering flowers in the meadow!" the spy laughed maliciously. "She +ought to be in prison at this moment with her father and her cousin." + +"Sapristi! And the Prefect knew all this?" growled the General. + +"I told him at the time, monsieur. As he was strolling about after +breakfast with Monsieur de la Marinière, I called him aside and told +him. Of course I expected an order to arrest the whole party. We were +armed, we could have done it very well, even then, though they +outnumbered us. Since then I have viewed the ground again, and caught +the Baron d'Ombré breakfasting there, the most desperate Chouan in these +parts. I questioned old Joubard the farmer, too, for his loyalty is +none too firm. Well, when I came to report this to Monsieur le Préfet, +he only told me again to be silent. And this very morning, after +conferring with some of these Chouan gentlemen last night at Lancilly, +as I happen to know, he told me to let the matter alone, to keep away +from Les Chouettes and leave Monsieur de la Marinière to do as he +pleased." + +The General stared and grunted. Honestly, he was very much astonished. + +"That afternoon! The devil! who would have thought it?" he muttered to +himself. + +"It is not that Monsieur le Préfet is disloyal to the Empire," Simon +went on, "though he might easily be made to appear so. It is that he +thinks there is no policy like a merciful one. Also he is too +soft-hearted, and too kind to his friends." + +"By heaven! those are fortunate who find him so." + +"The old friends of the country, monsieur. It is amazing how they hang +together. Monsieur Joseph de la Marinière is brother of Monsieur Urbain, +Monsieur Ange is Monsieur Urbain's son, Monsieur le Comte de Sainfoy is +their cousin--and I heard the servants saying, only last night, how +beautiful the two young people looked, handing the coffee +together--though I should certainly have thought, myself, that Monsieur +le Comte would have made a better marriage than that for his daughter. +But they say the young gentleman's face--" + +"Stop your fool's chatter!" cried the General, furiously. + +"But that is just what I said, monsieur, to the Prefect's fellow who +told me. I said this young Angelot was a silly boy who cared for nothing +but practical jokes. Besides, if he is mixed up in Chouan conspiracies, +Monsieur de Sainfoy could hardly afford--and after all, cousins are +cousins. You may be very intimate with a cousin, but it does not +follow--does it, monsieur?" + +"Once for all, put that foolery out of your head. Now listen. You have +told me your grievance against the Prefect. I will tell you mine." + +And the police officer listened with all his ears, while General +Ratoneau told him his story of last night and to-day. + +"Ah!" he said thoughtfully--"I see--I see very well. Monsieur le Comte +is a foolish gentleman, and Madame la Comtesse is a wise lady. Then +Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière--he is the friend of both--he visited +Monsieur le Général to-day." + +This was a touch of curiosity, which the General did not satisfy, for he +saw no good to be gained, at present, by mixing up Urbain's name in the +business. He had made a good suggestion, which had failed. The General +was aware that in consulting Simon he might be entering on dark ways +where no gentleman would follow him. Simon's help might mean a good +deal. It might mean arrests rather too near Monsieur Urbain to be +pleasant. On one thing the General was resolved; by hook or by crook, by +fair means or foul, Hélène de Sainfoy should become his wife. With her +mother on his side, he suspected that any means would in the end be +forgiven. He was never likely again to have such an opportunity of +marrying into the old noblesse. Personally, Hélène attracted him; he had +been thinking of her a good deal that day. + +"Monsieur de la Marinière--" he said rather gruffly--"Yes, he came to +see me. He is of Madame de Sainfoy's opinion--he is a sensible man. No +one would be more angry at your idiotic stories about his son. Now what +next? I come down on the Prefect with your information, and demand the +arrest of all these people, unless--hein?" + +"There are objections to that plan, monsieur." + +"What are they?" + +"Well, to begin with, Monsieur le Préfet may not be managed so easily. +He is quite capable of going to Paris and laying the whole case before +the Emperor, who respects him. He might point out Monsieur Joseph de la +Marinière's close relationship with all these people who have rallied to +the Empire. He might make it appear like personal spite of yours, +monsieur, because Monsieur de Sainfoy had refused you his daughter. And +such a course would spoil your chance in another way, monsieur. It would +make all the family hate you. Even Madame la Comtesse could hardly be on +your side, if you had done that. And besides, it would kill at one blow +all my chances in this department. I think we must go to work more +quietly, monsieur. At least, I think we must keep threats and arrests +for a last resort, now that you have told me everything." + +"Then you would say no more to the Prefect?" + +"Not another word, monsieur. I would be silent. I would appear to accept +the Prefect's decision, and Monsieur de Sainfoy's answer. But after a +few days I would make some pretext for going to Paris. I am going there +myself next week; I have leave to visit my old father. Then, monsieur, +by spending a little money at the centre of things--well, a thunderbolt +out of a clear sky is very effective, monsieur, and that is what we will +try to manufacture." + +Simon grinned and licked his lips. + +"Then what have I paid you three thousand one hundred francs for, +rascal, if the information about all this Chouannerie is to be of no +use?" + +"Well, of course, it is at Monsieur le Général's service. It gives him a +hold over Monsieur le Préfet, at any time. That was desired, I +understood. All I say is, I would not use it just yet. The circumstances +are delicate. When I sold the information, and dirt cheap too, I knew +nothing of all the interesting romance Monsieur le Général has told me. +An affair of marriage wants tender handling. This one, especially, wants +very clever management. If I, in Monsieur le Général's place, meant to +be the husband of Mademoiselle de Sainfoy, I would not begin by doing +anything to make myself still more odious in the eyes of her friends and +relations." + +"Still more odious, fellow! What do you mean?" + +"Pardon! I am only arguing from your own words, monsieur. You told me +what her father said, and what Monsieur le Préfet said. One makes one's +deductions, hein!" + +"Ah! You had better not be impudent. I am not a person to be played +with, Monsieur Simon!" + +"Heaven forbid! I have the deepest respect for Monsieur le Général. And +now let me explain my plan a little further." + +"Hold your tongue with your infernal plans, and let me think," said +Ratoneau. + +He got up and began pacing up and down the room with his head bent, in a +most unusually thoughtful state of mind. The dark, treacherous eyes of +Simon followed him as he walked. His brain was working too, much more +swiftly and sharply than the General's. This little affair was going to +bring him in considerably more than five thousand francs, or he would +know the reason why. Presently he spoke in a low, cautious voice. + +"The person to approach is Monsieur le Duc de Frioul. A direct order +from His Majesty would be the quickest and most certain way of bringing +the marriage about. It is not a police question, that. Monsieur le +Général has certainly deserved the favour, and the Emperor does not very +often refuse officers in matters of this kind." + +"Mille tonnerres, Simon, you talk like an ambassador," said Ratoneau, +with a laugh. "Yes, I know Duroc; but there was never any love lost +between us. However, I might get at him through Monge, and other people. +Sapristi, Monge will have enough to do for me!" He was thinking aloud. +But now he turned on his counsellor with sudden fierceness. + +"And am I to leave this Chouan plot to go its own way under the +Prefect's protection?" he said. "A pretty idea, that!" + +"Ah! when once Monsieur le Général has peacefully secured his prize, +_then_ he can do as he thinks right about public affairs," said Simon, +with a sneer. + +"Then I can punish my enemies, hein?" said Ratoneau. + +"You can indeed, monsieur. With my information, you might very probably +ruin Monsieur le Préfet, besides causing the arrest of Monsieur de la +Marinière, his nephew, Monsieur d'Ombré, and several other gentlemen +whom I shall be able to point out. You could make a clean sweep of +Chouannerie in Anjou, monsieur. It is very desirable. All I say is, +make sure of your wife first." + +Still Ratoneau walked up and down the room. With arms folded and head +bent, he looked more _le gros caporal_ than ever. + +Presently he stopped short and turned to Simon. + +"Get along with you, fellow, and hold your tongue," he said. "I will +have nothing to do with your dirty tricks. I will settle the matter with +Monsieur le Préfet." + +"But me, monsieur? What will become of me?" + +"What do I care! A snake in the grass, like you, can look after +himself." + +"But my other two thousand francs, Monsieur le Général?" + +"You shall have them when the affair is settled. Do you hear me? Go--or +wait to be kicked. Which shall it be?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN WHICH THREE WORDS CONTAIN A GOOD DEAL OF INFORMATION + + +It was not so easy for Angelot to make his peace with Uncle Joseph, who +was more than a little angry with him. + +"Yes, my boy, you were foolish, as well as ungrateful. It was a chance, +it was a moment, that will not occur again. It was better that the idea +should seem to come from me, not from you, and it seemed the only way to +save that pretty girl from some marriage she will hate. I thought you +would at least be ready to throw yourself at her feet--but you were not +even that, Angelot. You refused her--you refused Mademoiselle Hélène, +after all you had told me--and do you know what that mother of hers has +been planning for her? No? Don't look at me with such eyes; it is your +own doing. Madame de Sainfoy would arrange a marriage for her with +General Ratoneau, if Hervé would consent. He says he will not, he says a +convent would be better--" + +"Ah!" Angelot gave a choked cry, and stamped violently in the sand. "Ah! +Ratoneau or a convent! Dieu! Not while I live!" + +"Very fine to say so now!" said Monsieur Joseph, shaking his head. + +He was ready to go out shooting in the fresh morning air. His gun leaned +against the bench where he was sitting, and his dog watched him with +eager eyes. His delicate face was dark with melancholy disgust as he +looked at the boy he loved, tramping restlessly up and down between him +and the fir trees. + +"You don't listen to me, Uncle Joseph; you don't understand me!" Angelot +cried out passionately. "What do you take me for? It was for her sake +that I answered as I did. It was because she had told me, one minute +before, that her mother would kill her if she knew that she--that I--" + +He sprang to the bench, threw himself down by Monsieur Joseph, flung his +arm around his shoulders. + +"Ah, little uncle, voyons, tell me everything. You said you would help +me--" + +"Help you! I am well repaid when I try to help you!" said Joseph, with a +short laugh. + +"But that was not the way! Come, come!" and Angelot laid his head +against the little uncle's shoulder, coaxing and caressing him as he +might have done ten years before, as Riette would do now. + +"Ah, diable! what would you have? I offered them you in the place of +Ratoneau or a convent, and you would not even wait to hear what they +said. Nonsense about her mother! Mothers do not kill their children in +these days. Mademoiselle is a little extravagant." + +"I don't believe it. She knows her mother. I think Madame de Sainfoy +would stop at nothing--no ill-treatment--to force her own way. I saw it +in her face, I met her eyes when you dragged me into the room. Uncle +Joseph, I tell you she hates me already, and if she thinks I am an +obstacle to her plans, she will never let me see Hélène again." + +"Where were you, then, when I called you, good-for-nothing?" + +"I was on the stairs, talking to her. Her mother had sent her out of the +room--" + +"On my word, you snatch your opportunities!" + +"Of course! And when you were young--" + +"There--no impertinence--" + +"Dear uncle, I asked you days ago to talk to my father and mother. Why +did you never do it? Then I might have been beforehand with that man--as +to him, of course, he is an utter impossibility, and if Cousin Hervé +sees that, we are safe--but still--" + +"Ah! there is a 'but' in the affair, I assure you. Madame would do +anything for a nearer connection with her beloved Empire--and Ratoneau +might be Napoleon's twin-brother, but that is a detail--and not only +madame, your father is on the same side." + +"My father!" + +"He thinks there could not be a more sensible marriage. The daughter of +the Comte de Sainfoy--a distinguished general of division; diable! what +can anybody want more? So my Angelot, I was not a false prophet, it +seems to me, when I felt very sure that what you asked me was hopeless. +Your father would have been against you, for the sake of the Sainfoys; +your mother, for opposite reasons. There was one chance, Hervé himself. +I saw that he was very angry at the Ratoneau proposal; I thought he +might snatch at an alternative. I still think he might have done so, if +you had not behaved like a maniac. It was the moment, Angelot; such +moments do not return. I was striking while the iron was hot--you, you +only, made my idea useless. You made me look even more mad and foolish +than yourself--not that I cared for that. As to danger from her mother, +why, after all, her father is the authority." + +"Ah, but you are too romantic," sighed Angelot. "He would never have +accepted me. He would never really oppose his wife, if her mind was set +against him." + +"He opposes her now. He plainly said that his daughter should marry a +gentleman, therefore not Ratoneau. And where have all your fine +presumptuous hopes flown to, my boy? The other day you found yourself +good enough for Mademoiselle Hélène." + +"Perhaps I do still," Angelot said, and laughed. "But I did not then +quite understand the Comtesse. I know now that she detests me. Then, +too, she had not seen or thought of Ratoneau--Dieu! What profanation! +Was it quite new, the terrible idea? I saw the brute--pah! We were +handing the coffee--" + +"Yes," said Monsieur Joseph. "As far as I know, the seed was sown, the +plant grew and flowered, all in that one evening, my poor Angelot. +Well--I hope all is safe now, but women are very clever, and there is +your father, too--he is very clever. If it is not this marriage, it will +be another--but you are not interested now; you have put yourself out of +the question." + +"Don't say that, Uncle Joseph--and don't imagine that your troubles are +over. You will have to do a good deal more for me yet, and for Hélène." +He spoke slowly and dreamily, then added with a gesture of despair--"But +my father--how could he! Why, the very sight of the man--" + +"Ah! Very poetical, your dear father, but not very sentimental. I told +him so. He said the best poetry was the highest good sense. I do not +quite understand him, I confess. Allons! I am afraid I do. He is a +philosopher. He also--well, well!" + +"He also--what?" + +"Nothing," said Monsieur Joseph, shortly. "What is to be done then, to +help you?" + +"I am afraid--for her sake--I must not go quite so much to Lancilly. Not +for a few days, at least, till last night is forgotten. I cannot meet +her before all those people, with their eyes upon me. I believe Madame +de Sainfoy saw that I was lying, that I would give my life for what I +seemed to refuse." + +"Do you think so? No, no, she laughed and teased and questioned me with +the others." + +"Nevertheless, I think so. But I must know that Hélène is well and safe +and not tormented. Uncle Joseph, if you could go there a little +oftener--you might see her sometimes--" + +"How often?" + +"Every two days, for instance?" + +Monsieur Joseph smiled sweetly. + +"No, mon petit. What should take me to Lancilly every two days? I have +not much to say to Hervé; his ideas are not mine, either on sport or on +politics. And as to Madame Adélaïde--no--we do not love each other. She +is impatient of me--I distrust her. She has Urbain, and one in the +family is enough, I think. Voyons! Would your Mademoiselle Moineau do +any harm to Riette?" + +"Ah! But no! I believe she is a most excellent woman." + +"Only a little sleepy--hein? Well, I will change my mind about that +offer I refused. I will send Riette every day to learn needlework and +Italian with her cousins. She will teach more than she learns, by the +bye! Yes, our little _guetteuse_ shall watch for you, Angelot. But on +one condition--that she knows no more than she does already. You can ask +her what questions you please, of course--but no letters or messages, +mind; I trust to your honour. I will not have the child made a +go-between in my cousin's house, or mixed up with matters too old for +her. She knows enough already to do what you want, to tell you that +Mademoiselle Hélène is safe and well. I will have nothing more, you +understand. But I think you will be wise to keep away, and this plan may +make absence bearable." + +He turned his anxious, smiling face to Angelot. And thus the entire +reconciliation was brought about; the two understood and loved each +other better than ever before, and Riette, as she had herself suggested, +was to take her part in helping Angelot. + +Neither Monsieur Urbain, in his great discretion, nor his wife, in her +extreme dislike of Lancilly and all connected with it, chose to say a +word either to Angelot or his uncle about the strange little scene that +had closed the dinner-party. It was better forgotten, they thought. And +Angelot was too proud, too conscious of their opinion, to speak of it +himself. + +So the three talked that night about Sonnay-le-Loir and the markets +there, and about the neighbours that Urbain had met, and about certain +defects in one of his horses, and then about the coming vintage and its +prospects. + +Urbain fetched down a precious book, considerably out of date now, the +_Théâtre d'Agriculture_ of Olivier de Serres, Seigneur du Pradel, and +began studying, as he did every year, the practical advice of that +excellent writer on the management of vineyards. The experience of +Angelot, gained chiefly in wandering round the fields with old Joubard, +differed on some points from that of Monsieur de Serres. He argued with +his father, not at all in the fashion of a young man hopelessly in love; +but indeed, though Hélène was the centre of all his thoughts, he was far +from hopeless. + +There was a bright spring of life in Angelot, a faith in the future, +which kept him above the most depressing circumstances. The waves might +seem overwhelming, the storm too furious; Angelot would ride on the +waves with an unreasoning certainty that they would finally toss him on +the shore of Paradise. Had not Hélène kissed him? Could he not still +feel the sweet touch of her lips, the velvet softness of that pale +cheek? Could his eyes lose the new dream in their sleepy dark depths, +the dream of waking smiles and light in hers, of bringing colour and joy +into that grey, mysterious world of sadness! No; whatever the future +might hold--and he did not fear it--Angelot could say to his fate:-- + +"To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day." + +There was such a glory of happiness behind the present clouds that the +boy had never seemed to his mother more light-hearted. She listened to +his talk with his father, the smiling dispute as to what age of the moon +was the most lucky for beginning the vintage. Monsieur de Serres, with a +kindly word of indulgence for those who thought much of the moon, +contented himself with recommending fine weather and a convenient day. +Joubard, and Angelot with him, held to the old country superstition of +the waning moon. + +This would throw the vintage later than Monsieur Urbain wished, and he +pointed out that De Serres was a sensible man and a philosopher. Silly +fancies, lunatical, astrological, were not much in his line. + +"He is also a Calvinist," said Madame de la Marinière. "He has no +religion--no real religion. He believes in nothing but what he can see. +Take my advice, leave Olivier on the shelf, and stick to the old ways of +the country." + +"Ah, bah! and do you know why my farming has always succeeded?" said her +husband, laughing. "Because I have been guided by the wisdom of De +Serres. He is a rare man. He has as little superstition as Montaigne +himself." + +"And is as worthy of a bonfire!" said Anne, but she smiled. + +She was sitting at her tapestry frame, beside her two wax candles, and +while her needle went industriously in and out, her eyes were +constantly lifted to where those two sat talking. Urbain turned over +the leaves of his fat, red-edged quarto, lingering lovingly on favourite +pages. Angelot laughed and chattered, leaning easily on the table. The +adventure of last night seemed to have left no impression upon him. + +"How foolish that dear Joseph was!" his mother thought. "But oh, what a +contrast to that odious dinner-party! Now, this is peace, this is what I +have prayed for, to have them both happy at home, and free of Lancilly." + +But when she kissed her boy that night, looking eagerly into his face, +something cold touched her heart. For his look was far away, and the +smile in his eyes was not for her at all. + +"Urbain," she said, "are you sure that all is right with Ange?" + +"All, my beloved, except a little superstition about the moon, of which +life will cure him," her husband answered with his queer smile. + +"The moon! Yes, he talked last night about the moon," she said. "That is +what I mean, Urbain, not your moon for the vintage." + +"Oh! la belle Hélène!" he said lightly. "Don't derange yourself. I did +not tell you--I found her mother this morning in a resolute state of +mind. She does not intend to have the young lady on her hands long. If +not one marriage, it will be another, you will see. Hervé will find he +must leave the matter to his wife. Ange! bah! children's fancies are not +worth a thought. If you lived more in the world, you would be happier, +my poor Anne." + +"I don't think so," Anne said as she turned away. + +The next morning Monsieur Urbain stayed indoors till breakfast time. +This was often enough a habit of his, but he was generally buried in his +books and did not care to be disturbed. To-day he wandered about the +house, took a turn into the porch, observed the clouds, looked at his +watch, and behaved generally with a restlessness that Anne would have +found unaccountable; but she was out with a sick woman in the village. +She came in soon after ten, followed by Angelot from his shooting. + +They sat down to breakfast, that warm day, with doors and windows open. +The old, low room with its brick-paved floor was shady and pleasant, +opening on the stone court where the porch was; the polished table was +loaded with fruit. Angelot's dog lay stretched in a patch of sunshine; +he was ordered out several times, but always came back. When the heat +became too much he rose panting, and flung his long body into the shade; +then the chilly bricks drove him back into the sun again. + +The three were rather silent. Urbain, who always led their talk, was a +little preoccupied that morning. After finishing his second large slice +of melon, he looked up at Angelot and said, "After breakfast I will go +with you to La Joubardière. We must settle with Joubard about the +vintage; it is time things were fixed. I say the first of October. As to +his moons, I cannot listen to such absurdities. He must arrange what +suits me and the weather and the vines. First of all, me." + +"That is decided," said Angelot, smiling. "Joubard will shake his head, +but he will obey you. You are a tyrant in your way." + +"Perhaps!" Urbain said, screwing up his mouth. "A benevolent despot. +Obedience is good for the soul--n'est-ce pas, madame? I give my commands +for the good of others, and pure reason lies behind them. What is it, +Négo?" + +The dog lifted his black head and growled. There was a sharp clank of +footsteps on the stones outside. + +"A bas, Négo!" cried Angelot, as a soldier, with a letter in his hand, +appeared at the window. + +The dog sprang up, barking furiously, about to fly at him. + +"See to your dog! Take him away!" Monsieur Urbain shouted to Angelot. + +The young man threw himself on the dog and dragged him, snarling, out of +the room. Anne looked up with surprise at the soldier, who saluted, +standing outside the low window-sill. Urbain went to him, and took the +letter from his hand. + +"It is Monsieur de la Marinière?" said the man. "At your service. From +Monsieur le Général. Is there an answer?" + +"Wait a moment, my man," said Urbain. + +He broke the large red seal, standing by the window. One glance showed +him the contents of the letter, for they were only three words and an +initial. + +--"_Tout va bien. R._"-- + +But though the words were few, their significance was great, and it kept +the sturdy master of La Marinière standing motionless for a minute or +two in a dream, with the open letter in his hand, forgetful alike of the +messenger waiting outside, and of his wife behind him at the table. A +dark stain of colour stole up into his sunburnt face, his strong mouth +quivered, then set itself obstinately. So! this thing was to happen. +Treason to Hervé, was it? No, it was for his good, for everybody's good. +Sentiment was out of place in a political matter such as this. Sacrifice +of a girl? well, what was gained in the world without sacrifice? Let her +think herself Iphigenia, if she chose; but, after all, many girls as +noble and as pretty had shown her the way she was to go. + +"All goes well!" he muttered between his teeth. "This gentleman is +impatient; he does not let the grass grow. Odd enough that we have to +thank our dear Joseph for suggesting it!" Then he woke to outside +things, among them the waiting soldier, standing there like a wooden +image in the blaze of sunshine. + +"No answer, my friend," he said. + +He took out a five-franc piece and gave it to the man, not without a +glance at the splendid Roman head upon it. + +"He only needs a little idealising!" he said to himself; then aloud to +the soldier: "My best compliments to Monsieur le Général. Go to the +kitchen; they will give you something to eat and drink after your ride." + +"Merci, monsieur!" the soldier saluted and went. + +Urbain folded the letter, put it into his pocket, and returned silently +to his breakfast. Something about him warned his wife that it would be +better not to ask questions; but Anne seldom observed such warnings, for +she did not know what it was to be afraid of Urbain, though she was +often angry with him. With Angelot it was different; he had sometimes +reason to fear his father; but for Anne, the tenderness was always +greater than the severity. + +They were alone for a few minutes, Angelot not having reappeared. While +Urbain hurriedly devoured his sorrel and eggs, his wife gazed at him +with anxious eyes across the table. + +"You correspond with that odious General!" she said. "What about, my +dear friend? What can he have to say to you?" + +"Ah, bah! the curiosity of women!" said Monsieur Urbain, bending over +his plate. + +"Yes," Anne said, smiling faintly. "It exists, and therefore it must be +gratified. Is not that a doctrine after your own heart? What was that +letter about, tell me? You could not hide that it interested you +deeply." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Remember, we never talk politics, you and I. Not even the politics of +the department." + +"It has something to do with the Chouans, then? With Joseph? Ah, but do +not trust that man, Urbain! he has a horrid face. Did you see him +yesterday? Did he say anything about Joseph--and about Ange? He has a +spite against Ange, I believe." + +"Do not be uneasy," Monsieur Urbain replied. "I did see him yesterday, +if you must know, my dear Anne. He is friendly; well, you can see the +letter. I do not choose to explain it altogether, but it speaks for +itself." + +He took out the letter, unfolded it, and handed it to her with a curious +smile. + +"_Tout va bien!_" Anne read aloud. "What does he mean?" + +"He means, I suppose, that my mind may be at rest. You see that he is in +a good temper." + +"It looks like it, certainly. But that is strange, too. Had Hervé de +Sainfoy sent him an answer? When you saw him, did he know--" + +"Yes, he knew." + +"How did he bear it?" + +"Like a man." + +"Really! One dislikes him a little less for that. But still, Urbain, +why should you have anything to do with him? Is it not enough that the +Prefect is so friendly to us all? With his protection, Joseph and Ange +are not in any real danger." + +"It is best to have two strings to one's bow," answered Urbain. "I +prefer Ratoneau a friend to Ratoneau an enemy." + +"I should like best no Ratoneau at all," said Anne. She flicked the +letter back to him from the tips of her fingers, lightly and scornfully. +"How could Adélaïde talk to him for a whole evening!" she sighed. + +"Adélaïde is a woman of the world, as we have decided before," said +Urbain. "Say no more; here is the boy. It is best that he should know +nothing of this--do you understand?" + +Anne understood, or thought she did; and a nod and smile from her went a +long way towards reassuring Angelot, who had been a little puzzled by +the sudden appearance of the soldier. But he was not curious; his father +was by no means in the habit of telling him everything, making indeed a +thin cloud of wilful mystery about some of his doings. It had always +been so; and Angelot had grown up with a certain amount of blind trust +in the hand which had guided his mother and himself through the thorny +years of his childhood. + +At this moment he was distracted by a very serious attack on Négo. The +dog would have to be shot, Monsieur Urbain said, if he received people +so savagely; and in defending Négo the rest of Angelot's breakfast-time +was spent. + +Later on he was a little surprised by his father's telling him to go +alone to La Joubardière and arrange about the vintage. Urbain had +remembered business, he said, which called him to Lancilly. He turned +away and left the room without a word, without seeing, or perhaps +choosing to see, the sudden flame of irritation in Anne's dark eyes, the +light of another feeling in Angelot's. + +The young fellow lingered a moment in the dining-room window, and +watched the sturdy figure walking away in linen clothes and a straw hat, +the shoulders slightly bent from study, the whole effect that of honest +strength and capacity, not at all of intrigue and ruse. Then he turned +round and met his mother's eyes. For a moment it seemed as if they must +read each other's soul. But Anne only said: "Do not delay, my boy. Go to +Joubard; arrange things to please your father. We must remember; he is +wiser than we are; he does the best for us all." + +"Yes, my little mother," said Angelot. "Only--Négo shall not be shot. +Yes, I am going this instant." + +He took her hand and kissed it. She pushed back his hair and kissed his +forehead. + +"And what are you going to do?" he said. "Come with me to see the old +Joubards." + +"No, no. I must go to the church," she said. "I was hurried this +morning." + +As Urbain crossed the valley, going through the little hamlet, down the +white stony lane, between high hedges, then by field paths across to the +lower poplar-shaded road, then along by the slow, bright stream to the +bridge and the first white houses of Lancilly, he thought with some +amusement and satisfaction of that morning's diplomacy. He had not the +smallest intention of taking his dear and pretty Anne into his +confidence. The little plot, which Adélaïde and he had hatched so +cleverly, must remain between them and the General. + +This power of suggesting was a wonderful thing, truly. A word had been +enough to set the whole machinery going. If he rightly understood that +_Tout va bien_, it meant that the Prefect was ready at once to do his +part. That seemed a little strange; but after all, De Mauves would not +have reached his present position without some cleverness to help him, +and no doubt he saw, as Urbain did, the excellence of this arrangement +for everybody all round. Hervé de Sainfoy was really foolish; his own +enemy: Urbain and Adélaïde were his friends; they knew how to make use +of the mammon of unrighteousness. The advantages of such a connection +with the Empire were really uncountable. Urbain was quite sure that he +was justified in plotting against Hervé for his good. Did he not love +him like a brother? Would he not have given him the last penny in his +purse, the last crust if they were starving? And as for misleading Anne +a little, that too seemed right to his conscience. It was only a case of +economising truth, after all. In the end, the Ratoneau connection would +be useful in saving Joseph and his friends, no doubt, from some of the +consequences of their foolishness. + +It was with the serenity of success and conscious virtue, deepened and +brightened by the joy of pleasing the beautiful Adélaïde, that Urbain, +finding her alone, put the General's letter into her hand. + +There was an almost vulture look in the fair face as she stooped over +it. + +"Ah--and what does this mean?" + +"It means," Urbain said, "that General Ratoneau has seen the Prefect, +and that that excellent man is ready to oblige him--and you, madame." + +"Me?" Adélaïde looked up sharply, with a sudden flush. "I hope you gave +no message from me." + +"How could I? you sent none. I am to be trusted, I assure you. I simply +hinted that if the affair could be managed from outside, you would not +be too much displeased." + +"Nor would you," she said. + +"No--no, I should not." He spoke rather slowly, stroking his face, +looking at her thoughtfully. This pale passion of eagerness was not +becoming, somehow, to his admired Adélaïde. + +"Nor would you," she repeated. "Come, Urbain, be frank. You know it is +necessary, from your point of view, that Hélène should be married soon. +You know that silly boy of yours fancies himself in love with her." + +"It would not be unnatural. All France might do the same. But pardon me, +I do not know it." + +"You mean that he has not confided in you. Well, well, do not lay hold +of my words; you had eyes the night before last; you saw what I saw, +what every one must have seen. You confessed as much to me yesterday, so +do not contradict yourself now." + +"Very well--yes!" Urbain smiled and bowed. "Let us agree that my poor +boy may have such a fancy. But what does it matter?" + +"Of course it does not really matter, because such a marriage would be +absolutely impossible for Hélène. But it is better for a young man not +to have such wild ambitions in his head at all. You know I am right. You +agree with me. That is one reason why you are working with me now." + +"It is true, madame. You are right. But did it not seem to you, the +other night, that Angelot himself saw the impossibility--" + +"No, it did not," she said, and her eyes flashed. "He had to protect +himself from his uncle's madness--that was nothing. By the bye, that +wonderful brother of yours has changed his mind about Henriette. He +sent her here this morning with a letter to me, and she is now doing her +lessons with Sophie and Lucie." + +"I am delighted to hear it," said Urbain, absently. "But now, to return +to our subject--the Ratoneau marriage--" he paused an instant, and +whatever his words and actions may have been, Madame de Sainfoy was a +little punished for her scorn of his son by the accent of utter disgust +with which he dwelt on the General's name. + +For she felt it, and he had the small satisfaction of seeing that she +did. She had trodden on her worm a little too hard, in telling Ange de +la Marinière's father that he might as well dream of a princess as of +Hélène de Sainfoy. + +"Yes, yes," she said hastily, and smiled brilliantly on Urbain as much +as to say, "Dear friend, I was joking. We understand each other.--Tell +me everything you did yesterday--what he said, and all about it," she +went on aloud. "Ah, Hervé!" as her husband sauntered into the room--"do +have the goodness to fetch me those patterns of silk hangings from the +library. This dear Urbain has come at the right moment to be consulted +about them." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HOW HENRIETTE READ HISTORY TO SOME PURPOSE + + +The inside of the Château de Lancilly was a curious labyrinth of arched +stone passages paved with brick, cold on the hottest day, with short +flights of steps making unexpected changes of level; every wall so thick +as to hold deep cupboards, even small rooms, or private staircases +climbing steeply up or down. The old ghosts of the château, who slipped +in and out of these walls and flitted about the hidden steps, had lost a +good deal of their credit in the last twenty years. No self-respecting +ghost could show itself to Urbain de la Marinière, and few mortals +besides him haunted the remote passages while the great house stood +empty. + +And now one may be sure that the ghosts were careful to hide themselves +from Madame de Sainfoy. No half-lights, no chilly shadows wavering on +the wall, no quick passing of a wind from nowhere, such hints and +vanishings as might send a shiver through ordinary bones, had any effect +on Adélaïde's cool dignity. The light of reason shone in her clear-cut +face; her voice, penetrating and decided, was enough to frighten any +foolish spirit who chose to sweep rushingly beside her through the wall +as she walked along the passages. + +"Do you hear the rats?" she would say. "How can we catch them? These old +houses are infested with them." + +She spoke so firmly that even the ghost itself believed it was a rat, +and scuttled away out of hearing. + +To reach the north wing, where her three girls and their governess +lived, Madame de Sainfoy had to mount a short flight of steps from the +hall, then to go along a vaulted corridor lighted only by a small +lucarne window here and there, then down a staircase which brought her +to the level of the great salons and the dining-room at the opposite +end, which formerly, like this north wing, had hung over the moat, but +were now being brought nearer the ground by Monsieur de Sainfoy's +earthworks. + +This old north wing had been less restored than any other part of the +château. The passage which ran through it, only lighted by a window at +the foot of the staircase, ended at the arched door of a silent, +deserted chapel with an altar on its east side, a quaint figure of Our +Lady in a carved niche, and a window half-darkened with ivy leaves, +overhanging the green and damp depths of the moat, now empty of water. + +Before reaching the chapel--lonely and neglected, but not desecrated, +for by the care of Madame de la Marinière mass had been said in it once +a year--there were four doors, two on each side of the corridor. The +first on the left was that of the room where Sophie and Lucie both slept +and did their lessons, a large room looking out west to the gardens and +woods behind Lancilly; and opening from this, with a separate door into +the passage, was Mademoiselle Moineau's room. On the right the rooms +were smaller, the chapel cutting them off to the north, with a secret +staircase in the thickness of the wall by the altar. A maid slept in the +first; and the second, nearest the chapel, but with a wide, cheerful +view of its own across the valley to the east, was Hélène's room. + +Madame de Sainfoy, after disposing of Hervé and hearing all that Urbain +had to tell her, with digressions to the almost equally interesting +subject of silk hangings, set off across the château to inspect the +young people at their lessons. She was an excellent mother. She did not, +like so many women, leave her children entirely to the consciences of +their teachers. + +Her firm step, the sharp touch which lifted the heavy old latch, +straightened the backs of Sophie and Lucie as if by magic. Lucie looked +at her mother in terror. Too often her round shoulders caught that +unsparing eye, and the dreaded backboard was firmly strapped on before +Madame de Sainfoy left the room; for Lucie, growing tall and inclined +to stoop, was going through the period of torture which Hélène, for the +same reason, had endured before her. + +They all got up, including Mademoiselle Moineau. The two girls went to +kiss their mother's hand; Henriette, more slowly, followed their +example. + +"I hope your new pupil is obedient, mademoiselle," said Madame de +Sainfoy, as her cold glance met the child's fearless eyes. + +Mademoiselle Moineau cocked her little arched nose--she was very like a +fluffy old bird--and smiled rather mischievously. + +"We shall do very well, when Mademoiselle de la Marinière understands +us," she said. "I have no wish to complain, but at present she is a +little sure of herself, a little distrustful of me, and so--" + +"Ignorance and ill-breeding," said the Comtesse, coolly. "Excuse +her--she will know better in time." + +Riette's eyes fell, and she became crimson. The good-natured Sophie +caught her hand and squeezed it, thinking she was going to cry; but such +weakness was far from Riette; the red of her cheeks was a flame of pure +indignation. Ignorant! Ill-bred! She had been very much pleased when the +little papa decided suddenly on sending her to join Sophie and Lucie in +their lessons; she had been seized with a romantic admiration for +Hélène, independent of the interest she took in her for Angelot's sake, +and in other ways the Château de Lancilly was to her enchanted ground. +And now this fair, tall lady, whom she had disliked from the first, +talked of her ignorance and ill-breeding! She drew herself up, her lips +trembled; another such word and she would have walked out of the room, +fled down the corridor, escaped alone across the fields to Les +Chouettes. She knew every turn, every step in the château, every path in +the country, far better than these people did; they would not easily +overtake her. + +But Madame de Sainfoy was not thinking of Henriette. + +"What are you doing? Reading history?" she said to the others. +"Mademoiselle, I thought it was my wish that Hélène should read history +with her sisters. The other day, if you remember, she could not tell +Monsieur de Sainfoy the date of the marriage of Philippe Duc d'Orléans +with the Princess Henriette of England. It is necessary to know these +things. The Emperor expects a correct knowledge of the old Royal Family. +Where is Hélène?" + +"She is in her own room, madame. Allow me an instant--" + +The three children were left alone. Madame de Sainfoy walked quickly +into Mademoiselle Moineau's room, the little governess waddling after +her, and the door was shut. + +Riette made a skip in the air and pirouetted on one foot. Then while +Sophie and Lucie stared open-mouthed, she was on a chair; then with a +wild spring, she was hanging by her hands to the top cornice of a great +walnut-wood press; then she was on her feet again, light as an +india-rubber ball. + +"Ah, mon Dieu! sit down, Riette, or we shall all be beaten!" sighed the +trembling Lucie. + +"Don't be frightened, children!" murmured Riette. "Where is our book? +Now, my angels, think, think of Henri Quatre and all his glory!" + +In the meanwhile, Mademoiselle Moineau laid her complaint of Hélène +before the Comtesse. Something was certainly the matter with the girl; +she would not read, she would not talk, her tasks of needlework were +neglected, she did not care to go out, or to do anything but sit in her +window and gaze across the valley. + +"Of course there has been no opportunity--they have never met, except in +public--but if it were not entirely out of the question--" Mademoiselle +Moineau stammered, blushing, conscious, though she would never confess +it, of having nodded one day for a few minutes under a certain mulberry +tree. "The other night, madame, at the dinner party, did it strike you +that a certain gentleman was a little forward, a little intimate--" + +Madame de Sainfoy lifted her brows and shrugged her shoulders. + +"You mean young La Marinière? Bah! nonsense, mademoiselle. Only a +little cousin, and a quite impossible one. We cannot keep him quite at +arm's length, because of his father, who has been so excellent. But if +you really think that Hélène has any such absurdity in her head--" + +"Oh, madame, I do not say so. I have no positive reason for saying so. +She has told me nothing--" + +"I should think not," said Madame de Sainfoy, shortly. + +Mademoiselle Moineau was dismissed back to her pupils, whom she found, +under Henriette's surveillance, deep in the romance of French history. + +Madame de Sainfoy crossed the passage and tried Hélène's door. It was +not fastened, as she had half expected. Opening it quickly and gently, +she found her daughter sitting in the window, as the governess had +described her, with both arms stretched out upon its broad sill, and +eyes fixed in a long wistful gaze on the small spire of the church at La +Marinière, and the screen of trees which partly hid the old manor +buildings from view. + +"What are you doing, Hélène?" said Madame de Sainfoy. + +Her voice, though low, was peremptory. The girl started up, turning her +white face and tired eyes from the window. Her mother walked across the +room and sat down in a high-backed chair close by. + +"What a waste of time," she said, "to sit staring into vacancy! Why are +you not reading history with your sisters, as I wished?" + +"Mamma--my head aches," said Hélène. + +"Then bathe it with cold water. What is the matter with you, child? You +irritate me with your pale looks. Do you dislike Lancilly? Do you wish +yourself back in Paris?" + +"No, mamma." + +"I could excuse you if you did," said Madame de Sainfoy, with a smile. +"I find the country insupportable myself, but you see, as the fates have +preserved to us this rat-infested ruin, we must make the best of it. I +set you an example, Hélène. I interest myself in restoring and +decorating. If you were to help me, time would not seem so long." + +She did not speak at all unkindly. + +"I like the country. I like Lancilly much better than Paris," said +Hélène. + +There was a moment's gleam of pity in Madame de Sainfoy's bright blue +eyes. Languid, sad, yet not rebellious or sulky, her beautiful girl +stood drooping like a white lily in the stern old frame of the window. +The mother believed in discipline, and Hélène's childhood and youth had +been spent in an atmosphere of cold severity. Punishments would have +been very frequent, if her father's rather spasmodic and inconsequent +kindness had not stepped in to save her. She owed a good deal to her +father, but these debts only hardened her mother against both of them. +Yet Madame de Sainfoy was not without a certain pride in the perfect +form and features, the delicate, exquisite grace and distinction, which +was one of these days to dazzle the Tuileries. On that, her resolution +was firm and unchanging. _Tout va bien!_ One of these days the Emperor's +command might be expected. With that confident certainty in the +background, she felt she need not trouble herself much about her +husband's objections or her daughter's fancies. + +"You are a very difficult young woman, Hélène," she said, still not +unkindly, and her eyes travelled with slow consideration over every +detail as the girl stood there. "I do not like that gown of yours," she +said. "Don't wear it again. Give it to Jeanne--do you hear?" + +"Must I? But it is not worn out, mamma. I would rather keep it," the +girl said quickly, stroking her soft blue folds, which were in truth a +little faded. + +Then she flushed suddenly, for what reason could she give for loving the +old gown! Not, certainly, that she had worn it one day in the +garden--one day when Mademoiselle Moineau went to sleep! + +"You will do as I tell you," said Madame de Sainfoy. Then she added with +a slight laugh--"You are so fond of your own way, that I wonder you +should object to being married. Do you think, perhaps, you would find a +husband still more tyrannical?" + +The girl shook her head. "No," she murmured. + +"Then what is your reason? for you evidently intend not to be married at +all." + +"I do not say that," said Hélène; and Madame de Sainfoy was conscious, +with sudden anger, that once more the dreamy grey eyes travelled out of +the open window, far away to those lines of poplars and clipped elms +opposite. + +"How different things were when I was young!" she said. "My marriage +with your father was arranged by our relations, without our meeting at +all. I never saw him till everything was concluded. If I had disliked +him, I could neither have said nor done anything." + +"That was before the Revolution," said Hélène, with a faint smile. + +"Indeed you are very much mistaken," her mother said quickly, "if you +think the Revolution has altered the manners of society. It may have +done good in some ways--I believe it did--but in teaching young people +that they could disobey their parents, it did nothing but harm. And it +deceived them, too. As long as our nation lasts, marriages will be +arranged by those who know best. In your case, but for your father's +absurd indulgence, you would have been married months ago. However, +these delays cannot last for ever. I think you will not refuse the next +marriage that is offered you." + +The girl looked wonderingly at her mother, half in terror, half in +hope. She spoke meaningly, positively. What marriage could this be? + +"What would you say to a distinguished soldier?" said Madame de Sainfoy, +watching her keenly. "Then, with some post about the Court and your +husband always away at the wars, you could lead a life as independent as +you chose. Now, pray do not think it necessary to throw yourself out of +the window. I make a suggestion, that is all. I am quite aware that +commands are thrown away on a young lady of your character." + +"What do you mean, mamma?" the girl panted, with a quick drawing-in of +her breath. "Who is it? Not that man who dined here--that man who was +talking to you?" + +Madame de Sainfoy flamed suddenly into one of those cold rages which had +an effectiveness all their own. + +"Idiot!" she said between her teeth. "Contemptible little fool! And if +General Ratoneau, a handsome and distinguished man, did you the honour +of asking for your hand, would you expect me to tell him that you had +not taken a fancy to him?" + +"Mon Dieu!" Hélène murmured. She turned away to the window for a moment, +clasping her hands upon her breast; then, white as death, came back and +stood before her mother. + +"It is what I feared," she said. "It is what you were talking about; I +knew it at the time. That was why you sent me out of the room--you +wanted to talk it over. Have you settled it, then? What did papa say?" + +Madame de Sainfoy hesitated. She had not at all intended to mention any +name, or to make Hélène aware to any extent of the true facts of the +case. Her sudden anger had carried her further than she meant to go. She +neither wished to frighten the girl into flying to her father, nor to +tell her that he had refused his consent. + +"Really, Hélène, you are my despair," she said, and laughed, her eyes +fixed on the girl's lovely, changing face. "You leap to conclusions in +an utterly absurd way. If such a thing were already settled, or even +under serious consideration, would you not have been formally told of it +before now? Would your father have kept silence for two days, and would +you not have heard of another visit from General Ratoneau? You would not +be surprised, I suppose, to hear that he admires you--and by the bye, I +think your taste is bad if you do not return his admiration--but that is +absolutely all I have to tell you." + +"Is it?" the girl sighed. "Ah, mamma, how you terrified me!" + +Madame de Sainfoy shrugged her shoulders. + +"I wonder," she said, "how I have deserved such a daughter as you! No +courage, no ambition for your family, no feeling of duty to them. +Nothing but--I am ashamed to say it, Hélène, and you can deny it if it +is not true--some silly sentimental fancy which carries your eyes and +thoughts to that old farm over there. Ah, I see I am right. When did +this preposterous nonsense begin? Why, the question is not worth asking, +for you have hardly even spoken to that cousin of yours, and I will do +him the justice to say that he, on his side, has no such ridiculous +idea. He does not sit staring at Lancilly as you do at La Marinière! +Yes, Hélène, I am ashamed of you." + +Hélène stood crimson and like a culprit before her mother. She hardly +understood her words; she only knew that her mother had read her heart, +had known how to follow her thoughts as they escaped from this stony +prison away to sunshine and free air and waving trees and a happy, +homely life; away to Angelot. What was there to be ashamed of, after +all? She expected no one to be on her side; she dreaded their anger and +realised keenly what it might be; but as for shame! + +Even as Madame de Sainfoy spoke, the thought of her young lover seemed +to surround Hélène with an atmosphere of joyful sweetness. Yes, he was +wonderful, her Angelot. Would he ever be afraid or ashamed to confess +his love for her? Why could she not find courage then to tell of hers +for him? + +With a new and astonishing courage Hélène lifted her long lashes and +looked up into her mother's face. It was a timid glance at the best; the +furtive shadow lingered still in her eyes, result of a life of cold +repression. + +"Why should I deny it, mamma?" she said. Her voice was distinct, though +it trembled. "It is true, and I am not ashamed of it. Angelot has been +kinder to me than any one in the world. Yes--I love him." + +"Ah!" Madame de Sainfoy drew a long breath. "Ah! Voyons! And what next, +pray?" + +"If you care at all to make me happy," the girl said, and she gained a +little hope, heaven knows why, as she went on, "you and papa will--will +give me to him. Yes, that is what I want. Mamma, see, I have no +ambition. I don't care to live in Paris or to go to Court--I hate it! I +want to live in the country--over there--at La Marinière." + +A smile curled Madame de Sainfoy's pretty mouth. It was not an agreeable +one; but it frightened Hélène much less than an angry word would have +done. She came forward a step or two, knelt on her mother's footstool, +timidly rested a hand on her knee. Madame de Sainfoy sat immovable, +looking down and smiling. + +"Speak, mamma," murmured the girl. + +"Hélène, are you deaf?" said Madame de Sainfoy. "Did you hear what I +said just now?" + +"You told me I had no courage or ambition. I suppose it is true." + +"I told you something else, which you did not choose to hear. I told you +that this fancy of yours was not only foolish and low, but one-sided. +Trust me, Hélène. I know more of your precious cousin than you do, my +dear." + +"Pardon! Ah no, mamma, impossible." + +"It is true. The other night, as you guessed, I sent you away that I +might discuss your future with your father and his family. That very +absurd person, Cousin Joseph de la Marinière, chose to give his opinion +without being asked for it, and took upon himself to suggest a marriage +between you and that little nephew of his. Take your hand away. I +dislike being touched, as you know." + +The girl's pale face was full of life and colour now, her melancholy +eyes of light. She snatched away her hand and rose quickly to her feet, +stepping back to her old place near the window. + +"Dear Uncle Joseph!" she murmured under her breath. + +"The young man was not grateful. He said in plain words that he did not +wish to marry you. Yes, look as bewildered as you please. Ask your +father, ask either of his cousins. I will say for young Ange that he has +more wits than you have; he does not waste his time craving for the +impossible. If it were not so, I should send you away to a convent. As +it is, I shall stop this little flirtation by taking care that you do +not meet him, except under supervision." + +The girl looked stricken. She leaned against the wall, once more white +as a statue, once more terrified. + +"Angelot said--but it is not possible!" she whispered very low. + +"Angelot very sensibly said that he did not care for you. Under those +circumstances I think you are punished enough; and I will not insist on +knowing how you came to deceive yourself so far. But I advise you not to +spend any more time staring at that line of poplars," said Madame de +Sainfoy. "Learn not to take in earnest what other people mean in play; +your country cousin admires you, no doubt, but he knows more of the +world than you do, most idiotic and ill-behaved girl!" + +As she said the last words she rose and crossed the room to the door, +throwing them scornfully over her shoulder. Then she passed out, and +Hélène, planted there, heard the key grind in the lock. + +She was a prisoner in her room; but this did not greatly trouble her. +She went back to the window, leaned her arms on the sill, gazed once +more at La Marinière, its trees motionless in the afternoon sunlight, +thought of the old room as she had first seen it that moonlit evening +with its sweet air of peace and home, thought of the noble, delicate +face of Angelot's mother, thought of Angelot himself as the candle-light +fell upon him, of the first wonderful look, the electric current which +changed the world for herself and him. And then all that had happened +since, all that her mother did not and never must know. Was it really +possible, could it be believed that he meant nothing, that he did not +love her after all? No, it could not be believed. And yet how to be +sure, without seeing him again? + +Ah, well, for some people life must be all sadness, and Héléne had long +believed herself one of these. Angelot's love seemed to have proved her +wrong, but now the leaf in her book was turned back again, and she found +herself at the old place. Not quite that either, for the old deadness +had been waked into an agony of pain. Angelot false! Hell must certainly +be worse to bear after a taste of Paradise. + +She laid her fair head down on her arms at the open window, high in the +bare wall. An hour passed by, and still she sat there in a kind of +hopeless lethargy. She did not hear a gentle tapping at the door, nor +the trying of the latch by some one who could not get in. But a minute +later she started and exclaimed when a dark head was suddenly nestled +against hers, her cheek kissed by rosy lips, her name whispered +lovingly. + +"Oh, little Riette!" she cried. "Where did you come from, child? Was the +key in the door?" + +"No, there was no key," Riette whispered. "You are locked in, ma belle; +but never mind. I know my way about Lancilly. I am going home now, and I +wanted to see you. They will ask me how you are looking." + +Hélène blushed and almost laughed. She looked eagerly into the child's +face. + +"Who will ask you?" + +"Papa, of course." + +"Ah, yes, he is very kind. What will you say to him?" + +Riette looked hard at her and shrugged her slight shoulders. + +"I must go," she said. "Kiss me again, ma belle." + +"Stop!" Hélène held her tight, with her hands on her shoulders. "Do you +often see--your cousin--Angelot?" + +Riette's face rippled with laughter. "Every day--nearly every hour." + +"Why do you laugh?" + +"How can I tell? It is my fault, my own wickedness," said Riette, +penitently. "Why indeed should I laugh, when you look sad and ill? Can I +say any little word to Angelot, ma cousine?" + +"Tell him I must see him--I must speak to him. Tell him to fix the place +and the hour." + +"And you a prisoner?" + +"Yes--but how did you get in? That way I can get out--Riette--Riette!" + +"Precisely. Adieu! they are calling me." + +The child was gone. Hélène, standing in the deep recess in the window, +now came forward and looked round wonderingly. The old tapestried walls +surrounded her; ancient scenes of hunting and dancing which at first +had troubled her sleep. There was no visible exit from the room, except +the locked door. But Riette was gone, and the message with her. Was she +a real child, or only a comforting dream? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +HOW ANGELOT PLAYED THE PART OF AN OWL IN AN IVY-BUSH + + +That night, while Hélène sat alone and in disgrace, her lover was +dancing. + +After dinner Riette persuaded her father to walk across with her to La +Marinière, where they found Monsieur Urbain, his wife and son, spending +the evening in their usual sober fashion; he, deep in vintage matters, +still studying his friend De Serres, and arguing various points with +Angelot whose day had been passed with Joubard in the vineyards; she, +working at her frame, where a very rococo shepherd and shepherdess under +a tree had almost reached perfection. + +Madame de la Marinière had views of her own about little girls, and +considered Riette by no means a model. She had tried to impress her +ideas on Monsieur Joseph, but though he smiled and listened admiringly, +he spoiled Riette all the more. So her Aunt Anne reluctantly gave her +up. But still, in her rather severe way, she was kind to the child, and +Riette, though a little shy and on her good behaviour, was not afraid of +her. There was always a basket beside Aunt Anne, of clothes she was +making for the poor, for her tapestry was only an evening amusement. In +this basket there was a little white cap such as the peasant children +wore, partly embroidered in white thread. This was Riette's special +work, whenever she came to La Marinière. Sitting on a footstool beside +her aunt, she stitched away at "le bonnet de la petite Lise." At her +rate of progress, however, as her aunt pointed out with a melancholy +smile, Lise would be a grown-up woman before the cap was finished. + +And on this special evening the stitches were both few and crooked. +Riette paid no attention to her work, but sat staring and smiling at +Angelot across the room, and he, instead of talking to his father and +uncle, watched her keenly under his eyelids. Presently he came and stood +near his mother's chair while she asked Riette a few questions about her +lessons that day. It appeared that all had been satisfactory. + +"A good little woman, Mademoiselle Moineau," said Riette, softly, +smiling at Angelot, who felt the colour mounting to his hair. "I like +her very much. She pretends to scold, but there is no malice in it, you +know. I don't think she is very clever. Quite clever enough for Sophie +and Lucie, who are most amiable, poor dear children, but stupid--ah!" + +"They are older than you, I believe, Henriette," said her aunt, +reprovingly. + +"Yes, dear aunt, in years, but not in experience. I have lived, I know +life"--she nodded gently--"while those poor girls--Ah, how charming! May +I have a little dance with Ange, Aunt Anne?" + +"I suppose so. Lise will not have her cap yet, it seems," said Madame de +la Marinière, smiling in spite of herself. + +Monsieur Joseph had sat down to the piano and was playing a lively +polka. Angelot started up, seized his little cousin, and whirled her off +down the room. In a minute or two Urbain took off his spectacles, shut +the _Théâtre d'Agriculture_ with a sharp clap, walked up to Anne and +held out his hands with a smiling bow. + +"I can't resist Joseph's music, if you can, my little lady!" + +"It seems we must follow the children," she said. "Riette has just been +pointing out that she, at least, is wiser than her elders." + +Angelot and his father jumped their light partners up and down with all +the merry energy of France and a new world. After a few turns, Angelot +waltzed Riette out into the hall, and they stood still for a few moments +under the porch, while she whispered Hélène's message into his ear. + +"Mon Dieu! But how can she meet me? It must be at night, or they will +see us. And if she is locked into her room?" + +"She can get out of her room, mon petit! She knows there is a way, +though I have not shown it to her. Then there is the secret staircase +in the chapel wall." + +"You are right, glorious child that you are. She will find me in the +moat, close to the little door. Nothing can be safer, provided that no +one misses her." + +"At what time?" + +"Nine o'clock, when they are all playing cards." + +"I will tell her," said Riette. "Oh, my Ange! she looked so sweet when +she talked of you. I think I love her as much as you do. Why don't you +bring her to Les Chouettes, that we may take care of her? There is an +idea. Take her to Monsieur le Curé to-morrow night. He will be gone to +bed, but no matter. Make him get up and marry you. Then come and live at +Les Chouettes, both of you. We have plenty of room, and little papa +would not be angry." + +"Hush, child, what things you say!" + +The very thoughts were maddening, there in the dim darkness under the +stairs, with glimmering points of distant earthly light from Lancilly on +the opposite hill. One of them might be Hélène's window, where she sat +and watched La Marinière. + +The music in the old room behind went swinging on. Monsieur Joseph +played with immense spirit; Monsieur and Madame Urbain danced merrily up +and down. + +"Allons! we must go back," Angelot whispered to his little cousin, +whose arms were round his neck. "And then you must dance with your +uncle, because my mother likes a turn with me." + +One cold touch of reflection came to dim his happiness. He had promised +Uncle Joseph not to make Henriette a go-between. And it seemed no real +excuse that it was Hélène's doing, not his. Well, this once it could not +be helped. All the promises in the world would not make him disobey +Hélène or disappoint her. + +For the present, it seemed as if the attraction between himself and +Hélène, a rapture to both of them, still meant very real misery to her. +She was in deep disgrace with Madame de Sainfoy. Although she was +allowed to come down to the meals, at which she sat statue-like and +silent, she was sent back at once to her room, and either her mother or +Mademoiselle Moineau locked her in. + +Her father noticed these proceedings and shrugged his shoulders. He was +sorry for Hélène, but had learnt by experience not to interfere, except +on great and necessary occasions. No doubt girls were sometimes +troublesome, and he did not pretend to know how to manage them. Adélaïde +must bring up her children in her own way. + +Another day of almost entire solitude, with a terrible doubt of Angelot +added to the longing for his presence, so that peace was no longer to be +found in the distant sight of La Marinière; another day had dragged its +length through the hot hours of the afternoon, when, as Hélène walked +restlessly up and down in her room, the blue-green depths of a grove on +her tapestried wall began to move, and out from the wall itself, as if +to join the dancing peasants beyond the grove, came the slender little +figure of Henriette. In an instant the panel of tapestry had closed +behind her and she had sprung into Hélène's arms. The girl clutched her +convulsively. + +"What does he say?" + +"To-night, at nine o'clock, he will be near the little door in the moat. +Meet him there." + +"The little door in the moat!" + +"You see this. Let me show you the spring"--she dragged her to the wall, +and opened the panel with a touch. Inside it there was a dark and narrow +passage, but opposite another panel stood slightly ajar. + +"That is the way into the chapel," Riette whispered. "I came that way. +But you must turn to the right, and almost directly you will find the +stairs. The door is at the foot of them. He will be there." + +"It is unlocked?" + +"There is no key. I believe there has been none for centuries. Adieu, my +pretty angel. They will miss me; I must go. I told them I wanted to say +a little prayer to Our Lady in the chapel. She often helped me when I +used to play here." + +"I hope she will help me, too!" murmured Hélène. + +In another moment she was terrified at finding herself alone in the +dark; for the child was gone, softly closing the secret door into the +chapel. Hélène felt about for a minute or two before she could find the +spring behind the tapestry, and stepped back into her room, shivering +from the damp chill of the passage. + +It seemed like an extraordinary fate that that night her mother kept her +downstairs at needlework later than usual. It was in truth a slight mark +of returning favour. Madame de Sainfoy was in a better temper, and +realised that it might be unwise to treat a tall girl of nineteen quite +like a disobedient child. So Hélène sat there stitching beside +Mademoiselle Moineau, who was sometimes called upon to take a hand at +cards. To-night this did not seem likely, for Urbain de la Marinière +came in after dinner, and the snuffy, sharp-faced little Curé of +Lancilly was there too. Madame de Sainfoy had asked him to dine that +day, partly to show herself superior to family prejudices; for this +little man, unlike the venerable Curé of La Marinière, was one of the +Constitutional priests of the Republic. + +Flushing crimson, and feeling, as she well might, like a heroine of +romance, Hélène heard the new Paris clock strike nine. Its measured, +silvery tones had not died away, when she was by her mother's side at +the card-table, timidly asking leave to go to her room. + +Madame de Sainfoy had just glanced at her hand and found it an excellent +one. + +"Yes, my child, certainly," she said absently, and gave Hélène her free +hand. + +The girl touched it with her lips, and then her mother's fingers lightly +patted her cheek. + +"How feverish you are!" Adélaïde murmured, but took no further notice, +absorbed in her game. + +"Like a little flame! but it is a hot night," said Hervé as his daughter +kissed him. + +Mademoiselle Moineau was following Hélène from the room, when she was +called back. + +"No, mademoiselle, you must stay; we cannot do without you. Monsieur le +Curé has to be home before ten o'clock." + +The governess went back obediently to her corner. Hélène glanced back +from the door at the group round the table, deep in their calculations, +careless of what might be going on outside their circle of shaded +candle-light. Only her father lifted his head and looked after her for +an instant; her presence or absence was totally indifferent to the other +men, though the square-headed cousin Urbain was Angelot's father; and +her mother had forgotten her already. + +Carrying her light, Hélène went with quick and trembling steps through +the house to the north wing. As she entered the last passage, she met +the maid who had been waiting on Sophie and Lucie, and who slept in the +room next her own. + +"Mademoiselle wants me?" said Jeanne, a little disappointed; she had +hoped for half-an-hour's freedom. + +"No, no, I do not want you," Hélène answered quickly. "I have things to +do--you can stay till Mademoiselle Moineau comes up." + +Jeanne went on her way rejoicing. + +Hélène, once in her own room, locked the door inside, took a large black +lace scarf and threw it over her head, hiding her white dress with it as +much as possible; then, still carrying her candle, touched the +mysterious tapestry door, that door which seemed to lead into old-time +woods, into happy, romantic worlds far away, and stepped through into +the passage in the thickness of the wall. + +Almost instantly she came to the topmost step of the staircase. Black +with dust and cobwebs, damp, with slimy snail-tracks on the stones, it +went winding down to the lowest story of the old house. The steps were +worn and irregular. Long ago they had been built, for this was the most +ancient part of the château. In their first days the stairs had not +ended with the moat, then full of water, but had gone lower still, +leading to a passage under the moat that communicated with the open +country. There were many such underground ways in the war-worn old +province. But when Lancilly was restored and the moat drained, in the +seventeenth century, the lower stairs and passage were blocked up, and +the present door was made, opening on the green grass and bushes that +grew at the bottom of the old moat. + +Hélène went down the steep and narrow stairs as quickly as her trembling +limbs would carry her. They seemed endless; but at last the light fell +on a low, heavy door, deep set in the immense foundation wall. She +seized the large rusty latch and lifted it without difficulty. Then she +pulled gently; no result; she pushed hard, thinking the door must open +outwards; it did not move. She set down her light on the stairs, and +tried again with both hands; but the door was immovable. As her brain +became a little steadier, and her eyes more accustomed to the dimness, +she saw that a heavy iron bar was fastened across the upper panels of +the door, and run into two enormous staples on the wall at each side. +She touched the bar, tried to move it, but found her hands absolutely +useless; it would have been a heavy task for a strong man. She stood and +looked at the door, shivering with terror and distress. After all, it +seemed, she was a real prisoner. She could not keep her appointment with +Angelot. She gave a stifled cry and threw herself against the door, +beating it with her fists and bruising them. Then a voice spoke outside, +low and quickly. + +"Hélène!" + +"Ah! you are there!" she said, and leaned her head against the door. + +"Open then, dearest--don't be afraid. Lift the latch, and pull it +towards you. There is only a keyhole on this side--but it can't be +locked, for there is no key." + +"I cannot," she said. "It is barred with a great iron bar. I cannot move +it. Oh, how unhappy I am! Why should I be so unfortunate, so miserable?" +she cried, and beat upon the door again. + +"Ah, mon Dieu! My father's precautions! He went round the château six +weeks ago, to examine all the doors. I was not with him, or I should +have known it. Hélène! Will you do as I ask you?" + +"Ah! there is nothing to be done. I had to speak to you--I cannot, with +this dreadful door between us, and--Ah, heavens, something has put out +my candle. I am in the dark! What shall I do!" + +"Courage, courage!" he said, speaking close to the keyhole. "Go back up +the stairs; go to the chapel window!" + +"But I cannot speak to you from the window!" + +"Yes, you can--you shall." + +"But I am in the dark!" + +"You cannot miss your way. Go--go quickly--we have not much time--it is +late already." + +"I could not help it," sighed Hélène. + +She was almost angry with him, and for a moment she was sorry she had +sent him any message. + +"What is the use? How can I speak to him from the window? it is too +high," she said to herself as she stumbled up the stairs, shuddering as +her fingers touched the damp wall. "It is my fate--I am never to be +happy. My mother knows she can do as she likes with me." + +A sob rose in her throat, and burning tears blinded her. But she dashed +them away when she reached the level, and saw the thin line of light +which showed the entrance into her own room, where she had left a candle +burning. The opposite panel flew open as she touched it; she stooped and +crept into the chapel. + +It was dark, cold, and lonely; no friendly red light in the seldom-used +little sanctuary; but the window in the north wall was unshuttered, and +let in the pale glimmer of a sky lit by stars. Hélène had no difficulty +in opening the window, though its rusty hinges groaned. There was a +quick, loud rustling in the ivy beneath. Hélène stepped back with a +slight scream as a hand shot suddenly up and caught the sill; in another +instant Angelot had climbed to the level of the window and dropped on +the brick floor. Hélène was almost in his arms, but she drew back and +motioned him away, remembering just in time that she was angry. + +"What is it?" he said quickly. "Why--" + +"How--how did you get here?" she stammered. "I thought you were down in +the moat." + +"It is not the first time I have climbed the ivy, as the owls might +tell you," he said. "It is easy; the old trunk is as thick as my body, +and twists like a ladder. Hélène! You are angry with me! What have I +done?" + +He tried to take her hand, but she drew it from him. He fell on his +knees and kissed the hem of her gown. + +"Hélène!" + +She stood motionless, unable to speak. But Angelot was not long to be +treated in this chilling fashion. It seemed that he had a good +conscience, and was not afraid to account for any of his actions. He +rose to his feet; no words passed between them; but Hélène resisted him +no longer. Her head was leaning on his breast; a long, happy sigh +escaped her; and it was between kisses that he asked her again, "Why are +you angry with me?" + +"I am not--not now--I know it is not true," she murmured. + +"What, my beloved?" + +"You do care for me?" + +Angelot laughed. Indeed it did not seem necessary to reassure her on +such a point. + +"Because, if you give me up, I shall die," she said. "I should have +died, I think, if I had not seen you to-night. Now they may say and do +what they please." + +"What have they been saying and doing? Ah, my sweet, how have they been +tormenting you? You are no happier than when I saw you first, though I +love you so. How you tremble! Sit down here--there, softly--you are +quite safe. What in God's name are we to do? Must I leave you again with +these people?" + +For a few minutes they sat in a corner of an old carved bench under the +window, one of the family seats in those more religious days when +grandfathers and grandmothers came to the chapel to pray. Hélène leaned +against Angelot, clinging to him, and past his dark profile, dimly +visible in the twilight of stars, she could see the roughly carved and +painted figure of Our Lady, brought from a Spanish convent and much +venerated by that Mademoiselle de Sainfoy who became a Carmelite in the +early days of the order. Hélène had fancied, before now, that there was +something motherly in the smile of the statue, neglected so long. She +thought, even as her lover kissed her, that neither the Blessed Virgin, +nor St. Theresa, nor the ancestor who was her disciple, would have been +angry with her and Angelot. Only her own mother, and she for worldly +reasons alone, would find any sin in this sweet human love which wrapped +her round, which, if allowed to have its way, would shield her from all +the miseries of life and keep her in the rapturous peace she enjoyed in +this moment, this fleeting moment, which she could not spoil even by +telling her Angelot why she sent for him. + +"Ah, how I wanted you!" she breathed in his ear. + +"My love! But what--what are we to do!" he murmured passionately; her +feelings of rest and peace and safety were not for him. + +"Your father is very good, and loves you," he said. "At least we know +that he will not have you sacrificed. I will ask him. If he +refuses--then, mille tonnerres, I will carry you off into the woods, +Hélène." + +"It is no use asking him, dearest, none," she said. "Besides, you told +them all that you did not care for me." + +She lifted her head, and tried to look into his face. + +"Ah, did they tell you that? Was that why you were angry?" Angelot +cried. + +"Yes," she said; "and now you had better ask to be forgiven." + +Indeed, as they both knew too well, there were more serious things than +kisses and loving words to occupy that stolen half-hour. They had to +tell each other all--all they knew--and each became a little wiser. +Hélène knew that General Ratoneau had actually asked for her, and that +her father had refused to listen; thus realising that her mother was +deceiving her, and also that for some hidden reason the plan seemed to +Madame de Sainfoy still possible. Angelot, even as they sat there +together, realised vividly that he was living in a fool's paradise; that +his love's confession to her mother had made things incalculably worse, +justifying all the stern treatment, the violent means, which such a +mother might think necessary. + +"She means to marry her to Ratoneau," he thought, "and she will do it, +unless Heaven interferes by a miracle. Uncle Joseph is my only friend, +and he cannot help me--at least--if I do not act at once, we are lost." + +He lifted Hélène's fair head a little, and its pale beauty, in the dim +gleam from the open window, seemed to fill his whole being as he gazed. +He drew her towards him and kissed her again and again; it might have +been a last embrace, a last good-bye, but he did not mean it for that. + +"Will you come with me now?" he said. + +"Yes!" Hélène said faintly. + +"Are you afraid?" + +"No"--she hesitated--"not with you. I can be brave when I am with +you--but when you are not here--" + +"They shall not part us again," Angelot said. + +"But how are we to get out?" + +Though her lover was there, still holding her, the girl trembled as she +asked the question. + +"I can unbar the door," he said. "Come to the top of the stairs and wait +there till I whistle; then come down to me." + +This seemed enough for the moment, and the wild fellow had no further +plan at all. To have her outside these prison walls, in the free air he +loved, under the trees in the starlight, to make a right to her, as he +vaguely thought, by running off with her in this fashion--that was all +that concerned him at the moment. Where was he to take her? Would Uncle +Joseph receive them? Such thoughts just flashed through the tumult of +his brain, but seemed of no present importance. Angelot was mad that +night, mad with love of his cousin, with the desperate necessity which +needed to be met by desperate daring. + +Hélène followed him, trembling very much, to the top of the stairs. + +"You have a candle there? Fetch it for me," he said. + +She obeyed him, slipping through the tapestry into her own room. Once +there, she looked round with a wild wonder. Could this be +herself--Hélène de Sainfoy--about to escape into the wide world with her +lover--and empty-handed? She looked down vaguely at her white evening +gown and thin shoes, snatched up her watch and chain and a diamond ring, +which were lying on the table, and slipped them into her pocket. It was +the work of a moment, yet when she carried the candle to Angelot, he was +white as death, and stamping with impatience; the flame in his eyes +frightened her. + +He took the candle without a word and disappeared down the first steep +winding of the stairs. His moving shadow danced gigantic on the wall, +then was gone. Hélène waited in the darkness. Even love and faith, with +hope added, were not strong enough to keep her brave and happy during +the terrible minutes of lonely waiting there. Her limbs trembled, her +heart thumped so that she had to lean for support against the cold damp +wall. She bent her head forward, eagerly listening. Why had she not gone +down with him? Somebody might hear him whistle. However, no whistle +came; only a dull sound of banging, which echoed strangely, alarmingly, +up the narrow staircase in the thickness of the wall. + +It seemed to Hélène that she had waited long and was becoming stupefied +with anxiety, when a light flashed suddenly upon her eyes, and she +opened them wide; she had never lost the childish fear which made her +shut them in the dark. Angelot had leaped up the stairs again and was +standing beside her, white and frowning. + +"It is impossible," he said, in a hurried whisper. "I cannot move the +bar without tools. Come back into the chapel." + +He set down the candlestick on the altar step, walked distractedly to +the end of the low vaulted room, then back to where she stood gazing at +him with a pitiful terror in her eyes. + +"What is to be done! Is there no other way!" he said, half to himself. +"Mon Dieu, Hélène, how beautiful you are! Ah, what is that? Listen!" + +His ears, quicker than hers, had caught steps and a rustling sound in +the passage that ended at the chapel door. + +"Dear--go back to your room," he said. "They must not find you here. We +shall meet again--Good-night, my own!" + +He was gone. The bewildered girl looked after him silently, and he was +across the floor, on the window-sill, disappearing hand over head down +his ladder of old twisted ivy stems, before she realised anything. Then, +not the least aware that some one was knocking at her bedroom door in +the passage, shaking the latch, calling her name, she flew after him to +the window and leaned out, crying to him low and wildly, "Angelot, come +back, come back! Why did you go? Ah, don't leave me! Help me to climb +down, too,--please, please, darling!" + +Angelot was out of sight, though not out of hearing. Forty feet of thick +ivy and knotted stems, shelter of generations of owls, stretched between +the chapel window and the moat's green floor; ivy two centuries old, the +happy hunting-ground of many a lad of Lancilly and La Marinière. But +that night, perhaps, the hospitable old tree reached the most romantic +point of its history. + +Hélène stretched down eager hands among the thick leaves. + +"Angelot! Angelot!" + +She heard nothing but the rustling down below, saw nothing but the thick +leaves under the stars, though somebody had opened the chapel door, and +though her treacherous candle, throwing a square of light upon the dark +trees opposite, showed not only her own imploring shadow, but that of a +tall figure stepping up behind her. In another moment her arm was seized +in a grasp by no means gentle, and she turned round with a scream to +face Madame de Sainfoy. + +Her cry might have stopped Angelot in his swift descent and brought him +to the window again, but as he neared the ground he saw that some one +was waiting for him, some one standing on the flat grass, under the +light of such stars as shone down into the moat, gazing with fixed +gravity at the window from which Hélène was leaning. + +Angelot's light spring to the ground brought him within a couple of +yards of the motionless figure, and his white face flushed red when he +saw that it was Hélène's father. The few moments during which he faced +Comte Hervé silently were the worst his happy young life had ever known. +The elder man did not speak till Hélène, with that last little cry, had +disappeared from the window. Then he looked at Angelot. + +"I am sorry, Ange," he said, "for I owe a good deal to your father. But +I will ask you to wait here while I fetch my pistols. It is best to +settle such a matter on the spot--though you hardly deserve to be so +well treated." + +"Monsieur--" Angelot almost choked. + +"Ah! Do not trouble yourself to hunt for excuses--there are none," said +the Comte. + +He was moving off, but Angelot threw himself in his way. + +"Bring one pistol," he said. "One will be enough, for I cannot fight +you--you know it. But you may kill me if it pleases you." + +Hervé shrugged his shoulders. + +"How long has this been going on? How many times have you met my +daughter clandestinely? Does it seem to you the behaviour of a +gentleman? On my soul, you deserve to be shot down like a dog, as you +say!" + +"No, monsieur," Angelot said quickly, "I give you leave to do it, for I +see now that life must be misery. But I have done no such harm as to +deserve to be shot! No! I love and adore my cousin, and you must have +known it--every one knows it, I should think. Can I sit quietly at home +while her family gives her the choice between General Ratoneau and a +convent? No, I confess it is more than I can bear." + +"And if her family had given her such a choice--which is false, by the +bye--what could you do? Is it likely that they would change their minds +and give her to you, as your uncle Joseph suggested? And would you +expect to gain their favour by this sort of thing?" He pointed to the +window. "No, young man; if you were not your father's son, my grooms +might whip you out of Lancilly, and I should feel justified in giving +the order." + +Angelot broke into a short laugh. "A pistol-shot is not an insult," he +said. "But you are angry." + +"And you are Urbain's son," the Comte said. + +There was a world of reproach in the words, but little violent anger. +The two men stood and looked at each other; and it was not the least +strange part of the position that they were still, as they had been all +along, mutually attracted. Both natures were open, sweet-tempered, and +generous. A certain grace and charm about Hervé de Sainfoy drew Angelot, +as it had drawn his father. The touch of romance in Angelot, his beauty, +his bold, defiant air, took Hervé's fancy. + +"You climb like a monkey or a sailor," he said. "But you tried another +exit, did you not? Was it you who was hammering at the door down there?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Tell me all." + +The questions were severe, but Angelot answered them frankly and truly, +as far as he could do so and take the whole blame upon himself. + +"It was I," he said; "I did the whole wrong, if it was wrong. Do not let +madame her mother be angry with her. But for God's sake do not make her +marry Ratoneau. She is timid, she is delicate--ah, monsieur--and we are +cousins, after all--" + +There was a break in his voice, and the Comte almost smiled. + +"You are a pair of very absurd and troublesome children," he said, much +more kindly. "But you are old enough to know better; it is ignorance of +the world to think that lives can be arranged to suit private +inclinations. I could not give you my daughter, even if I wished it; you +ought to see, as your father would, that you are not in a position to +expect such a wife. You are not even on my side in politics, though you +very well might be. If you were in the army, with even the prospect of +distinguishing yourself like General Ratoneau--and why not even now--" + +It was a tremendous temptation, but only for a moment. Angelot thought +of his mother and of his uncle Joseph. + +"I cannot go into the army," he said quickly. + +"No--you are a Chouan at heart, I know," said Hervé. + +He added presently, as the young man stood silent and doubtful before +him--"You will give me your word of honour, Angelot, that there is no +more of this--that you do not attempt to see my daughter again." + +Angelot answered him, after a moment's pause, "I warn you that I shall +break my word, if I hear more of Ratoneau." + +"The devil take Ratoneau!" replied his cousin. "You will give me your +word, and I will give you mine. I will never consent to such a marriage +as that for Hélène. Are you satisfied now?" + +"You give me life and hope," said Angelot. + +"Not at all. It is not for your sake, I assure you." + +Angelot's poor love went to bed that night in a passion of tears. The +time came for her to know and confess that Angelot's father, when he +barred the postern door, might have had more than one guardian angel +behind him; but that time was not yet. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW TWO SOLDIERS CAME HOME FROM SPAIN + + +The family scandal was great. Angelot, if he had ever thought about such +possibilities at all, would never have imagined that his relations could +be so angry with him; and this without exception. Monsieur de Sainfoy, +the most entirely justified, was by far the gentlest. Madame de +Sainfoy's flame of furious wrath enveloped every one. She refused at +first even to see Monsieur Urbain; she vowed that she would leave +Lancilly at once, take Hélène back to Paris, let the odious old place +fall back into the ruin from which she wished it had never been rescued, +shake herself and her children free from the contact of these low, +insolent cousins who presumed so far on their position, on the gratitude +that might be supposed due to them. Urbain, however, having stuck to his +point and obtained a private interview with her, in which he promised +that his son should be sent away, or at least should annoy her no more, +her tone became a little milder and she did not insist on breaking up +the establishment. After all, Urbain pointed out, _Tout va bien!_ It was +to be expected that an imperial order would very soon decide Hélène's +future and check for ever young Angelot's ambition. Madame de Sainfoy +perceived that it was worth while to wait. + +In the meantime, the philosopher's nature was stirred to its depths. If +it had not been for his wife's strong opposition, he would have insisted +on Angelot's accepting one of those commissions which Napoleon was +always ready to give to young men of good family, sometimes indeed, when +the family was known to be strongly Royalist, making them +sub-lieutenants in spite of themselves and throwing them into prison if +they refused to serve. Anne would not have it. She was as angry with +Angelot as any one. That he should not only have been taken captive, +soul and body, by Lancilly, but should have put himself so hopelessly in +the wrong, filled her with rage and grief. But she would not have +matters made worse by committing her boy to the Empire. She would +rather, as Monsieur Joseph suggested, pack him off across the frontier +to join the army of the Princes. But then, again, his father would never +consent to that. + +"Why do they not send the girl away!" she cried. "Why not send her to a +Paris convent till they find a husband for her! We do not want her here, +with that pale face and those tragic eyes of hers, making havoc of our +young men. I respect Hervé for refusing that horrible General, but why +does he not take means to find some one else! They are beyond my +understanding, Hervé and Adélaïde. I wish they had never come back, +never brought that girl here to distract my Angelot. He was free and +happy till they came. Ah, mon Dieu! how they make me suffer, these +people!" + +"Do not blame them for Angelot's dishonourable weakness," said her +husband, sternly. "If your son had possessed reason and self-control, +which I have tried in vain all my life to teach him, none of all this +need have happened. There is no excuse for him." + +"I am making none. I am very angry with him. I am not blaming your dear +Sainfoys. I only say that if they had never come, or if Providence had +given them an ugly daughter, this could not have happened. You will not +try to deny that, I suppose!" + +He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. + +"Your logic is faultless, my dear Anne. If you had not married me, there +would have been no handsome boy to fall in love with a pretty girl. And +if La Marinière had not been near Lancilly--" + +"Are you ever serious?" she said, and swept out of the room. + +His strong face was grave enough as he looked after her. + +But in Angelot's presence there was no such philosophical trifling. He +was made to feel himself in deep disgrace with both his parents, and he +was young enough to feel it very keenly. After the first tremendous +scolding, they hardly spoke to him; he went in and out in a gloomy +silence most strange to the sunny life of La Marinière. And at Les +Chouettes it was no better. + +In truth, Angelot found his uncle Joseph's deep displeasure harder to +bear than that of any one else. There was something clandestine about +the affair which touched the little gentleman's sense of honour; his +code of manners and good breeding was also offended. He knew life; his +own younger days had been stormy; and even now, though respecting +morality, he was not strict or narrow. But such adventures as this of +Angelot's seemed to him on a lower plane of society than belonged to +Lancilly or La Marinière. A secret meeting at night; climbing ivy like a +thief; making use of his familiarity with the old house to do what, +after all, was an injury as well as an offence to its owners,--all this +was matter of deep disgust to Monsieur Joseph. + +"I thought Ange was a gentleman!" he said; and to Henriette, who with +bitter tears confessed to him her part in the story, he would not even +admire the daring spirit in which he and she had often rejoiced +together. + +"Hélène's fault, you say, child? No, we will not make that excuse for +him. If the poor girl was unhappy, there were other ways--" + +"But what could he have done, papa? Now you are very unkind. If she +asked him to come, could he have said no? Is that the way for a +gentleman to treat a lady?" + +Riette had posed him, and she knew it. But she did not reap any personal +advantage. + +"As to that," he said, "the whole thing was your fault. I did not send +you to Lancilly to carry messages, but to learn your lessons. What did +it matter to you if your cousin Hélène was unhappy? In this world we +must all be unhappy sometimes, as you will find. Go to bed at once. +Consider yourself in disgrace. You will stay in your room for two days +on bread and water, and you will not go to Lancilly again for a long +time, perhaps never. I am sorry I ever sent you there, but in future +Mademoiselle Hélène's affairs will be arranged without you." + +Riette went obediently away, shaking her head. As she went upstairs she +heard her father calling to Marie Gigot, giving severe commands in a +nervous voice, and she smiled faintly through her tears. + +"Nevertheless, little papa, we love our Ange, you and I!" she said. + +Angelot wandered about solitary with his gun and Négo, avoiding the +Lancilly side of the country, and keeping to his father's and his +uncle's land, where game abounded. For the present his good spirits were +effectually crushed; and yet, even now, his native hopefulness rose and +comforted him. It was true every one was angry; it was true he had given +his word of honour not to attempt to see Hélène, and at any moment her +future might be decided without him; but on the other hand, her father +had promised that she should not marry Ratoneau; and he and she, they +were both young, they loved each other; somehow, some day, the future +could hardly fail to be theirs. + +In the meantime, Angelot was better off among his woods and moorlands +than Hélène in her locked room, all the old labyrinths and secret ways +discovered and stopped. The vintage was very near, for the last days of +September had come. Again a young moon was rising over the country, for +the moon which lighted Hélène to La Marinière on her first evening in +Anjou had waned and gone. And the heather had faded, the woods and +copses began to be tinted with bronze, to droop after the long, hot +season, only broken by two or three thunderstorms. The evenings were +drawing in, the mornings began to be chilly; autumn, even lovelier than +summer in that climate which has the seasons of the poets, was giving a +new freshness to the air and a new colour to the landscape. + +One day towards evening Angelot visited La Joubardière. He went to the +farm a good deal at this time, for it was pleasant to see faces that did +not frown upon him, but smiled a constant welcome, and there was always +the excuse of talking to Joubard about the vintage. And again, this +evening, the Maîtresse brought out a bottle of her best wine, and the +two old people talked of their son at the war; and all the time they +were very well aware that something was wrong with Monsieur Angelot, +whom they had known and loved from his cradle. The good wife's eyes +twinkled a little as she watched him, and if nothing had happened later +to distract her thoughts, she would have told her husband that the boy +was in love. Joubard put down the young master's strange looks to +anxiety, not unfounded, about his uncle Joseph and the Chouan gentlemen. +Since Simon's spying and questioning, Joubard had taken a more serious +view of these matters. + +"Monsieur Angelot has been at Les Chouettes to-day?" he said. "No? Ah, +perhaps it is as well. There were two gentlemen shooting with Monsieur +Joseph--I think they were Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur César +d'Ombré. A little dangerous, such company. Monsieur Joseph perhaps +thinks a young man is better out of it." + +Angelot did not answer, and turned the conversation back to the vintage. + +"Yes, I believe it will be magnificent," said the farmer. "If Martin +were only here to help me! But it is hard for me, alone, to do my duty +by the vines. Hired labour is such a different thing. I believe in the +old rhyme:-- + + 'L'ombre du bon maître + Fait la vigne croître!' + +Monsieur your father explained to me the meaning of it, that there must +be no trees in or near the vineyard, no shadow but that of the master. +He found that in a book, he said. Surely, I thought, a man must have +plenty of time on his hands, to write a book to prove what every child +knows. Now I take its meaning to be deeper than that. There is a shadow +the vine needs and can't do without. You may talk as you please about +sun and air and showers; 'tis the master's eye and hand and shadow that +gives growth and health to the vines." + +"Don't forget the good God," said Maîtresse Joubard. "All the shadows of +the best masters won't do much without Him." + +"Did I say so?" Her husband turned upon her. "It is His will, I suppose, +that things are so. We must take His creation as we find it. All I say +is, He gives me too much to do, when He sets me on a farm with five sons +and leaves me there but takes them all away." + +"Hush, hush, master; Martin will come back," his wife said. + +Nearly a month ago she had said the same. Angelot, standing again in the +low dark kitchen with her slender old glass in his hand, remembered the +day vividly, for it had indeed been a marked day in his life. The +breakfast at Les Chouettes, the hidden Chouans, General Ratoneau and his +adventure in the lane, and then the wonderful moonlight evening, the +coming of Hélène, the dreams which all that night waited upon her and +had filled all the following days. Yes; it was on that glorious morning +that Maîtresse Joubard, poor soul, had talked with so much faith and +courage of her Martin's return. And Angelot, for his part, though he +would not for worlds have said so, saw no hope of it at all. The last +letter from Martin had come many months ago. The poor conscript, the +young Angevin peasant, tall like his father, with his mother's quiet, +dark face, was probably lying heaped and hidden among other dead +conscripts at the foot of some Spanish fortress wall. + +Angelot set down his glass, took up his gun, looked vaguely out of the +door into the misty evening, bright with the spiritual brilliance of the +young moon. + +"If Martin comes back, anything is possible," he was thinking. "I should +believe then that all would go well with me." + +From the white, ruinous archway that opened on the lane, a figure +hobbled slowly forward across the gleams and shadows of the yard. The +great dog chained there began to yelp and cry; it was not the voice with +which he received a stranger; Négo growled at his master's feet. + +Angelot's gaze became fixed and intent. The figure looked like one of +those wandering beggars, those _chemineaux_, who tramped the roads of +France with a bag to collect bones and crusts of bread, the scraps of +food which no good Christian refused them, who haunted the lonely farms +at night and to whom a stray lamb or kid or chicken never came amiss. +This figure was ragged like them; it stooped, and limped upon a wooden +leg and a stick; an empty sleeve was pinned across its breast. And the +rags were those of a soldier's uniform, and the dark, bent face was +tanned by hotter suns than the sun of Anjou. + +Angelot turned to the old Joubards and tried to speak, but his voice +shook and was choked, and the tears blinded his eyes. + +"My poor dear friends--" he was beginning, but Joubard started forward +suddenly. + +"What steps are those in the yard? The dog speaks--ah!" + +The old man rushed through the doorway with arms stretched out, wildly +sobbing, "Martin, Martin, my boy!"--and clasped the miserable figure in +a long embrace. + +"Did I not say so, Monsieur Angelot?" the little mother cried; and the +young man, with a sudden instinct of joy and reverence, caught her rough +hand and kissed it as she went out of the door. "Tell madame she was +right," she said. + +Angelot called Négo and walked silently away. As he went he heard their +cries of welcome, their sobs of grief, and then he heard a hoarse voice +ringing, echoed by the old walls all about, and it shouted--"Vive +l'Empereur!" + +Angelot felt strangely exalted as he walked away. The heroism of the +crippled soldier touched him keenly; this was the Empire in a different +aspect from any that he yet knew; the opportunism of his father and of +Monsieur de Mauves, the bare worldliness of the Sainfoys, the military +brutality of Ratoneau. The voice of this poor soldier, wandering back, a +helpless, destitute wreck, to end his days in his old home, sounded like +the bugle-call of all that generous self-sacrifice, that pure enthusiasm +for glory, which rose to follow Napoleon and made his career possible. +Angelot felt as if he too could march in such an army. Then as he strode +down the moor he heard Hervé de Sainfoy's voice again: "And why not even +now?" and again he thought of those dearest ones now so angry with him, +whose loyalty to old France and her kings was a part of their religion, +and whom no present brilliancy of conquest and fame could dazzle or lead +astray. + +Thinking of these things, Angelot came down from the moor into a narrow +lane which skirted it, part of the labyrinth of crossing ways which led +from the south to La Marinière and Lancilly. This lane was joined, some +way above, by the road which led across the moor from Les Chouettes. It +was not the usual road from the south to Lancilly, but turned out of +that a mile or two south, to wander westward round one or two lonely +farms like La Joubardière. It ran deep between banks of stones covered +with heather and ling and a wild mass of broom and blackberry bushes, +the great round heads of the pollard oaks rising at intervals, so that +there were patches of dark shadow, and the road itself was a succession +of formidable ruts and holes and enormous stones. + +In this thoroughfare two carriages had met, one going down-hill from the +moorland road, the other, a heavy post-chaise and pair, climbing from +the south. It was impossible for either conveyance to pass the other, +and a noisy argument went on, first between the post-boy and the groom +who drove the private carriage, a hooded, four-wheeled conveyance of the +country, next between the travellers themselves. + +Angelot came down from the steep footpath by which he had crossed the +moor, just as the occupant of the post-chaise, after shouting angrily +from the window, had got out to see the state of things for himself. He +was a stranger to Angelot; a tall and very handsome young man of his own +age, with a travelling cloak thrown over his showy uniform. + +"What the devil is the matter? Why don't you drive on, you fool?" he +said to the post-boy, who only gesticulated and pointed hopelessly to +the obstacle in front of him. + +"Well, but drive through them, or over them, or something," cried the +imperious young voice. "Are you going to stop here all night staring at +them? What is it? Some kind of _diligence_? Look here, fellow--you, +driver--get out of my way, can't you? Mille tonnerres, what a road! Get +down and take your horse out, do you hear? Lead him up the bank, and +then drag your machine out of the way. Any one with you? Here is a man; +he can help you. Service of the Emperor; no delay." + +Apparently he took Angelot, in the dusk, for a country lad going home. +Before there was time to show him his mistake, a dark, angry face bent +forward from the hooded carriage, and Angelot recognised the Baron +d'Ombré, who gave his orders in a tone quite as peremptory, and much +haughtier. + +"Post-boy! Back your carriage down the hill. You see very well that +there is no room to pass here. Pardon, monsieur!" with a slight salute +to the officer. + +"Pardon!" he responded quickly. "Sorry to derange you, monsieur, but my +chaise will not be backed. Service of His Majesty." + +"That is nothing to me, monsieur." + +"The devil! Who are you then?" + +"I will give you my card with pleasure." + +César d'Ombré descended hastily from the carriage, while Monsieur des +Barres, who was with him, leaned forward rather anxiously. + +"Explain the rule of the road to this gentleman," he said. "He is +evidently a stranger. I see he has two servants behind the carriage, who +can help in backing the horses. Explain that it is no intentional +discourtesy, but a simple necessity. The delay will be small." + +The tall young stranger bowed in the direction of the voice. + +"Merci, monsieur. Your rules of the road do not concern me. I give way +to no one--certainly not to your companion, who appears to be disloyal. +I had forgotten, for a moment, the character of this country. The dark +ages still flourish here, I believe." + +The Baron d'Ombré presented his card with a low bow. + +"Merci, monsieur. Permit me to return the compliment. But it is almost +too dark for you to see my name, which ought to be well known here. De +Sainfoy, Captain 13th Chasseurs, at your service. Will you oblige me--" + +"It is not necessary at this moment, monsieur. You will not meet me at +the Château de Lancilly." + +"But you may possibly meet me--Vicomte des Barres--for your father and I +sometimes put our old acquaintance before politics--" cried the voice +from the carriage. "You will be very welcome to your family. But this +arranges matters, Monsieur le Capitaine, for you are on the wrong road." + +"Sapristi! The wrong road! Why, I picked up a wounded fellow and brought +him a few miles. He got down to take a short cut home, and told me the +next turn to the right would bring me to Lancilly. He was lying, then? A +fellow called Joubard, not of my regiment." + +"What do you say?" said d'Ombré to Angelot, who had already greeted him, +lingering in the background to see the end of the dispute. + +Georges de Sainfoy now first looked at the sportsman standing by the +roadside, and Angelot looked at him. Monsieur des Barres, a little stiff +from a long day's shooting--for he was not so lithe and active as his +host, and not so young as the Baron--now got down from the carriage and +joined the group. + +"Bonjour, Monsieur Ange," he said kindly. "You have been shooting, I +see, but not with your uncle. Have you met before, you two?" He glanced +at Georges de Sainfoy, who stared haughtily. Even in the dim dusk +Angelot could see that he was wonderfully like his mother. + +"No, monsieur," he answered. "Not since twenty years ago, at least, and +I think my cousin remembers that time as little as I do." + +He spoke carelessly and lightly. De Sainfoy's fine blue eyes considered +him coldly, measured his height and breadth and found them wanting. + +"Ah! You are a La Marinière, I suppose?" he said. + +"Ange de la Marinière, at your service." + +Georges held out his hand. It was with an oddly unwilling sensation that +Angelot gave his. Though the action might be friendly, there was +something slighting, something impatient, in the stranger's manner; and +the cousins already disliked each other, not yet knowing why. + +"Are my family well? Do they expect me?" said Georges de Sainfoy. + +"I believe they are very well. I do not know if they expect you," +Angelot answered. + +"Is it true that this is not the road to Lancilly?" + +D'Ombré growled something about military insolence, and Monsieur des +Barres laughed. + +"Pardon, gentlemen," said De Sainfoy. "I am impatient, I know. A soldier +on his way home does not expect to be stopped by etiquettes about +passing on the road. My cousin knows the country; I appeal to him, as +one of you did just now. Is this the way to Lancilly, or not?" + +Angelot laughed. "Yes--and no," he said. + +"What do you mean by that? Come, I am in no humour for joking." + +Angelot looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. + +"It is _a_ road, but not _the_ road," he said. "No one in his senses +would drive this way to Lancilly. This part of it is bad enough; further +on, where it goes down into the valley, it is much worse; I doubt if a +heavy carriage could pass. You turned to the right too soon. Martin +Joubard forgot this lane, perhaps. He would hardly have directed you +this way--unless--" + +"Unless what?" + +"Unless he wished to show you the nature of the country, in case you +should think of invading it in force." + +The two Chouans laughed. + +"Well said, Angelot!" muttered César d'Ombré. + +Georges de Sainfoy, stiff and haughty, did not trouble himself about any +jest or earnest concealed under his cousin's speech and the way the +neighbours took it. He realised, perhaps, that in this wild west country +the name of Napoleon was not altogether one to conjure with, that he had +not left the enemies of the Empire behind him in Spain. But he realised, +too, that this was hardly the place or the time to assert his own +importance and his master's authority. + +"Do you mean that this road is utterly impassable?" he said to Angelot. +"How then did these gentlemen--" + +"They did not come from Lancilly. They drove across the moor from my +uncle's house, Les Chouettes, and turned into the lane a few hundred +yards higher up. As to impassable--I think your wheels will come off, if +you attempt it, and your horses' knees will suffer. Where the ruts are +not two feet deep, the bare rock is almost perpendicular." + +"Still it is not impassable?" + +"Not in a case of necessity. But you will not attempt it." + +"And why not?" + +"Because on this hill Monsieur des Barres and Monsieur d'Ombré cannot +back out of your way, and you can back out of theirs--and must." + +"'Must' to me!" Georges de Sainfoy said between his teeth. + +"Let us assure you, monsieur, that we regret the necessity--" Monsieur +des Barres interfered in his politest manner. + +"Enough, monsieur." + +De Sainfoy gave his orders. His servants sprang down and helped the +post-boy to back the horses to the foot of the hill. It was a long +business, with a great deal of kicking, struggling, scrambling, and +swearing. Monsieur des Barres' carriage followed slowly, he and Georges +de Sainfoy walking down together. The Baron d'Ombré lingered to say a +friendly good-night to Angelot, who was not disposed to wait on his +cousin any further. That night there was born a kind of sympathy, new +and strange, between the fierce young Chouan and the careless boy still +halting between two opinions. + +"Old Joubard's son is come back, then?" César asked. "Will that attach +the old man to the Empire? Your uncle can never tell us on which side he +is likely to be." + +"Dame! I should think not!" said Angelot. "Poor Martin--I saw him just +now. He has left a leg and an arm in Spain." + +"Poor fellow! That flourishing cousin of yours is better off. On my +word, we are obliged to you, Monsieur des Barres and I. If you had not +been there to bring him to his senses--Come, Angelot, this country is +not a place for loyal men. Do you care to stay here and be bullied by +upstart soldiers? Start off with me to join the Princes; there is +nothing to be done here." + +"Ah!" Angelot laughed, though rather sadly. "Indeed, you tempt me--it is +true, there is nothing here. But I have a father, and he has a vintage +coming on. After that--I will consider." + +"Yes, consider--and say nothing. I see you are discontented; the first +step in the right way. Good-night, my friend." + +If discontent had been despair, the army of the emigrants might have had +a lively recruit in those days. But Martin Joubard had come back, so +that anything seemed possible. Hope was not dead, and his native Anjou +still held the heart of Angelot. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +HOW CAPTAIN GEORGES PAID A VISIT OF CEREMONY + + +Georges de Sainfoy had always been his mother's image and idol. It was +not wonderful then that he should take her side strongly in this matter +of his sister's love affair and marriage. + +Hélène, for him, was a poor pretty fool just out of the schoolroom, who +must learn her duty in life, and the sooner the better. Angelot was a +country boy, his pretensions below contempt, who yet deserved sharp +punishment for lifting his eyes so high, if not for the cool air of +equality with which he had ordered back his superior cousin's carriage. +General Ratoneau, in a soldier's eyes, was a distinguished man, a future +Marshal of France. Nothing more was needed to make him a desirable +brother-in-law. Georges was enthusiastic on that point. + +Two things there were, which his mother impressed upon him earnestly and +with difficulty; one, that Ratoneau's probable triumph was a secret, and +must seem as great a surprise to herself and to him as it really would +be to Hélène and his father; the other, that for the sake of Urbain de +la Marinière, the valuable friend, he must pick no fresh quarrel with +Angelot, already deep in disgrace with all the family. + +"It is as well that you told me, or I should have been tempted to try a +horse-whipping," said Captain Georges. + +Two days after his arrival he rode off to Sonnay-le-Loir. It was the +right thing for an officer on leave to pay a visit of ceremony to the +General in command of the division, as well as to the Prefect of the +department, and this necessity came in very well at the moment. + +Madame de Sainfoy spoke confidently, but she was in reality not quite +easy in her mind. She had seen and heard nothing of General Ratoneau +since the day when Urbain put his short letter into her hand. Sometimes, +impatient and anxious, worried by Hélène's pale face and the fear of +some soft-hearted weakness on Hervé's part, she found it difficult to +bear day after day of suspense and silence. Suppose the affair were +going ill, and not well! Suppose that, after all, the Prefect had +refused to gratify the General, and that no imperial command was coming +to break down Hervé's resistance, strong enough in that quarter! Georges +promised her, as he rode away, that the matter should be cleared up to +her satisfaction. + +He found the town of Sonnay-le-Loir, and General Ratoneau himself, in a +state of considerable agitation. The excellent Prefect was very ill. He +was never a strong man physically, and the nervous irritation caused by +such a colleague as Ratoneau might have been partly the cause of his +present collapse. Sorely against his will he had listened to Ratoneau's +fresh argument, and had consented to stop a whole string of political +arrests by forwarding the marriage the General had set his heart upon. +His own personal danger, if he had defied the General, would have been +by no means small. Simon was right; Ratoneau could have represented his +mild measures in such a light as to ruin him, along with those Angevin +gentlemen whom he was trying by gentle means to reconcile with the +Empire. At that precise moment he could not even punish the man he +suspected of betraying him. Ratoneau had protected his tool so far as to +leave him nameless; but in any case, from the imperial point of view, a +man who denounced Chouans was doing his duty. As to the fact of sending +up Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's name to the Emperor and suggesting for her +the very husband whom her father had refused to accept--the chief sin, +in the eyes of that day, was the unfriendly action towards her father. + +The whole system was odious; it appeared more or less so, according to +the degree of refinement in the officials who had to work it; yet it +came from the Emperor, and could not be entirely set aside; also every +marriage, in one way or another, was an arranged thing; it must suit +family politics, if not the interests of the Empire. Nothing strange +from the outside--and all the world would look at it so--in the marriage +of the Comte de Sainfoy's daughter with the local General of division. +The lady's unwillingness was a mere detail, of which the laws of society +would take no cognizance. The sentimental view which called such a +marriage sacrilege was absurd, after all, and the Prefect knew it. +Indeed, after the first, the thought of Hélène's face did not trouble +him so much as that of the _coup de patte_ in store for her father, the +stealthy blow to come from himself, the old, the trusted +fellow-countryman. + +But the injury to Hervé de Sainfoy weighed lightly, after all, when +balanced with the arrest and ruin of Joseph de la Marinière and possibly +his young nephew, as well as of Monsieur des Barres, Monsieur de +Bourmont, the Messieurs d'Ombré, and other men more or less suspected of +conspiring against the Empire. Even if this, perhaps deserved, had been +all! but the Prefect knew very well that an enemy such as Ratoneau would +not be satisfied without his own degradation. + +He had yet one resource, delay. There was the chance that Hervé de +Sainfoy might arrange some other marriage for his daughter; and the +Prefect went so far as to consider the possibility of sending him a word +of warning, but then thought it too dangerous, not quite trusting +Hervé's discretion, and gave up the idea. From day to day he put off +sending the necessary papers to Paris. From day to day, after the +eventful interview, he managed to avoid any private conversation with +Ratoneau. This was possible, as the General was occupied in reviewing +the troops in the neighbourhood, and was absent from Sonnay for several +days. Then a new ally stepped in on Hélène's side, and touched the +Prefect gently, but effectively. When General Ratoneau returned to +Sonnay, the very day before Georges de Sainfoy's visit, he was met by +the news that a slight stroke of paralysis had deprived Monsieur de +Mauves of his speech, and of the use of his right hand. Going at once to +the Prefecture, roughly demanding an interview with the Prefect, he +encountered a will stronger than his own in that of the Sonnay doctor, +who absolutely refused to let any one into the sickroom. + +"But he must have written to Paris--he must--he promised me that he +would," Ratoneau assured Georges de Sainfoy, who stood before him +frowning doubtfully. "He dared not disappoint me. I have him under my +thumb, I tell you--like that--" he crushed a fly on the table. + +"I see--but why all this delay?" said the young man. + +Ratoneau drummed with his fist and whistled. "Delay, yes--" he said. "I +meant Monsieur le Préfet to give an account of himself yesterday--I +suppose I am as impatient as you are--" he grinned. "After all, +monsieur, this official business takes time. It is only a fortnight +since I brought the good man to his marrow-bones. Ah, I wish you had +seen him! the grimaces he made! When I went first he defied me, as bold +as you please. Your father was his friend, he would do nothing to annoy +your father. Then, when I went back with a little more information, he +began to see all his beloved Chouans in prison, as well as himself. I +had him then. He began to see, perhaps, that a man in my position was +not such an impossible husband for a young girl of good family. Ha, ha!" + +"A fortnight seems to me quite long enough to write to Paris and get an +answer," said Georges. + +He was a little sorry for himself. He wished he had seen Ratoneau for +the first time on horseback, a smart, correct officer, reviewing his +troops. Then it would have been easy enough to accept him as a +brother-in-law. But this red-faced, slovenly creature in careless +undress, made even more repulsive by his uncanny likeness to +Napoleon--vulgar in manners, bragging in talk! De Sainfoy had met +strange varieties of men among his brother officers, but never anything +quite so forbidding as this. He did not give his sister a thought of +pity; it was not in him; but he had a moment of sympathy with his +father, of surprise at his mother. However, he was not the man to be +conquered by prejudice. If the affair was disagreeable, all the more +reason to push it through quickly, to reach any advantages it might +bring. His smooth young brow had a new line across it; that was all. + +"You talk of the Prefect's 'beloved Chouans,' Monsieur le Général," he +said. "It seems to me that in any case he is not fit for his position. +It sounds like treason, what you say." + +"Ah! that is another question," said Ratoneau. "That need not concern us +just now, you and me. He must do what we want, first of all; later on we +shall see. Remember, Monsieur le Vicomte, any active measures against +the Chouans would touch your family--your connections, at least. Very +complicated, the state of society in this province. I wish for nothing +better than to sweep out all these tiresome people, but it behoves me to +move gently." + +Georges could not help smiling. "That must be against your principles +and your inclinations, Monsieur le Général." + +"It is against my interests," Ratoneau said, drily enough. +"Inclinations--well, yes. I should be sorry to annoy Monsieur Urbain de +la Marinière, who is on my side in these affairs. He is a sensible man. +His brother's right place is in a state prison. As to that son of +his--well, he wants a sharp lesson, and one of these days he will have +it. He is an impudent young scoundrel, that little La Marinière." + +Ratoneau lifted his dark eyes and looked straight at Georges, who +flushed under his gaze. + +"But perhaps you think better of your cousin?" the General said. + +"No--I dislike him. He is a presumptuous fellow." + +"Presumptuous in what way?" + +Georges shrugged his shoulders. There were limits to the complaisance he +found due to this future relation; the family secrets, the family +confidences, though they might indirectly concern him, should at least +be kept from him for the present. Georges knew all his sister's story, +as far as her mother knew it. The story was safe, though out of no +kindness to Hélène. + +"He thinks too much of himself," said Georges, and laughed rather +awkwardly. "He orders his betters about as if he were the chief +landowner of the country, instead of a farmer's son. This happened to me +the other night, Monsieur le Général." + +He went on to describe his adventure in the steep lane, and how Angelot +had ordered his men to back the horses. The General listened with some +impatience. + +"Sapristi! he is a hero of the lanes, this Angelot. I have had my +experience, too," but he did not describe it. "He will make himself +plenty of enemies, that cousin of yours. However, let him swagger as he +likes among horses and cows, till he finds himself between four walls +with his friends the Chouans. I should like to be assured that his airs +will carry him no further. To speak plainly, Monsieur le Vicomte, when I +saw them together at Lancilly, I fancied that he and mademoiselle your +sister--I see by your face that I was right!" + +The General started up with an oath. Georges faced him, cool and +dignified. + +"My sister is safe in my mother's care, Monsieur le Général. Do not +disturb yourself." + +"But do you know, monsieur, that the servants thought the same as I +did?" + +"What can that signify to you or to me, monsieur?" + +Ratoneau flung himself back into his chair with an angry laugh. The +proud disgust of the young captain's tone had a certain effect upon him; +yet he was not altogether reassured. + +"Will you tell me on your honour," he growled, "that you know nothing of +any love affair between that young cub and your sister? I swear, sir, I +distrust you all. It is your mother's interest to marry her to me, +but--" + +"The imperial order has not yet been sent down," said Georges, his blue +eyes flashing like steel. + +He would have said more; he did not know what he might have said, for at +that moment his sympathy with his father was growing by leaps and +bounds, and his mother's plan began to seem incomprehensible. However, +to do her justice, she had never seen General Ratoneau as he saw him. + +"What do you mean by that?" said Ratoneau, sharply, and Georges found +himself already repenting. + +For the thing had to be carried through, and he knew it. + +Further argument was stopped, at that moment, by a gentle tap at the +door. + +"Come in!" roared the General. "What the devil have you got there, +Simon?" + +The police agent stepped lightly across the room. He laid a folded paper +on the table, and drew out from between its pages an unsealed letter. He +spread this out with the signature uppermost, "_De Mauves, Préfet du +Loir._" + +Georges de Sainfoy, a silent looker-on, stood by the chimneypiece while +General Ratoneau eagerly seized the papers. He first read the letter, +which seemed to give him satisfaction, for he laughed aloud; then he +snatched up the larger document, which looked like a government report +of some kind. Simon, in his gendarme's dress, stood grinning in the +background. + +"But--but in the name of thunder what does all this mean?" Ratoneau's +looks had changed to sudden fury. "Are these copies or originals? Simon, +you ass, do you mean to tell me--" + +Simon shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth. + +"Sorry, Monsieur le Général, but no fault of mine! I made sure they had +gone to Paris by the last courier, if not before. The originals, +undoubtedly." + +"You make sure in a queer sort of way," said Ratoneau. "You told me the +Prefect's secretary was in your hands, that you had access to his +bureaux at any time. You lied, then?" + +"No, Monsieur le Général," Simon answered, gently and readily. "Or how +should I have got hold of the papers? We have nothing to do now but to +get them dispatched at once to the Minister of Police, who will pass +them on to Monsieur le Duc de Frioul." + +"Go downstairs, and wait till I send for you." + +Simon went, not without a side-glance at the silent young officer, +standing tall, fair, and stiff as if on parade, no feeling of any sort +showing itself through the correctness of his bearing. + +"Is that her brother? Curious!" the spy muttered as he slipped away. + +General Ratoneau ran his eye once more over the paper in his hand, then +looked at Georges and held it out to him. + +"The delay is vexatious," he said, "and my friend the Prefect shall pay +for it, one of these days. But at any rate, the thing is now in our own +hands, and there can be no cheating. Report and letter are what they +should be--I might have guessed that the old villain would put off +sending them--hoping for some loophole, I suppose. However, you can tell +Madame la Comtesse that you have seen the documents, and that they +start for Paris to-night." + +Georges de Sainfoy read the document, truly a strange one, and it was a +strange sort of man who had the effrontery to put it into his hand. Like +a flash of blinding light, it showed the revolutionary, the tyrannical +side of the Empire which had fascinated him on its side of military +glory. + +This paper gave a full description, as officially demanded, of +Mademoiselle Hélène de Sainfoy, aged nineteen. It mentioned her personal +attractions, her _éducation distinguée_, her probable dowry, the names +and position of her parents, the extent and situation of her +property--in short, every particular likely to be useful in arranging a +marriage for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. It was all highly complimentary, +and it was supposed to be a confidential communication from the Prefect +to Savary, Duc de Rovigo, the Minister of Police. But it was not +pleasant reading for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's brother, however +devotedly imperialist he might be. + +He stepped forward and laid it on the table without a remark. Ratoneau, +watching him keenly, smiled, and held out the letter. + +"A private letter from Monsieur le Préfet? I do not read it," said +Georges, shortly. + +"As you please, my friend," said Ratoneau. "I only show you these things +for the satisfaction of Madame la Comtesse. Monsieur Urbain de la +Marinière may be interested, too. The letter mentions my distinguished +claims on His Majesty, and suggests me as a husband for mademoiselle. +That is all. I think it will be effectual. But now, monsieur, you have +not answered my little question about your cousin Angelot. He is in love +with your sister, n'est-ce pas?" + +"As you put it so, monsieur, I think it is not unlikely," said Georges. +"But what does that signify? Every one knows it is an impossibility, +even himself, ambitious fool as he may be." + +"And the young lady?" said Ratoneau, his face darkening. + +"My mother answers for her," Georges answered coldly, and bowed himself +out. + +He had information enough to carry back to his mother. + +He was not too comfortable in his mind, having ideas of honour, at the +unscrupulous doings by which Hélène's future husband was protecting his +own interests and bringing his marriage about. He rather wished, though +he worshipped power, that this powerful General had been a different +sort of man. + +"Still he may make her a good husband," he thought. "He is jealous +already." + +He rode across the square, gay and stately in his Chasseur uniform, and +dismounted at the Prefecture to leave his card and to enquire for +Monsieur de Mauves. + +Ratoneau watched him from the window with a dissatisfied frown, then +rang sharply for Simon. + +"That young fellow would turn against me on small provocation," he said. +"Now--as to the seal for these papers--you can procure that, I suppose?" + +"Leave that to me, monsieur." + +"Another thing: this means further delay, and I am not sure that you +were entirely wrong about young La Marinière. Listen. He would be better +out of the way until this affair is settled. He has been met in company +with known Chouans. A word to the wise, Simon. Devise something, or go +to the devil, for I've done with you." + +"But there is nothing easier, monsieur! Nothing in the world!" Simon +cried joyfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TREADING OF THE GRAPES + + +The weather for the vintage was splendid. A slight frost in the morning +curled and yellowed the vine-leaves, giving, as it does in these +provinces, the last touch of ripeness to the grapes, so that they begin +to burst their thin skins and to drop from the bunches. This is the +perfect moment. Crickets sing; the land is alive with springing +grasshoppers; harmless snakes rustle through the grass and bask in the +warm sand. The sun shines through an air so light, so crystal clear, +that men and beasts hardly know fatigue, though they work under his +beams all day long. The evening closes early with hovering mists in the +low places, the sudden chill of a country still wild and +half-cultivated. This was the moment, in an older France, chosen for the +Seigneur's vintage; the peasants had to deal with their own little +vineyards either earlier or later, and thus their wine was never so good +as his. + +The laws of the vintage were old; they were handed down through +centuries, from the days of the Romans, but the Revolution swept them +and their obligations away. Napoleon's code knew nothing of them. Yet +private individuals, when they were clever men like Urbain de la +Marinière, were sure by hook or by crook to arrange the vintage at the +time that suited their private arrangements. The ancient connection, +once of lord and vassal, now of landlord and tenant, between La +Marinière and La Joubardière, had been hardly at all disturbed by the +Revolution. Joubard was not the man to turn against the old friends of +his family. Besides, he believed in the waning moon. So when Monsieur +Urbain hit on the precise moment for his own vintage, and summoned him +and his people, as well as Monsieur Joseph's people, to help at La +Marinière and to let their own vineyards wait a week or two, he made no +grievance of it. + +"The weather will last," he said, when Martin grumbled, "and the moon +will be better. Besides, those slopes are always forwarder than ours. +And we shall lose nothing by helping the master. But if we did, I would +rather spoil my own wine than disappoint Monsieur Angelot." + +"You and the mother are in love with his pretty face," growled the +soldier. "Why doesn't he go to the war, and fight for his country, and +come home a fine man like his cousin? Ah, you think there are different +ways of coming home, do you? Well, if you ask me, I am prouder of my +lost limbs than the young captain is of his rank and his uniform." + +"And Monsieur Angelot honours you, poor Martin, more than he does his +smart cousin," said Joubard. "Allons! Our vintage will not suffer, now +that you are at home to see to it. And they will not take you away +again, my son!" + +So, in those first days of October, the vintage was in full swing at La +Marinière. All the peasants came to help, men and women, old and young. +Dark, grave faces that matched oddly with a babel of voices and gay +laughter; broad straw hats as sunburnt as their owners, white caps, blue +shoulders, bobbing among the long rows of bronzed vines loaded with +fruit. The vintagers cut off the bunches with sharp knives and dropped +them into wooden pails; these were emptied into great _hottes_ on men's +backs, and carried to the carts, full of barrels, waiting in the lane. +Slowly the patient white horses tramped down to the yard of La +Marinière. There, in its own whitewashed building with the wide-arched +door, the stone wine-press was ready; the grapes were thrown in in +heaps, the barefooted men, splashed red to their waists, trod and +crushed with a swishing sound; the red juice ran down in a stream, +foaming into the vault beneath, into the vats where it was to ferment +and become wine. + +Angelot worked in the vineyard like anybody else, sometimes cutting +grapes, sometimes leading the carts up and down, and feeding the horses +with bunches of grapes, which they munched contentedly. So did the dogs +who waited on the vintagers, not daring to venture in among the vines, +but sitting outside with eager eyes and wagging tails till their portion +of fruit was thrown to them. And the workers themselves, and the little +bullet-headed boys and white-capped girls who played about the vineyard, +all ate grapes to their satisfaction; for the crop was splendid, and +there was no need to stint anybody. + +A festal spirit reigned over all. Though most of these people were good +Christians, ready to thank God for His gifts without any intention of +misusing them, there was something of the old pagan feeling about. +Purely a country feeling, a natural religion much older than +Christianity, as Urbain remarked to the old Curé, who agreed with Madame +Urbain in not quite caring for this way of looking at it. But he was +accustomed to such views from Urbain, who never, for instance, let the +Rogation processions pass singing through the fields without pointing +out their descent from something ancient, pagan, devilish. + +"But if you have cast out the devil, dear Curé, what does it matter?" +said Urbain. "The beauty alone is left. And all true beauty is good by +nature; and what is not beautiful is not good. You want nothing more, it +seems to me." + +"Ah, your philosophies!" sighed the old man. + +However, in different ways, the vintage attracted everybody. Monsieur +Joseph and Henriette were there, very busy among the vines; these people +would help them another day. A party strolled across from Lancilly; +Monsieur and Madame de Sainfoy, idly admiring the pretty scene; Captain +Georges, casting superior glances, Sophie and Lucie hanging on their +splendid brother's looks and words. They were allowed to walk with him, +and were very happy, Mademoiselle Moineau having been left behind in +charge of Hélène. The La Marinière vineyards were not considered safe +ground for that young culprit. She had to be contented with a distant +view, and could see from her window the white horses crawling up and +down the steep hill. + +Some patronising notice was bestowed by the people from the château on +Martin Joubard, who moved slowly about among the old neighbours, a hero +to them all, whatever their political opinions might be. For, after all, +he went to the wars against his will; and when there he had done his +duty; and his enthusiasm for the Emperor was a new spirit in that +country, which roused curiosity, if nothing more. No one could fail to +rejoice with old Joubard and his wife. Whatever they themselves thought, +and hardly dared to say, was said for them by their neighbours. Few +indeed had come back, of the conscript lads of Anjou. How much better, +people said, to have Martin maimed than not at all. What was a wooden +leg? a very useful appendage, on which Martin might limp actively about +the farms; and the loss of an arm did not matter so much, for, by his +father's account, he could do everything but hold and fire a gun with +the one left to him. His mother had dressed him in clean country +clothes, laying aside his tattered old uniform in a chest, for he would +not have it destroyed. All the girls in the two villages were running +after Martin, who had always been popular; all the men wanted to hear +his tales of the war. He was certainly the hero of Monsieur Urbain's +vintage, the centre figure of that sunny day. + +Angelot felt himself drawn to the soldier, whose return home had touched +him with so strange a thrill. There was a spark of the heroic in this +young fellow. Angelot found himself watching him, listening to him, +perhaps as a kind of refuge from the cold looks of his relations; for +even Riette dared not run after him as of old. + +When purple shadows began to lie long in the yellow evening glow, and +the crickets sang louder than ever, and sweet scents came out of the +warm ground--when the day's work was nearly done, Angelot walked away +with Martin from the vineyard. He wanted some of those stirring stories +to himself, it seemed. If one must go away and fight, if the old Angevin +life became once for all impossible, then might it not be better under +the eagles, as his wise father thought, than with that army and on that +side for which, in spite of his mother and his uncle, he could not rouse +in himself any enthusiasm? True, he liked little he knew of the Empire +and its men, except this poor lamed conscript; but always in his +whirling thoughts there was that will-o'-the-wisp, that wavering star +of hope that Hélène's father had seemed to offer him. Could he forsake, +for any other reason, the sight of the forbidden walls that held her! + +He and Martin went away up the lane together, and climbed along the side +of the moor towards La Joubardière, Martin telling wild stories of +battles and sieges, of long marching and privation, Angelot listening +fascinated, as he helped the crippled soldier over the rough ground. + +Martin had been wounded under Suchet at the siege of Tortosa, so that he +had seen little of the more recent events of the war, but his personal +adventures, before and since, had been exciting; and not the least +wonderful part of the story was his wandering life, a wounded beggar on +his way back across the Pyrenees into his own country. As Angelot +listened, the politics of French parties faded away, and he only +realised that this was a Frenchman, fighting the enemies of France and +giving his young life for her without a word of regret. Napoleon might +have conquered the world, it seemed, with such conscript soldiers as +this. These, not men like Ratoneau or Georges de Sainfoy, were the +heroes of the war. + +The sun had set, and swift darkness was coming down, before the young +men reached La Joubardière. The lane, the same in which the two +carriages had met, ran in a hollow between high banks studded with oaks +like gigantic toadstools, adding to the deepness of the shadow. + +"There are people following us," said Angelot. + +He interrupted Martin in the midst of one of his stories; the soldier +was standing still, leaning on his stick, and laughed with a touch of +annoyance, for he was growing vain of his skill as a story-teller. + +"My father and mother," he said. "And here I am forgetting their soup, +which I promised to have ready." + +"It is not--I know Maître Joubard's step," said Angelot. + +"Some of the vintagers--" Martin was beginning, when he and Angelot were +surrounded suddenly in the dusk by several men, two of whom seized +Angelot by the shoulders. + +"I arrest you, in the Emperor's name," said a third man. + +Angelot struggled to free himself, and Martin lifted his stick +threateningly. + +"What is this, rascals? Do you know what you are saying? This is the son +of Monsieur de la Marinière." + +"It is some mistake. You have no business to arrest me. You will answer +for this, police! You will answer it to Monsieur le Préfet. He is ill, +and cannot have given the order. Show me your authority." + +"Never mind our authority," said the chief. "We don't want Monsieur de +la Marinière, but we do want his son. Are you coming quietly, young +gentleman, or must we put on handcuffs? Get out of the way with your +stick, you one-legged fellow, or I shall have to punish you." + +"Keep back, Martin; you can do nothing. Go and tell my father," said +Angelot. He shook off the men's hands, and stood still and upright in +the midst of them. + +"Why do you arrest me?" he said. "Where are you going to take me?" + +"Ah, that you will see," said the police officer. + +The snarling malice in his voice seemed suddenly familiar to Angelot. + +"Why, I know you--you are--" + +"Never mind who I am. It is my business to keep down Chouans." + +"But I am not a Chouan!" + +"A man is known by his company. Now then--quick march--away!" + +"Adieu, Martin! This is all nonsense--I shall soon come back," Angelot +cried, as they hustled him on. + +A few moments, and the very tramp of their feet was lost in the dusk, +for they had dragged their prisoner out of the lane and were crossing +the open moor. Martin, in much tribulation, made the best of his way +back to meet his father and mother, and with them carried the news to La +Marinière. + +Half an hour later, Monsieur Urbain, whistling gaily, came back from a +pleasant stroll home with his Sainfoy cousins. Everything seemed +satisfactory; Adélaïde had been kind, the vintage was splendid. If only +Angelot were a sensible boy, there would be nothing left to wish for. + +The moon was up, flooding the old yards that were now empty and still. +As he came near, he saw Anne waiting for him in the porch, and supposed +that the moonlight made her so strangely pale. + +"My dearest," he said, as he came up, "there is to be a ball this month +at Lancilly, in honour of Georges. But I do not know whether that +foolish son of yours will be invited." + +Anne looked him in the face; no, it was not the moonlight that made her +so pale. + +"They have arrested Ange as a Chouan," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOW ANGELOT CLIMBED A TREE + + +The police had caught Angelot; but they did not keep him long. + +They had to do with a young man who knew every yard of that wild country +far better than they did, and was almost as much a part of it as the +birds and beasts that haunted it. + +"Where are you taking me?" he said, as they walked across the high +expanse of the _landes_, dimly lighted by the last glimmer of day. "This +is a very roundabout way to Sonnay-le-Loir." + +"It is not the way at all," said the officer who took the lead, "and we +know that as well as you." + +"But I demand to be taken to Sonnay," Angelot said, and stopped. "The +warrant for my arrest, if you have such a thing, must be from the +Prefect. Take me to him, and I will soon convince him that there is some +mistake." + +"Monsieur le Préfet is ill, as you know. Walk on, if you please." + +"Then take me to the sous-Préfet, or whoever is in his place." + +"You are going to a higher authority, monsieur, not a lower one." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"You are going to Paris. Monsieur le Comte Réal, the head of our branch +of the police, will decide what is to be done with you." + +"Mon Dieu! The old Jacobin! He nearly had my uncle in his fangs once," +said Angelot, half to himself. "But what do they accuse me of? +Chouannerie? But I am not a Chouan, and you know enough of our affairs +to know that, Monsieur Simon!" + +The Chouan-catcher laughed sourly. + +"I believe this is some private devilry," the prisoner went on, with +careless daring. "The Prefect has nothing to do with it. It is spite +against my uncle--but you are a little afraid of touching him. Don't +imagine, though, that you will annoy him particularly by carrying me +off. We are not on good terms just now, my uncle and I. In truth, I have +offended all my relations, and nobody will be sorry to have me away for +a time." + +"Tant mieux, monsieur!" said Simon. "Then you won't object to giving the +Minister of Police a little information about your uncle and the other +Chouan gentlemen, his friends." + +"Ah! that is quite another story! That is the idea, is it? Monsieur le +Duc de Rovigo, and Monsieur le Comte Réal, flatter themselves that they +have got hold of a traitor?" + +"Pardon, monsieur! It is the Chouans who are traitors." + +"I think I could find a few others in our poor France this very night. +But I am not one of them. Again, whose authority have you for arresting +me? Is it Monsieur Réal who has stretched his long arm so far?" + +"The authority is sufficient, and you are my prisoner," Simon answered +coolly. + +"I suspect you have no authority but your own!" + +"They will enlighten you in Paris, possibly." + +"Come, tell me, how much are they paying you for this little trick?" + +One of the other men laughed suddenly, and Simon became angry. + +"Hold your tongue, prisoner, or I shall have you gagged. You need not +speak again till the authorities in Paris take means to make you. Yes, I +assure you, they can persuade rather strongly when they like. Now, quick +march--we have a post-chaise waiting in the road over there." + +Angelot saw that his wisest course was to say no more. He was unarmed; +they had taken away the knife he had used for cutting grapes; his +faithful fowling-piece was hanging in the hall at La Marinière. He was +guarded by five men, all armed, all taller and bigger than himself. He +walked along in silence, apparently resigned to his fate, but thinking +hard all the while. + +His thoughts, busy and curious as they were, did not hit on the right +origin of his very disagreeable adventure. Knowing a good deal of Simon +by repute, and a little by experience, and having heard legends of such +police exploits in the West within the last ten years, though not since +Monsieur de Mauves took office, he felt almost sure that the spy was +taking advantage of the Prefect's illness to gain a little money and +credit on his own account. And of course his own arrest, a young and +unimportant man, was more easily managed and less likely to have +consequences than that of his uncle, for instance, or Monsieur des +Barres. He did not believe that the Paris authorities knew anything of +it, yet; but he did believe that Simon knew what he was doing; that +Réal, the well-known head of the police in the western _arrondissement_, +trained under Fouché in suspicion, cunning and mercilessness, would make +unscrupulous use of any means of knowing the present state of Royalist +opinion in Anjou. He would be all the more severe, probably, because the +mildness of the Prefect of the Loir had more than once irritated him. So +Angelot thought he saw that Simon might easily drag his chosen victim +into a dangerous place, from which it would be hard to escape with +honour. + +They reached the north-east edge of the moor just as the moon was +rising. At first the low light made all things strangely confused, +marching armies of shadows over the wild ground. Every bush might hide +a man, and the ranks of low oaks stood like giants guarding the hollow +black paths that wound between them. Les Chouettes, the only habitation +near, lay a mile away below the vineyards. The high-road to Paris might +be reached by one of the narrow roads that crossed the heath not far +away. + +When they came to the edge of the open ground, near a grove of oaks +plunged in bracken, with a few crumbling walls beyond it where a farm +had once stood, Simon halted his party and whistled. He seemed to expect +a reply, but got none. After waiting a few minutes, whistling again, +exclaiming impatiently, he beckoned one of the other men and they walked +away together towards the road. + +"Something wrong with the chaise?" said Angelot to the three who were +left. "What will you do if it is not there? You will have to carry me to +Paris, for I promise you I don't mean to walk." + +"Monsieur will not be very heavy," one of the men answered, +good-humouredly; the same who had laughed before. + +"Lift me then, and see!" said Angelot. "All right, my good fellow, I'll +ride on your shoulders. Voyons! you can carry me down the road." + +They were standing in a patch of moonlight, just outside the shadow of +the oaks. The two other men stepped back for an instant, while their +comrade stooped, laughing, to lift Angelot. He was met by a +lightning-like blow worthy of an English training, and tumbled over +into the bracken. One of the two others fell flat in the opposite +direction, and the prisoner vanished into the shadows of the grove. The +third man dashed after him, but came into violent contact, in the +darkness, with the trunk of a tree, and fell down stunned at the foot of +it. + +By this time the chaise had slowly climbed the hill from a village in +the further valley, where the post-boy had been refreshing himself and +his horses. Simon stopped to scold him, then left his companion to keep +guard over him, and himself mounted again the precipitous bit of stony +lane which had once been the approach to the farm, and now opened on the +wild moor. He whistled shrilly as he came, and then called in a subdued +voice: "All right, men! Bring him down." + +There was no answer. He quickened his pace, and coming up under the oaks +found the two fellows sitting on the ground rubbing their heads, staring +vacantly round with eyes before which all the moonshiny world was +swimming. + +Simon swore at them furiously. "What has happened, you fools? Where's +Alexandre? Where is the prisoner? name of all that's--" + +"Devil knows, I don't," said the fellow who had paid dear for his +good-humour. "That little gentleman is cleverer than you or me, Master +Simon, and stronger too. He knocked us down like ninepins. Where is he? +Nearly back at La Marinière, I should think, and with Alexandre chasing +after him!" + +"Not so far off as that, I suspect," said Simon. "Up with you. He is +hidden in this cover, and you have got to beat it till you find him. How +did you come to let him escape, pair of idiots? You are not fit for your +work." + +He went back a few yards, while the men scrambled to their feet, and +whistled sharply for the one he had left in charge of the post-boy. Then +he lighted a lantern, and they pushed at various points into the wood. +The first discovery was that of Alexandre, lying senseless; they dragged +him into the road and left him there to come to himself. Then they +unearthed a wild boar, which rushed out furiously from the depths of the +bracken and charged at the light, then bolted off across the moor. +Smaller animals fled from them in all directions; large birds rustled +and cried, disturbed in the thick foliage of the oaks, impenetrable +masses of shade. + +"If we were to shoot into the trees? He may be hidden in one of them." + +The suggestion came from Angelot's friend, whose frivolity had given him +his chance, and whose anxiety to put himself on the right side by +catching him again, dead or alive, very nearly brought his young life to +a speedy end. For foolish François was wise this time, so wise, had he +only known it, that Angelot was sitting in the very tree he touched +with his hand as he spoke, a couple of yards above his head. + +The boy had courage enough and to spare; but his heart seemed to stop at +that moment, and he felt himself turning white in the darkness. The men +could hardly shoot into the trees without hitting him, though he had +slipped down as far as he could into the hollow trunk. He would be +horribly wounded, if not killed. It was a hard fate, to be shot as a +poacher might shoot a pheasant roosting on a bough. An unsportsmanlike +sort of death, Uncle Joseph would say. He held his breath. Should he +await it, or give himself back to the police by jumping down amongst +them? + +The moment of danger passed. Angelot smiled as the men moved on, and hid +himself a little more completely. + +"No," Simon said. "No shooting till you are obliged. His uncle lives +only a mile off, and he will come out if he hears a gun." + +"So he would, the blessed little man!" muttered Angelot. + +The men went on searching the wood, but with such stealthy movements, so +little noise, even so little perseverance, as it seemed to him, that he +was confirmed in his idea of Simon's sole responsibility. These men were +police, supposed to be all-powerful; but somehow they did not act or +talk as if Savary and the Emperor, or even Réal, were behind them. + +Angelot watched the light as it glimmered here and there, and listened +to the rustling in the bracken. Presently, when they were far off on the +other side of the little grove, he climbed out of the trunk and slipped +down from his tree. Simon might change his mind about shooting; in any +case it seemed safer to change one's position. Being close to the edge +of the _landes_, Angelot's first thought was to take to his heels and +run; then again that seemed risky, and a shot in the back was +undesirable. He dived in among the bracken, which was taller than +himself, and grew thick on the ground like a small forest. Half +crawling, half walking, stopping dead still to watch the wandering +gleams of light and to hear the steps and voices of the men, then +pushing gently on again, Angelot reached a hiding-place on the other +side of the grove. Here the bracken, taller and thicker than ever, grew +against and partly over the ruined walls of the old farm. In the very +middle of it, where the wall made a sudden turn, there was a hollow, +half sheltered by stones, and a black yawning hole below, the old well +of the homestead. All the top of it was in ruins; a fox had made its +hole halfway down; there was still water at the bottom of the well. +Here, plunged in the darkness, Angelot sat on the edge of the well and +waited. There were odd little sounds about him, the squeaking of young +animals, the sleepy chirp of easily disturbed birds; a frog dived with a +splash into the well, and then in a few unearthly croaks told his story +to his mates down there. The bracken smelt warm and dry; it was not a +bad place to spend a summer night in, for any one who knew wild nature +and loved it. + +All was so still that Angelot, after listening intently for a time, +leaned his head against the white stones, fell asleep, and dreamed of +Hélène. If he had carried her off that night, mad fellow as he was, some +such shelter might have been all he had to offer her. + +He woke with a start, and saw by the light that he must have been asleep +at least two hours, for the moon was high in the sky. He got up +cautiously, and crept through the bracken to the edge of the grove +towards Les Chouettes. + +It was fortunate that he took the precaution to move noiselessly, as if +he were stalking game, for he had hardly reached the edge of the wood +when he saw Simon standing in the moonlight. Evidently he had been +sitting or lying on the bank and had just risen to his feet, for one of +his comrades lay there still. + +"He is hidden here. He must be here," said Simon, in a low, decided +voice. "I will not go away without him. Hungry and thirsty--yes, I dare +say you are. You deserve it, for letting him escape." + +"I tell you, he is not here," said the other man. "We have been all +round this bit of country; all through it. And look at the moonlight. A +mouse couldn't get away without our seeing it. What's that? a rabbit?" + +"I shall walk round again," said Simon. "Those other fellows may be +asleep, if they are as drowsy and discontented as you. Look sharp now, +while I am away." + +Simon tramped down the lane. The other police officer stretched himself +and stared after him. + +"I'll eat my cap," he muttered, "if the young gentleman's in the wood +still. He deserves to be caught, if he is." + +At that moment Angelot was standing under an oak two yards away. In the +broad, deep shadow he was invisible. A longing seized him to knock the +man's cap off his head and tell him to keep his word and eat it. But +Simon was too near, and it was madness to risk the chase that must +follow. Angelot laughed to himself as he slipped from that shadow to the +next, the officer yawning desperately the while. + +There was something unearthly about Les Chouettes in the moonlight. It +seemed to float like a fairy dwelling, with its slim tower and high +windows, on a snowy ocean of sand. The woods, dark guarding phalanxes of +tall oaks and firs, seemed marshalled on the slopes for its defence. +Angelot came down upon it by the old steep lane, having slipped across +from the ruined farm to a vineyard, along by a tall hedge into another +wood of low scrub and bracken, then into the road a hundred yards above +the house. Before he reached it he heard the horses kicking in the +stable, then a low bark from the nearest dog which he answered by softly +whistling a familiar tune. + +In consequence of this all the dogs about the place came running to meet +him, softly patting over the sand, and it was on this group, standing +under her window in the midnight stillness, that Riette looked out a few +minutes later. + +Something woke her, she did not know what, but this little watcher's +sleep was always of the lightest, and she had not long fallen asleep, +her eyelashes still wet with tears for Angelot. The window creaked as +she opened it, leaning out into the moonlight. + +"Is it you, my Ange? But they said--" + +"I have escaped," said Angelot. "Quick, let me in! They may be following +me." + +"But go round to papa's window, dearest! And what business have the dogs +there? Ah--do you hear, you wicked things? Go back to your places." + +The dogs looked up, dropped their ears and tails, slunk away each to his +corner. Only the dog who guarded Riette's end of the house remained; he +stretched himself on the sand, slapped it with his tail, lolled out his +tongue as if laughing. + +"Don't you think my uncle will shoot me before he looks at me, if I +attack his window?" said Angelot. "And in any case, I dare hardly ask +him to take me in. He has not forgiven me. But you could hide me, +Riette! or at least you could give me something to eat before I take to +the woods again." + +"My boy!" the odd little figure in the flannel gown leaned farther out, +and the dark cropped head was turned one way and the other, listening. +"Go round into the north wood and wait as near papa's window as you can. +I will go down to him. I think he cannot be asleep; he must be thinking +of you." + +"Merci!" said Angelot, and walked away. + +But he did not go into the wood. He stole round very gently to where, in +spite of the moon, he saw a light shining in Monsieur Joseph's +uncurtained window. The guardian dog rubbed himself against his legs as +he stood there. + +Monsieur Joseph's room was panelled and furnished with the plainest +wood. His bed was in the alcove at the back; the only ornament was the +portrait of his wife, a dark, Italian-looking woman, which hung +surrounded by guns, pistols, and swords, over the low stone mantelpiece. +It was just midnight, but Monsieur Joseph was not in bed. He looked a +quaint figure, in a dressing-gown and a tasselled night-cap, and he sat +at the table writing a long letter. He started when Riette touched the +door, and Angelot saw that his hand moved mechanically towards a pair of +pistols that lay beside him. Monsieur Joseph did not trust entirely to +his dogs for defence. + +In she came, with bare white feet stepping lightly over the polished +floor. Angelot moved back a pace or two that he might not hear what they +said to each other. When Monsieur Joseph hastily opened the window, +Riette had been sent back summarily to her room, and Angelot was waiting +halfway to the wood. + +"Come in, Ange! why do you stand there?" the little uncle exclaimed +under his breath. "Sapristi, how do you know that you are not watched?" + +"I think not, Uncle Joseph. And I fancy the fellows who caught me will +hardly follow me here," said Angelot, stepping into the room. "You will +forgive me for coming?" + +"Where could you go? Come, come, tell me everything. Why--what did those +devils of police want with you? Shut the window and draw the +curtain--there, now we are safe. I was just writing to César d'Ombré. Do +you know--here is a secret--he means to get away to England, and from +there to the Princes. He is right; there is not much to be done here. +You shall go with him!" + +"Shall I?" said Angelot, vaguely. "Well, Uncle Joseph--it does not much +matter where I go." + +Joseph de la Marinière swore his biggest oath. + +"What are you staying here for?" he said. "To be caught on one side by a +young lady, on the other by the police!" + +"Give me something to eat, Uncle Joseph, or I shall die of hunger +between you all," said Angelot, smiling at him. + +The little gentleman shook his head. Angelot was not forgiven, not at +all; even Riette had hardly been restored to favour, to ordinary meals +in polite society. + +"I will give you something to eat if I can find anything without calling +Gigot," he said. "Riette thinks there is a pie in the pantry. Come into +the gun-room; the light will not be seen there. And tell me what you +have done to get yourself arrested, troublesome fellow! Not even a real +honest bit of _Chouannerie_, I am afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH FOUND HIMSELF MASTER OF THE SITUATION + + +In the old labyrinth of rooms at Les Chouettes, Monsieur Joseph's +gun-room was the best hidden from the outside. It had solid shutters, +always kept closed and barred; the daylight only made its way in through +their chinks, or through the doors, one of which opened into Monsieur +Joseph's bedroom, the other into a little anteroom between that and the +hall. Both doors were generally locked, and the keys safely stowed away. + +The gun-room was not meant for ordinary visitors; Angelot himself, as a +rule, was the only person admitted there. For the amount of arms and +ammunition kept there, some of it in cupboards cleverly hidden in the +panelling, some in a dry cellar entered by a trap-door in the floor, was +very different, both in kind and quality, from anything the most +energetic sportsman could require. + +In this storehouse the amiable conspirator shut up his nephew, and +Angelot spent the next few days there, well employed in cleaning and +polishing wood and steel. He slept at night on a sofa in the anteroom, +but was allowed to go no farther. Monsieur Joseph had reasons of his +own. + +He was a very authoritative person, when once he took a matter into his +own hands, and his influence with Angelot was great. He took a far more +serious view of the arrest than Angelot himself did. He was sure that +his nephew had been kidnapped by special orders from Paris--probably +from Réal, whom he knew of old--in order to gain information as to any +existing Chouan plots in Anjou. Thus the authorities meant to protect +themselves from any consequences of the Prefect's indulgent character. +It was even possible that some suspicion of the mission to England, only +lately discussed by himself and his friends, might have filtered through +to Paris; and in that case several persons were in serious danger. + +Monsieur Joseph was confirmed in these ideas by the fact that his +brother started off to Sonnay to demand of the authorities there the +reason of his son's arrest, and found that absolutely nothing was known +of it. Coming back in a state of rage and anxiety, which quite drove his +philosophy out of the field, Urbain attacked his brother in words that +Joseph found a little hard to bear, accusing him of having ruined +Angelot's life with his foolish fancies, and of being the actual cause +of this catastrophe which might bring the fate of a Chouan on the +innocent fellow who cared for no politics at all. + +"And what a life, to care for no cause at all!" cried Joseph, with +eloquently waving hands. "But--you say you are going to Paris, to get to +the bottom of this? Well, my friend, go! And I promise you, if Ange is +in danger, I will follow and take his place. You and Anne may rely upon +it, he shall not be punished for my sins." + +"Come with me now, then! I start this very night," said Urbain. + +"No, no! I will not accuse myself before it is necessary," said Joseph, +shaking his head and smiling. + +Urbain flung away in angry disgust. Joseph had a moment of profound +sadness as he looked after him--they were standing in the courtyard of +La Marinière--then stole away home through the lanes, carefully avoiding +a sight of his sister-in-law. + +"I let him go! I let him go, poor Urbain! and his boy safe at Les +Chouettes all the time. Why do I do it? because the house is watched day +and night; because neither I, nor Gigot, nor Tobie, can go into the +woods without seeing the glitter of a police carbine through the leaves; +because the dogs growl at night, and there is no safe place for Angelot +outside Les Chouettes, till he is out of France altogether--and that I +shall have to manage carefully. Because, if his father knew he had +escaped from the police, all the world would know. Et puis,--I shall +make a good Royalist of you in the end, my little Angelot. Your mother +will not blame me for cutting you off from the Empire, and your father +must comfort himself with his philosophy. And that hopeless passion for +Mademoiselle Hélène--what can be kinder than to end it--and by the great +cure of all--time, absence, impossibility! Yes; the matter is in my +hands, and I shall carry it through, God helping me." + +It was not a light burden that he had to carry, the little uncle. Never, +since his brother's intervention brought him back to France and placed +him where he and his old friends could amuse themselves with +conspiracies which, as Joubard said, did little harm to any one, had he +been in a position of such real difficulty. Riette did not at all +realise what she was bringing upon her father, when she slipped into his +room that night with the news that Angelot had escaped from the police. +He had to keep his nephew quietly imprisoned till he could get him away +safely; it required all his arguments, all his influence and strength of +will, to do that; for Angelot was not an easy person to keep within four +narrow walls, and only love and gratitude restrained him from obeying +his own instincts, going out into the woods, risking a second +arrest--hardly to be followed by a second escape--venturing over to La +Marinière to see his mother. It distressed him far more to think of her, +terribly anxious, ignorant of his safety, than of his father on the way +to Paris. He, at any rate, though he would not find him, might come to +the bottom of the mysterious business. + +Monsieur Joseph danced in the air, shrugged his shoulders, waved his +hands. If Angelot chose to go, let him! His recapture would probably +mean the arrest and ruin of the whole family. A little patience, and he +could disappear for the time. What else did he expect to be able to do? +Would a man on whom the police had once laid their hands be allowed to +rescue himself and to live peaceably in his own country? What did he +take them for, the police? were they children at play? or were their +proceedings grim and real earnest? Had those men behind, who pulled the +strings of the puppet-show, no other object in view than an hour's +amusement? Did Angelot know that the woods were patrolled by the police, +the roads watched? The only surprising thing was, that no domiciliary +visit had yet been made, either at Les Chouettes or La Marinière. + +"However, they know I am a good marksman," said Monsieur Joseph, with +his sweetest smile. "And even Tobie, with my authority, might think a +gendarme fair game." + +"I don't believe it is fear of you that keeps them away, Uncle Joseph," +said Angelot. "As to that, I too can hit a tree by daylight. But these +stealthy ways of theirs seem to tell me what I have thought all along, +that it is a private enterprise of our friend Simon's own, without any +authority whatever. The fellows with him were not gendarmes; they were +not in uniform. Monsieur le Préfet being laid up, the good man thinks it +the moment to do a little hunting on his own account with his own dogs, +and to curry favour by taking his game to Paris. But he is not quite +sure of himself; he has no warrant to search houses without a better +reason than any he can give. He will catch me again if he can, no doubt; +but as you say, Uncle Joseph, as long as I stay here in your cupboard, I +am safe." + +"So safe," laughed his uncle, "that I am going to begin my vintage +to-morrow under their very noses, leaving Riette and the dogs to guard +you, mon petit. But you are wrong, you are quite wrong. No police spy +would dare to make such an arrest without a special order. If they have +no warrant for searching, they will soon get one as soon as they are +sure you are here. But at present you have vanished into the bowels of +the earth. They can see that your father knows nothing of you; they have +no reason to think that I am any wiser." + +So passed those weary days, those long, mysterious nights at Les +Chouettes. + +Outside, with great care to keep themselves out of sight, Simon's +scratch band searched the woods and lanes. Simon was mystified, as well +as furious. He hardly dared return and report to his employer, who +supposed that Angelot had been conveyed safely off to the mock prison +where he meant to have him kept for a few weeks; then, when the affair +of the marriage was arranged, to let him escape from it. Simon was +himself too well known in the neighbourhood to make any enquiries; but +one of his men found out at Lancilly that the family supposed young Ange +to have been carried off to Paris, whither his father had followed him. +Martin Joubard, the only witness of the arrest, had made the most of his +story. He did not know the police officer by sight, but Monsieur Ange +had seemed to do so. This had made them all think that the order for the +arrest had come from Sonnay. But no! And as to any escape, this man was +assured that the young gentleman had not been seen by any one but Martin +Joubard, since he left his father's vineyard in the twilight of that +fatal evening. + +At Les Chouettes all went on outwardly in its usual fashion. Monsieur +Joseph strolled out with his gun, directed the beginnings of his +vintage; his servants, trustworthy indeed, showed no sign of any special +watchfulness; Mademoiselle Henriette ordered the dogs about and sang her +songs as usual. If Monsieur Joseph was grave and preoccupied, no wonder; +every one knew he loved his nephew. But Simon, in truth, had met his +match. He was almost convinced that no fugitive from justice, real or +pretended, was hidden in or about Monsieur Joseph's habitation; and he +gradually made his cordon wider, still watching the house, but keeping +his men in cover by day, and searching the woods by night with less +exact caution. His only satisfaction was being aware of two visits paid +to Les Chouettes by the Baron d'Ombré, who came over the moor in the +evening and slept there. The mission to England was as yet beyond police +dreams, at least on this side of the country; but Simon kept his +knowledge for future use. + +It might naturally be imagined that Angelot would have found a refuge in +some of the wild old precincts of La Marinière; but Simon soon convinced +himself that this was not the case. No mother whose son was hidden about +her home would have spent her time as Anne did, wandering restlessly +about, expecting nothing but her husband's return, or spending long +hours before the altar in the church, praying for her son's safety. +Simon began to suspect that his prisoner had got away to the west, into +Brittany, among the Chouans who were there so numerous that it was +better to leave them alone. + +"Bien! his absence in any way will suit Monsieur le Général," Simon +reflected. "As to that, it does not much matter. But I and my fellows +will not get our promised pay, and that signifies a great deal. I, who +have given up my furlough to serve that animal!" + +So he gnawed his nails in distraction, and still watched with a sort of +fascination the little square of country where he felt more and more +afraid that Master Angelot was no longer to be found. + +The sympathy that Anne de la Marinière, in her lonely sorrow, might +have expected from the cousins at Lancilly who owed Urbain so much, she +neither asked nor found. Once or twice, Hervé de Sainfoy came himself to +the manor to ask if she had any news; but his manner was a little stiff +and awkward; and Adélaïde never came; and the messages he brought from +her were too evidently made by his politeness on the spur of the moment. +Was it not possible, Anne thought, to be too worldly, too unforgiving? +Had not her beautiful boy been punished enough for his presumption in +falling in love with their daughter, and behaving like a lover of the +olden time? They were even partly responsible for the arrest, she +thought, for it was to escape them that Ange had walked away with Martin +up the hill that evening. + +Looking over at the great castle on the opposite hill, she accused it +bitterly of having robbed her not only of Urbain, but of Angelot. + +The October days brought wilder autumn weather; the winds began to blow +in the woods, to howl at night in the wide old chimneys of La Marinière; +sometimes the cry of a wolf, in distant depths of forest, made sportsmen +and farmers talk of the hunts of which Lancilly used long ago to be the +centre. Those days would return again, they hoped, though Count Hervé +had not the energy or the country training of his ancestors. But his +son, when the war was over, seemed likely to vie with any seigneur of +them all. In the meanwhile, this young man's leave was shortened by an +express from the army--a fact which seemed at first unlikely to have any +influence on the fate of his cousin Angelot--but life has turns and +twists that baffle the wisest calculations. Neither Georges nor his +mother had been displeased at the arrest of Angelot; though they had the +decency to keep their congratulations for each other. As for Hélène, the +news had been allowed to reach her through the servants and Mademoiselle +Moineau. She dared not cry any more; her mother had scolded her enough +for spoiling her eyes and complexion. Pale and silent, she took this new +trouble as one more proof that she was never meant to be happy. Her +fairy prince was a dream; yet, whatever the poets may say, she found a +little joy and comfort, warmth and peace, in dreaming her dream again, +and even in this worst time, by some strange instinct of love, Angelot +seemed never far away from her. + +One evening, when it was blowing and raining outside, a wood fire was +flaming in the salon at La Marinière. For herself, Anne would not have +cared for it; but the old Curé sat and warmed his hands after dining +with her and playing a game of tric-trac. Not indeed to please and +distract her, but himself; for he had long been accustomed to depend on +her for comfort in all his troubles. After the game was over he had told +her a piece of news; nothing that mattered very much, or that was very +surprising, characters and circumstances considered; but Anne took it +hardly. + +"I cannot believe it," she said at first. "Who told you, do you say?" + +"My brother at Lancilly told me," said the Curé. "You do not think him +worthy of much confidence, madame--and it may not be true--he had heard +the report in the village." + +She shrugged her shoulders, with a little contempt for the Curé of +Lancilly. Her old friend watched her face, pathetically changed since +all this new sorrow came upon her; thinner, paler, its delicate beauty +hardened, purple shadows under the still lovely eyes, and a look of +bitter resentment that hurt him to see. He gazed at her imploringly. + +"But, madame," he murmured--"it is nothing--Monsieur de la Marinière +would say it was nothing--" + +"I hope, Monsieur le Curé," Anne said, "that after such cruel hardness +of heart he will waste his affection there no longer. Ah! who is that?" + +There were quick steps outside. Somebody had come in, and might be heard +shaking himself in the hall; then Monsieur Joseph walked lightly into +the room, bringing a rush of outside air, a smell of wet leaves, and +that atmosphere of life which in his saddest moments never left him. + +Madame Urbain received him a little coldly; she was cold to every one in +these days; but in truth his conscience told him that he might have +visited her more since Urbain went away. But then--how keep the secret +from Angelot's mother? No, impossible; and so he made his vintage an +excuse for avoiding La Marinière. To-night, however, he had a mission to +fulfil. + +It was horribly difficult. He sat down between her and the Curé, looked +from one to the other, drank the coffee she offered him, and blushed +like a girl as he said, "No news from Urbain, I suppose?" + +Anne's brows rose in a scornful arch; her lips pouted. + +"News! How should there be any?" she said, as if Urbain had gone to +Paris to amuse himself. "And your vintage, Joseph?" + +"I finished it to-day. It was difficult--the weather was not very +good--and--I have had distractions," said Monsieur Joseph, and waved +away the subject. "My dear Anne," he went on, rushing headlong into +another, "I have had a visitor to-day, who charged me to explain to you +a certain matter--which vexes him profoundly, by the bye,--Hervé de +Sainfoy, who for family reasons--" + +"Oh, mon Dieu!" Anne cried, and burst out laughing. "You really mean +that Hervé de Sainfoy has sent you as his ambassador--see our injustice, +Monsieur le Curé, yours and mine--to announce to me that he is going to +give a ball while my son is in prison, in danger of his life, or +already dead, for all I know! Really, that is magnificent! What +politeness, what feeling for Urbain, n'est-ce pas? He did not wish me to +hear such interesting news through the gossip of the village--do you +hear, Monsieur le Curé? You brought it too soon. And my invitation?" she +held out her hand. "Did he give you a card for me, or will Madame la +Comtesse take the trouble to send it herself?" + +"Ah, bah!" cried Joseph, springing from his chair and pirouetting before +the fire; "but you are a little too severe on poor Hervé, my dear +sister! I assure you, I showed him what I thought. But I perceived that +his vexation is real--real and sincere. The circumstances--he explained +them all in the most amiable manner--" + +Anne interrupted him, laughing again. "I see the facts--the one +fact--what are the circumstances to me?" + +"They are a great deal to Hervé," Monsieur Joseph persisted. + +"Hervé, Hervé!" she cried. "But Joseph--mon Dieu, how can you take his +wretched excuses! I thought you loved Ange! I thought the boy--" + +She broke off with a sob, turning white as death. The two men stared at +her, Monsieur Joseph with wild eyes and trembling lips. Would this be +more than he could bear? + +He took refuge in talking. He talked so fast that he hardly knew what he +was saying. He poured out Hervé's explanations, his regrets, his +trouble of mind. Georges was bent upon this ball; it had been proposed +long before his return; the first invitations had been sent out directly +he came. He wished to make acquaintance with all the neighbours, old and +new, official, or friends of the family; he wished to pay a special +compliment to the officers at Sonnay, his brothers in arms. A formal +invitation had been sent to General Ratoneau, who had actually accepted +it, to Hervé's great surprise. He had laughed and said that the dog +wanted another thrashing. But let him come, if he chose to humble +himself! He might see even more clearly that Hélène was not for him. In +Adélaïde's opinion, no private prejudices must have anything to do with +this ball. It was given chiefly as a matter of politics, under imperial +colours; it was for the interest of Georges that his family should thus +definitely range itself with the Empire. + +"Poor Hervé said that he had already, more than once, spoilt his wife's +calculations and failed to support her views. She and Georges, whatever +private feeling might be, thought it impossible to put off this ball +because of the misfortune that happened to Angelot. They would be +understood to show sympathy with the Chouans. Then he abused me well, +poor Hervé," said Monsieur Joseph, amiably. "He said, as Urbain did, +that I had ruined Angelot's life, and it was no one's fault but mine. +'Well, dear cousin,' I said to him, 'I will punish myself by not +appearing at this fine ball of yours. Not that my dancing days are over, +but for me, Ange's absence would spoil all.' 'You love that fellow!' +says Hervé, looking at me. 'Love him!' says I. 'I would cut off my right +hand to serve him, and that is a good deal for a sportsman.' Hervé +laughed as I said it. I do not dislike that poor Hervé, though his wife +rules him. Listen to me, you two. I believe if Ange had been reasonable +and honest, Hervé might have given him his daughter." + +"Heaven forbid!" cried Anne. "But if you love Ange, do not blame him. He +was young, he was mad, the girl was beautiful--and, after all, Joseph, +you had something to do with putting that into his head. Ah, we are all +to blame! We have all been cruel, blind, selfish. You and I thought of +the King, Urbain thought of his cousins, they thought of themselves. We +left my boy to find his own way in a time like this, and your Chouan +friends were as dangerous for him as Hélène de Sainfoy. Ah! and you +excuse yourself with a laugh from dancing on his grave!" + +She wrung her hands, threw herself back in her chair with a passionate +sigh. + +"Madame," said the Curé, suddenly;--his dim but watchful eyes had been +fixed on Joseph; "Madame, Monsieur Joseph could tell you, if he would, +what has become of Angelot. He is not dead; I doubt if he is even in +prison. Ah, monsieur, you do not dissimulate well!" as Joseph made him +an eager sign to be silent. + +But it was too late, for Anne was holding his two hands, and in the +light of her eyes all his secret doings lay open. + +"Why did I come!" he said to himself, in the intervals of a very +difficult explanation. "There is some magic in those walls of Lancilly, +which attracts and ruins us all. If we live through this, thousand +thunders, Hervé de Sainfoy may make his own excuses to our dear little +Anne in future!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE LIGHTED WINDOWS OF LANCILLY + + +There was no way out of it, without telling all. Fortunately Joseph knew +that his secrets were safe with these two, whose hearts were absolutely +Royalist, though circumstances held them bound to inactivity. Presently +Anne rose and left the room. + +"Thank God! that is over," Joseph said, half to himself. "I must be +going. Monsieur le Curé, I leave her to you. Do not let her be too +anxious. D'Ombré is rough, but a good fellow; he will take care of our +Angelot." + +The old Curé was plunged in gloom. Tall and slight in his long black +garment, he stood under the high chimneypiece, and leaned forward +shivering, to warm his fingers at the blaze. + +"Ah, monsieur!" he murmured. "Have you thought what you are doing? Can +you expect good to come out of evil? Your brother, who has done +everything for us all, how are you treating him? If madame does not see +it, I do. You are taking Ange, making him a conspirator and a Chouan. If +you save him from one danger, you plunge him into a greater, for if he +and Monsieur d'Ombré are caught on this mission, they will certainly +pay for it with their lives. You are doing all this without his father's +knowledge--" + +"Ah, my dear Curé, I know the police better than you do," Monsieur +Joseph said hastily. "These young fellows will not be the first who have +escaped to England; and Ange cannot stay here with their eyes and claws +upon him. Even his father would not wish that. Leave it to me. What is +it, Anne? what are you thinking of?" + +His sister-in-law had come back into the room, wrapped in a cloak, with +a hood drawn over her face. + +"I am going with you to see Ange," she said. + +The wind was howling, the rain was pattering outside. But Monsieur +Joseph had all the trouble in the world to make her give up this idea. +At last, after many arguments and prayers, he persuaded her that she +must not come to Les Chouettes but must absolutely trust Ange to him. He +promised solemnly that the young man should not start without her +knowing it, that, if possible, she should see her boy again. + +"And if Urbain comes back before they are gone?" she said, looking +whitely into his face. "I tell you positively, Joseph, I shall not +dare--" + +"My dear friend, owing to Monsieur le Curé's unfortunate second-sight, +your son's life is in your hands. If Urbain comes back, tell him all, if +you will. His presence did not save Ange from being arrested before, it +will not save him from being retaken. My fault, perhaps, as Urbain +said--all my fault--" He struck his breast as if in church, with his +fine smile. "But then it is my place to save him, and I will do it, if +you will let me--in my own way." + +They were both trembling, and large tears ran down the old Curé's thin +cheeks. Joseph, still smiling, bent to kiss her hand. He held it for a +moment, then looked up with dark imploring eyes. + +"Adieu, chère Anne! and think of me with all your charity!" he said. + +A minute later he had slipped noiselessly out, and plunged alone into +the wet, howling darkness. + +Through those days of suspense, while Angelot was hidden at Les +Chouettes, while master and servants alike acted on the supposition that +the house was watched by gendarmes with all the power of the Ministry of +Police behind them--through these days, one person alone was happy; it +was Henriette. She adored her cousin; it was joy to watch over him, to +scold him, to amuse him, to keep him, a difficult matter, within the +bounds prescribed by his uncle. Every day Angelot said it was +impossible; he must be ill, he must die, if he could not stretch his +legs and breathe the open air. Every day Henriette, when her father was +out, allowed him to race up and down the stairs, played at hide-and-seek +with him in the passages, let him dance her round and round the lower +rooms. Or else she played games with him, cards, chess, tric-trac; or +he lay and listened to her while she told him fairy tales; listened with +a dreamy half-understanding, with a certainty, underlying all his +impatience, that there was nothing to live for now. What did it matter, +after all? One moment, life and hope and youth made him thrill and +tremble in every limb; the next, his fate weighed upon him like a +millstone; he laid his head down on the broad pillow of the sofa, and +while Henriette chattered his eyelashes were sometimes wet. All was +settled now. He must be banished to England, to Germany, banished in a +cause he did not care for, in which he was involved against his will. +Never again should he walk with his gun and Négo, light-hearted, over +his own old country. Never again, more certainly, should he see Hélène, +feel the maddening sweetness of her touch, her kiss. There was to be a +ball. Henriette told him all about it; he heard of his cousin Hervé's +visit, and was half amused, half miserable. Hélène would dance; white +and slender, her eyes full of sadness. She would dance with other men, +thinking, he knew, of her lost friend, her Angelot. In time, one of them +would be presented to her as her husband. Not Ratoneau; Angelot had her +father's word for that, and he drew a long breath when he thought of it. +But some one else; that was inevitable. Ah! as life must pass, why +cannot it pass more quickly? Why must every day have such an endless +number of hours and minutes? What torture is there greater than this of +waiting, stifled and idle, for a fate arranged in spite of one's self? + +Henriette flitted in and out, eager and earnest like her father. After +Monsieur Joseph's visit to La Marinière, he sent her there one day with +Marie, and she was embraced by her aunt Anne with a quite new passion of +tenderness, and trusted with a letter and a huge parcel of necessaries +for Angelot's journey. Monsieur Joseph laughed a little angrily over +these. + +"Tiens, mon petit! your mother thinks you are going to drive to the +coast in a chaise and four," he said; but Angelot bent his head very +gravely over the coats and the shirts that those little thin hands had +folded together for him. + +"You must give me fair notice, Uncle Joseph," he said. "Police or no +police, I do not go without wishing her good-bye." + +Everything came at once, as fate would have it. It was after dark, a +wild, windy evening, stars looking through the hurrying clouds, no +moonrise till early morning. With every precaution, Monsieur Joseph +now allowed his nephew to dine in the dining-room, taking care to place +him where he could not be seen from outside when Gigot came in through +the shutters from the kitchen. Angelot had now been kept in hiding for +ten days, and the police seemed to have disappeared from the woods, so +that Monsieur Joseph's mind was easier. + +Suddenly, as they sat at dinner that evening, all the dogs began to +bark. + +"Go into your den!" said the little uncle, starting up. + +"No, dear uncle, this game pie is too good," Angelot said coolly. "I +heard a horse coming down the lane. It is Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger." + +"If it is--very true, you had better eat your dinner," said his uncle. + +And to be sure, in a few minutes, Gigot came in with a letter, Angelot's +marching orders. At five o'clock the next morning César d'Ombré would +wait for him at the Étang des Morts, a lonely, legend-haunted pool in +the woods where four roads met, about two leagues beyond the _landes_ by +way of La Joubardière. + +"Very well; you will start at three o'clock," said Monsieur Joseph. +"Give the man something to eat and send him back, Gigot, to meet his +master." + +"Three o'clock! I shall be asleep!" said Angelot. "Surely an hour will +be enough to take me to the Étang des Morts--a cheerful rendezvous!" + +He laughed and looked at Riette. She was very pale and grave, her dark +eyes wide open. + +"The good dead--they will watch over you, mon petit!" she murmured. "We +must not be afraid of them." + +"This is not a time for talking nonsense, children," said Monsieur +Joseph; he looked at them severely, his mouth trembling. "Half-past +three at latest; the boy might lose his way in the dark." + +Riette got up suddenly and flung her arms round Angelot's neck. + +"Mon petit, mon petit!" she repeated, burying her face on his shoulder. + +"What are you doing?" he cried. "How am I to finish my dinner? You come +between me and the best pie that Marie ever made! Get along with you, +little good-for-nothing!" + +He laughed; then Marie's pie seemed to choke him; he pushed back his +chair, lifted Riette lightly and carried her out of the room. + +"Now I am in prison no longer," he said. "I am going to run across to La +Marinière; will you come too, little cousin?" + +But Monsieur Joseph had something to say to that. He would not let +Angelot go without sermons so long that the boy could hardly listen to +them, on the care he was to take that no servant or dog at La Marinière +saw him, on the things he might and might not say to his mother. + +At last Angelot said aside to Henriette: "There is only one thing I +regret--that I did not go straight home at first to my father and +mother. That will bring misfortune on us all, if anything does--my uncle +is absolutely too much of a conspirator." + +"Hush, you are ungrateful," said Riette, gravely. + +"Ah! It seems to me that I am nothing good or fortunate--everything bad +and unlucky! My relations and their politics toss me like a ball," +Angelot sighed impatiently. "I wish this night were over and we were on +our way, I and that excellent grumpy César. And the farther I go, the +more I shall want to come back. Tiens! Riette, I am miserable!" + +The child gazed at him with her great eyes, full of the love and +understanding of a woman. + +"Courage!" she said. "You will come back--with the King." + +"The King!" Angelot repeated bitterly. "Ask Martin Joubard about that. +Hear him talk of the Emperor." + +"A peasant! a common soldier! What does he know?" said the girl, +scornfully. "I think my papa knows better." + +"Ah, well! Believe in him; you are right," said Angelot. + +They talked as they stood outside the house in the dim starlight, +waiting a few moments for Monsieur Joseph: he chose to go part of the +way with Angelot, and consented unwillingly to take Riette with him. The +dead silence of the woods and fields was only broken by the moan of the +wind; a sadness that struck to the heart brooded over the depths of +lonely land; far down in the valley cold mists were creeping, and even +on the lower slopes of Monsieur Joseph's meadow a chilly damp rose from +the undrained ground. As far as one could tell, not a human being moved +in the woods; the feet of Monsieur d'Ombré's messenger had passed up the +lane out of hearing; all was solitary and silent about the quaint +turreted house with its many shuttered windows and dark guards lying +silent, stretched on the sand. Only one of these rose and shook himself +and followed his master. + +But the loneliness was not so great as it seemed. Behind a large tree to +leeward of the house, Simon was lurking alone. He had sent his men away +for the night, and he ground his teeth with rage when he saw his victim, +out of reach for the time. For he had not the courage, with no law or +right on his side, to face the uncle and nephew, armed and together. + +Avoiding the open starlit slope, those three with the dog passed at once +into the shadow of the woods, thus taking the safest, though not the +shortest way to La Marinière. Simon stole after them at a safe distance. +They came presently to a high corner in a lane, where, over the bank on +which the pollard oaks stood in line, they could look across to the +other side of the valley. As a rule, the Château de Lancilly was hardly +to be seen after sunset, facing east, and its own woods shadowing it on +three sides; but to-night its long front shone and glowed and flashed +with light; every window seemed to be open and illuminated; the effect +was so festal, so dazzling, that Riette cried out in admiration. +Monsieur Joseph exclaimed angrily, and Angelot gazed in silence. + +"Ah, papa! It is the ball! How beautiful! How I wish I could be there!" +cried the child. + +"No doubt!" said Monsieur Joseph. "Exactly! You would like to dance till +to-morrow morning, while Ange is escaping. Well, shall I take you across +there now? One of your pretty cousins would lend you a ball-dress!" + +Riette's blushes could not be seen in the dark, but she said no more. +Monsieur Joseph walked on a few paces and stopped. + +"Ange will go quicker without us," he said. "Go, my boy, and God bless +and protect you. We have given those rascals of police the slip, I +think, or they have decided that you are not to be caught here. For the +last day or two Tobie has seen nothing of them. But remember you are not +safe; go cautiously and come back quickly. Do not let your mother keep +you long. I believe I am doing very wrong in letting you go to her at +all!" + +"As to that, Uncle Joseph, it is certain that I won't leave the country +without seeing her," said Angelot. + +"Go, then, and don't be long, don't be rash; remember that I am dying +with impatience. You have the pistols I gave you?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't shoot a gendarme if you can help it. It might make things more +serious. Away with you! Come, Riette." + +As the two walked back along the lane, Simon scrambled out of their way, +like Angelot out of his, into the thick mass of one of the old +_truisses_. The dog looked up at the tree and growled as they passed. +Monsieur Joseph glanced sharply that way, but saw nothing, and called +the dog to follow him, walking on a little more quickly. + +"He will go straight to La Marinière," he was saying to Riette, "stay +twenty minutes or so with his mother, and be back at Les Chouettes in +less than an hour"--a piece of information not lost on Simon, who +climbed down carefully from his tree, looked to his carbine, and +chuckled as he walked slowly on towards La Marinière. + +"Nothing in the world like patience," he said to himself. "Monsieur le +Général ought to double my reward for this. I was right from the +beginning; that old devil of a Chouan had the boy hidden in that +robber's den of his. The fellows thought I was wasting my time and +theirs. They didn't like being half starved and catching cold in the +woods. I have had all the trouble in the world to hold them down to it. +But what does it matter, so that we catch our game after all! I must +choose a good place to drop on the youngster--lucky for me that he +couldn't live without seeing his mother. Is he armed? Never mind! I must +be fit to die of old age if I can't give an account of a boy like that. +His mother, eh? Why did his father go to Paris, if they knew he was +here? Perhaps they thought it wiser to keep the good news from Monsieur +Urbain; these things divide families. They let him go off on a +wild-goose chase after a pardon or something. Well, so that I catch him, +tie him up out of the General's way, get my money, start off to Paris to +see my father, and--perhaps--never come back--for this affair may make +another department pleasanter--" + +So ruminated Simon, as he strolled through the lanes in the starlight, +following, as he supposed, in the footsteps of Angelot, and preparing to +lie in wait for him at some convenient corner on his return. + +But when his uncle and cousin left him, disappearing into the shadows, +Angelot leaped up on the bank and stood for a minute or two gazing +across at Lancilly. To watch till her shadow passed by one of those +lighted windows--if not to climb to some point where he might see her, +herself, without breaking his word to her father and attempting to speak +to her--it might cost an extra half-hour and Uncle Joseph's displeasure, +perhaps. But after all, what was leaving all the rest of the world +compared with leaving her, Hélène, and practically for ever? His gentle, +frightened love, to whom he had promised all the strength and protection +he had to give, to whom invisible cords drew him across the valley! + +"No, I cannot!" Angelot said to himself. He waited for no second +thoughts, but jumped down into the field beyond the bank, and did not +even trouble himself to keep in the shadow while with long light +strides he ran towards Lancilly. + +Two hours later Monsieur Joseph was pacing up and down, wildly +impatient, in front of his house. Over his head, Riette listened behind +closed shutters, and heard nothing but his quick tramp, and an angry +exclamation now and then against Angelot. At last Monsieur Joseph +stopped short and listened. The dogs barked, but he silenced them; then +came a swinging light and two figures hurrying along the shadowy +footpath from La Marinière. Another instant, and Urbain's strong voice +rang through the night that brooded over Les Chouettes. + +"Joseph, you incorrigible old Chouan! what have you done with my boy?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A DANCE WITH GENERAL RATONEAU + + +All this time, and lately with her son's energetic help, Madame de +Sainfoy had been arranging her rooms in the most approved fashion of the +day. The new furniture was far less beautiful than the old, and far less +suited to the character of the house; still, like everything belonging +to the Empire, it had a severe magnificence. The materials were mahogany +and gilded bronze; the forms were classical, lyres, urns, winged +sphinxes everywhere. In the large salon the walls were hung with yellow +silk instead of the old, despised, but precious tapestries, the long +curtains that swept the floor were yellow silk, with broad bands of red +and yellow and a heavy fringe of red and yellow balls. These fashions +were repeated in each room in different colours, green, blue, red; a +smaller salon, Madame de Sainfoy's favourite, was hung with a peculiar +green flecked with gold; and for the chairs in this room she, Hélène, +Mademoiselle Moineau, and the young girls were working a special +tapestry with wreaths of grapes or asters, lyres, Roman heads which +suggested Napoleon. Certain unaccountable stains on this fine work +brought a smile long years afterwards into the lovely eyes of Hélène. + +Paper and paint, innovations at Lancilly, had much to do in beautifying +the old place. Dark rooms were well lit up by a white paper with a broad +border of red and yellow twisted ribbons. Old stone chimneypieces, +window-sills, great solid shutters, were covered thick with yellow +paint. + +The ideas of Captain Georges were still more modern than those of +Urbain, and suited his mother better. She was angry with Urbain for +forsaking her business and hurrying off to Paris in search of his +worthless son; she was especially angry that he went without giving her +notice, or offering to do any of the thousand commissions she could +gladly have given him. However, these faults in Urbain only made Georges +more valuable; and it was with something not far short of fury that she +refused to listen to her husband when he suggested that the ball might +be put off because of the trouble and sorrow that hung over his cousins +at La Marinière. + +The ball was stately and splendid. At the dinner-party a few weeks +before, only a certain number of notables had been present, and chiefly +old friends of the family. To the ball came everybody of any pretension +whatever, within a radius of many miles. Lancilly stood in Anjou, but +near the borders of Touraine and Maine; all these old provinces were +well represented. Many of the guests were returned emigrants: old +sentiment connected with the names of Sainfoy and Lancilly brought them. +Many more were new people of the Empire; mushroom families, on whom the +older ones looked curiously and scornfully. There was a brilliant and +dashing body of officers from Sonnay-le-Loir, with General Ratoneau at +their head. There were a number of civil officials of the Empire, though +the Prefect himself was not there. + +Ratoneau was in a strange state of mind. In his full-dress uniform, his +gold lace and plumes, he looked his best, a manly and handsome soldier. +Every one turned to look at him, struck by the likeness to Napoleon, +stronger than ever that night, for he was graver, quieter, more +dignified than usual. He was not at his ease, and oddly enough, the +false position suited him. There could not be anything but extreme +coolness and stiffness in the greeting between him and his host. Hervé +de Sainfoy had refused the man his daughter, and heartily despised him +for accepting the formal invitation to this ball. Ratoneau knew that he +was going to be forced as a son-in-law on this coldly courteous +gentleman, but let no sign of his coming triumph escape him. Not, at +least, to Hélène's father; her mother was a different story. As the +General drew himself upright again, after bending stiffly to kiss her +hand, he met his hostess's eyes with such a bold look of confident +understanding that she flushed a little and almost felt displeased. He +was not discreet, she thought. He had no business so to take her +sympathy for granted. Other people might have caught that glance and +misunderstood it. + +She stood for a moment, frowning a little, the graceful lines of her +satin and lace, her head crowned with curls, making a perfect picture of +what she meant to be, a great lady of the Empire. Then her look softened +suddenly, as Georges came up to her. + +"Listen to me a moment, mamma. General Ratoneau wishes to dance with +Hélène. She told me this afternoon that she would not dance with him. I +say she must. What do you say?" + +Madame de Sainfoy twirled her fan impatiently. + +"Where is she?" + +"There." + +A quadrille was just beginning; the dancers were arranging themselves. +The Vicomte des Barres, one of the most strongly declared Royalists +present, was leading Mademoiselle de Sainfoy forward. + +He was familiar with the details of the mission to England, on which the +Baron d'Ombré was to start that very night; but not even to him had been +confided Angelot's escape and Monsieur Joseph's further plans. He was +one of the many guests who had been struck by the heartlessness of the +Sainfoys in giving a ball at this moment, but who came to it for reasons +of their own. He came with the object of hoodwinking the local police, +who were watching him and his friends, of scattering the Chouan party +and giving César d'Ombré more chance of a safe and quiet start. + +The manners, the looks, the talk of Des Barres were all of the old +régime. He had its charm, its sympathetic grace; and it was with a +feeling of relief and safety that Hélène gave her hand to him for the +dance, rather than to one of the young Empire heroes whose eyes were +eagerly following her. + +"Your sister is a fool," said Madame de Sainfoy, very low. + +"That is my impression," said Georges; and they both gazed for an +instant at the couple as they advanced. + +Hélène's loveliness that night was extraordinary. The music, the lights, +the wonderful beauty of the scene in those gorgeous rooms, the +light-hearted talk and laughter all about her, had lifted the heavy +sadness that lay on her brow and eyes. When every one seemed so gay, +could life be quite hopeless, after all? The tender pink in her cheeks +that night was not due to her mother's rouge-box, with which she had +often been threatened. She was smiling at some pretty old-world +compliment from Monsieur des Barres. He, for his part, asked himself +what the grief could be which lay behind that smile of hers, and found +it easy enough to have his question answered. In a few minutes, in the +intervals of the dance, they were talking of her cousin Angelot, his +mysterious arrest, the possible reasons for it. Hélène's story was +plainly to be read in the passion of her low voice, her darkening eyes, +the quick changes of her colour. Monsieur des Barres was startled, yet +hardly surprised; it seemed as natural that two such young creatures +should be attracted to each other, as that their love should be a +hopeless fancy; for no reasonable person could dream that Monsieur de +Sainfoy would give his daughter to a cousin neither rich nor fortunate. +He did his best to cheer the girl, without showing that he guessed her +secret. It must be some mistake, he assured her; the government could +have no good reason for detaining her cousin, who--"unfortunately," said +Monsieur des Barres, with a smile--"was not a Royalist conspirator at +all." He had the satisfaction of gaining a look and a smile from Hélène +which must have brought a young man to her feet, and which even made his +well-trained heart beat a little quicker. + +Georges de Sainfoy was resolved that his sister should not insult her +family again by dancing with a known Chouan. For the next dance, Hélène +found herself in the possession of General Ratoneau, clattering sword, +creaking boots, and all. Monsieur des Barres, looking back as he +withdrew, saw a cold statue, with white eyelids lowered, making a deep +curtsey to the General under her brother's stern eyes. + +"Poor little thing!" the Vicomte said to himself. "Poor children! The +pretty boy is impossible, of course. These cousins are the devil. But it +is a pity!" + +General Ratoneau danced very badly, and did not care to dance much. He +had no intention of making himself agreeable in this way to any lady but +the daughter of the house, whom in his own mind he already regarded as +betrothed to him. He had satisfactory letters from his friends in Paris, +assuring him that the imperial order to the Comte de Sainfoy would be +sent off immediately. It was difficult for him not to boast among his +comrades of his coming marriage, but he had just decency enough to hold +his tongue. According to his calculations, the order might have arrived +at Lancilly to-day; it could scarcely be delayed beyond to-morrow. + +Hélène endured him as a partner, and was a little proud of herself for +it. She found him repulsive; disliked meeting the bold admiration of his +eyes. But as no one had mentioned him to her during the last few weeks, +Madame de Sainfoy and Georges prudently restraining themselves, and as +he had not appeared at Lancilly since the dinner-party, she had ceased +to have any immediate fear of him. And all the brilliancy of that +evening, the triumphant swing of the music, the consciousness of her own +beauty, delicately heightened by her first partner's looks and words, +and last, not least, the comfort he had given her about Angelot, had +raised her drooping spirits so that she found it not impossible to +smile and speak graciously, even with General Ratoneau. + +After dancing, he led her round the newly decorated rooms, and all the +new fashions in furniture, in dress, in manners, made a subject for talk +which helped her wonderfully. Ratoneau listened with a smiling stare, +asked questions, and laughed now and then. + +On the surface, his manner was not offensive; he was behaving +beautifully, according to his standard; probably no young woman had ever +been so politely treated by him before. In truth, Hélène's fair beauty +and stateliness, the white dignity of a creature so far above his +experience, awed him a little. But with a man of his kind, no such +feeling was likely to last long. Any strange touch of shyness which +protected the lovely girl by his side was passing off as he swore to +himself: "I have risked something, God knows, but she's worth it all. I +am a lucky man--I shall be proud of my wife." + +They were in the farther salon, not many people near. He turned upon her +suddenly, with a look which brought the colour to her face, "Do you +know, mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!" + +Hélène shook her head, a faint smile struggling with instant disgust and +alarm. She looked round, but saw no one who could release her from this +rough admirer. She was obliged to turn to him again, and listened to him +with lowered eyes, a recollection of her mother's words weighing now +upon her brain. + +"The first time I saw you, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, "was in this +room. You were handing coffee with that cousin of yours--young La +Marinière." + +He saw the girl's face quiver and grow pale. His own changed, and his +smile became unpleasant. He had not meant to mention that fellow, now +shut up safely somewhere--it was strange, by the bye, that Simon had +never come back to report himself and take his money! However, as he had +let Angelot's name fall, there might be some advantage to be had out of +it. + +"I see his father is not here to-night," he said. "Sensible man, his +father." + +"How should he be here!" said Hélène, turning her head away. "He is gone +to Paris to find him. How could he be here, dancing and laughing--I ask +myself, how can anybody--" + +She spoke half aside, breaking off suddenly. + +"Yourself, for instance?" said Ratoneau, staring at her. "And why should +you shut yourself up and make the whole world miserable, because your +cousin is a fool? But you have not done so." + +"Because it is impossible, I am not free." + +"What would you be doing now, if you were free?" + +Hélène shrugged her shoulders. Ratoneau laughed. + +"Does Monsieur de la Marinière expect to bring his son back with him?" +he asked. + +His tone was sneering, but Hélène did not notice it. + +"I do not know, monsieur," she said. "But my cousin will come back. He +has done nothing. He has been in no plots. The Emperor cannot punish an +innocent man." + +She looked up suddenly, cheered by repeating what Monsieur des Barres +had told her. Her pathetic eyes met Ratoneau's for a moment; surely no +one could be cruel enough to deny such facts as these. In the General's +full gaze there was plenty of what was odious to her, but no real +kindness or pity. She blushed as she thought: "How dares this man look +at me so? He is nothing but the merest acquaintance. He is +insupportable." + +"If we were to go back into the ball-room, monsieur," she said gravely, +beginning to move away. "My mother will be looking for me." + +"No, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, coolly, "I think not. Madame la +Comtesse saw me take you this way." + +He sat down on a sofa, spreading his broad left hand over the gilded +sphinx of its arm. With his right hand he pointed to the place beside +him. + +"Sit down there," he said. + +Hélène frowned with astonishment, caught her breath and looked round. +There were two or three people at the other end of the room, but all +strangers to her, and all passing out gradually; no one coming towards +her, no one to rescue her from the extraordinary manners of this man. + +The glance she gave him was as withering as her gentle eyes could make +it; then she turned her back upon him and began to glide away, alone, +down the room. + +"Mademoiselle--" said Ratoneau; his voice grated on her ears. + +Was he laughing? was he angry? in any case she was resolved not to speak +to the insolent creature again. + +"Listen, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, more loudly, and without rising. +"Listen! I will bring your cousin back." + +She wavered, paused, then turned and looked at him. He gazed at her +gravely, intently; his look and manner were a little less offensive now. + +"Yes--I am not an ogre," he said. "I don't eat boys and girls. But I +assure you there are people in the Empire who do. And you are quite +wrong if you think that an innocent man is never punished. The police +may have their reasons--bang--there go the big gates of Vincennes, and +the stronger reason that opens them again is hard to find. Innocent or +guilty--after all, that pretty cousin of yours has touched a good deal +of pitch in the way of _chouannerie_, mademoiselle." + +"You said--" Hélène waited and stammered. + +"I said I would bring him back. You want to understand me? Sit down +beside me here." + +The girl hesitated. "Courage! for Angelot!" she said to herself. + +She did not believe in the man; she dreaded him; shrank from him; but +the name she loved was even more powerful than Ratoneau had expected. + +"Ah, but we will send that little cousin to the wars, or to America," he +thought, as she came slowly back and let herself sink down, pale and +cold, in the opposite corner of the sofa. + +"Where is my cousin, monsieur?" she said under her breath. + +"I suppose, as the police arrested him, that he is in their hands," said +Ratoneau. "Where he is at this moment I know no more than you do." + +"But you said--" + +"Yes--I will do it. You can believe, can you not, that I have more +influence at headquarters than poor Monsieur de la Marinière--a little +country squire who has saved himself by licking the dust before each man +in power?" + +"It is not right for you to speak so of my father's cousin, who has been +so excellent for us all," Hélène said quickly; then she blushed at her +own boldness. "But if you can really do this--I shall be grateful, +monsieur." + +The words were coldly, impatiently said; she might have been throwing a +bone to a begging dog. Ratoneau bent forward, devouring her with his +eyes. The delicate line of her profile was partly turned away from him; +the eyelids drooped so low that the long lashes almost rested on the +cheek. All about her brow and ears, creeping down to her white neck, the +fair curls clustered. Soft and narrow folds of white muslin, lace, and +fine embroidery, clothed her slender figure with an exaggerated +simplicity. Her foot, just advanced beyond the frills of the gown, her +white long fingers clasping her fan; every feature, every touch, every +detail, was as finely beautiful as art and nature could make it; Hélène +was the perfection of dainty aristocracy in the exquisite freshness of +its youth. + +"I will do it--I will do it--for love of you," Ratoneau said, and his +voice became suddenly hoarse. "You are beautiful--and you are +mine--mine." + +The girl shuddered from head to foot. + +"No!" she said violently. + +She did not look at Ratoneau. As to him, he did not speak, but laughed +and bent nearer. She rose to her feet suddenly. + +"You forget yourself--you are mad, Monsieur le Général," she said +haughtily. "If that is the condition--no! Pray do not concern yourself +about my cousin's affairs, you have nothing to do with them." + +Ratoneau rose too, a little unsteadily. + +"Listen one moment, mademoiselle," he said. "If I am mad, you are +foolish, let me tell you. I said nothing about conditions, I stated +facts. You will be my wife--therefore you are mine, you belong to me, +and therefore there is nothing I will not do for love of you. My wife is +the most beautiful woman in France, and she stands here." + +"Never, never!" murmured Hélène. "It has come!" she said to herself. + +Her mother had threatened her with this; and now, apparently, all had +been settled without a word to her. Even her father, once on her side, +must be against her now. He had been angry with her; not without reason, +she knew. Yes, this horrible thing had been arranged by her father, her +mother, Georges, while she was kept a prisoner upstairs. If they had +been kinder to her in the last few days, it was only that they wished to +bring their victim smiling to the sacrifice. No wonder Georges had +insisted on her dancing with General Ratoneau. No wonder her mother had +taken pains to dress her beautifully for this ball, which she hated and +dreaded so much. + +These thoughts, with a wild desire to escape, rushed through Hélène's +mind as she stood breathless before this man who laid such a daring +claim to her. He was smiling, though his lips were white. It is not +pleasant to be treated as horrible scum of the earth by the woman you +have arranged to marry; to see scorn, disgust, hatred in a girl's face, +answering to your finest compliments. + +"This young lady has a character--she has a temper--" he muttered +between his teeth. "But you will be tamed, ma belle. Who would have +thought with those pale cheeks of yours--well, the Emperor's command +will bring you to reason. Pity I spoke, perhaps--but a man cannot keep +cool always. That command--Ah, thousand thunders! what do I see?" + +The last words were spoken aloud. As Hélène stood before him, silent, +rooted with horror to the ground, he watching her with folded arms in a +favourite imperial attitude, several sets of people strolled across the +lower end of the room, for this was one of a suite of salons. Suddenly +came the master of the house alone, walking slowly, his eyes fixed on a +letter in his hand, his face deathly white in the glimmer of the many +wax candles. Hélène did not see her father at first, for her back was +turned to him, but at the General's words she turned quickly, and was +just aware of him as he passed into the next room. Without another word +or look she left her partner standing there, and fled away in pursuit of +him. Ratoneau watched the white figure vanishing, laughed aloud, and +swore heartily. + +"This is dramatic," he said. "Fortunate that I have a friend at Court in +Madame la Comtesse! Suppose I go and join her." + +Hélène searched for her father in vain. By the time she reached the +other room, he had quite unaccountably vanished. As she flew on rather +distractedly among the guests, hurrying back to the ball-room, her +brother's peremptory hand was laid upon her arm. + +"What is the matter, Hélène? Where are you running? Are you dancing with +no one, and why do you look so wild?" + +Hélène answered none of these questions. + +"Find me a partner, if you please," she said, with a sudden effort at +collecting herself. "But, Georges--no more of your officers." + +Georges looked at her with a queer smile, but only said-- + +"And no more of your Chouans!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +HOW MONSIEUR DE SAINFOY FOUND A WAY OUT + + +If Angelot expected to find the usual woodland stillness, that night, +about the approaches to the Château de Lancilly, he was mistaken. The +old place was surrounded; numbers of servants, ranks of carriages, a few +gendarmes and soldiers. Half the villages were there, too, crowding +about the courts, under the walls, and pressing especially round the +chief entrance on the west, where a bridge over the old moat led into a +court surrounded with high-piled buildings, one stately roof rising +above another. Monsieur de Sainfoy kept up the old friendly fashion, and +no gates shut off his neighbours from his domain. + +Angelot came through the wood, which almost touched the house and +shadowed the moat on the north side. He had meant to go in at some door, +to pass through one of the halls, perhaps, and catch a glimpse of the +dancing. All this now seemed more difficult; he could not go among the +people without being recognised, and though, as far as himself was +concerned, he would have dared anything for a sight of Hélène, loyalty +to his uncle stood in the way of foolhardiness. + +He walked cautiously towards the steps leading down into the moat. This +corner, far from any entrance, was dark and solitary. The little door in +the moat was probably still blocked; but in any case the ivy was there, +and the chapel window--heaven send it open, or at least unbarred! + +"I shall do no harm to-night, Cousin Hervé. I shall see her dancing with +some happy fellow. If I don't know Lancilly well enough to spend ten +minutes in the old gallery--nobody will be there--well, then--" + +"Monsieur Angelot!" said a deep voice out of the darkness. + +"Not an inch nearer, or I fire!" Angelot replied, and his pistol was +ready. + +"Tiens! Don't kill me, for I am desperately glad to see you," and Martin +Joubard limped forward. "You got away from those ragamuffins, then? I +thought as much, when I heard they had been watching the woods. But +where are you hiding, and what are you doing here? Take care, there are +a lot of police and gendarmes about. Are you safe?" + +"No, I'm not safe--at least my uncle says so. Did you think I would stay +with those rascals long?" Angelot laughed. "I'm going out of the country +to-night. Hold your tongue, Martin. Wait here. I will come back this +way, and you can warn me if there is any one on the track." + +"Going out of the country without seeing madame, and she breaking her +heart?" said Martin, disapproving. + +"No, I am on my way. Pst! I hear footsteps," and Angelot dropped into +the moat, while the soldier stepped back into the shadow of the trees. + +"On his way to La Marinière--from his uncle's! Rather roundabout, +Monsieur Angelot. Ah, but to have all one's limbs!" sighed Martin, +smiling, for plenty of gossip had reached him; and he listened to the +gay music which made the air dance, and to the voices and laughter, till +he forgot everything else in the thrilling knowledge that somebody was +scrambling up through the ivy on the opposite wall. There was a slight +clank and crash among the thick depth of leaves; then silence. + +"He ought to be one of us, that boy!" thought Martin. "I'll wait for +him. I like a spark of the devil. My father says Monsieur Joseph was a +thorough _polisson_, and almost as pretty as his nephew. He's a pious +little gentleman now. They are a curious family!" + +Angelot slipped through the dark empty chapel, and the wind howled +behind him. He ran down the passage between rooms that were empty and +dark, for Mademoiselle Moineau and her pupils had been allowed to go +down to the ball. He went through stone-vaulted corridors, unlighted, +cold and lonely, across half the length of the great house. He had to +watch his moment for passing the head of the chief staircase, for there +were people going up and down, servants trying to see what they could of +the gay doings below. Waves of warm and scented air rolled up against +his face as he darted past, keeping close to the wall, one moving shadow +more. Music, laughing, talking, filled old Lancilly like a flood, ebbing +and flowing so; and every now and then the tramping of feet on the +ball-room floor echoed loudest. + +Angelot knew of a little gallery room with narrow slits in the +stonework, opening out of the further passage that led to Monsieur and +Madame de Sainfoy's rooms. It used to be empty or filled with lumber; it +now held several large wardrobes, but the perforated wall remained. He +found the door open; it was not quite dark, for gleams of light made +their way in from the chandeliers in the ball-room, one end of which it +overlooked. There were also a couple of lights in the passage outside. + +From this high point Angelot looked down upon the ball. And first it was +nothing but a whirling confusion of sound and colour and light; the +flying dresses, the uniforms, jewels, gold lace, glittering necklaces, +flashing sword hilts. Then--that fair head, that white figure alone. + +He could hear nothing of what was said; but he saw her brother come up +with General Ratoneau, he watched the dance--and if those slits in the +solid wall had been wider, there might have been danger of a young man's +daring to drop down by his hands, trusting to fate to land him safely +on the floor below. For he saw his love walk away with her partner down +the ball-room, out of his sight, and then he waited in unbearable +impatience, but saw her no more for what seemed a long time. He began to +think that he must go, carrying with him the agony of leaving her in +familiar talk with Ratoneau, when suddenly he saw her again, and forgot +his mother, his uncle, César d'Ombré, and all the obligations of life. +She came back alone; her brother was speaking to her; she looked +troubled, there was something strange about it all, but Ratoneau was not +there. That, at least, was well; and how divinely beautiful she looked! + +Angelot gazed for a minute or two, holding his breath; then a sudden +step and a voice in the corridor close by startled him violently. He had +left the door half open, standing where he could not be seen through it. +He now turned his head to see who was passing. It was the step of one +person only, a quick and agitated step. Was this person then speaking to +him? No, it was his cousin Hervé de Sainfoy, and he was talking to +himself. He was repeating the same words over and over again: "But who +can save us? What shall I do? What shall I do? Who can save us? A way +out, he says? My God, there is none." + +When his cousin had passed the door, Angelot stepped forward and looked +after him. It was impossible not to do so. The Comte was like a man who +had received some terrible blow. His face was white and drawn, and his +whole frame trembled as he walked. He carried an open letter shaking and +rustling in his hand, glanced at it now and then, flung his clenched +fists out on each side of him. + +Then he said aloud, "My God, it is her doing!" + +Angelot forgot all caution and stepped out into the corridor. His cousin +seemed to be walking on to his own room at the end; but before he +reached it he turned suddenly round and came hurrying back. Angelot +stood and faced him. + +He, too, was pale from his imprisonment and the excitement of the night, +but as he met Hervé de Sainfoy's astonished gaze the colour flooded his +young face and his brave bright eyes fell. + +"_You_ here, Angelot?" said the Comte. + +He spoke absently, gently, with no great surprise and no anger at all. +Angelot knew that he loved him, and felt the strangest desire to kneel +and kiss his hand. + +"Pardon, monsieur"--he began quickly--"I was looking at the ball--I +leave France to-morrow, and--Can I help you, Uncle Hervé?" For he saw +that the Comte was listening to no explanations of his. He stared +straight before him, frowning, biting his lips, shaking the letter in +his hand. + +"It is some diabolical intrigue," he said. "How can you help, my poor +boy? No! but I would rather see her dead at my feet--for her own +sake--and the insult to me!" + +"But tell me what it all means? Let me do something!" cried Angelot; for +the words thrilled him with a new terror. + +He almost snatched the letter from his cousin's hand. + +"Yes, yes, read it. Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" Hervé groaned, and stamped +his feet. + +The letter was written in very shaky characters, and Angelot had to hold +it under one of the candle sconces on the wall. + + "My dear Comte:-- + + "You will receive to-morrow, I have reason to think, an Imperial + recommendation--which means a command--to give Mademoiselle your + daughter in marriage to General Ratoneau. If you see any way out of + this dilemma, I need hardly advise you to take it. You would have + been warned earlier of the danger, but circumstances have been too + strong for me. My part in the affair I hope to explain. In the + meanwhile believe in my sincere friendship, and burn this letter. + + "_De Mauves_." + +Angelot drew in his breath sharply. "Ah! The Prefect is good," he said. + +While he read the letter, his cousin was staring at him. Slowly, +intently, yet with a sort of vague distraction, his eyes travelled over +Angelot; the plain shooting clothes, so odd a contrast in that gay +house, at that time of night, to his own elegant evening dress; the +handsome, clear-cut, eager face, the young lips set with a man's +firmness and energy. + +"I thought you were in prison," said Hervé. + +"I escaped from the police." + +"Why did they arrest you?" + +"I do not know. I believe it was a private scheme of that rascal +Simon's--such things have happened." + +"Tell me all--and quickly." + +Angelot began to obey him, but after a few words broke off suddenly. + +"Uncle Hervé, what is the use of talking about me? What are you going to +do? Let us think--yes, I have a plan. If you were to call my cousin +Hélène quietly out of the ball-room to change her dress, I would have +horses ready in the north wood, and I would ride with you at least part +of the way to Le Mans. There you could get a post-chaise and drive to +Paris. Place her safely in a convent, and go yourself to the Emperor--" + +"And do you suppose, Angelot, that I have enough influence with the +Emperor to make him withdraw an order already given--and do you not know +that this is a favourite amusement of his, this disgusting plan of +giving our daughters to any butcher and son of a butcher who has +slaughtered enough men to please him? Your uncle Joseph told us all +about it. He said it was in the Prefect's hands--I can hardly believe +that our Prefect would have treated me so. There is some intrigue +behind all this. I suspect--ah, I will teach them to play their tricks +on me! A convent--my poor boy, do you expect they would leave her there? +Even a hundred years ago they would have dragged her out for a political +marriage--how much more now!" + +For a moment there was dead silence; they looked hard at each other, but +if Angelot read anything in his cousin's eyes, it was something too +extraordinary to be believed. He flushed again suddenly as he said, "You +can never consent to such a marriage, for you gave me your word of +honour that you would not." + +"Will they ask my consent? I have refused it once already," said Hervé +de Sainfoy. + +He walked a few steps, and turned back; he was much calmer now, and his +face was full of grave thought and resolution. + +"Angelot," he said, "you are your father's son, as well as your uncle's +nephew. Tell me, have you actually done anything to bring you under +imperial justice?" + +"Nothing," Angelot answered. "The police may pretend to think so. Uncle +Joseph says I am in danger. But I have done nothing." + +"Did you say you were leaving the country to-morrow? Alone?" + +"With some of Uncle Joseph's friends." + +"Ah! And your father?" + +"I shall come back some day. Life is too difficult," said Angelot. + +"You want an anchor," Hervé said, thoughtfully. "Now--will you do +everything I tell you?" + +"In honour." + +"Tiens! Honour! Was it honour that brought you into my house to-night?" + +"No--but not dishonour." + +"Well, there is no time for arguing. I suppose you are not bound in +honour to this wild-goose chase of your uncle's--or his friends'?" + +"I don't know," Angelot said; and indeed he did not, but he knew that +César d'Ombré looked upon him as an addition to his troubles, and had +only accepted his company to please Monsieur Joseph. + +And now the same power that had dragged Angelot out of his way to +Lancilly was holding him fast, heart and brain, and was saying to him, +"You cannot go"; the strongest power in the world. He was trembling from +head to foot with a wilder, stranger madness than any he had ever known; +the great decisive hour of his life was upon him, and he felt it, hard +as it was to realise or understand anything in those dark, confused +moments. + +What wonderful words had Hervé de Sainfoy said? by what way had he +brought him, and set him clear of the château? he hardly knew. He found +himself out in the dark on the south, the village side; he had to skirt +round the backs of the houses and then slip up the river bank till he +came to the bridge between the long rows of whispering, rustling +poplars. After that a short cut across the fields, where he knew every +bush and every rabbit hole, brought him up under the shadow of the +church at La Marinière. + +The Curé lived with his old housekeeper in a low white house above the +church, on the way to the manor. She was always asleep early; but the +old man, being very studious and too nervous to sleep much, often sat up +reading till long after midnight. Angelot therefore counted on finding a +light in his window, and was not disappointed. He cut his old friend's +eager welcome very short. + +"Monsieur le Curé, come with me at once to the château, if you please. +Monsieur de Sainfoy wishes to see you." + +"At this hour of the night! What can he want with me? I understood the +whole world was dancing." + +"So it is--but he wants you, he wants you. Quick, where is your hat?" + +"How wild you look, Angelot! Is any one dying?" + +"No, no!" + +"Why does he not send for his own priest?" + +"Because he wants a discreet man. He wants you." + +The Curé began to hurry about the room. + +"By the bye, take your vestments," said Angelot in a lower tone. "He +wants you to say mass in the chapel. Take everything you ought to have. +I will carry it all for you." + +"The chapel is not in a fit state--and who will serve at the mass?" + +"I will--or he will find somebody. Oh, trust me, Monsieur le Curé, and +come, or I shall have to carry you." + +"But _you_, Ange--I thought--" + +"Don't think! All your thoughts are wrong." + +"My dear boy, have you seen your father?" + +"No! Has he come back?" + +"Two hours ago. He has gone to Les Chouettes with your mother, to find +you." + +"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Angelot, and laughed loudly. + +The good old Curé was seriously frightened. He thought that this +charming boy, whom he had known from his birth, was either crazy or +drunk with strong wine. Yet, as he really could not be afraid to trust +himself to Angelot, he did as he was told, collected all he wanted, +asking questions all the time which the young man did not or could not +answer, and started off with him into the dim and chilly dampness of the +night. + +Angelot nearly died of impatience. He had run all the way to La +Marinière, he had to walk all the way back, and slowly. For the Curé was +feeble, and his sight was not good, and the lanes and fields were +terribly uneven. Angelot had prudence enough not to take a light, which +would have been seen a mile off, moving on those slopes in the +darkness. This precaution also helped to save him from Simon, who, after +waiting about for some time between Les Chouettes and La Marinière, had +seen Monsieur and Madame Urbain coming out with their lantern and had +tracked them half the way, hearing enough of their talk to understand +that he must lay hands on Angelot that night, or not at all. For it +sounded as if the young man's protectors were more powerful than General +Ratoneau, his enemy. + +Simon was very uneasy, as he stole back, and turned towards Lancilly, +shrewdly guessing that those bright windows had attracted Angelot. He +crept through the lanes like a wolf in winter, searching for some lonely +colt or sheep to devour. Furious and bewildered, worn out with his long +watching, he almost resolved that young La Marinière should have short +shrift if he met him. This, it seemed now, was the only way to remove +him out of the General's path. None of his relations knew exactly where +he was that night. If he were found dead in a ditch, the hand that +struck him would never be known. For his own sake, General Ratoneau +would never betray the suspicions he might have. At the same time, Simon +was not such a devil incarnate as to think of cold-blooded murder +without a certain horror and sickness; and he found it in his heart to +wish that he had never seen Ratoneau. + +He heard footsteps in a deep lane he was approaching, and lying down, +peered over the bank and saw that two men had already passed him, +walking cautiously between the ruts of the road. They carried no light, +and it was so dark in the lane that he could hardly distinguish them. +One seemed taller than the other, and walked more feebly. There was +nothing to suggest the idea that one of these men might be Angelot. All +pointed to the contrary. He would be coming towards La Marinière, not +going from it towards Lancilly. He would certainly be alone; and then +his air and pace would be different from that of this shorter figure, +who, carefully guiding his companion, was also carrying some bundle or +load. There was a low murmur of talk which the police spy could not +distinguish, and thus, his game within shooting distance, he allowed him +to walk away unharmed. He followed the two men slowly, however, till he +lost them on the edge of the park at Lancilly. There Angelot took the +Curé by a way of his own into the wood, and led him up by a path soft +with dead leaves to the north side of the château. + +"Monsieur Angelot!" + +It was once more Martin Joubard's voice. He was much astonished, not +having seen Angelot leave the château. He stared at the Curé and took +off his hat. + +"All's well, Martin; you are a good sentry--but hold your tongue a +little longer," said Angelot. + +"Ah! but take care, Monsieur Angelot," said the soldier, pointing with +his stick to the dark, tremendous walls which towered beyond the moat. +"I don't know what is going on there, but don't venture too far. There's +a light in the chapel window, do you see? and just now I heard them +hammering at the little door down there in the moat. It may be a trap +for you. Listen, though, seriously. I don't know what sport you may be +after, but you ought not to run Monsieur le Curé into it, and so I tell +you. It is not right." + +The good fellow's voice shook with anxiety. He did not pretend to be +extra religious, but his father and mother reverenced the Curé, and he +had known him ever since he was born. + +Angelot laughed impatiently. + +"Come, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "We are going down into the moat, but +the steps are uneven, so give me your hand." + +"Do not be anxious, Martin," said the old man. "All is well, Monsieur de +Sainfoy has sent for me." + +The crippled sentry waited. In the deep shadows he could see no more, +but he heard their steps as they climbed down and crossed the moat, and +then he heard the creaking hinges of that door far below. It was +cautiously closed. All was dark and still in the moat, but shadows +crossed the lighted chapel window. + +The wind was rising, the clouds were flying, and the stars shining out. +Waves of music flowed from the south side of the long mass of building, +and sobbed away into the rustling woods. An enchanting valse was being +played. Georges de Sainfoy was dancing with the richest heiress in +Touraine, and his mother was so engrossed with a new ambition for him +that she forgot Hélène for the moment, and her more certain future as +the wife of General Ratoneau. + +Madame de Sainfoy had not seen her husband since he received the +Prefect's letter, and was not aware of his disappearance from the ball, +now at the height of its success and splendour. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +HOW THE CURÉ ACTED AGAINST HIS CONSCIENCE + + +If the old priest had come in faith at Monsieur de Sainfoy's call, not +knowing, not even suspecting what was wanted of him, Angelot, who knew +all, yet found it impossible to believe. Therefore he could not bring +himself to give the Curé any explanation, or even to mention Hélène's +name. Her father, for whom he now felt a passionate, enthusiastic +reverence and love, had trusted him in the matter. He had said, resting +his hand on his shoulder: "Tell Monsieur le Curé what you please. Or +leave it to me to tell him all;" and Angelot had felt that the Curé must +be brought in ignorance. Afterwards he knew that there were other +reasons for this, besides the vagueness in his own mind. The Curé had a +great sense of the fitness of things. Also, next to God and his Bishop, +he felt bound to love and serve Urbain and Anne de la Marinière. + +When Angelot opened the little door, which he found ajar, there was a +flickering light on the damp narrow stairs that wound up in the +thickness of the wall. There stood Hervé de Sainfoy, tall, pale, very +calm now, with a look of resolution quite new to his pleasant features. + +"You are welcome, Monsieur le Curé," he said. "Follow me." + +The old man obeyed silently, and the two passed on before Angelot. When +they reached the topmost winding of the staircase, Hervé led the Curé +round into the corridor, still carrying his light, and saying, "A word +alone with you." At the same time he motioned to Angelot to go forward +into the chapel. + +The altar was partly arranged for service, the candles were lighted, and +one white figure, its face hidden, was kneeling there. Angelot stood and +looked for a moment, with dazzled eyes. The wind moaned, the distant +valse flowed on. Here in the old neglected chapel, under the kind eyes +of the Virgin's statue, he had left Hélène that night, weeks ago. He had +never seen her since, except in the ball-room this very evening, lovely +as a dream; but she was lovelier than any dream now. + +He went up softly beside her, stooped on one knee and kissed the fingers +that rested on the old worm-eaten bench. She looked up suddenly, +blushing scarlet, and they both rose to their feet and stood quite +still, looking into each other's eyes. They did not speak; there was +nothing to say, except "I love you," and words were not necessary for +that. At first there was terror and bewilderment, rather than +happiness, in Hélène's face, and her hands trembled as Angelot held +them; but soon under his gaze and his touch a smile was born. All those +weeks of desolate loneliness were over, her one and only friend stood +beside her once again, to leave her no more. The horrors of that very +night, the terrible ball-room full of glittering uniforms and clanking +swords, the odious face and voice of Ratoneau;--her father had beckoned +her away, had taken her from it all for ever. He had told her in a few +words of the Prefect's letter and his resolution, without even taking +the trouble to ask her if she would consent to marry her cousin. "It is +the only thing to be done," he said. Neither of them had even mentioned +her mother. The suspicion that his wife had had something to do with +this imperial order made Hervé even more furious than the order itself, +and more resolved to settle the affair in his own way. + +"Now I understand," he thought, "why Adélaïde invited the brute to this +ball. I wager that she knew what was coming. It is time I showed them +all who is the master of this house!" + +And now, when everything was arranged, when the bridegroom and the bride +were actually waiting in the chapel, when every minute was of importance +and might bring some fatal interruption--now, here was the excellent old +Curé full of curious questions and narrow-minded objections. + +"Monsieur le Comte, impossible!" he cried in the corridor. "Marry +mademoiselle your daughter to Ange de la Marinière--and without any +proper notice, without witnesses, at midnight, unknown to his parents! +Do you take me for a constitutional priest, may I ask?" + +"No, Monsieur le Curé, and that is why I demand this service of you. +You, an old friend of both families, I send for you rather than for my +own Curé of Lancilly." + +"Ah, I dare say! But do I understand that you are disobeying an order +from the Emperor? Am I to ruin myself, by aiding and abetting you? +Besides--" + +"No, Monsieur le Curé, you understand nothing of the kind. I explain +nothing. You run yourself into no danger--but if you did, I should ask +you all the more. A man like you, who held firm to his post through the +Revolution--" + +"Pardon--I did not hold firm. Monsieur de la Marinière protected me." + +"And now I will protect you. Listen. I have had no order from the +Emperor. I have heard, by means of a friend, that such an order is on +its way. It would compel me to marry my daughter to a man she hates, a +degrading connection for me. There is only one way of saving her. You +know that she and young Ange love each other--they have suffered for +it--we will legalise this love of theirs. When the order reaches me, my +Hélène will be already married. The Emperor can say nothing. His +General must seek a wife elsewhere. Now, Monsieur le Curé, are you +satisfied? The children are waiting." + +"No, monsieur, no, I am not satisfied. I think there is more risk than +you tell me, but I do not mind that. I will not, I cannot, marry young +Ange to your daughter without his father's knowledge. Your cousin--God +bless him!--is not a religious man, but I owe him a debt I can never +repay." + +Count Hervé laughed angrily. "You know very well," he said, "that if +Urbain is displeased at this marriage, it will be for our sake, not his +own. How could he hope for such a match for Angelot?" + +"His love for you is wonderful, Monsieur le Comte. But I am not talking +of his likings or dislikings. I say that I will not marry these young +people without his consent." + +"And I say you will. Understand, I mean it. Listen; my cousin Joseph was +sending Ange to England to-night with some of his friends out of the way +of the police. I will dress Hélène up as a boy, and send her with him, +trusting to a marriage when they land. I will do anything to get her off +my hands to-night, and Angelot will not fail me. The responsibility is +yours, Monsieur le Curé." + +The old man wrung his hands. "Monsieur le Comte, you are mad!" he said. + +But these threats were effectual, as no fear of personal suffering +would have been, and the Curé, though solemnly protesting, submitted. + +The delay he caused was not yet over, however. No angry frowns and +impatient words would induce him to begin the service before the two +young people had separately made their confession to him. Luckily, both +were ready to do this, and neither was very long; when at last the Curé, +properly vested, began with solemn deliberation the words of the +service, his eyes were full of tears, not altogether unhappy. + +"Two white souls, madame," he told Anne afterwards. "Your son and your +daughter--you may love them freely, and trust their love for you and for +each other. Never did I join the hands of two such innocent children as +our dear Ange and his Hélène." + +He had, in fact, just joined their hands for the first time, when he +looked round anxiously at Monsieur de Sainfoy and murmured, "There is no +one you can trust, monsieur--no other possible witness?" + +"None," the Comte answered shortly; and even as he spoke they all heard +a sharp knocking in the corridor, and the opening and shutting of doors. + +"Go on, go on! This comes of all your delay," he muttered, and Angelot +looked round, alarmed, while Hélène turned white with fear. + +Then the person in the corridor, whoever this might be, evidently saw a +light through some chink in the chapel door, for the latch was lifted, +and a small but impatient voice cried out, "Hélène--are you there?" + +It was not the voice of Adélaïde. Angelot looked at Hélène and smiled; +the Curé hesitated. Monsieur de Sainfoy walked frowning to the door, +which he had locked, and flung it open. + +"Come in, mademoiselle," he said. "Here is your witness, Monsieur le +Curé." + +Mademoiselle Moineau, flushed, agitated, in her best gown, stood on the +threshold with hands uplifted. + +"What--what is all this?" she stammered; and the scene that met her eyes +was certainly strange enough to bewilder a respectable governess. + +It had occurred to Madame de Sainfoy to miss her daughter from the +ball-room. Suspecting that the stupid girl had escaped to her own room, +she had told Mademoiselle Moineau to fetch her at once, to insist on her +coming down and dancing. And even now, in spite of this amazing, +horrifying spectacle, in spite of the Comte's presence, and his voice +repeating, "Come in, mademoiselle!" the little woman was brave enough to +protest. + +"What is happening?" she said, and hurried a few steps forward. "Hélène, +I am astonished. This must be stopped at once. Good heavens, what will +Madame la Comtesse say!" + +"Let me beg you to be silent, mademoiselle," said Hervé de Sainfoy. + +He had already closed and locked the door. He now bent forward with an +almost savage look; his pleasant face was utterly transformed by strong +feeling. + +"Sit down," he said peremptorily. "You see me; I am here. My authority +is sufficient, remember--Monsieur le Curé, have the goodness to +proceed." + +Mademoiselle Moineau sank down on a bench and groaned. Her shocked, +staring eyes took in every detail of the scene; the banished lover, the +supposed prisoner, in his country clothes, with that dark woodland look +of his; the white girl in her ball-dress, standing with bent head, and +not moving or looking up, even at her mother's name. The joined hands, +white and brown; the young, low voices, plighting their troth one to the +other; then the trembling tones of the old priest alone in solemn Latin +words, "_Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium_...." + +The service went on; and now no one, not even Monsieur de Sainfoy, took +any notice of the unwilling spectator. She was a witness in spite of +herself. She sank on her knees and sobbed in a corner, partly from real +distress at a marriage she thought most foolish and unsuitable, partly +from fear of what Madame de Sainfoy might say or do. Her rage must +certainly find some victim. She would never believe that Mademoiselle +Moineau could not have escaped and called her in time to interrupt this +frantic ceremony. As for Monsieur de Sainfoy, his brain must certainly +have given way. The poor governess hoped little from him, though he +showed some method in his madness by leaving her locked up in the chapel +when they all went away and telling her to wait there in silence till he +came back. At least that was better than being forced to go down alone +to announce this catastrophe to Hélène's mother. The Comtesse would have +been capable of turning her out into midnight darkness after the first +dozen words. + +Hélène, her dearest wish and wildest dream fulfilled in this strange +fashion, seemed to be walking in her sleep. She obeyed her father's +orders without a word to him or to Angelot, threw on a cloak, and +followed them and the Curé down the steep blackness of the winding +stairs. At the door her father put out his light, and it was his hand +that guided her through the long grass and bushes in the moat, while +Angelot gave all his care to the old priest. At the top of the steps, as +the four hastily crossed into the deeper shadows of the wood, the tall +and strange figure of Martin Joubard appeared out of the gloom. A few +hurried words to him, and he readily undertook to see the Curé safely +home. The sight of Monsieur de Sainfoy impressed him amazingly; it was +evident that Monsieur Angelot had not been acting without authority. +Martin stared with all his eyes at the cloaked woman's figure in the +background, but promised himself to have all details from the Curé on +their way through the lanes. + +Hervé de Sainfoy again gave his arm to his daughter, leading her down +into the darkness of the wood. Angelot, more familiar with the ways, +walked a yard or two in front of them. Several times--his sporting +instinct not dulled by the wonderful thing that had happened--he was +aware of a slight rustling in the bushes on the right, between the path +where they were and the open ground of the park beyond the wood. He +listened to this with one ear, while the other was attentive to his +father-in-law. It did not strike Monsieur de Sainfoy, once away from the +house, that caution and silence might be necessary; he talked out of the +relief and gladness of his heart, while affectionately pressing Hélène's +hand in his arm. + +"Make my compliments to your uncle, Angelot. Ask him to forgive me for +taking his nephew and sending him back a niece. He will see that your +duty lies in France now. As to that dear father of yours, I shall soon +make my peace with him." + +"Papa!" Hélène spoke for the first time, and Angelot forgot the rustling +in the bushes. "Cannot we--may not we go to La Marinière?" + +"Not at first," said Hervé, more gravely. "Ange must make sure of a +welcome there--and he knows his uncle Joseph." + +"There is another reason," Angelot said eagerly. "My uncle is expecting +me. He has made arrangements for me--this very night--I must come to an +understanding with him. You know--" he said, looking at Hélène, "my +uncle has risked much for me. To-morrow--or to-day, is it? my mother +shall welcome you. You are not displeased?" + +"No, no. Take me anywhere--I will go anywhere you like," Hélène answered +a little faintly; the thought of Angelot's mother, slightly as she knew +her, had been sweet and comforting. + +For she was a timid girl, and these wild doings frightened her, though +she loved Angelot and trusted him with all her heart. + +Her father laughed. + +"Certainly, my poor girl," he said, "no daughter of Lancilly was ever +before married and smuggled away in such a fashion." + +"I am satisfied, papa," said Hélène; and they passed on through the wood +and came to the crossing of the roads, where he kissed her, and once +more laid her hand in Angelot's. + +"Take care of your wife," he said to him; and he stood a minute in the +road, watching the two young figures, very close together, as they +turned into a hollow lane that wound up into the fields and so on +towards Les Chouettes. + +The Curé and Martin Joubard started away from the château by a path that +crossed the park and reached the bridge without going through the +village. They were not yet clear of the park, walking slowly, when a man +came out of the shadows of the wood to the north, and crossed their +path, going towards the south side of the château. He passed at some +yards' distance in the confusing darkness of the low ground, where mists +were rising; but Martin Joubard had the eyes of a hawk, and knew him. + +"Pardon, Monsieur le Curé!" he said, dropped the bundle he was carrying +at the Curé's feet, and sped away at his wooden leg's best pace after +the man. + +"_Hé_, police!" he said, as he came up with him, "what are you spying +about here? Looking after the Emperor's enemies?" + +"You are not far wrong," said Simon. "And you--what are you doing here, +soldier?" + +"My fighting days are done. I look out for amusement now. Did you see +some people just now, going down through the wood? A young gentleman you +want--who gave you the slip--was he there?" + +"I saw and heard enough to interest me," Simon answered drily. "It is +time to finish off this business. I can't quite see what is going on, +but I shall find out at the château. I have been following that young +man all night, but I shall catch him up now." + +"I might help you with a little information," Martin said. + +The police agent looked at him suspiciously. "Tell me no lies," he said, +"or"--he pointed to his carbine. + +"Oh, if that is your game--" Martin said. + +His heavy-headed stick swung in the air. "Crack!" it came down on the +side of Simon's head and laid him flat on the turf. Martin stood and +looked at him. + +"Now the saints grant I have not killed him," he said piously, "though I +think he might very well be spared. But he won't go and catch Monsieur +Angelot just at present." + +He left Simon lying there, and went quietly back to join the Curé. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +HOW ANGELOT KEPT HIS TRYST + + +For Hélène, the next wonder in that autumn night's dream was the arrival +at Les Chouettes, the mysterious house which bore the character of a den +of Chouans, but the thought of which had always pleased her, as the home +of Angelot's most attractive uncle. + +Angelot hurried her through the lanes, almost in silence. At last he +stopped under a tall poplar, which gleamed grey in the starlight among +the other lower trees. It was close to the spot where, coming from Les +Chouettes in the evening, he had been irresistibly drawn by the lights +of Lancilly. Here he took Hélène in his arms and kissed her for the +first time since the Curé had joined their hands. + +"Mine!" he said. "My love, Hélène! you are not unhappy, you are not +afraid, my own?" + +"I am with you," the girl said, very low. + +"Ah! if only--anyhow, I am the happiest man in the world. Come, +dearest!" + +Hélène wondered at him a little. He was changed, somehow, her gay, +talkative, light-hearted, single-minded Angelot. He had become grave. +She longed to ask him many things--how had he escaped or been released +from prison?--was it his father's doing?--would his father and mother be +displeased at his marriage?--but in spite of the rapture of knowing that +they belonged to each other, she felt strangely shy of him. In that +silent, hurried walk she dimly realised that her boy friend and lover +had grown suddenly into a man. There was keen anxiety as well as joy in +the quick, passionate embrace he allowed himself before bringing her to +his uncle's hands. + +They walked up to the house, over the grass and the spreading sand. All +was silent and dark, except a gleam of light from Monsieur Joseph's +window. A dog came up and jumped on Angelot, with a little whine of +welcome; another pressed up to Hélène and licked her hand. She was +standing between the dog and Angelot when Monsieur Joseph, hearing +footsteps, suddenly opened the window and stepped out with his gun. + +He stared a moment in astonished silence--then: "It is you, Anne! He has +been home, then, the good-for-nothing! You have seen your father, Ange? +Well, I told him, and I tell you, that you must go all the same--yes, my +nephew does not break promises, or fail to keep appointments--but come +in, Anne! What is the use of racing about the country all night? How did +you miss him, the worthless fellow?" + +"This is not my mother, Uncle Joseph," Angelot said, laughter struggling +with earnestness, while his arm slid round Hélène. "Let me present you +to my wife." + +"What are you saying?" cried Monsieur Joseph, very sharply and sternly, +coming a step nearer. "I see now--but who is this lady? None of your +insolent jokes--who is it? Dieu! What have you done!" + +"I have been to the ball at Lancilly," said Angelot. "You see, this is +my cousin Hélène. She preferred a walk with me to a dance with other +people. And Uncle Hervé thought--" + +"Be silent," said Monsieur Joseph. He walked forward, pushed his nephew +aside--a touch was enough for Angelot--and gently taking Hélène's hand, +drew her into the light that streamed from his window. "Mademoiselle," +he said, "my nephew is distracted. What truth is there in all this? Are +you here with your father's knowledge. Something extraordinary must have +happened, it seems to me." + +"It is true, monsieur," Hélène said, blushing scarlet. "It was my +father's doing. He sent for the Curé, and we were married in the chapel, +not an hour ago. Do not be angry with us, I beg of you, monsieur. He +said he must bring me to you first--and he loves you. My father did it +to save me. Ange will explain. My father sent his compliments to +you--and he said--he said you will see that your nephew's duty lies in +France now." + +Hélène was astonished at her own eloquent boldness. Angelot watched +her, smiling, enchanted. Monsieur Joseph listened very gravely, his eyes +upon her troubled face. When she paused, he bent and kissed her hand. + +"I do not understand the mystery," he said. "I only see that my nephew +is the most fortunate man in France. But I repeat, that he may hear +me--honour comes before happiness. Go round to the salon, my friends. I +will bring a light and open the door." + +"Is it really myself--or am I dreaming?--yes, it must be all a dream!" +Hélène murmured, as she sat alone in Monsieur Joseph's salon, beside a +flaming wood fire that he had lighted with his own hands. + +His first shock once over, the little uncle treated his nephew's wife +like a princess. He made her sit in his largest chair, he put a cushion +behind her, a footstool under her feet. With gentle hands he lifted the +cloak that had slipped from her slight shoulders, advising her to keep +it on till the room had grown warm, for she was shivering, though hardly +conscious of it. He went himself to fetch wine and cakes, set them on a +table beside her, tried unsuccessfully to make her eat and drink. Then +he glanced at his watch and turned in his quick way to Angelot, who had +been looking on at these attentions with a smile, almost jealous of the +little uncle, yet happy that he should thus accept the new situation and +take Hélène to his affectionate heart. + +"Come with me, Angelot," said Monsieur Joseph. "Excuse us for a few +minutes, my dear niece,"--he bowed to Hélène. "Affairs of state"--he +smiled, dancing on tiptoe with his most birdlike air. + +But as Angelot followed him out of the room, his look became as stern +and secret as that of any fierce Chouan among them all. + +Hélène waited; the time seemed long; and her situation almost too +strange to be realised. Those small hours of the morning, dark and +weird, brought their own special chill and shiver, both physical and +spiritual; the thought began to trouble her that Angelot's father and +mother would be very angry, perhaps--would not receive them, +possibly--and that Uncle Joseph, in his lonely house, might be their +only refuge; the thought of her own mother's indignation became a +thought of terror, now that Angelot's dear presence was not there to +send it away; all these ghosts crowded alarmingly upon her solitude, +almost driving before them the one great certainty and wonder of the +night. She looked round the shadowy, firelit room; she noticed with +curious attention the quaint coverings of the furniture, the +bright-coloured churches, windmills, farms, peasants at their work, all +on a clear white ground, the ancient _perse_ that had been bought and +arranged by Angelot's grandmother. She thought it much prettier than +anything at Lancilly. It distracted her a little, as the minutes went +on; but surely these affairs took a long time to settle; and the wind +rose higher, and howled in the chimney and whistled in the shutters, and +she saw herself, white and solitary, in a great glass at the end of the +room. + +When Angelot at last opened the door, she sprang from the chair and ran +to meet him; the only safe place was in his arms. + +"Don't leave me again," she whispered, as soon as it was possible to +speak. + +Angelot was very pale, his eyes were burning. With broken words and +passionate kisses he put her back into the chair, and kneeling down +beside her, struggled for calmness to explain. + +He was in honour bound to go; he must ride away; the horse was already +saddled, and he had only a few minutes in which to say good-bye. He must +leave her in Uncle Joseph's care till he came back. Uncle Joseph said it +was his duty to go. That very morning he was to have started for +England; his companion would be waiting for him and running a thousand +risks; he must meet him at the appointed place and send him on his way +alone. He did not tell her that Uncle Joseph, after all his chivalrous +kindness to her, had cordially wished women, love affairs, and marriages +at the devil, even when perfectly well aware that it was not only +Hélène, with her soft hands, who was holding his nephew back and keeping +him in Anjou. + +"You know my father went to Paris, sweet?" said Angelot. "He has come +back--he has been here this very night, looking for me. He would have +found me at home, if you had not called me across the fields to see you +dancing, you know! He saw all the authorities, even the Emperor himself. +Nobody knew anything about that arrest of mine, and I think a certain +Simon may get into hot water for it--though that is too much to expect, +perhaps. Anyhow, they say it was a mistake." + +"Monsieur des Barres told me so. He said he was sure of it," said the +girl. + +"Hélène--how beautiful you are!" + +She had laid her hand on his head, and was looking down at him, smiling, +though her eyes were wet. He took her hand and held it against his lips. + +"How I adore you!" he whispered. + +"Then you are free--free to be happy," she said. + +"As far as I know--unless that clever father of mine has asked the +Emperor for a commission for me--but I think, for my mother's sake, he +would not do that. He has not told Uncle Joseph so, at any rate; the +dear uncle would not have received an officer of Napoleon's so nicely." + +Hélène shuddered; the very word "officer" brought Ratoneau to her mind. +But she felt safe at least, safe for ever now, from _him_. + +"I hate soldiers," she said. "Must every one fight and kill?" + +Her bridegroom was still kneeling at her feet when Monsieur Joseph came +back, bringing Henriette with him. The child's dark eyes were full of +sleep, her cropped hair stood on end, her small figure was wrapped in +her little flannel gown; she looked a strange and pathetic creature, +roused out of sleep, brought down to take her part in these realities. +But she was equal to the occasion. Riette never failed in the duties of +love; she was never called upon in vain. She went round to the back of +Hélène's chair, took her face in her two small hands, leaned forward and +kissed her forehead under the curls. + +"Go, mon petit!" she said to Angelot. "I will keep her safe till you are +back in the morning." + +She spoke slowly, sleepily. + +"Riette is always my friend," said Angelot. + +"I told you long ago," said the child, "that papa and I would help you +to the last drop of our blood." + +"Ah! we have not reached that point yet," said Monsieur Joseph, laughing +softly. "Now, my children, say good-bye. After all--for a few hours--it +is not a tragedy." + + * * * * * + +The Lancilly ball was the most brilliant, the most beautiful, for many +hours the most successful, that had taken place in that country-side +since before the Revolution. Many people arriving late, the crowd of +guests went on increasing, and they danced with so much energy, the +music was so beautiful, the whole affair went with such a swing, +strangely mixed as the company was from a political point of view, that +Madame de Sainfoy in the midst of her duties as hostess had no time to +give more than an occasional thought to her own family. She watched +Georges and his proceedings with satisfaction, but after missing Hélène +and sending Mademoiselle Moineau to look for her, she forgot her again; +and she did not miss her husband till he failed to be in his place at +supper-time, to lead the oldest lady into the dining-room. When time +went on, and he did not appear, she began to be puzzled and anxious, +while exerting herself to the full, in order that no one should be aware +of his absence. + +She was passing through the inner salon, alone for the moment, on her +way to find a servant that she might send in search of Monsieur de +Sainfoy, when General Ratoneau, having made his bow to the lady he had +brought back from supper, and who was heartily glad to be rid of him, +came to meet her with a swaggering air, partly owing to champagne. + +Smiling, he told her with an oath that her daughter was confoundedly +pretty, the prettiest girl in Anjou, and the wildest and most +unmanageable; that she would not listen to a word of compliment, and had +run away from him when he told her, in plain soldier fashion--"as I +always speak, madame"--that she was to be his wife. + +"Ah, Monsieur le Général--you are so certain of that?" murmured +Adélaïde, considering him with her blue eyes a little coldly. + +"Certain, madame? I suppose it will not occur to you or to Monsieur de +Sainfoy to disobey the Emperor! Why, the order might have arrived +to-day--it certainly will to-morrow--ah, I mean yesterday or to-day, for +midnight is long passed. Yes, but she is a detestable mixture, that +daughter of yours, Madame la Comtesse, and it would take all my courage +to venture on such a wife, without your encouragement. Cold as ice, as +stately as an old queen of France--upon my soul, it needs a brave man to +face the possibilities of such a ménage. But I suppose she is timid with +it all--eh? I must be firm with her, I must show resolution, n'est-ce +pas?" + +"Apparently your compliments frightened her. Yes, she is timid enough," +said Madame de Sainfoy. "She not only ran away from you, but from the +ball. I understand her now. She is a mere child, Monsieur le Général, +unaccustomed to--to--" Adélaïde broke off, a little absently. "I sent a +person to find her. I will send again, but--if you will forgive me--" +with a dazzling smile--"I would advise you not to say much more to +Hélène till the affair is really decided beyond all question--yes, what +is it?" + +A servant came up to her, hesitating, glancing at the General, who said +quickly, his face darkening, "I consider it decided now." + +"So do I--so it is, of course," she said quickly. "Well?" to the +servant. + +"Monsieur de la Marinière asks if he can see Madame la Comtesse for five +minutes." + +"Ask him to wait--" she was beginning, coldly, when Monsieur Urbain came +hurrying impatiently across the room. + +"Ah--my very good friend, Monsieur de la Marinière," Ratoneau said with +a grin. + +He did not move away. Urbain came up and kissed Adélaïde's hand and +looked at her with an extraordinary expression. He was plainly dressed +for travelling, a strange-looking guest in those rooms. His square face +was drawn into hard lines, his mouth was set, his eyes were staring. She +gazed at him, fascinated, and her lips formed the words, "What is it, +Urbain?" Then she suddenly said, turning white, "Something has happened +to Hervé!" + +"To Hervé? I don't know. Yes, he seems to have gone mad," said Urbain. +"You know nothing of it? I thought as much--but I have come straight to +you. Where is Hervé? He is here now, surely? I must speak to him." + +"What are you talking about? Are you sure it is not _you_ who have gone +mad? As to Hervé, I have not seen him for the last hour. I was looking +for him." + +"He looked devilish queer when I saw him last," muttered the General. +"Mademoiselle ran after him; they are a pretty pair." + +Urbain and Adélaïde both looked at him vaguely; then again at each +other. + +"Where is he now? Do you know?" she said. + +"He left the château, madame, with your daughter and her husband," +Urbain said, slowly and indistinctly, grinding his teeth as he spoke. + +"Urbain!" she cried. + +"_What_ are you saying, monsieur?" growled the General, with his hand on +his sword. + +"Peace, peace, Monsieur le Général, you will know all presently," Urbain +said more calmly. "Some one has betrayed our plans," he went on, looking +at Adélaïde, who was white and speechless. "These are my adventures. I +went to Paris in search of my son, to find out where he was, and why he +had been arrested. I could hear nothing of him. I saw the Préfet de la +Police, I saw the Duc de Rovigo, I saw Réal and a dozen more officials. +No one knew anything. Finally I saw Duroc, an old acquaintance, and he +introduced me to the Emperor. His Majesty was gracious. He gave me a +free pardon for Angelot, in case he had been mixed up against his will +with any Chouan conspiracies. I pledged my honour for him in the future. +But still the mystery remained--I could not find him." + +Adélaïde seemed turned to stone. These two gazed at each other, +speechless, and did not now give a look or a thought to the third person +present. He stood transfixed, listening; the angry blood rushed into his +face, then ebbed as suddenly, leaving him a livid, deathlike yellow. + +"But mon Dieu, why all this story?" Adélaïde burst out with almost a +scream. "What is he to me, your silly Angelot? What did you say just +now? My daughter and--I must have heard you wrongly." + +Urbain gave a short, crackling laugh. "Nevertheless, I shall go on with +my story. I came home a few hours ago. My wife told me that Angelot was +safe with his uncle at Les Chouettes." The General started violently, +but neither of them noticed him. "We went there together, and found that +the boy was gone to La Marinière, to see his mother--Joseph had planned +to pack him off out of the way of the police--with his usual +discretion--but enough of that." + +"Urbain, you will madden me! What do I care for all this?" + +Adélaïde made a few steps and let herself fall into a chair. + +"Patience!" he said; and there was something solemn, almost awful, in +the way he stretched out his right hand to her. "We hastened back to La +Marinière, and found no Angelot there. Then I began to think that +Joseph's fears of the police might not be exaggerated--Angelot escaped +from them on the very day he was arrested--the man who arrested him, +why, I cannot discover, was that fellow Simon, the spy, and according to +Joseph he has been watching the woods ever since. I went out, for I +could not rest indoors, and as I walked down the road I met Monsieur le +Curé and Martin Joubard, coming from Lancilly. I turned back with the +old man, and he told me his story." + +He stopped and drew a long breath. + +"I hardly listened to the details," he said. "But by some means Hervé +had heard of the expected order--and--distrusting all the world, it +seems, even you, his wife, he sent for the Curé at midnight and forced +him to celebrate the marriage. Ah, Monsieur le Général, you may well +take it hardly; yet I do not believe you are more angry than I am." + +"As to that, monsieur," said Ratoneau, glaring at him with savage fury, +"I believe you have played me false and arranged the whole affair. Your +scamp of a son has escaped the prison he richly deserved, and you have +plotted to marry him to your cousin's daughter. I always thought you as +clever as the devil, monsieur. But look here--and you too, madame, +listen to me. I will ruin the whole set of you--and as to that boy of +yours, let him beware how he meets me. I swear I will be his death." + +Urbain shrugged his shoulders and turned from him to Adélaïde, who was +beckoning feebly and could hardly find voice to speak. + +"I am very stupid, I suppose," she said. "I cannot understand clearly. +My husband has forced on Hélène's marriage with some one. Who is it, +Urbain? Did the Curé tell you? Do not be afraid to tell me--I can bear +it--you were always my friend." + +There was something so unnatural in her manner, so terrible and stony in +her look, that Urbain turned pale and hesitated. + +"Mon Dieu!" he murmured. "You do not understand!" + +"Mille tonnerres, Madame la Comtesse," roared the General, striding up +to her chair--"they have married this man's son to your daughter. My +congratulations on the splendid match. Ange de la Marinière and Hélène +de Sainfoy--a pretty couple--but by all that's sacred their happiness +shall not last long!" + +"Hush, hush! Go away, for God's sake," cried Urbain. "You brute, you are +killing her." + +Adélaïde's eyelids had dropped, and she lay back unconscious. + +There were people in the room, a confusion of voices, of wondering +exclamations. Then, through the thickening crowd, Hervé de Sainfoy and +Georges pushed their way, white and excited, followed by Mademoiselle +Moineau, whose trembling limbs could hardly carry her. + +The Comte de Sainfoy and General Ratoneau met face to face, and +exchanged a few low words as Ratoneau walked out. + +"You are a pretty host, Monsieur le Comte!" + +"I have taught you a lesson, I hope, Monsieur le Général. I shall have +no more interference with my family affairs." + +"Sapristi! it is a new thing for you, is it not, to pose as the head of +your own family? How did His Majesty's intention come to your knowledge? +I am curious to know that." + +"Let me ask you to leave my house. You shall hear from me. We will +settle our affairs another day." + +"Ah! You had better consult Madame la Comtesse. She is not pleased with +you." + +Ratoneau went out, snarling. Scarcely knowing which way he turned, he +found himself in an outer vestibule at the foot of the great staircase. +The autumn wind was blowing in, fresh and cool across the valley; grey +light was beginning to glimmer, a shiver of dawn to pass over the world +outside. A group of men were standing in the doorway, and Ratoneau found +himself surrounded by them. One of them was Simon, with his head bound +up; the others were some of the police employed to watch Chouan +proceedings in the province generally. + +"What, fool!" the General began furiously to Simon. "And all this time +you--" he checked himself, remembering the presence of the others, who +were looking at him curiously. + +"We have something to report to Monsieur le Général," Simon said +hurriedly, with an eager sign of caution. "To save time--as Monsieur le +Préfet is not here. A new conspiracy has been hatched at Les +Chouettes--_Les Chouettes_, monsieur! Some of the gentlemen are probably +there now. Some are to meet at the Étang des Morts, to start for England +this very morning. They will be caught easily. But Les Chouettes should +be searched, monsieur--important arrests can be made there." + +He came forward, almost pushing the General back against the stairs. + +"There are enough of us," he said, "but not enough authority. If +Monsieur le Général would go himself"--he came up closer and muttered in +Ratoneau's ear--"I know all--they are there--we can at least arrest the +men--safe this time--the police have real evidence, and I have seen +nightly visitors to Monsieur de la Marinière. But _they are there_, +monsieur--I saw them on their way--I met the priest going back. And on +my word, Monsieur le Comte managed it neatly." + +"Did he give you that broken head, fool? And why did you not come to me +sooner?" + +"That was a gentleman with a wooden leg. Yes, he delayed me half an +hour." + +"More fool you! Come, we must have these Chouans. Say nothing. Get me a +horse--one that will carry double, mind you. Four of you fellows go on +and watch the house. I and Simon will overtake you." + +He swore between his teeth as he turned away, "I will be the death of +him, and I will have her yet!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +HOW MONSIEUR JOSEPH WENT OUT INTO THE DAWN + + +At Les Chouettes, in those early hours of the morning, they were waiting +for Angelot's return. Monsieur Joseph, the softest-hearted, most +open-natured man who ever posed as a dark and hard conspirator, could +not now forgive himself for having sent the boy away. "Why did I not go +myself?" he muttered. Faithfulness to the cause, honour towards César +d'Ombré, a touch of severity, really born of love, towards Angelot's +light-hearted indifference; these had led him into something like +cruelty towards the girl who had been thrown with such wild and +passionate haste into Angelot's arms. Monsieur Joseph regarded Hervé de +Sainfoy's sudden action as a great embarrassment for the family, though +he himself had once suggested such a marriage, out of indulgence for his +nephew. He saw that the situation would be terribly awkward for Urbain +and Anne, that they would hardly welcome such a daughter-in-law; yet, +though he said sharp words about women to Angelot, he was heartily sorry +for Hélène. + +"Pauvre petite!" he said to himself. "No, it was not right of Hervé. +Ange is too young for such responsibility; there might have been other +ways of saving her. But in the meanwhile, she is dreadfully frightened +and lonely, and I have sent her little lover away. God grant he fall +into no traps--but the police may be anywhere. Well, Riette must do her +best--the woman-child--she seemed to me just now older than Angelot's +wife--Angelot's wife--what an absurdity!" + +The child had led the girl away to her own room above; the house was +still. Monsieur Joseph went back to his room, walked up and down its +length, from the west to the east window and back again; rather +nervously examined his arms, and laid a sword and a pair of pistols on +the table. He knew of no special danger; but for the last fortnight he +had been living in a state of watchfulness which had sharpened all his +senses and kept him unusually sleepless. Now he longed for the night to +be over; for his present charge weighed upon him heavily. It was certain +that in sending Angelot away to keep the tryst with César he had made +himself responsible for Hélène. He thought over all the foolish little +love-story, in which at first he had had some part, though nobody was +more angry with Angelot when he took things into his own hands and +climbed the old ivy-tree to visit his love. + +"And now--is the fellow rewarded or punished? we shall see!" he +thought. "In any case, I must stand by him now. He has not always been +grateful or wise--but there, he is young, and I love the boy. Riette +talks of 'the last drop of our blood.' Verily, I believe she would give +it for Angelot--and I--well, I told Hervé and his mother that I would +cut off my right hand for him. That was saying something! But Anne knew +I meant it--and God knows the same." + +Monsieur Joseph glanced up at the Crucifix hanging over his bed, and, +presently, seeing a glimmer of dawn through the shutters, knelt down and +said his morning prayers. + +He had scarcely finished when all the dogs began to bark, and there was +a frightful growling and snarling outside his window. He opened it, and +pushed back the shutters. The woods were grey and misty in a pale, +unearthly dawn, and the house threw a shadow from the waning moon, which +had risen behind the buildings and trees to the east. The howling wind +of the night had gone down; the air was cold and still. + +Monsieur Joseph saw a man with his head tied up, armed with a police +carbine, making a short cut over the grass from the western wood. It was +this man, Simon, whom the dogs were welcoming after their manner. +Monsieur Joseph's voice silenced them. He stepped out, unarmed as he +was, and met Simon in the sandy square. + +"Ah no, no, my friend!" he said. "Your tricks are over, your work is +done." + +"Pardon, monsieur!" said Simon, respectfully enough. + +"Do you understand me? Come, now, what authority had you for arresting +my nephew? You are going to find it was a serious mistake. Be off with +you, and let him alone in the future." + +"I know all about that, monsieur," Simon answered coolly. "Your nephew +is lucky enough to have a loyal father, who can pull him out of his +scrapes. Your nephew has plenty of friends--but even his connections +won't save him, I think, if he is mixed up in this new plot of yours. I +must search your house at once, if you please." + +"What do you mean, you scoundrel? You will not search my house," said +Monsieur Joseph, fiercely. + +"By order, monsieur." + +"Whose order? The Prefect's? Show it me." + +"Pardon! There has not been time to apply to Monsieur le Préfet. We have +intelligence of a plot, hatched here in your house, a plan for a rising. +We know that certain gentlemen are starting this very morning on a +mission to England, to bring back arms and men. They will be caught--are +caught already, no doubt--at their rendezvous. There was not time to go +to Sonnay for orders and warrants; we had to strike while the iron was +hot. We applied to General Ratoneau, who was at the ball at Lancilly. He +not only gave us authority to search your house for arms and +conspirators--he accompanied us himself. He is there, beyond the wood, +with enough men to enter your house by force, if you refuse to let us +enter peaceably." + +For a moment Monsieur Joseph said nothing. Simon grinned as well as his +stiff and aching head would let him, as he watched the little +gentleman's expressive face. + +"We have got them, Monsieur le Général!" he said to himself. He added +aloud and insolently: "An unpleasant experience for the young gentleman, +so soon after his wedding, but a final warning, I imagine. If he comes +free and happy out of this, he will have done with Chouannerie!" + +"Silence!" said Monsieur Joseph. "If you want conspirators, there is one +here, and that is myself. I will go to Sonnay with you--though your +accusations are ridiculous, and there is no plan for a rising. But I +will not allow you to search my house, if there were ten generals and an +army behind the wood there. I will shoot down any one who attempts it." + +"So much the worse for you, monsieur," said Simon. + +"Go back to General Ratoneau and tell him what I say," said Monsieur +Joseph. "He will not doubt my word. Wait. I will speak to him myself. +Tell him I will meet him in ten minutes under the old oaks up there. I +wish for a private word with him." + +"Ten minutes, monsieur,"--Simon hesitated. + +"Do as you are told," said Monsieur Joseph; and he stepped back into his +room, pulled the shutters sharply to, and shut the window. + +Simon lingered a minute or two, looking round the house, giving the +growling dogs a wide berth, then went back with his message to the wood, +and took the precaution of sending a man to watch the lanes on the other +side. He did not, of course, for a moment suppose that there was any one +there, except, most probably, Ange de la Marinière and his bride; but it +would not do to let him once again escape the General. What his plans +might be, Simon only half guessed; but he knew they were desperate, and +he knew that the man who balked him would repent it. And besides all +this, he had not yet received a sou for all the dirty work he had lately +done. But in the bitter depths of his discontented mind, Simon began to +suspect that he had made a mistake in committing himself, body and soul, +to General Ratoneau. + +Monsieur Joseph took a small pistol from a cabinet, loaded it, then ran +lightly upstairs and called Riette, who came flying to meet him. He took +her in his arms and kissed her shaggy pate. + +"Your hair wants brushing, mademoiselle," he said. "You are a contrast +to your beautiful cousin." + +"Oh, papa, isn't it glorious to think that Hélène has married Angelot? +They do love each other so. She has been telling me that if only he +were back safe from the Étang des Morts, she would be the very happiest +woman in the world." + +"I hope she will be, and soon," said Monsieur Joseph. But he trembled as +he spoke, for if Simon was right, Angelot and César might be even now in +the hands of the police. + +"Listen, Riette," he said. "There are some men outside, police and +officials--General Ratoneau is with them. Once again there are fancies +in these people's heads about me and my friends. They want to search the +house. There is no reason for it, and I will not have it done. I am +going out now to speak to the General. Look at the clock. If I am not +back in ten minutes, go out at the back with your cousin, take the path +behind the stables, and make all the haste you can to La Marinière. It +will be light, you cannot lose your way. Only keep in the shelter of the +trees, that those people over in the wood may not see you." + +Riette gazed at him with dark large eyes which seemed to read something +behind his words. + +"Why do you think you will not come back, papa? Because General Ratoneau +is a wicked man?" + +"Because Imperial justice may carry me to Sonnay. But the Prefect is my +friend," said Monsieur Joseph, gravely. "Go back, and do as I tell you. +Remember, Angelot's wife is in your care. Take this pistol, and defend +her if necessary." + +He left her without another word and ran downstairs. In the ground-floor +rooms he found the servants waiting, the two men armed, Marie wildly +excited, all talking at once, for they had heard from an upper window +their master's conversation with Simon. + +Before he could give them any orders, two tall shadows came across the +white sand in that unearthly light of moon and dawn, and old Joubard and +his son, pushing at the window, were immediately let in by Gigot. They +explained that Monsieur Angelot, on his way to the Étang des Morts, had +stopped at La Joubardière. He had found Martin, not long returned from +Lancilly, busy telling his father the events of the night. He had begged +them both to go down to Les Chouettes, to watch quietly about there till +his return. They understood very well that his greatest treasure in life +was there, and they had started off, Joubard with his gun, not intending +to go to the house or disturb Monsieur Joseph. But coming down they +found the man Simon had just sent to keep the eastern road, who told +them the place was besieged by police and the house to be searched +immediately. They took the liberty of depriving him of his carbine, +tying him to a tree, and setting a dog to watch him there. Old Joubard +explained this to Monsieur Joseph with an air of apology. + +"Thank you. You could not have done better, Joubard. Listen, I am going +out to speak to General Ratoneau. I have told Mademoiselle Henriette, if +I am not back in ten minutes, to take Madame Ange to La Marinière. If +the General insists on my going off to Sonnay, this will not be a place +for ladies. Perhaps, Marie, you had better go with them. The police will +try to insist on searching the house. I will not have it searched, +without a warrant from Monsieur le Préfet. You four men, I leave it in +your care. Defend the house, as you know I should defend it." + +Tobie chuckled. "Spoil their beauty, eh!" and went on loading his gun. +Old Joubard's face had lengthened slightly. "Anything within the law," +he muttered. "But I am not a Chouan, dear little monsieur, nor is +Martin--no!" + +"Chouan or not, you are my friends, all of you," said Monsieur Joseph; +and he turned and left them. + +He went back to his room, wrote a short letter to his brother Urbain, +and left it on the table. Then he took his sword, crossed himself, and +went out into the slowly lightening day. + +Ratoneau was waiting for him under the trees, just out of sight of the +house, and they were practically alone. A groom held the General's horse +at some little distance; Simon waited in the background, skulking behind +the trees, and the other men were watching the house from various +points. The road which passed Les Chouettes on the north crept on +westward, and skirted that same wood of tall oaks, chestnuts, and firs +where Monsieur Joseph's Chouan friends had been hidden from the Prefect +and the General. The wood, with little undergrowth, but thickly carpeted +with dead leaves, sloped down to the south; on its highest edge a line +of old oaks, hollow and enormous, stood like grim sentinels. It was +under one of these, hidden from the house by a corner of the wood, that +Monsieur Joseph met the General. + +Ratoneau was considerably cooler than when he had left Lancilly. His +manner was less violent, but even more insolent than usual. He looked at +his watch as Monsieur Joseph came up, walking over the rough grass with +the light step of a boy. + +"What do you mean, monsieur, by keeping an Imperial officer waiting?" he +said. "Ten minutes? I have been standing here twenty, and you had no +right to ask for one. You forget who you are, monsieur, and who I am." + +"Kindly enlighten me on these points, Monsieur le Général," said +Monsieur Joseph, smiling cheerfully. + +"I will enlighten you so far--that you are twice a traitor, and the +worst of a whole band of traitors." + +"Et puis, monsieur? Once--it is possible from your point of view, but +how twice?" said Monsieur Joseph, with that air of happy curiosity +which had often, in earlier years, misled his enemies to their undoing. + +Ratoneau stared at him, muttered an oath, and stammered out: "Not +content with plotting against His Majesty's government--why you--you, +monsieur--are aiding and abetting that nephew of yours in this +scandalous affair of his marriage. Sapristi! you look as innocent as a +new-born child! You laugh, monsieur! Do you suppose the Emperor will not +learn the truth about this marriage? Yes, I can tell you, you will +bitterly repent this night's work--Monsieur de Sainfoy and all of you. +And to begin with, that accursed nephew of yours will spend his +honeymoon in prison. I have not yet seen my way through the ins and outs +of the affair--I do not know how Monsieur de Sainfoy heard of the +Emperor's intention--but at least I can have my revenge on your nephew +and I will--I will!" + +"Ah!" Monsieur Joseph laughed slightly. "I would not be too sure, +monsieur. You can prove nothing against Ange. His father, let me tell +you, has set him right with the Emperor. He is in no danger at all, +unless from your personal malice. The prize you intended to have has +been given to him. It is no doing of his family. I do not believe the +Emperor will punish him or them. And--unless he values your services +more highly than I should think probable, I fancy he will see excuses +for Monsieur de Sainfoy!" + +"No doing of his family! The intrigue has been going on for weeks," +cried Ratoneau. "When have I not seen that odious boy pushing himself at +Lancilly? Detestable little hound! as insolent as yourself, and far more +of a fool. I have always hated him--always--since the day I first saw +him in your house, the day when we met a herd of cattle in the lane, and +he dared to laugh at my horse's misbehaviour. Little scum of the earth! +if I had him under my heel--What are we losing time for? What do you +want to say to me? It is my duty to arrest you, and to search your house +for conspirators and arms, in the name of the Emperor." + +"Yes; I know all that," said Monsieur Joseph, gently, with his head a +little on one side. + +He was wondering, as he wondered on first acquaintance with this man, +for how long he would be able to refrain from striking him in the face. +He was afraid that it would not, at this juncture, be a wise thing to +do. The two girls in the house were much on his mind; perhaps a +presentiment of something of this sort had made him arrange for their +escape. + +"I told that police fellow," he went on very mildly, "that I was ready +to go with you to Sonnay, where the Prefect, of course, is the right +person to deal with any suspected conspiracy. I also told him, and I +tell you, that I will not have my house searched without the Prefect's +warrant." + +"And pray, how are you going to prevent it?" said Ratoneau, staring at +him. + +"Try it, and you will see," said Monsieur Joseph. + +"Your nephew is shut up there, I know. He is taking care of his bride, +and is afraid to come out and face me," said Ratoneau, with a frightful +grin. "He will not dare to resist by force--miserable little coward!" + +"All this shall be paid for by and by," Monsieur Joseph said to himself, +consolingly. Aloud he said, "It happens that my nephew is not there, +Monsieur le Général." + +"Not there! where are they gone then? I believe that is a lie." + +Monsieur Joseph bowed politely, with his hand on his sword. + +"Allow me to remark, Monsieur le Général Ratoneau, that you are a cheat +and a coward." + +Ratoneau turned purple, and almost choked. + +"Monsieur! You dare to use such words to me! I shall call my men up, +and--" + +"Call the whole of the usurper's army," said Monsieur Joseph, with +unearthly coolness. "As they follow him they may follow you, his +pasteboard image. But I am quite of your opinion, my words need +explanation. I see through you, Monsieur le Général. You tried to cheat +the Comte de Sainfoy out of his daughter, whom he had refused you. And I +am sure now, that my nephew's arrest the other day was a scoundrelly +piece of cheating, a satisfaction of your private spite, a means of +getting him out of your way. Yes, I see through you now. A fine specimen +of an Imperial officer, bribing police spies to carry out his private +malice. Coward and cheat! Defend yourself!" + +Both swords were out, and the fight began instantly. The steel clashed +and darted lightly, flashing back the rising day. It was no ordinary +duel, no mere satisfaction of honour, though each might have had the +right to demand this of the other. It was a quarrel of life and death, +personal hatred that must slay or be slain. + +Monsieur Joseph, with all his grace and amiability, had the passionate +nature of old France; his instincts were primitive and simple; he +longed, and his longing had become irresistible, to send a villain out +of the world. Perhaps, too, in Ratoneau's overbearing swagger, he saw +and felt an incarnation of that Empire which had crushed his native +country under its iron feet. But all mixed motives were fused together +and flamed up in the fighting rage that drew that slight hand to the +sword-hilt, and darted like lightning along the living blade. + +Monsieur Joseph was a splendid swordsman. But Ratoneau, too, had perfect +command of his weapon; and besides this, he was a taller and heavier +man. And the fury of disappointment, of revenge, the dread of being +found out, of probable disgrace, if Joseph de la Marinière could prove +his keen suspicions true; all this added to his caution, while he never +lacked the bull-dog courage of a fighting soldier. Though foaming with +rage, he was at that moment the cooler, the more self-possessed of the +two. + +Simon tried at first to interfere. He stepped out from among the trees, +exclaiming, "Messieurs--messieurs!" but then withdrew again, for the +very sight of the two men's faces, the sound of their breath, the quick +clash of the swords, showed that this was a quarrel past mending. Simon +watched. He was conscious, in the depths of his mind, of a knowledge +that he would not mourn very deeply if General Ratoneau should be the +one to fall. He hastily made his own plans. In that case he would slip +away behind the trees, take the horse from the groom without a word, and +ride away to Paris, trusting that he might never be called to account +for any dark doings in Anjou. For there was not only the false arrest of +Angelot; there were also certain dealings with the Prefect's secretary; +there were tamperings with papers and seals, all to set forward that +marriage affair that had failed so dismally, he hardly understood how. +But he had hoped that the Prefect would die, and the news of his rapid +recovery seemed strangely inopportune. It appeared to Simon that General +Ratoneau's star was on the wane; and so, for those entangled in his +rascally deeds, a lucky thrust of Monsieur de la Marinière's swiftly +flashing sword--Ah, no! the fortune of war was on the wrong side that +morning. A few passes; a fight three or four minutes long; a low cry, +then silence, and the slipping down of a light body on the grass. +General Ratoneau had run his adversary through the heart, had withdrawn +his sword and stood, white but unmoved, looking at him as he lay. + +[Illustration: "MONSIEUR LE GÉNÉRAL, YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!"] + +Monsieur Joseph turned himself once, and stretched his slight limbs, as +if composing himself to sleep. His face was towards his house and the +rising dawn, and he gazed that way with dark eyes wide open. His lips +moved, but no one heard what he said. All the fighting fury was gone +from his face, and as a thin thread of blood trickled down from his side +and began to redden the grass beneath, his look, at first startled and +painful, became every moment more peaceful, more satisfied. His eyelids +slowly drooped and fell; he died smiling, his whole attitude and +expression so lifelike that the two witnesses, Ratoneau and Simon, could +scarcely believe that he was dead. + +The General stood immovable. Simon, after a minute, knelt down and felt +the pulse and examined the wound. It had been almost instantly fatal, +the pulse was still. + +"Mon Dieu, Monsieur le Général, you have killed him!" Simon said, under +his breath. + +Ratoneau glared at him for a moment before he spoke. + +"He tried to kill me," he said. "You were there, you can bear witness, +he challenged and attacked me, the little fighting-cock. I wish it had +been his nephew. But now for him! Come, leave the body there; the +servants will fetch it in presently." + +He started to walk towards the house, carrying his drawn sword in his +hand. In the middle of the slope he turned round with a furious look to +his follower. + +"Those who insult me, and stand in my way--you see the lessons I teach +them!" he said hoarsely, and walked on. + +The western front of Les Chouettes, the tower rising into the slowly +lightening sky, presented a lifeless face to the woods where its master +lay. All the windows were closed and shuttered; dead silence reigned. +When the General shouted an order to open, beating with his sword-hilt +at a window, he was only answered by the growling and barking of the +dogs, whom the defenders had called in. He walked round by the south to +the east front; the same chorus accompanied him, but of human voices +there were none. He whistled up the rest of the gendarmes, and ordered +them to force the dining-room window. Then the shutters of a window +above it were pushed open, and a white-haired man looked out into the +court. + +"Now, old Chouan, do you hear me?" shouted Ratoneau, in his most +overbearing tones. "Come down and open some of these windows." + +"Pardon, monsieur," old Joubard answered quietly. "I have Monsieur de +la Marinière's orders to keep them shut." + +"Have you, indeed? Well, it makes no difference to him whether they are +shut or open. Tell his nephew, Monsieur Ange, with my compliments, to +come down and speak to me. Tell him I want to see his pretty wife, and +to congratulate him on his marriage. Tell him to bring a sword, if he +knows how to use one, and to revenge his uncle." + +There was a dead pause. The two Joubards and the servants, all together +in that upper room, looked strangely at each other. + +"Tiens, Maître Joubard, let me come to the window and I'll shoot that +man dead!" groaned Tobie in the background. + +"No, you fool, Tobie," Joubard said angrily. "Do you want us all to be +massacred? Anyhow, let us first know what he means." + +"I wonder where the master is!" said Gigot, and his teeth chattered. + +"He has killed him," Martin whispered, looking at his father. + +"This will be the ruin of us all," said old Joubard aside to him. "You, +at least, keep out of the way. Those men have carbines. You have not +come home from Spain to be shot by mistake for a Chouan. I will try to +speak civilly. Monsieur le Général," he said, leaning out of the window, +"your worship is mistaken. There are no Chouans here, and no ladies. And +Monsieur Angelot is not here. Only we, a few harmless servants and +neighbours, taking care of the house, left in charge while Monsieur de +la Marinière went to speak to you, waiting till he comes back. We can do +nothing without his orders, Monsieur le Général." + +"Then you will do nothing till doomsday," said Ratoneau. "Don't you +understand that he is dead, old fool, whoever you may be?" + +"Dead! Impossible!" old Joubard stammered. "Monsieur Joseph +dead--murdered! And the gendarmes on your side, monsieur! Why, he was +here giving us our orders, a quarter of an hour ago." + +In the horrified look he turned on Martin, there was yet the shadow of a +smile. For Martin's eager persuasions had sent Hélène and Riette away +with Marie Gigot through the woods to La Marinière, almost before +Monsieur Joseph's appointed time. + +Joubard leaned again out of the window, his rugged face in the full +light of the morning. + +"This is a bad business, Monsieur le Général," he said. "If it is true +that you have killed Monsieur Joseph, you have done enough for one day. +Take my advice, draw your men off and go away. Justice will follow you; +and you have no right here. I am not a Chouan. I am Joubard, of La +Joubardière, Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière's best tenant, and my only +son lost his limbs fighting for the Emperor." + +Simon drew near, with his bandaged head, and looked up at the window. +"Ah! He has limbs enough left to do some mischief," he growled savagely. +"Is he there, your precious cripple of a son? I shall have something to +say to him, one of these days." + +"Begone with you all," cried old Joubard, "for a pack of thieves and +murderers! You are a disgrace to the Emperor, his police and his army!" + +"Silence, old fool!" shouted Ratoneau. "What do you say about murder, +you idiot? Did you never hear of a man being killed in a duel? Come +down, some of you, I say, or I force my way in." + +He would have done so, and easily, but for a sudden interruption. + +There was a wild howl of pain from among the trees beyond the kitchen, +where one of Monsieur Joseph's faithful dogs followed him to the land +where all faithfulness is perhaps rewarded; and then the gendarme whom +Joubard had tied to a tree came running down to the house with the +comrade who had freed him and killed his guard. He was eager to tell the +General what he had seen while every one but himself was away in the +western wood. He had seen two women and a child escape from the house, +and hurry away by the footpath under the trees towards La Marinière. One +of the women was dressed in white; he could see it under her cloak; she +spoke, and it was a lady's voice; they had passed quite near him. How +long ago? Well, perhaps a quarter of an hour. General Ratoneau stamped +his foot and ground his teeth. + +"Bring my horse!" he said; and then he looked up again at the window, at +old Joubard's stern face watching him. + +"Monsieur Ange de la Marinière!" he shouted in tones of thunder. "Come +out of your hole, little coward, if you are there. I will teach you to +marry against the Emperor's commands! You shall meet me before you see +your wife again. I will give account of you, and I will have what is my +own. What! you dare not come out? Then follow me to Sonnay, monsieur, by +way of La Marinière." + +He flung himself into the saddle and rode off at a furious pace, turning +round to shout back to Simon, "I shall overtake her! Go on--shoot them +all--burn the house, if you must." + +His horse plunged down into the shadows of the narrow lane, and they +heard the heavy thud of its hoofs as it galloped away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +HOW GENERAL RATONEAU MET HIS MATCH + + +Within and without Les Chouettes the men all listened till those sounds +died away. Then Simon turned to the little group of gendarmes and said: +"Come along, fellows, make a rush for that window. If there are any +Chouan gentlemen here, we must not let them escape." + +Then the oldest of the gendarmes, a man well accustomed to hunting this +sort of game, hung back and looked at him queerly. + +"There are none--I'll answer for that," he said. "Certainly not Monsieur +Ange de la Marinière, or he would have been out long ago--and none of us +ever felt sure that he was mixed up in Chouannerie--" + +"What are you talking about?" cried Simon. "Hold your tongue, and do +your duty. The General ordered us to break into the house and search it. +Why, you know yourself that it is the headquarters of this plot." + +"If so, if I hear rightly, the master of it has paid for his Chouannerie +with his life," said the man gravely, still holding back, and watching +Simon with a dogged steadiness. "Our mates have caught the other +gentlemen--they could not fail--and as for me, Monsieur Simon, I don't +feel inclined to take any more orders from that General of yours. To me, +he seems like a madman. There's private malice behind all this. It is +not the sort of justice that suits me--to kill a gentleman and shoot his +servants and burn his house down. I tell you, fellows, I don't like +it--there are limits to what the police ought to do, and we shall find +ourselves in the wrong box, if we go further without the Prefect's +warrant." + +"Obey your orders, or you'll pay for it!" shouted Simon. "Come on, men!" +and he ran towards the house. + +"Be off, or we fire!" cried a voice from the window above. + +"All right, Maître Joubard, don't fire; we know you are a loyal man," +said the spokesman of the gendarmes. "I am going straight back to +Sonnay, to see what Monsieur le Préfet says to all this. Do you agree?" +he turned to his comrades, who had drawn up behind him, and who +answered, even the man who had been tied to the tree, by a quick murmur +of assent. "Come, Monsieur Simon, I advise you to cast in your lot with +us; you have had too much to do with that madman. Everybody hates him. +They sent him down here because they could not stand him in the army." + +As Simon turned his back and walked sulkily away, the gendarme added: +"Come down, some of you, and look for your master. He may be still +alive." + +The men in the room above looked at each other. They could not and did +not believe that Monsieur Joseph was dead. To his old servants, it was +one of those shocks too heavy for the brain to bear; the thought stunned +them. Large tears were rolling down old Joubard's cheeks, but his brain +and Martin's were active enough. + +"What do you think?" he said to his son. "Are they safe at La +Marinière?" + +"I'll wager my wooden leg they are," Martin said cheerfully. "They had a +good start, and that lumbering brute with his big horse would not know +the shortest path. And once with Monsieur Urbain--" + +"Ah, poor man! Well, let us go down and look for him, the little uncle. +Ah, Martin, all the pretty girls in the world will take long to comfort +Monsieur Angelot--and as to Mademoiselle Henriette!" + +"The gendarme said he might be still alive," said Martin. "See, they are +gone round to him." + +"He is dead," said Joubard. "Come, Gigot, you and I must carry him in. +As to you, Tobie, just keep watch on this side with your gun--that +poisonous snake of a Simon is prowling about there. Don't shoot, of +course, but keep him off; don't let him get into the house." + +Martin lingered a moment behind his father. "Tobie," he said, "that +Simon has been Monsieur Angelot's enemy all through. I thought I had +finished him with my stick, two or three hours ago, but--" + +"I know--I have my master's orders," said Tobie. He smiled, and lifted +his gun to his shoulder. + +The sun was rising when they found Monsieur Joseph on his bed of soft +grass and leaves, at the foot of his own old oak just bronzed by the sun +of August and September. Up above the squirrels were playing; they did +not disturb his sleep, though they scampered along the boughs and +squeaked and peeped down curiously. The birds cried and chirped about +him in the opening day; and one long ray of yellow sunshine pierced the +eastern screen of trees, creeping all along up the broad slope where the +autumn crocuses grew, till it laid itself softly and caressingly on the +smiling face turned to meet it once more. The sportsman had gone out for +the last time into his loved fields and woods; and perhaps he would have +chosen to die there, rather than in a curtained room with fresh air and +daylight shut out. No doubt the manner of his death had been terrible; +but the pain was momentary, and he had gone to meet it in his highest +mood, all one flame of indignation against evil, and ready, generous +self-sacrifice. He had died for Angelot, fighting his enemy; he had +carried out his little daughter's words, and the last drop of that good +heart's blood was for Angelot, though indeed his dear boy's enemy was +also the enemy of the cause he loved, to which his life had been given. +No more conspiracies now for the little Royalist gentleman. + +They all came and stood about him, Joubard, Martin, Gigot, and the party +of gendarmes. At first they hardly liked to touch him; he lay so +peacefully asleep under the tree, his thin right hand pressed over his +heart, where the sword had wounded him, such a look of perfect content +on the face that death had marked for its own. His sword lay on the +grass beside him, where it had fallen from his dying hand. Martin picked +it up, saying in a low voice, "This will be for Monsieur Angelot." + +Sturdy Gigot, choking with sobs, turned upon him fiercely. + +"It belongs to mademoiselle." + +They lifted Monsieur Joseph--old Joubard at his head, Gigot at his +feet--and carried their light burden down to his house, in at his own +bedroom window. They laid him on his bed in the alcove, and then were +afraid to touch him any more. All the group of strong men stood and +looked at him, Gigot weeping loudly, Joubard silently; even the eyes of +the gendarmes were wet. + +"We must have women here," said Joubard. + +Turning round, he saw Monsieur Joseph's letter to his brother lying on +the table; he took it up and gave it to Gigot. + +"Take this letter to La Marinière," he said, "and tell Monsieur Urbain +what has happened. And you," to the gendarmes, "be off to Sonnay, and +make your report at once to Monsieur le Préfet. I doubt if he will +justify all that is done in his name." + +"We will do as you say, Maître Joubard," said the gendarme. + +A few minutes later the only one of the General's party left at Les +Chouettes was Simon. He skulked round behind the buildings, but could +not persuade himself to go away. It seemed to him that there was a good +deal of danger in escaping on foot; that the country people, enraged by +Monsieur Joseph's death, delighted, as they probably would be, by +Monsieur Angelot's marriage, would all be his enemies. He was half +terrified by General Ratoneau's desperation. Suppose he had overtaken +Angelot's young bride and her companions! suppose he had swung her up on +his horse and carried her away, forgetting that he was not campaigning +in a foreign country, but living peaceably in France, where the law +protected people from such violent doings. It might be very +inconvenient, in such a case, to appear at Sonnay as a friend and +follower of General Ratoneau. Any credit he still had with the Prefect, +for instance, would be lost for ever. And yet, if he deserted the +General entirely, washed his hands, as far as possible, of him and his +doings, what chance was there of receiving the large sums of money so +grudgingly promised him! + +"A hard master, the devil!" Simon muttered to himself. + +He peeped cautiously round the corner of the kitchen wall, where the +silver birches had scattered their golden leaves in the wind of the +night. He watched the little band of gendarmes as they started down the +road towards Sonnay. It struck him that his best plan would be to slip +away across the _landes_ towards the Étang des Morts, and to put himself +right with the authorities by helping to capture a few Chouan gentlemen +and conveying them to prison. + +But first--how still all the place was! The men were busy, he supposed, +with their dead master. Surely those windows were not so firmly fastened +but that he could make his way in, and perhaps find some evidence to +prove Monsieur Joseph's complicity in the plots of the moment. He walked +lightly across the sand. A dog barked in the house, and Martin Joubard +looked out from an upper window. + +All the evil passions of his nature rose in Simon then. That was the man +who knew he had arrested Angelot; that was the man who had knocked him +down in the park and lost him half an hour of valuable time. As Angelot +himself, in some mysterious way, was out of reach, here was this man on +whom he might revenge himself. Both for his own sake and the General's, +this man would be better out of the way; Simon raised his loaded carbine +and fired. + +Martin stepped back at the instant, and he missed him. The shot grazed +Tobie's cheek as he knelt inside the room, resting his long gun-barrel +on the low window-sill. + +"Ah, Chouan-catcher, your time is come!" muttered Tobie, and his gun +went off almost of itself. + +Simon flung up his arms in the air, and dropped upon the sand. + + * * * * * + +While these things were happening at Les Chouettes, Angelot was hurrying +back from his mission to the Étang des Morts. He was full of wild +happiness, a joy that could not be believed in, till he saw and touched +Hélène again. His heart was as light as the air of that glorious +morning, so keen, clear, and still on the high moorlands as he crossed +them. + +He had done all and more than the little uncle expected of him. In the +darkness before dawn, as he rode through the deep lanes beyond La +Joubardière, he had met a friendly peasant who warned him that a party +of police and gendarmes was watching the country a little farther south, +towards the Étang des Morts. He therefore left his horse in a shed, took +to the fields and woods, and intercepted César d'Ombré on his way to the +rendezvous. Explanations were not altogether easy, for César cared +little for the private affairs of young La Marinière. He had never +expected much from the son of Urbain. He took his warning, and gave up +his companionship easily enough. Striking off across country, avoiding +all roads likely to be patrolled by the police, he made his way alone to +Brittany and the coast, while Angelot returned by the way he had come. + +For the sake of taking the very shortest cut across the _landes_, he +brought his horse up to La Joubardière and left him there. For no horse +could carry him through the lanes, rocky as they were, at the pace that +he could run and walk across country, and it was only because Uncle +Joseph insisted on it that he had taken a horse at all. + +The golden light of sunrise spread over the moor as he ran. He took long +leaps through the heather, and coveys of birds scuttled out of his way; +but their lives were safe that morning, though his eyes followed them +eagerly. Far beyond the purple _landes_, the woods of Lancilly lay +heaped against the western sky, a billowy dark green sea of velvet +touched with the bright gold of autumn and of sunrise; and the château +itself shone out broad in its glittering whiteness. The guests were all +gone now; the music was still; and for Angelot the place was empty, a +mere shell, a pile of stones. Other roofs covered the joy of his life +now. + +This shortest cut from La Joubardière did not bring him to Les +Chouettes by the usual road, but by a sharp slope of moorland, all +stones and bushes and no path at all, and then across one or two small +fields into a narrow lane, a bridle-path between high straggling hedges, +one way from Les Chouettes to La Marinière. The poplars by the manor +gate, a shining row, lifted their tall heads, always softly rustling, a +quarter of a mile farther on. + +Angelot ran across the fields, jumped a ditch, reached the lane at a +sharp corner, and was turning to the right towards Les Chouettes, +thinking in his joyful gladness that he would be back before even Hélène +expected him, when something struck his ear and brought him to a sudden +stand. It was a woman's scream. + +"Help, help!" a voice cried; and then again there was a piteous shriek +of pain or extreme terror. + +For one moment Angelot hesitated. Who or what could this be? Some one +was in trouble, some woman, and probably a woman he knew. Or could it be +a child, hurt by some animal? One of the bulls at La Marinière was very +fierce; there had been trouble with him before now. Ah! he must turn his +back on Hélène and see what it meant, this cursed interruption. What +were they doing to let that beast roam about alone? And even as he +turned the shriek tore the air again, and now he could hear a man's +voice, rough and furious, a confusion of voices, the stamping of a +horse, the creaking of harness. No! Bellot the bull was not the +aggressor here. + +Angelot loosened his hunting knife as he ran along the lane. It turned +sharply once or twice between its banks, dipping into the hollow, then +climbing again to La Marinière. At its lowest point it touched the elbow +of a stream, winding away under willows to join the river near Lancilly, +and overflowing the lane in winter and stormy weather. Now, however, the +passage was dry, and at that very point a group of figures was +struggling. Angelot had the eyes of a hawk, and at that distance knew +them all. + +General Ratoneau was on horseback; his gold lace flashed in the +sunlight. Before him on the horse's neck lay a girl's white figure, +flung across the front of the saddle, struggling, shrieking, held down +by his bridle hand which also clutched her dress, while with the +butt-end of a pistol he threatened Marie Gigot, who screamed for help as +she hung to the horse's head. He, good creature, not being one of the +General's own chargers, but a harmless beast borrowed without leave from +the Lancilly stables, backed from Marie instead of pushing and trampling +her down in obedience to his desperate rider. Little Henriette did her +best by clinging tightly to the white folds of her cousin's gown as they +fell over the horse's shoulder, and was in great danger of being either +pushed down or kicked away by Ratoneau, as soon as he should have +disposed of Marie. + +"Let go, woman!" he shouted, with frightful oaths. "Let go, or I'll kill +you! Do you see this pistol? A moment more, and I'll dash your brains +out--send you after your master, do you hear?--Ah, bah! keep still, +beauty!" as Hélène almost struggled away from him. "I don't want to hurt +you, but I will have what is my own. Get away, child, we don't want you. +Morbleau! what's that?" + +It was a sound of quick running, and Riette's keen ears had heard it +already. It had, indeed, saved Ratoneau from being shot dead on the +spot, for the child had let go her hold on her cousin's dress with one +hand and had clutched the tiny, beautiful pistol with which her father +had trusted her, and which she had hidden inside her frock. True, she +was shaking with the terrible excitement of the moment, she was nearly +dragged off her feet by the horse's plunging backwards, and a correct +aim seemed almost impossible--but her father had told her to defend +Angelot's wife, and Riette was very sure that this wicked man should not +carry away Hélène, as long as she had life and a weapon to prevent it. +And if she could have understood those words to Marie,--"send you after +your master"--there would have been no hesitation at all. + +At the same moment, she and the General turned their heads and looked up +the lane. Something wild and lithe, bright and splendid, came flying +straight down from the east, from the heart of the sunrise. The +swiftness with which Angelot darted upon them was almost supernatural. +He might have been a young god of the Greeks, flashing from heaven to +rescue his earthly love from an earthly ravisher. + +Ratoneau was not prepared for such a sudden and fiery onslaught. It was +easy, the work he expected--to tear Hélène from the company of a woman +and child, to carry her off to Sonnay. He considered her his own +property, given to him by the Emperor, stolen from him by her father and +Angelot. It would be easy, he told himself, to have the absurd midnight +ceremony declared illegal; or if not, he would soon find means to put +Angelot out of his way. By fair means or by foul, he meant to have the +girl and to marry her. If his method was that of the ancient +Gauls--well, she would forgive him in time! Women love a hero, however +roughly he may treat them. He thought he had learnt that from +experience; and if Hélène de Sainfoy thought herself too good for him, +she must find her level. The man swore to himself that he loved her, and +would be good to her, when once she was his own. As he lifted her on the +horse he knew he loved her with all the violent instincts of a coarse +and unrestrained nature. + +And now came vengeance, darting upon him like a bolt from the shining +sky. Before his slower senses even knew what was happening, before, +encumbered with his prey, he could fire a pistol or draw his sword, +Hélène had been snatched from him into Angelot's arms. No leave asked of +Ratoneau; a spring and a clutch; it might have been a tiger leaping at +the horse's neck and carrying off its victim. The girl screamed again +and again, as Angelot set her on the ground, and trembled so that she +could not stand alone. As her lover supported her for an instant, saying +to Marie Gigot, who ran forward from the horse's head, "Take her--take +her home!" Ratoneau fired his pistol straight at the two young heads so +near together. The bullet passed actually between them, touching +Hélène's curls. Then the sturdy peasant woman threw a strong arm round +her, and dragged her away towards La Marinière. + +Angelot, with a flushed face and blazing eyes, turned to the General, +who sat and glared in speechless fury. Then the young fellow smiled, +lifted his hat, and set it jauntily on again. He had not drawn his +hunting knife, and stood empty-handed, though this and a pair of pistols +were in his belt. + +"And now, Monsieur le Général!" he said, a little breathlessly. + +Ratoneau stared at him, struck, even at that moment, by his +extraordinary likeness to his uncle. There was the same easy grace, the +same light gaiety, the same joy in battle and fearless confidence, with +more outward dash and daring. Ah, well! as the other insolent life had +ended, so in a few minutes this should end. It would be easy--a slip of +a boy--it was fortunate indeed, that it happened so. + +"Mille tonnerres! you can be buried together!" said Ratoneau. + +"Merci, monsieur, I hope so--a hundred years hence," Angelot answered +with a laugh. + +"You are mistaken--I am not talking of your wife," growled Ratoneau. +"She will be a widow in ten minutes, and married to me in a month. I +mean that you and your precious uncle can be buried together." + +"Indeed! Is my uncle going to die?" Angelot said carelessly; but he +looked at the madman a little more steadily, with the sudden idea that +he was really and literally mad. + +"He is dead already. I have killed him," said Ratoneau. + +Angelot turned pale, and stepped back a pace, watching him cautiously. + +"When? Where? I don't believe it," he said. + +"We had a disagreement," said Ratoneau. "It was about you that we +quarrelled, a worthless cause. He chose to take your part, and to insult +me. I ran him through the body." + +Saying this, he slowly dismounted and drew his sword. Angelot stood +motionless, looking at him. The words had stunned him; his heart and +brain seemed to be gripped by icy hands, crushing out all sensation. +Henriette, who had not followed the others, came up and stood beside +him, her great dark eyes, full of horror, fixed upon General Ratoneau. +She was motionless and dumb; under the folds of her frock, her fingers +gripped the little pistol. As long as she remained silent, neither of +the men saw that she was there. + +"Look!" said Ratoneau. He held out his sword, red and still wet, as he +had thrust it back into the scabbard after killing Monsieur Joseph. +"Give up the girl to me or you follow your uncle," he said, after a +moment's frightful pause. + +Henriette came a step nearer, came quite close and looked at the sword. +Every drop of her own blood had forsaken her small face, always delicate +and pale. Suddenly she stretched out her hand and touched the sword, +saying in a low voice, "That was why he did not come back!" + +"Oh, good God! Go away, child!" cried Angelot, suddenly waking from his +trance of horror, and pushing her violently back. + +Then he drew his knife and sprang furiously upon the General. + +"Villain! murderer!" he shouted as he closed with him; for this was no +formal fight with swords. + +"Keep off, little devil, or I'll tear you to pieces!" shrieked Ratoneau. +"What! You will have it? Come on then, plague upon you, cursed wild +cat!" + +It was an unequal struggle; for Angelot, though strong, was slender and +small, and Ratoneau had height and width of chest, besides great +muscular power. And he hated Angelot with all the intensity of his +violent nature. It was a case in which strength told, and Angelot had +been unwise in trusting to his own. A duel with pistols, as he had no +sword, would have been better for him. Still, at first, his furious +attack brought him some advantage. He wrenched Ratoneau's sword from his +hand and flung it into the stream. Twice he wounded him slightly with +his knife, but Ratoneau, hugging him like a bear, made it difficult to +strike, and the fight became a tremendous wrestling match, in which the +two men struggled and panted and slipped and lurched from side to side, +from the grassy bank to the willows by the water, each vainly trying to +throw the other. + +The issue of such a combat could not long be doubtful. Courage and +energy being equal, the taller and heavier man was sure to have the +better of it. Several times Angelot tried to trip his enemy up, but +failed, for his wrestling skill, as well as his strength, was not equal +to Ratoneau's. The General was more successful. A twist of his leg, and +both men were dashed violently down upon the stones, Angelot underneath. + +His knife had already dropped from his hand. Ratoneau snatched it up, +and knelt over him, one knee on his chest, one hand on his throat, the +knife in the other. Looking up into the dark, furious eyes bent upon +him, watching the evil smile that broadened round the handsome, cruel +mouth, Angelot felt that his last moment was come. That face leaning +over him was the face of death itself. The little uncle would not be +long alone in the unknown country to which this same hand had sent him. + +"How about your pretty wife now, Monsieur Angelot?" the snarling voice +said, and the sharp knife trembled and flashed in the sunshine. + +Angelot set his teeth, and closed his eyes that he might not see it. +Ratoneau went on saying something, but he did not hear, for in those few +moments he dreamed a dream. Hélène's face was bending over his, her soft +hair falling upon him, her lips touching his. Was death already over, +and was this Paradise? + +He came back to life with a violent start, at the discharge of a pistol +close by; and then the weight on his chest became suddenly unbearable, +and the knife dropped from his enemy's hand, and the cruel face fell +aside, changing into something still more dreadful. In another minute he +had dragged himself out from under Ratoneau's dead body, and staring +wildly round, saw Riette holding a pistol. + +"Ah! do not look at me so!" she cried, as she met her cousin's horrified +eyes. "I had to save you! Papa will not be angry." + +"He is avenged. You are a heroine, Riette!" he said, and held out his +arms to her; but the child flung away her little weapon which had done +so great a deed, and threw herself upon the ground in a passionate agony +of tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF MONSIEUR URBAIN + + +It was an afternoon late in November. A wild wind was blowing, and +shadows were flying across the country and the leafless woods which +rushed and cried like the sea. A great full moon shone in the sky, +chased over and constantly obscured by thin racing clouds, silver and +copper-coloured on the blue-black depths of air. + +Madame de la Marinière was alone in her old room. The candles were +lighted on her work-table, her embroidery frame stood beside it, the +needle carelessly stuck in; a fire of logs was flaming up the wide black +chimney. Anne was not working, but wandering restlessly up and down the +room. Once she went to a window and dragged it open; the moonlight +flowed in, and with it a soft rough blast that blew the candles about +wildly and made smoke and flames fly out from the fire. Anne hastily, +with some difficulty, closed the window and fastened it again. + +She had not waited very long when slow heavy feet came tramping through +the stone court, the house door opened and shut with a clang, and +Monsieur Urbain came into the room. As he took Anne's hand and kissed +it in the old pretty fashion, she looked anxiously into his face, a very +sad face in these days. Urbain's philosophy had been hardly tried of +late. And his wife was not mistaken in fancying that something new had +happened that day to deepen the hollows round his eyes, the lines on his +rugged brow. She would not, even dared not ask, for reasons of her own. +It might well be that his grief and her joy should run on the same +lines. Anne had been praying for something; she was half afraid, though +she fully expected, to hear that her prayer was granted. + +Urbain sat down by the fire, and stretched out his feet and hands to the +blaze. + +"Where are the children?" he said. + +Anne smiled very sweetly. "Out somewhere in the moonlight. Ange thinks +there is nothing for Hélène like fresh air." + +"From her looks, he is right." + +"It is not only the fresh air--" Anne broke off, then went on again. +"Well, my friend, you went to Sonnay--you took the child to the +convent?" + +"Yes--she will be very safe there for a time--the reverend mothers +received her excellently. I do not care for convents, as you know, but I +am not sure that Henriette, even at this early age, has not found her +vocation. Till to-day, I do not think I had seen the child smile +since--" + +"Ah, yes--" Anne murmured something under her breath. "Did you see +Monsieur de Mauves?" + +"For a few minutes. I talked so long with the Prioress that it was late +before I reached the Prefecture. He had been to Paris. He explained all +that tissue of rascality to the Emperor, so that no blame might fall on +the wrong shoulders. Luckily His Majesty disliked Ratoneau; the man +smoked and swore too much to please him." + +"But after all," Anne said thoughtfully, "the Prefect drew up those +papers himself, if he did not send them. And you, Urbain--" + +He waved his hand sadly, impatiently. "No more of me, I am punished +enough," he said. "I thought I was acting for everybody's good--but +alas!--Yes, De Mauves drew up the papers, and then repented. He threw +them into a drawer, and determined at least to delay sending them till +circumstances and Ratoneau should force his hand further. Then came his +illness; recovering, he believed the papers to be safe in his bureau, +and left this affair, with many others, to arrange itself later. In the +meanwhile, the rascal Simon had corrupted his foolish young secretary +and stolen the papers--you know the rest. I suppose we should be glad +that he found out in time--" + +"Can any one be otherwise than glad?" Anne said gravely. + +"Yes, my dear, there are those who are very sorry. And--before you blame +them too hardly, remember that Angelot's marriage was the immediate +cause of Joseph's death." + +"The wickedness of a wicked man is alone to be blamed for that," said +Anne. "Hélène's marriage with such an unspeakable wretch would have been +a worse thing still." + +Urbain sighed, and did not answer. Presently, gazing into the fire, +while Anne watched him with intent, questioning eyes, he said, "It +appears that the Emperor is a little angry with Hervé for his hurried +action, though he does not object to its consequence, being good enough +to say that he values me and my influence in this country. But he does +not like to be treated as a tyrant. De Mauves thinks that Adélaïde will +not have the post of lady-in-waiting. It is a pity; she had set her +heart on it." + +Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly; it was beyond her power, being a +truthful woman, to express any sympathy with Adélaïde. It was her +coldest little voice that said, "Have you been to Lancilly to-day?" + +"Yes," her husband answered. + +"Did you see Adélaïde?" + +"No." + +A bitter smile curled Anne's still beautiful mouth as she stood near his +chair and looked at him. Was it only or chiefly Adélaïde's unforgiving +anger that weighed on his broad shoulders, bent his clever brow, drove +the old contented smile from his face? True, Joseph's death might well +have done all this; but she knew Urbain, and he was not the man to cower +under the inevitable. It was his way to meet the blows of fate with a +brave front, if not a gay one; he was a Frenchman, and had lived and +laughed through the great Revolution. And yet Anne was puzzled; for she +respected Urbain too much to acknowledge that Adélaïde's anger could +have so great an effect upon him. + +After a short silence he spoke, and told her all; told her of the +disappointment of his dearest hopes, the failure of the schemes and +struggles of a lifetime. And as he talked, Anne came gradually nearer, +till at last, with a most unusual demonstrativeness, her arm was round +his neck, and her cheek pressed against his whitening hair. Large tears +ran down the man's face and dropped across his wife's hand and splashed +on the tapestried arm of the chair. + +The Sainfoys were about to leave Lancilly, and probably for ever. +Adélaïde could not endure it; since her daughter's marriage it had +become odious to her. Neither did Georges like it; and before going back +to the army he had become engaged to the heiress with whom he had danced +so much at the ball, who had a castle and large estates of her own in +Touraine, and who considered Lancilly far too wild and old-fashioned to +be inhabited, except perhaps for a month in the shooting season. Thus it +was not unlikely that Lancilly would be sold; and for the present it +was to be dismantled and shut up; once more the deserted place, the +preservation of which, the restoring to its right inhabitants, had been +the dream and ambition of Urbain de la Marinière's life. For his cousin +Hervé he had spent all his energies and a considerable part of his +fortune; and to no purpose and worse than none. Even Hervé's love and +gratitude failed him now; the knowledge that Hervé could never quite +forget or forgive his plotting with Adélaïde and Ratoneau, was the +sharpest sting of all; worse even, as his wife felt with a throb of +rapturous joy, than the fact that Adélaïde would smile on him no more. + +"My poor Urbain!" she murmured. + +Her sympathy was tender and real, though she felt that her prayer had +been answered, that she and her house had been delivered from the +crushing weight of Lancilly, that the great castle on the hill would +henceforth be a harmless pile of stones, to be viewed without the old +dislike and jealousy. It seemed to her now that she had not known a +happy day since the Sainfoys came back, or even for long before, while +Urbain's whole soul was wrapped up in preparing for them. Yet she was +very sorry for Urbain. + +"All for nothing, and worse than nothing," he sighed; and she found no +words to comfort him. + +The fire crackled and blazed; outside, the wind rolled in great +thundering blasts over the country. It roared so loudly in the chimneys +that nothing else was to be heard. Urbain went on talking, so low that +his wife, stooping over his chair, could hardly hear him; but she knew +that all he said had the one refrain--"I have worked for twenty years, +and this is the end of it all. I might have left poor Joseph in exile. I +might have allowed Lancilly to tumble into ruins. What has come of it +all! Nothing, nothing but disappointment and failure. Is it not enough +to break a man's heart, to give the best of his whole life, and to +fail!" + +The wind went on roaring. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not hear +the house door open and shut, then the door of the room, then the light +steps of Angelot and Hélène across the floor. + +"Look up, Urbain!" his wife said with a sudden inspiration. "_There_ is +your success, dear friend!" + +There was a bright pink colour in Hélène's cheeks; her eyes and lips, +once so sad, were smiling in perfect content; her fair curls were blown +about her face; she was gloriously beautiful. Angelot held her hand, and +his dark eyes glowed as he looked at her. + +"We have been fighting the elements," he said. + +Urbain and Anne gazed at them, these two splendid young creatures for +whom life was beginning. The philosopher's brow and eyes lightened +suddenly, and he smiled. + +"And by your triumphant looks, you have conquered them!" he said. "Is +that my doing, Anne? Is that my success, my victory?" he added after a +moment in her ear. "Yes, dearest, you are right. Embrace me, my +children!" + + * * * * * + +Les Chouettes was shut up for seven years, and the country people were +shy of passing it in the dusk, for they said that under the old oaks you +might meet Monsieur Joseph with his gun and dog as of old, coming back +from a day's shooting. When old Joubard heard that, he said--and his +wife crossed herself at the saying--that he would rather meet Monsieur +Joseph, dead, than any living gentleman of Anjou. + +But there came a time when young life took possession again of Les +Chouettes, and lovely little children played in the sandy court and +picked wild flowers and ran after butterflies in the meadow; when Madame +Ange de la Marinière wandered out in the soft twilight, without fear of +ghosts or men, to meet her husband as he walked down the rugged lane +from the _landes_ after a long day's shooting. + +And there were no plots now in Anjou, and neither Chouans nor police +haunted the woods; for Napoleon was at St. Helena, and France could +breathe throughout her provinces, for the iron bands were taken off her +heart, and the young generation might grow up without being cut down in +its flower. + +It was at this time that Henriette de la Marinière decided to give Les +Chouettes to her cousin Angelot, and finally to enter the convent where +she had spent much time since her father's death, and where she died as +Prioress late in the nineteenth century, having seen in France three +Kings, a second Empire, and a Republic. + +She remained through all, of course, a consistent Royalist like her +father. But to some minds, such an ebb and flow may seem to justify the +philosophy of Urbain, and even more, perhaps, the light and happy +indifference of Angelot. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's note: + +There is some inconsistency in placing of accents, all are as in the +original. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Angelot, by Eleanor Price + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30072 *** |